fairly
early: I need to be up in good time tomorrow to revise.
In the afternoon I'll catch the train back to V because I'm
working for the telesales company from the twenty-sixth.
No downtime really, but it'll pay off in the end, it just
has to.
I hurry off to bed, giving everyone a little wave. Up in
my room I start looking at one of my Spanish texts. I
can't help it: the minute I have some spare time, I revise.
I know I won't have any trouble passing my exams, I've
worked hard for them, but I can't help myself, I'm a
perfectionist, everything always has to be perfect. And,
anyway, working stops me thinking about other things.
The very next day I'm on a train taking me back to V
and, as usual, there isn't much to tell anyone about the
two days spent with my parents.
Chapter 13
Oppression
7 January 2007
U NFORTUNATELY, MY EXPERIENCE with Julien hasn't
stopped me. It's had exactly the opposite effect.
There are always more new ads on the internet and I
sometimes feel the world is full of frustrated people
who'll never be satisfied. Mind you, I'm not sneering at
them, given that these strangers and their rampaging
urges are helping me out temporarily with my financial
problems.
So I make contact with an older man, almost certainly
for fear of landing another indecisive penniless bloke like
Julien. This time his name's Pierre. The only thing I
know about him is what he does: he's a businessman in
a well-known company. I find that reassuring because it
suggests a really solid financial basis. Making the decision
in the first place is hard enough and this world really
is like Russian roulette so I might as well make sure – as
far as I possibly can – that I'll be paid. We've arranged
to meet in the early afternoon on the large square in the
centre of the city. He'd rather meet in the city centre and
then go back to his place where, he makes a point of
saying, 'we won't be disturbed'. At first I objected: there
was no question of my going to some complete stranger's
place, where all sorts of things could happen to me. But
after some thought, he managed to persuade me: there
would be no danger of being seen by anyone because his
place was empty. He's keen on his anonymity, too, and
doesn't want to run the risk of meeting in one of the
city's hotels where he could bump into people. So our
last email agreed that he would come and pick me up
discreetly in his car, then drive me back to his place. I
like to think I'll know whether I can trust him when I see
him. I've gauged the dangers I'm exposing myself to by
doing this, but I need the money. I want more and more
now.
At the appointed hour, I head for the famous square in
the city centre. I'm wearing one of my favourite dresses:
grey with puffy tops to the sleeves, it shows off my waist
and reveals a bit of leg, above my über fashionable boots.
I feel very elegant in this outfit and I know it has an effect
on men. It gives me a girl-woman appeal that turns
heads. I've put it on with clear financial aims: the better
I look, the more he'll be prepared to pay. And it's a
beautiful, sunny winter's day: I got up early and just felt
like looking pretty. For myself, not for him. As I walk, I
can already see men staring at me and silently admiring
my dress. Yup, I know I look good today.
In the distance I can see bustling stalls with people
crowding round the produce on display. I forgot! There's
a farmers' market today where inquisitive tourists come
and buy things from local smallholders. That's good and
bad: with so many people around, I can easily disappear
into the crowd, but at the same time I could come across
someone I know, and that thought soon becomes an
all-consuming fear.
I decide to wait a little way back from all the activity
so that I can quickly spot this Pierre and take him further
away. He said he would be wearing a dark suit and a red
scarf, something easy to spot but justified by the cold
weather.
I scan passers-by and am already running out of
patience after
early: I need to be up in good time tomorrow to revise.
In the afternoon I'll catch the train back to V because I'm
working for the telesales company from the twenty-sixth.
No downtime really, but it'll pay off in the end, it just
has to.
I hurry off to bed, giving everyone a little wave. Up in
my room I start looking at one of my Spanish texts. I
can't help it: the minute I have some spare time, I revise.
I know I won't have any trouble passing my exams, I've
worked hard for them, but I can't help myself, I'm a
perfectionist, everything always has to be perfect. And,
anyway, working stops me thinking about other things.
The very next day I'm on a train taking me back to V
and, as usual, there isn't much to tell anyone about the
two days spent with my parents.
Chapter 13
Oppression
7 January 2007
U NFORTUNATELY, MY EXPERIENCE with Julien hasn't
stopped me. It's had exactly the opposite effect.
There are always more new ads on the internet and I
sometimes feel the world is full of frustrated people
who'll never be satisfied. Mind you, I'm not sneering at
them, given that these strangers and their rampaging
urges are helping me out temporarily with my financial
problems.
So I make contact with an older man, almost certainly
for fear of landing another indecisive penniless bloke like
Julien. This time his name's Pierre. The only thing I
know about him is what he does: he's a businessman in
a well-known company. I find that reassuring because it
suggests a really solid financial basis. Making the decision
in the first place is hard enough and this world really
is like Russian roulette so I might as well make sure – as
far as I possibly can – that I'll be paid. We've arranged
to meet in the early afternoon on the large square in the
centre of the city. He'd rather meet in the city centre and
then go back to his place where, he makes a point of
saying, 'we won't be disturbed'. At first I objected: there
was no question of my going to some complete stranger's
place, where all sorts of things could happen to me. But
after some thought, he managed to persuade me: there
would be no danger of being seen by anyone because his
place was empty. He's keen on his anonymity, too, and
doesn't want to run the risk of meeting in one of the
city's hotels where he could bump into people. So our
last email agreed that he would come and pick me up
discreetly in his car, then drive me back to his place. I
like to think I'll know whether I can trust him when I see
him. I've gauged the dangers I'm exposing myself to by
doing this, but I need the money. I want more and more
now.
At the appointed hour, I head for the famous square in
the city centre. I'm wearing one of my favourite dresses:
grey with puffy tops to the sleeves, it shows off my waist
and reveals a bit of leg, above my über fashionable boots.
I feel very elegant in this outfit and I know it has an effect
on men. It gives me a girl-woman appeal that turns
heads. I've put it on with clear financial aims: the better
I look, the more he'll be prepared to pay. And it's a
beautiful, sunny winter's day: I got up early and just felt
like looking pretty. For myself, not for him. As I walk, I
can already see men staring at me and silently admiring
my dress. Yup, I know I look good today.
In the distance I can see bustling stalls with people
crowding round the produce on display. I forgot! There's
a farmers' market today where inquisitive tourists come
and buy things from local smallholders. That's good and
bad: with so many people around, I can easily disappear
into the crowd, but at the same time I could come across
someone I know, and that thought soon becomes an
all-consuming fear.
I decide to wait a little way back from all the activity
so that I can quickly spot this Pierre and take him further
away. He said he would be wearing a dark suit and a red
scarf, something easy to spot but justified by the cold
weather.
I scan passers-by and am already running out of
patience after
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