MARTA CAME IN FOR WORK at 4:03 pm
and was immediately ordered by the supervisor to run up to room 175 at what they called, The Hotel. The man whom they all referred to as The Man was around, and, for the first time, he had requested for a girl that matched Marta’s description.
Marta was absolutely wild with excitement.
She jumped up and down the linoleum floor and her heels did not break. That would be a shame if that had happened, of course.
Get yourself together, Marta told herself.
— So he’s really here?
She said to the supervisor who was an old, keen lady with glasses on. The kind of glasses with rope that ran down the back of the neck.
— That or his apparition.
The supervisor said.
— And he wants me?
— He wants someone like you.
— Then I must hurry. Oh I can’t wait. I absolutely, absolutely can’t wait.
— Don’t get your hopes up!
The supervisor said,
Screw that, Marta thought. Today was going to be her day.
AT 4:19 PM, I got a call from the reception that someone was here to see me. Her name was Marta.
— Yes, yes,
I said. — Send her up immediately.
I was excited to see Marta. I had described to the supervisor exactly what I wanted. And she had said to me, I have just the person for you.
And her name was Marta. So that was fine by me. I was excited.
From what I heard, Marta was just as excited to see me. It was no surprise. I paid the girls well. And I had what one could call a lore with them.
Marta took a seat by the bed when she arrived. I took my seat by the reading table. I removed the chair and pointed it towards her.
She had on a tank top and miniskirts, revealing just enough of her thighs to keep me busy.
The hotel was very nice, with very nice rooms. I didn’t use the nice rooms, though, I used the merely decent ones. You don’t want to get too comfortable.
The room I used was big enough to have a conference table in it. And a reading chair and table by the side. Marta was on the bed with her legs crossed, leaning back, stretching her hands farther to support her slanting weight.
She kept smiling at me with her big, lovely dark eyes. She was clearly excited to be here and she made no efforts to hide it.
— They say you talk and talk and talk,
She said to me, — you only talk and talk and you don’t actually fuck. Is that true?
— No,
I said. — that’s not true at all. I don’t only talk, no.
— They say you ask for specific girls. And you make weird requests.
— And I tip a lot of money.
I said.
— And you tip a lot of money.
She was excited, Marta, rocking back and forth on the bed with both her hands as a pivot. One thing I really liked about her was her hair. She had on these thick braids the kind that I’d always loved.
Her voice was amazing as well, cracked enough to be unbelievably sexy. She wasn’t the most beautiful to have come around, but it seemed to me at that moment that she was the most fun. I could have listened to her talk forever.
— And they say you won’t shut up about your friend that has a suit and a cane.
She said,
— Mike.
I said.
She smiled, showing all her teeth. I’ve had girls smile at me before when they came up. There was always something reserved about their smile – understandably. And even though some tried to hide the inauthenticity – and some were very good at faking it – it still showed.
Marta’s smile was genuine. Her eyes showed it.
— Mike introduced me to this place.
I said. — I told Mike, I like it when my heart craves. A song. A meal. A sight. Lately I’ve been craving nothing. So Mike brought me here – to your, erm, work place. The whore house. Hope you’re not mad by me calling it the whore house?
— No, it’s fine.
Marta said. — This is what it is.
— And there’s not a thing wrong with that!
I said.
— Not one but maybe many.
She said.
It was funny. I laughed. She laughed too. Her laughter put mine to shame.
— I like that.
I said. — Would you like to know the description I gave them? That made them send you to me?
— Not really. I don’t care that much.
— It wasn’t funny.
I said.
— What?
— I didn’t ask for someone funny. That you’re funny is just a pleasant addition.
— I’m glad you like it.
— Would you like something to drink? You can help yourself.
I said.
She stood up and went to the fridge by the corner. I forgot to mention but the room was also big enough for a fridge by the corner. And a cabinet and a wardrobe. She took out some wine. It was a very expensive Hennessy I had brought along.
I saw even more of her as she walked to the fridge. She was taller than I thought, which was another pleasant surprise because I had forgotten to mention that as part of my description.
— I aim to please.
She said, catwalking to the fridge. — And I’d do anything you ask me to. Anything.
— I have a bit of a reputation, don’t I?
I said.
— Yes. You do.
— And the girls – they all share these stories?
She didn’t retake her seat. She stood by the side smiling, pouring wine into a glass.
— Want some?
— No, thank you.
She dropped the bottle on the floor. She remained standing by the wall, glass in hand, sipping her wine slowly.
— Yes. Your legend grows every week. It has become a thing amongst us. You’ve become a puzzle that we try to piece together. And each girl shares what they have learnt.
— What have they figured out about me so far?
I said.
— Can I be honest?
— Absolutely.
I said. — But not too much.
She came over and took a seat on my lap. She wrapped her arms around my neck. She was even more captivating so close to me.
— They say that you pay women to visit you. And that you don’t have sex with them. They say you pay them a lot of money to spank you. They say you curl into a ball and ask to be spanked with a cane. And with a belt. And with all many of such tools.
— Oh?
— Anna said that you like to be tickled after. The twins said that you asked to be locked up in the dark closet for hours without food or drinks. And Maria said that you told her to apologize afterwards, and for her to say to you that she only hurts you for your sake.
— Is that all?
— Carla said that you told her that you do all of these because your mother told you when you were 13 years old that you were weak and would remain weak forever.
— Well, that is quite obvious, isn’t it?
I said.
She laughed. I could feel her breath on my face. I carried her and dumped her on the bed. I went over to the fridge to get some water for myself.
She got up from the bed and paced around the room. She had become very restless all of a sudden. She was so sexy and anxious I could die.
— Why do you not have sex with the girls?
— What?
There was a loud noise coming from the corridor all of a sudden. The noise died down.
— Why do you not have sex with us, though?
— But I do.
I said.
— Lies.
She said,
— I swear it’s true.
It was not true, but this was a topic I did not want to discuss with her.
— You lie to me.
— I do have sex with the girls. Just not the penetrative kind.
— That’s nonsense.
She said,
— Since when has it ever been about the penetration when you have sex?
I said. — No no it’s not about that. It’s about the lips, which you part with your thumb while she moans and bites on it softly; the hair, which you pull and squeeze while you look deep into her soul; and the eyes, the doorway to the soul, squinting and surrendering; the legs, shaking tremulous as you grip them for stability; the brows which you smoothen; the face in violent ecstasy; the ass recoiling when you slap them as she lays on your laps; the boobs, caressing your thing; the thighs, spread thick and unyielding –
I had no idea what I was talking about. I simply uttered words that came into my head in my attempt to distract her from her current train of thought.
— But they say you do not touch them at all, either?
— They say that?
— You just ask them to spank you until you cry.
— Not all of them.
I said.
At this point she became quite frustrated. She was going to ask a question but I interrupted.
— Would you do something for me?
I said quickly. — It may not necessarily be a part of your job description. But I’d really like for you to do this thing for me.
— Anything.
She said.
I told her to check in the wardrobe for a suit. I asked her to wear this suit. She did so without hesitation.
First she had to get out of her tank top and mini skirts. Her body was incredible. She was not as voluptuous as the other girls I’ve had come around, but there was something about her tiny breasts and barren ribs that was just perfect.
— Will you at least tell me about your friend Mike?
She said, twirling in the oversized suit she had just put on. — Apparently it’s a big part of the puzzle and none of the girls could figure it out.
— My friend Mike.
I said. — He brought me here.
— Yes, that’s what you tell everybody. Who is he? Is he your brother? Anna thinks he’s your lover.
I couldn’t control my laughter at that point. I got up and went to the wall at the far end of the room opposite Marta. I lit a cigarette.
— Mike is not my lover,
I said, still laughing in bits. — He’s barely my friend. Mike is crazy, though. He’s incredible. He has it all together, Mike. Rich house, rich family, happy kids. He has a great personality, too. Lights up the room. And a genius. He lights up every room he’s in, I tell you. Every girl everywhere wants to talk to him. He doesn’t have to pay for it like I do. Did I mention he was a genius? He writes computer codes that make him money in his sleep.
I tried to hide it, but I got very contemplative and morose – as I tended to get anytime I spoke of Mike. All of a sudden I did not feel like standing up anymore. I decided to take a seat on the bed.
Marta noticed that my mood had changed slightly.
— This suit is so comfortable,
She said, — I like it.
— I’m glad,
I said proudly.
— Would you like to take it off me?
— Not yet,
I said.
— But you will?
— Naturally.
I said.
— You seem sad talking about Mike.
She said, taking a seat beside me.
She became very gentle.
— Do you wish you had what Mike has?
Up until this point Marta had seemed very genuine in everything she had asked and told me. At that point, though, it seemed to me like she had begun to play a part. It was only natural, of course, with her line of work.
Incidentally, I happened to be quite a good performer myself.
— Yes I do wish I had what Mike has.
I said. — But he is also not free. I would like to have what Mike has and still be free.
— Free in what sense?
She said,
— Free in the sense of not being controlled. By his parents; by his wife; by the need to care for his children and make sure they don’t become despicable people.
— The odds are against him,
I said.
— They are?
— Absolutely.
I said.
— Mike pays for me.
I continued. — It’s the only thing he does for me. He won’t pay for me to see a therapist. But he’ll pay for me to visit a whorehouse and spend as much as I like.
— So you started using the whorehouse for therapy?
Marta said.
— I guess.
— Thank you for telling me about Mike,
She said, — this is something none of the girls knew about Mike.
— It’s fine,
I said.
Her gratitude seemed genuine. She cradled my neck gently and placed it on her wonderful breasts. I felt very comfortable, safe, like I did in the womb.
She kissed me with tongue and I kissed her back.
— What a nice suit.
I said. — You look so beautiful. I want to fuck that suit.
— You want to fuck the suit?
She said, mildly bewildered.
— Absolutely. I’m serious. I want to fuck the shit out of that suit.
— The suit?
— Yes.
— What about me?
— What?
— Do you want to fuck me?
I thought about it for a second.
— Oh no.
I said. — I’m not particularly in that mood. Can you get up and turn on more lights so I can see the suit better?
I said.
She got up. She didn’t turn on the light. She took off the suit.
— Did I do something wrong?
I said.
— Whose suit is this?
She said.
That was, of course, my mother’s suit. I didn’t tell her, though.
She got down on her knees in front of me. She parted my thighs and rolled up her hair.
— I must confess something.
She said,
— What is that, my love?
— There is a bet.
— A bet?
— Yes. With the girls.
— With the girls?
— Yes. You see, everytime a girl comes back from seeing you, there is money added to the betting pool.
— The betting pool?
— Yes. It is quite large now. Quite significant.
— Is it a bet to see who – ?
— Yes.
— Who gets to fuck me first?
I said.
— I want to have that money.
Marta said. — I need it.
— That is absolutely interesting.
I said.
— Is it?
— Of course. Turns out I am the whore all along.
She laughed.
— I’m sorry, Marta, I do not wish to have sex with you. Or anyone for that matter.
— Except the suit?
— Except the suit.
She smiled. She did not seem sad or dejected.
–– I am sorry,
I said.
— Oh.
— That is not why I do this.
— I understand.
— You can tell them that I did it, though?
— I can?
— Yes….I will back you up. I promise.
— You will?
— Absolutely.
I said.
She seemed happy for a second. Then her smile faded.
— It is not the same.
She said,
— It’s not?
— No. Would you like me to spank you now?
She said.
— Yes.
I said, a little too eagerly.
— Yes?
— Yes, please.
— Okay. How would you like it? They say you like to curl up on the bed?
— Is that weird to you?
I said. — You find this a weird request?
— No. I have expected it.
— Yes, but do you find it weird yourself? Honestly?
— I don’t know.
She said.
She paused to think about it.
— A lot of men ask me to spank them.
She said, — It’s nothing to me.
— But you have to spank me really hard.
I said. — You understand? Very hard until I’m sore. And I bleed. And until I cry.
— That’s alright.
— And it’s not weird?
— No. Not to me. Not at all.
— Honestly?
— It’s not weird to me at all. I’ve spanked a lot of men.
— Until they cried?
— It is more common than you think.
She said,
— Okay then.
She went to the wardrobe and made her pick of the fine leather belts, whips, and canes inside.
She took a belt and a whip.
I took off my clothes until I had only my boxers on. I began to curl up on the bed, into a fetal position. Like I was in the womb.
— You know, here’s more information for you.
I said, now comfortable in my position on the bed. — My mother never told me I was weak. We never talked about that. She wanted me to be the best student in my classes and graduate with a first class degree. She wanted me to marry a beautiful lady and have kids, not for myself but for her so that she could see her grandchildren. She prays the rosary for me.
— She wanted me to be like Mike.
I said.
— Quiet.
She said, sending a venom of pain through my thighs as she flogged me senselessly with the whip. My skin flared up in futile submission.
She continued to flog me. I remained in the same position, vulnerable yet unyielding, like I was in the womb. When the world was nothing. I was crying, as well; crying because the world is nothing.
ON my way out of the hotel I waved to the receptionist. She must have heard my screams but I doubt it surprised her anymore. She smiled and waved back.
They were consummate professionals at the hotel.
On the way out of the premises I found that there was a different man at the gate.
— What happened to Malibu?
I said to the new gateman. I did not like him. He had oddly large tribal marks on his cheeks and he looked plumpy, violent, and intimidating.
Malibu was wispy and futile with only gentle tribal marks on his face.
— He got promoted,
The new gateman said.
That was good news. It had been a good day.
Outside the hotel I saw Malibu. He was dressed differently. He wore a suit. It was an unbelievable sight. He was happy to see me.
— Who is this man?
I said to him, — Don’t tell me this is Malibu in a suit.
He laughed and attempted to place his head under my armpit as he usually did whenever he was particularly excited to see me. I congratulated him on the promotion.
— Thank you, Mike.
He said. — You – I swear, you have always been good to me.
It was nothing.
— See you later, man.
I said.
— Same time next week?
He said.
— By God’s grace,
I said. — by God’s grace.
