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Ferhana was as puzzled as anyone by Ana's abrupt change of character and appearance. She no longer dressed in the smart modest clothes that made her stand out against the general style of the Brothel. Instead, she had taken to wearing a very short skirt, black stockings, torturously high heels and blouses that barely covered her navel and accentuated the lift of her supported breasts. Her hair was tied back and frizzled loose, and her face had become almost unrecognisable under a mass of rouge and mascara. She no longer stayed late in the Brothel, seeking out her friend Binta, and was very rarely seen even in the canteen where Ferhana had often met her together with Binta. When she was seen in the canteen, or even in the corridor, she was always escorted by either Khedra or the Pimple, and very occasionally more favoured prostitutes like Bezaffa.
She had seen a similar change in Ana's predecessor, Inta, but Ana's transformation was all the more shocking for its abruptness and how much it contradicted all that Ana represented before. It was rumoured that Ana had started seeing clients, just as Inta had done, something she had sworn so many times and so vehemently that she would never do. Binta never saw Ana anymore. Quite suddenly and with no warning, Ana just never sought her out and even went out of her way to avoid seeing her or as much as catch her eye. Ferhana knew that this unexplained schism in their relationship had troubled Binta immensely: she had withdrawn from sight, spending more and more time by herself or with her plot in the Brothel garden.
She was initially just rather annoyed, if resignedly, when the Pimple requested her - really, commanded her - to come to his office for what he termed a bit of extramural entertaining, but she reasoned that these services she supplied on an occasional basis would bit by bit gain her the remission she sought. As she reasoned to herself, a little extra humiliation at this stage should result in a shorter overall sentence, and therefore bring much nearer the end of all her suffering. Whatever lies she had barefacedly expressed to Khedra or the Pimple, she had no intention whatsoever of prolonging her stay at the Brothel beyond the absolute minimum required. Ferhana was rather more shocked than irritated when she came into the office to find the Pimple with a frightened Ana, who was sitting uncomfortably on his knee while he crudely molested her breasts.
"Good afternoon, m'dear," the Pimple said, with that cruel smile of his that Ferhana had seen so many times before and had learnt to fear. "You know Ana, don't you? You've met her before, I believe."
Ferhana nodded. What a stupid question to ask, although there might be a touch of truth in his sarcasm. Ferhana didn't know Ana as she was now, in her long stockinged legs and the Pimple's hands fondling the nipples beneath her blouse.
"Poor little Ana's been doing a sterling job recently," the Director continued, "entertaining clients and me, and assisting more materially in alleviating our constant employment problem of suitably attractive young ladies. But the poor girl's not happy. Are you, m'dear?"
Ana silently and sullenly nodded, showing absolutely no evidence of enjoying her situation on her boss's knee.
"And why do you think that is, Ferhana m'dear? Well, my opinion is that the poor child has had little opportunity to enjoy what she likes most. And do you know what that is, m'dear? You probably can as I know you are no stranger to its pleasures yourself."
What the Pimple wanted was for Ana and Ferhana to indulge in what he called 'Sapphic play' in his presence and quite clearly for his own perverse pleasure and enjoyment rather than from respect for Ana's needs or desires. Ferhana had no choice in the matter, although it troubled her that the Pimple seemed to know about a feature of her own personality she thought she had kept fairly well hidden. As she and Ferhana enacted the scenario suggested by the Director, it became even more apparent to her that despite Ana's show of pleasure - clearly learnt from the same induction course that she and every other prostitute had to endure - she was hating every single moment of it. There was a falseness and insincerity about her caresses that was so blatant to her, she wondered whether the Pimple would comment.
She looked at the Director, who had kept his trousers and underpants on for a change and puffed indulgently on a cigarette. It was then she realised that the pleasure their pretend lovemaking afforded him was far less to do with satisfying any sexual craving on his part, and more just an opportunity to see Ana humiliated. The very fact that Ana was getting so little pleasure out of the activity, appearing to loathe every part of it, was itself the greatest source of his enjoyment.
Ferhana orchestrated the activity to a premature climax, and with a few gestures and sympathetic smiles persuaded Ana to pretend to be similarly satisfied. The Pimple was clearly not convinced, but forbore any comment and allowed the two girls to get dressed.
"Well thanks very much, Ferhana m'dear!" the Pimple said, lighting another cigarette. "Who said niggers couldn't do it just as well as anyone else? I daresay the two of you will want to rest now. Why not have an extended lunch, Ana, m'dear? The letters I wanted you to take down can be done some other time."
Ferhana and Ana left the Director's office, and closed the door behind them. Ana gave vent to a sigh to express her relief of an ordeal survived, and almost immediately darted away from Ferhana, trotting on her high heels along the corridor.
"Wait!" cried Ferhana. "Wait for me!"
Ana turned her head round and glared at Ferhana with an expression of pure hatred that alarmed her. She had never believed the secretary was capable of such unadulterated loathing. Where had it come from? She hesitated a moment, but then thought better of her own feelings of insecurity and chased after Ana, taking off her impossibly uncomfortable shoes to catch up with her. She grabbed Ana by the arm.
"What is wrong? What is troubled you?" she asked.
"Take. Your Hand. Off. Me!" said Ana with a flash of unfeigned anger.
Ferhana withdrew her hand as if it had just been burnt on a hotplate. "Why are you so angry with me? I did not want to have ... It was not what I have wanted ... The Director, he..."
"Leave me alone!" snapped Ana. "I don't want to talk to you. And I never want to talk to you!"
"What have I done? It was not what I wanted ... I had no choice ... Please believe me!"
Ana paused in the corridor by a door with a red light shining above it, ignoring the masculine panting emanating from within.
"It's not just what you did just now! Although that was bad enough."
"What is it? Tell me, what I have done? Why are you so angry with me?" Ferhana was genuinely upset by Ana's outburst. "And why have you changed so very much? Why do you dress like a prostitute? Why do you not see Binta anymore? What is wrong?"
"You should know!" exclaimed Ana angrily.
"Why should I know?" asked Ferhana, genuinely perplexed.
"Don't pretend you don't know! I know about you and Binta. I know how the both of you deceived me. I know all about it."
"About what?" Ferhana asked, gradually realising what it was that might be upsetting her. She and Binta had been so careful. They didn't want to hurt Ana. It was the last thing they wanted to do.
"I was shown a video of you and Binta. On the bed. I know what you did together. I've seen it! I was shown it by Khedra."
"Video? What video?"
"The video tape of you and Binta together. Making love. Filmed through the mirror in Binta's bedroom."
"The mirror? You are saying they tape what we do through the mirror?"
"Everything! And I've seen the videotape. I know how you and Binta have deceived me. Lied to me. Made a fool of me." Ana glared straight into Ferhana's eyes as she at last vocalised what Ferhana had suspected: "I hate you! I hate you and Binta! I hate you!"
Ferhana let her shoes drop to the floor with a clunk. She bowed her head down and cupped her face in her long black fingers, the red-tipped nails tangling in her short curly hair.
"The mirror! Through the mirror! They filmed us! They would not ... go so low! And you have seen us! Is that why... ? Is that the reason for you to... ?"
As she raised her head, Ana saw tears on Ferhana's face, although she wasn't sure whether they were from remorse or from being found out. "I must explain to you. It is not what you think. I am not Binta's lover. She is my friend. My best friend at the Brothel. My closest friend. Perhaps my only true friend. But she is not my lover. She is your lover. It is you she loves..."
"Don't lie! What were you doing together if it isn't what lovers do?"
"I must explain. I must tell you. She loves you. Not me. I would be happy if it was me she loves. But it is you! You must believe..."
At that moment, the door opened behind them and a short balding man in jeans and tee-shirt emerged with the prostitute he had been seeing. Ana took the opportunity to walk off again, with a long stride that she hoped would shake Ferhana off, but the black girl showed no signs of allowing that to happen. She picked up her shoes and rushed after Ana on her stockinged feet.
"We must talk!" she urged. "We must! It is all a horrible ... It is something you do not understand too well. You must listen to me. Is it really because of what Binta and me have done that you... ?"
"Yes!" said Ana, not wholly truthfully, but in the malicious hope of branding Ferhana with the shame of her actions.
"But that is not right! Please, we must talk. Somewhere. Anywhere."
They were passing by the viewing gallery of the gymnasium, so Ana with unpremeditated cooperation pushed open its door. Inside there was the steady rhythm of a squash ball ricocheting against a wall.
"We'll talk here, shall we?"
Ferhana nodded as they entered, and they sat together in the seats above an empty squash court. She laid her shoes on the seat beside her, and gazed directly into Ana's eyes.
"You must listen to me."
"Well, then!" said Ana, folding her bare arms and facing Ferhana defiantly. "Explain!"
Ferhana was abashed by this command, but smiled sadly. "It is you that Binta loves. She loves you so much. And she is so very ... sad. She is unhappy. She cries all the time. She talks about you. Why do you not talk to her anymore? Why do you not see her anymore? She eats so little now. All she wants is to be with you again. It's not me she wants..."
"But she still makes love to you?"
"No. No. Not anymore. And not often did we ... It was my fault. I was so lonely. I am so lonely. I hate it here. I hate it nearly as well as Binta hates it. Because I am black and the only black person here, I am treated very bad by the ... They treat me like I am a monkey. Or an animal. And so many want to see me. More than most girls because I am ... because all the other girls are not ... And I am so unhappy. I only have God to help me. But God is not always with me. And sometimes I want other ... I want so bad ... And Binta. She is so beautiful. She is so kind. We talk together. And I have always liked ... just like you and Binta and Zabba ... It is women that ... And Binta is also my best friend here ... and..."
"Binta was my lover!" Ana angrily exclaimed. "She was my first and only lover. And then you came and you took her away from me. You made love to her!"
Ferhana gazed into Ana's eyes, a tear running down the side of her cheek, agitatedly wringing her hands together. She disentangled one to stretch towards Ana's own hands resting on her lap, but thought better of touching her as Ana glared antipathetically at her.
"You must understand, Ana, that Binta and I, we work in a Brothel. Every day we have to make love with men. Horrible men. Ugly men. Disgusting men. Perhaps you know now yourself... ?"
Ana nodded. In the last few months she had learnt all too well what men were like, at least those who were clients in the Brothel, and she knew how repulsive most of them were. Any notion she might once have had of them in a more positive light, or even seriously entertaining the notion of romantic love with one, was now impossible to conceive.
"It is not normal. It is ... weird! It is not natural. It seems only right that ... When you have sex all day and you feel unhappy, it seems natural to ... Making love is not to Binta and I what it was like before ... And sometimes it just seems right to comfort ourselves, not with words, not with a joke or a ... It just seems so ... It just happens and we may not like ourselves for it ... But it's not..."
Ferhana bravely reached out a hand to Ana, tears dripping from her chin, and gazed at her with such sorrow that Ana reluctantly accepted her touch, but without warmth.
"Please, Ana. You must understand. You must believe. Binta loves you. She does not love me. I love Binta, but not like you love Binta. We did what we did, not because Binta loved me, but because..." She squeezed Ana's hand firmly. "Because I wanted to. Because I want love in my life. Because Binta is the only person who ... the only person at all who ... I could love! And I'm sorry! Sorry! I didn't wish to harm you. Or hurt you. Or Binta. Or..."
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