Elizabeth Taylor. I can’t remember the character’s name but she was a call girl in love with a married man. The story was kind of silly and the ending stupid but, the more I thought about it the more I became convinced that Barbara was a call girl too. It made sense.
It was nearly six in the evening when I rang her apartment, hoping against hope that she would be home. She was.
‘What are you doing here Liz? I thought you had returned home.’
‘I did just long enough to realize that I didn’t want to be there anymore so I … I ran away. I ah … I was hoping maybe you could ah … I need a job and a place to stay. I don’t know anyone and … and I certainly wouldn’t want to bother your parents because they’ve been so kind to me and …’
‘Liz, you’re sixteen years old! You can’t just walk away. Your parents will be frantic by now.’
‘No they won’t. My absence means one less mouth to feed and that’s all.’
Barbara frowned. ‘Look, I was just getting ready to go out. I won’t be back until late. You’re welcome to sleep in the spare room. Tomorrow we’ll talk, okay?’
I smiled. You can’t imagine how relieved I was. ‘Thank you Barbara, so much.’
She returned my smile. ‘Get yourself something to eat.’
3
I did a terrible thing and I hated myself afterwards but I just had to know. After Barbara left I searched her bedroom. In the bottom drawer of her side table I found her diary. Well, actually it wasn’t so much a diary as a Book of Johns or at least that’s what I called it - page after page of notes and cryptic comments. Full names were never used which isn’t surprising. Sometimes all that was noted were initials or Fred – one of Claire’s. Things like that.
Fred it would seem had a foot fetish. Red nail polish/toe rings - Vanilla cream – model airplanes.
Some of the entries were not so humorous. Like TD. S&M caution (Bridget) - moody/unpredictable/could be cruel – stay the lady NMW – snorts C.
And another similar entry with the name Richard followed by a stylized valentine. SS – caution. No kinky – stay the lady NMW. Irish whiskey straight/weed – scented bubbles – silk, pearls, diamonds - F$ Priority +++
After a few more entries I thought I could read some of the codes. NMW – could be No Matter What which was a warning all by itself. No matter what he says or what he does, stay the lady or he’ll hurt you. Nice.
S&M – easy, sadomasochism. But the SS I wasn’t so sure of. The only SS I knew were the Nazis. Flipping through, it didn’t appear anywhere else so maybe this Richard guy liked to pretend he was a Gestapo agent while lathered in bubbles, dripping in pearls and diamonds and smoking marijuana. That’s kinky. And what does F$ mean?
There were other references in the book too - jasmine tea, ribbed condoms, stuffed toys, dark chocolate, handcuffs, dildos – at the time I didn’t know what that was – mink gloves, silk rope, musk oil, baby bottles, wigs, candy cigarettes and aprons. The mind boggles.
I woke up about two in the morning. By the sounds coming from the room next door, Barbara was not alone and she was most certainly not asleep. I lay there in the dark and wondered how much she charged and if she got to keep it all. I also wondered if she was with one of her regular Johns or would she be adding a new entry to her book when she found time.
*****
‘I want to do what you do.’
‘And tell me Liz, what do I do exactly?’
‘I think you’re a call girl just like Elizabeth Taylor in Butterfield 8.’
‘Butterfield 8: holy Christ. Look Liz, you’re sixteen years old, go home.’
‘My sister is almost twenty-one years old. She works in a bank back home and to keep her job she has to have sex with the bank’s manager which, when you think of it, is pretty disgusting. I think I can do better than that.’
Barbara stared at me for the longest time. Then she asked me, ‘Are you a virgin?’
‘Yes.’
‘You know what a virgin is, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, someone who’s not … you know, done it.’
‘Done IT; like ridden an elephant or scuba dived? Could you be a little bit more articulate please.’
‘A virgin is someone who has not engaged in sexual intercourse.’
‘Excellent. Well done.’ Barbara went into the bathroom, returning almost immediately with a white terry cloth robe in her hand. ‘Stand up.’ I did as I was told. ‘Turn around.’ She sat down on the sofa with the robe across her lap. ‘Undress.’
I whipped around. ‘What?’
‘Undress; I want to see what you look like naked.’ She smiled. ‘Think of it as your first audition and one of the things they will be looking for is pale, unblemished skin.’
I began to take my clothes off. I wasn’t particularly embarrassed, at least not in front of her. In gym classes at school we had to change from our normal clothes into shorts and tee-shirts so it was no big deal, except for the underwear part of course. ‘Who are they?’
‘Let’s take it a step at a time, okay?’
Stark naked, Barbara made me turn around and around, lift my arms up above my head, stand on my tippy toes. I guess she liked what she saw.
‘Go and have a shower and wash your hair.’ She threw me the bathrobe. ‘While you’re at it, I’ll make a few phone calls.’
*****
Barbara took another sip of her coffee. All I knew so far was that she had arranged an appointment for two o’clock.
‘His name is Merhot Capritzo and he owns and runs the Brownstones. Head Office is just around the corner.’
‘What are the Brownstones?’
‘Euphemistically they are Gentlemen’s Clubs, very expensive and very exclusive. There are, I think, about thirty of them worldwide; each identical to the other. The first two floors contain private dining rooms, bars, lounges and sometimes a billiards room. The third floor is by invitation only because that is where the brothel is.’
‘There’s a brothel here in Boston?’
‘And New York, London, LA, Paris, Hong Kong, Vegas; as I said there’s thirty of them. You won’t have anything to do with them of course, until you’re eighteen, but …’ She paused then, I guess trying to decide just how she was going to go about explaining just what she, and the lord Capritzo had in mind for
