little room where I sat – watching, learning: more than 700 guilders (£525) just waiting for John Reece to come and collect.
At five to eight that night, Sally told me that he would turn up in a few minutes. She was strung out from all the drugs she’d taken and exhausted from the men she’d serviced, but managed to keep her head clear enough to tell me what to do and what to say when Reece arrived.
‘I’ll tell him you did three and I did three. Okay? I did the full fucks, you did the others, understand? He’ll believe that – though he’ll tell you that you should have got them to pay for full sex.
‘He’ll check the money, pocket it and then he’ll check the condoms. He’ll count the unused ones and make us empty out the bin to show him the others. He won’t want to hang around: he’s only rented this window till eight. There’s another girl coming in to work the next shift for another pimp, and if we’re late out there’ll be trouble. He’ll take us back to where we’re staying. Whatever happens there, don’t say or do anything; in fact, don’t react in any way. Just watch me – like you have today – and I’ll try to show you what to do.
‘But remember one more thing: tomorrow, I can’t cover for you any more; tomorrow, we share the punters.’
She straightened the bed, made the little room as neat and presentable as possible and then closed the curtains for the last time. We went and waited in the room next door for John Reece to come and claim ‘his’ girls. As we sat there, in the semi-darkness and in total silence, I wondered what Sally could have meant: ‘Don’t react at all.’
React? What to? I was soon to find out.
When Reece arrived he was furious.
‘You’ve been here eight fucking hours – both of you – and you’ve done just 700 guilders? What the fuck good is that?’
He yelled at Sally and pointed at me.
‘Did she do any of them? Did she? Or did she just sit on her stuck-up little fanny and watch you work? Seven hundred fucking guilders! I may as well save myself the bother and sell the pair of you to the bastard Yugoslavs. Fucking useless!’
Sally and I said nothing. There was nothing we could say – and I couldn’t work out why Reece was so angry. He’d not done anything all day and Sally had just handed over everything she’d earned. What more could he want? And what did he mean about selling us to ‘the Yugoslavs’?
Reece marched us over to the car and drove us through the darkened, twisty streets. He pulled up outside a shabby building and unlocked a big heavy metal door, pushing us inside roughly. This was apparently where we would all sleep. There was an old iron bedstead on one side for Reece and Sally, and a mattress on the floor for me. I lay down and turned my back on them. I heard Reece lock the door as I closed my eyes, but I didn’t sleep. Sally’s words were running through my mind all night: ‘Tomorrow, I can’t cover for you any more; tomorrow, we share the punters.’
1 The guilder was the Dutch currency until 2002 when it was replaced by the euro: at the time I was in Holland one guilder was worth around 75 pence – so that rate for full sex worked out at just under £100.
Seven
‘Prosty’
R eece unlocked the door at the side of the glass window. I stepped through, followed by Sally. Neither of us spoke. The door shut behind us and a key turned in the lock. It was 10am and I was about to become a prostitute.
I felt numb that morning. I don’t think I slept more than five minutes at a time all through the night. At first I had tried to close my ears to the beating I could hear Sally being given on the bed behind me: the dull, sickening sound of a fist landing blows on the soft parts of her body – those parts which would be less obvious to the punters, at least until they were too close to back out.
Sally took the black bikini and I watched as she slowly put it on. Her body was slim – boyish almost –
At five to eight that night, Sally told me that he would turn up in a few minutes. She was strung out from all the drugs she’d taken and exhausted from the men she’d serviced, but managed to keep her head clear enough to tell me what to do and what to say when Reece arrived.
‘I’ll tell him you did three and I did three. Okay? I did the full fucks, you did the others, understand? He’ll believe that – though he’ll tell you that you should have got them to pay for full sex.
‘He’ll check the money, pocket it and then he’ll check the condoms. He’ll count the unused ones and make us empty out the bin to show him the others. He won’t want to hang around: he’s only rented this window till eight. There’s another girl coming in to work the next shift for another pimp, and if we’re late out there’ll be trouble. He’ll take us back to where we’re staying. Whatever happens there, don’t say or do anything; in fact, don’t react in any way. Just watch me – like you have today – and I’ll try to show you what to do.
‘But remember one more thing: tomorrow, I can’t cover for you any more; tomorrow, we share the punters.’
She straightened the bed, made the little room as neat and presentable as possible and then closed the curtains for the last time. We went and waited in the room next door for John Reece to come and claim ‘his’ girls. As we sat there, in the semi-darkness and in total silence, I wondered what Sally could have meant: ‘Don’t react at all.’
React? What to? I was soon to find out.
When Reece arrived he was furious.
‘You’ve been here eight fucking hours – both of you – and you’ve done just 700 guilders? What the fuck good is that?’
He yelled at Sally and pointed at me.
‘Did she do any of them? Did she? Or did she just sit on her stuck-up little fanny and watch you work? Seven hundred fucking guilders! I may as well save myself the bother and sell the pair of you to the bastard Yugoslavs. Fucking useless!’
Sally and I said nothing. There was nothing we could say – and I couldn’t work out why Reece was so angry. He’d not done anything all day and Sally had just handed over everything she’d earned. What more could he want? And what did he mean about selling us to ‘the Yugoslavs’?
Reece marched us over to the car and drove us through the darkened, twisty streets. He pulled up outside a shabby building and unlocked a big heavy metal door, pushing us inside roughly. This was apparently where we would all sleep. There was an old iron bedstead on one side for Reece and Sally, and a mattress on the floor for me. I lay down and turned my back on them. I heard Reece lock the door as I closed my eyes, but I didn’t sleep. Sally’s words were running through my mind all night: ‘Tomorrow, I can’t cover for you any more; tomorrow, we share the punters.’
1 The guilder was the Dutch currency until 2002 when it was replaced by the euro: at the time I was in Holland one guilder was worth around 75 pence – so that rate for full sex worked out at just under £100.
Seven
‘Prosty’
R eece unlocked the door at the side of the glass window. I stepped through, followed by Sally. Neither of us spoke. The door shut behind us and a key turned in the lock. It was 10am and I was about to become a prostitute.
I felt numb that morning. I don’t think I slept more than five minutes at a time all through the night. At first I had tried to close my ears to the beating I could hear Sally being given on the bed behind me: the dull, sickening sound of a fist landing blows on the soft parts of her body – those parts which would be less obvious to the punters, at least until they were too close to back out.
Sally took the black bikini and I watched as she slowly put it on. Her body was slim – boyish almost –
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