Read Online Eleven Minutes by Paulo Coelho - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Paulo Coelho
Tags: Fiction, Literary, General, Fiction - General, Visionary & Metaphysical, Brazil, working, Switzerland, Geneva, Prostitutes, Brazilian Novel And Short Story, Brazilians - Switzerland - Geneva, Prostitutes - Brazil, Brazilians
Ads: Link
her table and wasn't intercepted en route (because some clients were
'exclusive to certain girls'), he would probably say:
'Would you like a drink?'
To which Maria could say yes or no. She was free to choose the company she kept, although it wasn't advisable to say
'no' more than once a night. If she answered in the
affirmative, she should ask for a fruit juice cocktail, which just happened to be the most expensive drink on the drinks list. Absolutely no alcohol or letting the customer choose
for her.
Then, she should accept any invitation to dance. Most of the clientele were familiar faces and, apart from the
'special clients', about whom he did not go into any further
detail, none of them represented any danger. The police and the Department of Health demanded monthly blood
samples, to check that they weren't carrying any sexually transmitted diseases. The use of condoms was obligatory, although there was no way of checking if this rule was or wasn't being followed. She should never, on any account, cause any kind of scandal - Milan was a respectable married man, concerned for his reputation and the good name of his club.
He continued explaining the ritual: after dancing, they would return to the table, and the customer, as if he were
saying something highly original, would invite her to go back
to his hotel with him. The normal price was three hundred and fifty francs, of which fifty francs went to Milan, for the
hire of the table (a trick to avoid any future legal complications and accusations of exploiting sex for financial gain).
Maria tried to say:
'But I earned a thousand francs for ...'
The owner made as if to move off, but the other Brazilian woman, who was listening in to the conversation, said:
'She's just joking.'
And turning to Maria, she said in clear, loud Portuguese:
'This is the most expensive place in Geneva. Never do that again. He knows what the going rate is and he knows that no
one pays a thousand francs to go to bed with anyone, except, of course, the “special clients”, but only if you get lucky and you have the right qualifications.'
Milan's eyes - later, Maria found out that he was a
Yugoslav who had been living there for twenty years - left no room for doubt.
'The price is three hundred and fifty francs.'
'Right,' said a humbled Maria.
First, he had asked about the colour of her underwear, now he was deciding how much her body was worth.
But she had no time to think, the man was still issuing instructions: she must never accept invitations to anyone's house or to a hotel that had less than five stars. If the client had nowhere to take her, she was to go to a hotel
located five blocks from there, and should always take a taxi
so that the women who worked in the other clubs in Rue de
Berne didn't get to know her face. Maria didn't believe this last reason; she thought that the real reason was that she might get an offer of better working conditions in another club. She kept her thoughts to herself, however; arguing
about the price was bad enough.
'I'll say this again: just like policemen in the movies, never drink while on duty. I'll leave you now, it'll start getting busy soon.'
'Say thank you,' said the other Brazilian woman in
Portuguese.
Maria thanked him. The man smiled, but he had not yet finished his list of recommendations:
'I forgot something: the time between ordering a drink and leaving the club should never, under any circumstances, exceed forty-five minutes - and in Switzerland, with clocks
all over the place, even Yugoslavs and Brazilians must learn to be punctual. Just remember, I'm feeding my children on
your commission.' She would remember.
He gave her a glass of sparkling mineral water with a
slice of lemon in it - a drink that could easily pass for a gin and tonic - and asked her to wait. Gradually the club began to fill up; men came in, looked around, sat down on
their own, and immediately one of the women would go
'exclusive to certain girls'), he would probably say:
'Would you like a drink?'
To which Maria could say yes or no. She was free to choose the company she kept, although it wasn't advisable to say
'no' more than once a night. If she answered in the
affirmative, she should ask for a fruit juice cocktail, which just happened to be the most expensive drink on the drinks list. Absolutely no alcohol or letting the customer choose
for her.
Then, she should accept any invitation to dance. Most of the clientele were familiar faces and, apart from the
'special clients', about whom he did not go into any further
detail, none of them represented any danger. The police and the Department of Health demanded monthly blood
samples, to check that they weren't carrying any sexually transmitted diseases. The use of condoms was obligatory, although there was no way of checking if this rule was or wasn't being followed. She should never, on any account, cause any kind of scandal - Milan was a respectable married man, concerned for his reputation and the good name of his club.
He continued explaining the ritual: after dancing, they would return to the table, and the customer, as if he were
saying something highly original, would invite her to go back
to his hotel with him. The normal price was three hundred and fifty francs, of which fifty francs went to Milan, for the
hire of the table (a trick to avoid any future legal complications and accusations of exploiting sex for financial gain).
Maria tried to say:
'But I earned a thousand francs for ...'
The owner made as if to move off, but the other Brazilian woman, who was listening in to the conversation, said:
'She's just joking.'
And turning to Maria, she said in clear, loud Portuguese:
'This is the most expensive place in Geneva. Never do that again. He knows what the going rate is and he knows that no
one pays a thousand francs to go to bed with anyone, except, of course, the “special clients”, but only if you get lucky and you have the right qualifications.'
Milan's eyes - later, Maria found out that he was a
Yugoslav who had been living there for twenty years - left no room for doubt.
'The price is three hundred and fifty francs.'
'Right,' said a humbled Maria.
First, he had asked about the colour of her underwear, now he was deciding how much her body was worth.
But she had no time to think, the man was still issuing instructions: she must never accept invitations to anyone's house or to a hotel that had less than five stars. If the client had nowhere to take her, she was to go to a hotel
located five blocks from there, and should always take a taxi
so that the women who worked in the other clubs in Rue de
Berne didn't get to know her face. Maria didn't believe this last reason; she thought that the real reason was that she might get an offer of better working conditions in another club. She kept her thoughts to herself, however; arguing
about the price was bad enough.
'I'll say this again: just like policemen in the movies, never drink while on duty. I'll leave you now, it'll start getting busy soon.'
'Say thank you,' said the other Brazilian woman in
Portuguese.
Maria thanked him. The man smiled, but he had not yet finished his list of recommendations:
'I forgot something: the time between ordering a drink and leaving the club should never, under any circumstances, exceed forty-five minutes - and in Switzerland, with clocks
all over the place, even Yugoslavs and Brazilians must learn to be punctual. Just remember, I'm feeding my children on
your commission.' She would remember.
He gave her a glass of sparkling mineral water with a
slice of lemon in it - a drink that could easily pass for a gin and tonic - and asked her to wait. Gradually the club began to fill up; men came in, looked around, sat down on
their own, and immediately one of the women would go
Similar Books
