Chapter 1

"Whatever thoughts, fantasies or conjectures you may have about working in a Brothel - especially a State Brothel - you should dismiss straight away. It really is no different to working anywhere else. You will not be expected to behave any differently to a secretary or personal assistant employed in any other business."

Ana nodded. This was what she'd hoped to hear. Although her interviewer was just a little bit more flamboyant than most, - as befitted the Director of the largest Brothel in the country, - she had been afraid that he might have been far worse. Mr Madir was not a tall man, but when wearing his top hat he had a bearing and demeanour that more than compensated for his vertical disadvantage. His stubby fingers were either fiddling with his cigarette holder or, as at the moment, delicately holding a cigarette a small distance from his mouth. Although his fingers didn't have the yellow stain of nicotine associated with a habitual smoker, there was a suggestion of roughness about them.

Ana had never visited the City of Blad before. She had never been very far from her home in Rif, a rural district in the heart of Alif renowned more for its wide open plains and sugar beet than it was for providing employment. She'd despaired of ever finding a job when one of her very many applications was returned not with the usual polite regrets but with an interview date. And now she was here, the interview was almost a formality. As soon as her duties were explained to her and the Director confirmed that she'd gained the requisite grades in her secretarial examinations, the tone of the interview shifted quite markedly from if she were to work as his secretary towards when.

However, this might not be so surprising, Ana reflected. Not many people would be attracted to working in a Brothel. Initially she had been very reluctant to post off her application form, despite all the effort expended in its completion. Some of Ana's friends were simultaneously shocked and titillated by Ana's potential job offer, while others advised her that with jobs so hard to find, especially in Rif, she shouldn't ignore any opportunity. It was also true that this job had its attractions: the pay was good and accommodation would be provided free of charge (not, as Ana was relieved to discover, in the Brothel itself).

The Blad State Brothel was an imposing building. It was difficult to determine the building's shape because from whatever direction it was seen other buildings in the narrow winding roads obscured some of it. Its entrance was a wide doorway, many times higher than the tallest man, leading to a foyer where men were sitting on armchairs or anxiously milling around. At first Ana was unsure where to go, but she breathed deep and strode towards the scantily dressed lady at the reception desk. She would not be deflected at this last hurdle. At the very least, she'd want to reclaim her not inconsiderable travelling expenses.

When Ana introduced herself, she was treated in exactly the same officious way she associated with receptionists at other interviews she'd attended. Mr Madir was informed by telephone that Ana had arrived and then, because he was such an important man, the receptionist escorted Ana into his private elevator and up to his office. Even then, Ana had to wait with the plants and plaques in the anteroom for nearly half an hour beyond the official scheduled time of the interview before the Director could see her. Ana speculated that this might be because there were other candidates for the job, but when he opened his door to invite her in there was no evidence of what might have delayed him.

"However, this is a Brothel," continued the Director, smoke billowing through the nostrils of his long thin nose. "And it is worth your while knowing how the institution works. No doubt, like many country bumpkins, you have some very peculiar ideas about it. And from what I've heard of State Brothels in the provinces, this may not be entirely due to rustic ignorance." He leaned forward to gaze into Ana's face, forcing her to lean back while still maintaining a fixed bland smile. "Do you have any idea what motivates women - or men - to work as prostitutes?"

Ana swallowed slightly. "No," was all she managed to eructate.

"None of your friends have ever been prostitutes? None of them ever considered it as a career?"

Ana shook her head. What must Mr Madir think of her?

"There are many different reasons for a woman, - and most of the prostitutes here are women, - to work as a Prostitute. The most positive ones are held by those attracted to prostitution as a profession, and who take it every bit as seriously as the legal, medical, pedagogical and, I dare say," the Director sniffed a little dismissively, "the secretarial professions. These are the prostitutes I most admire. They are the ones who have ensured that, over the centuries, the State Brothels continue to provide the highest possible level of service and satisfaction. A standard which would have ensured a state monopoly even if the law didn't already prescribe it.

"Then there are those attracted purely for the remuneration. Prostitutes are very competitively salaried, and the bonuses, overtime and fringe benefits are really second to none. Quite a few Prostitutes, and not just the Alpha grades, earn substantially more than me. Why an employee wishes to earn so much money is really none of my business and I do not wish to pry. However," and again Mr Madir leaned uncomfortably forward, "one hears terrible things about their private habits. Some even drink alcohol. And for a filthy habit like that they need the money to buy it on the black market. And some have children. You don't have children, m'dear?"

Ana shook her head. She felt distinctly ill at ease. Even in her smart and demure interview outfit, - which rather exaggerated any stiffness or primness she might already possess, - the Director's pale brown eyes seemed to unclothe her.

"Good. And then there are those here in penal service. They most definitely do not enjoy the career advantages of other Prostitutes, but many choose to linger on as employees after serving their sentence. I don't enjoy my dual role as Prison Governor and Managing Director, but I am above all a servant of the Government and in that capacity I am thoroughly loyal. Do you have any questions?"

Ana couldn't think of any, and rather hoped the interview would end soon. It was difficult to avoid looking into the Director's face, and every time she did his eyes pierced straight through her. No doubt it was his profession that made him appear like this, thought Ana charitably. Or maybe, she wondered less benevolently, it was what he was already like that had decided his choice of profession.

"Irrespective of the terms of their employment all the Prostitutes are strictly graded according to their appearance, performance and special services. This is categorised by Greek letters. The highest grades are the Alphas with the Alpha Double Plus being the highest quality, most well-paid and, as far as the client is concerned, the most expensive. At the other extremes are the Epsilons. These might be considered bargain basement by the clients, and their services are usually only retained because of the demand for cheapness. Epsilons mostly consist of convicts and economic migrants. Personally, I would never avail myself of their services, but there are many poverty-stricken clients with sufficiently less discretion than myself.

"If you were employed as a Prostitute, I imagine you would be categorised as Beta Plus which is no bad thing to be. There are opportunities to work part-time as a Prostitute. Should you ever consider it, it's a very good way to improve your salary quite substantially." The Director paused to pull another cigarette from the silver cigarette case on the desk. He tapped it on the exterior, though there seemed no reason to suspect it needed such attention and fixed it in the end of his cigarette holder. "Does the prospect of such extra employment attract you at all, m'dear?"

Ana blushed. Revulsion gripped her stomach. She'd rather die! A heroic image of herself jumping out of the Director's window onto the city streets many floors below came to mind as she vehemently and speechlessly shook her head.

"Well, you may come to change your opinion with time and acquaintance," mused Mr Madir, who adjusted the cigarette holder in his lips and flicked open his cigarette lighter. He lit his cigarette carefully, watching the smoke rise. Ana averted her eyes from the smoke and focused them on the ponderous gold ring on his forefinger.

The remainder of the interview concerned more mundane aspects such as the starting date, salary, holiday allowance and the accommodation she would be offered. Ana soon found herself committed to commencing the very next day and despite her reservations about the Brothel and the Director himself, she could articulate no good reason for not accepting the offer. The Director had a tendency to digress and talk about his own job and responsibilities, and in these moments Ana had the opportunity to inspect the office. This was to be the place, she began to accept, where she'd be spending most of her working day, taking down short-hand, typing letters and exercising the Director's more menial duties. The office was very plush, as befitted the Director's status, and above his head hung an impressive portrait of President Marmeluke, dressed in a flamboyant military uniform, gazing imperiously down on his two subjects.

After the interview, the Director escorted Ana to the Brothel Canteen along endless corridors and staircases. Ana wondered if she'd ever become familiar with the building's geography. Along the corridors were closed doors with a bright light above each one. Some were red, some were green and some were switched off. The Director explained that these described the Prostitute's current status. When the light was red, the Prostitute was engaged with a client and was not to be disturbed. When green, the Prostitute was on duty but was not at that time engaged with a client. And when switched off, the Prostitute was off duty.

Generally, the corridors were fairly empty. Occasionally they passed a man escorted by one of the receptionists wearing the regulation tight, rather revealing, leather uniform tottering on painfully high heels. These were clients being taken to a Prostitute, Mr Madir explained. Or, of course, he added, being escorted back to reception. No client was permitted to wander freely about the building. There were also Prostitutes walking singly or in pairs. These were off duty, the Director explained. But even then they had to dress as Prostitutes in case the client saw them. And indeed the scanty skin-tight clothes, the high heeled stilettos, the thick make-up and, in some cases, total absence of clothes, left little doubt as to their profession. Ana had never seen so many provocatively dressed, or undressed, women in all her life, and she felt embarrassment warm her cheeks and a curious excitement her body, which made it difficult to breathe or talk in a natural way.

Soon enough, they passed through some swing-doors with Entry Forbidden to Clients etched on the glass, and the doors now had titles, like Internal Examinations, Catering Clerk and Foreign Services, with which Ana felt more comfortable. And there was an arrow labelled To Staff Canteen.

The Brothel Canteen really could have been a canteen anywhere, sharing the same air of temporary reprieve. It was larger than any canteen Ana had seen before but there were all the expected features: formica-top tables, counter and canteen staff, red plastic trays and cardboard coffee cups. The Director beckoned over one of the canteen staff, a harassed middle-aged woman in an apron and simpering smile, who scurried forward to take his order for coffees.