After watching for half an hour, Kiah took her first order and made no mistakes. Ameena gave her only one piece of advice. ‘Wet your lips,’ she said, licking her own lips to demonstrate. ‘Makes you look sexy.’
Kiah shrugged and wet her lips.
She gained confidence rapidly and began to feel pleased with herself.
After a few hours the girls took turns to have a short break and a snack. Kiah hurried to the house and checked on Naji. She found him fast asleep. He was phlegmatic, Kiah thought gratefully; change interested him more than it scared him. She went back to work reassured.
Some customers went home after they had dined, but many stayed, and newcomers joined them for drinks. Kiah was amazed at how much beer, wine and whisky people imbibed. She herself did not like the feeling she got from intoxicating drinks. Salim had enjoyed a glass of beer occasionally. Drinking was not prohibited – they were Christians, not Muslims – but all the same it played no big part in their lives.
The atmosphere began to change. The laughter got louder. Kiah noticed that the clientele was now mostly male. She was taken aback when men would put a hand on her arm while ordering drinks, or touch her back as they passed. One rested a hand on her hip, briefly. It was all done in a casual way, without leering smiles or murmured remarks, but it disconcerted her. Such things did not happen in the village.
It was midnight when she found out what the stage was for. The orchestra began to play an Arabic tune and the curtains opened to reveal an Egyptian belly dancer. Kiah had heard of such people but had never seen one. This woman wore an extraordinarily revealing costume. At the end of her dance she somehow slipped off her halter top to show her breasts, and a second later the curtains closed. The audience clapped enthusiastically.
Kiah did not know much about city life but she suspected that not all restaurants had entertainment of this type, and she began to feel uneasy.
She checked her tables and a customer waved at her. It was the man who had put his hand on her hip. He was European, heavy-set, wearing a striped suit with a white shirt open at the neck. He looked about fifty. ‘A bottle of champagne, chérie,’ he said. ‘Bollinger.’ He was a little drunk.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Bring it to me in the private room. I’ll be in Number Three.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Bring two glasses.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Call me Albert.’
‘Yes, Albert.’
She put ice in a silver-coloured bucket and got a bottle of champagne and two glasses from the barman. She put them on a tray and the barman added a small bowl of dukkah, blended seeds and spices, and a plate of cucumber batons to dip. She carried the tray to the back of the restaurant. Another big guard in a black suit was standing by the door to the private corridor. Kiah found room Number Three, tapped on the door, and walked in.
Albert was sitting on the sofa. Kiah looked around the room but no one else was there. That made her nervous.
She put the tray on the table.
‘You can open the champagne,’ said Albert.
Opening bottles of wine had not been part of Kiah’s training. ‘I don’t know how, sir, I’m sorry. This is my first day.’
‘Then I’ll show you.’
She watched carefully as he stripped away the foil and loosened the wire closure. He grasped the cork, twisted it a little, then pressed down on it to let it come out slowly. There was a sound like a breath of wind. ‘Like the sigh of a satisfied woman,’ he said. ‘Only you don’t hear that often, do you?’ He laughed, and she realized he had made a joke, so she smiled, although she did not see what was funny.
He poured two glasses.
‘You’re waiting for someone,’ Kiah said.
‘No.’ He picked up one of the glasses and offered it to her. ‘This is for you.’
‘Oh, no, thank you.’
‘It won’t do you any harm, you little idiot.’ He patted his meaty thigh with his hand. ‘Come, sit on my lap.’
‘No, sir, I really cannot.’
He began to look annoyed. ‘I’ll give you twenty bucks for a kiss.’