Maid To Order

Chapter Two-1

CHAPTER TWO

“Daniela, you must leave here!”

This was her friend Pavel speaking to her, leaning over the table in the coffee house. The thick cigarette smoke around them seemed to hide the pair away from the other customers in the busy place. They’d taken a seat in the front window, far in the corner. Around them, the sounds of clinking glass and clattering silverware drowned out most of the unwanted noise of other conversations, while protecting anyone from hearing the bizarre scheme Pavel manufactured to save Daniela from the butcher. Pavel was an artist, a poet, a dreamer. A simple man with a pale complexion, a nearly shaved head and a neatly trimmed goatee. His wiry body teamed with nervous energy, excitement, thrill, fear and passion.

“I am fine, Pavel,” Daniela said.

“No, you’re not. I see your eyes. They hardly gleam as they used to. He doesn’t just want your body, Daniela; he wants to strip you of your dignity. I heard that in his voice. I heard him use you. Others heard him use you and shook their heads.”

“But not because they think I don’t deserve it.”

“You think they want to see you suffer?”

“They want Valeska Zito’s daughter to suffer because my mother is beyond their reach now. There is nothing else they can do to her.”

“Then maybe that is more of a reason to leave here.”

“Where would I go?”

“United States.” His eyes lit suddenly, and strangely.

“What? You’re mad.”

“No, Daniela, no. I have a scheme.”

“A scheme? I don’t like your schemes, Pavel. They are trouble, dangerous.”

“This isn’t dangerous. You get your working papers, all that you need, all legal, I swear.”

“And how does that happen?”

Pavel pulled a magazine from his pocket. “Like this, but on the Internet. Your picture and a description. Even a video. They say that works even better.”

Daniela bristled. “I’m not a w***e, Pavel.”

“No, no, this is not about being a w***e. There are rich American men who pay good money to arrange for foreign women. House servants. Maids. Cooks. Nannies. They want pretty ones.”

“What? No pretty ones in America?” she looked doubtful.

He shrugged, he didn’t know. With his fierce insistence there was an intensity, a madness about him. He would not be dissuaded.

“You can do this, Daniela. You should do this. Become a maid to some rich American, get out of that hellhole Laszlo has made for you. Least if you have to submit to s*x,” he said it as if it was nothing big, “you might get something from it. But not from the butcher. He’ll take more and more of you and think he owns you.”

Pavel was like the brother she never had. They’d grown up in the same building, a very nice, modern one where she lived with her parents until her father died. She and her mother had been forced to move to a tenement when she was eight years old. Before that time, she and Pavel used to play on the front steps of their building together. Even when she moved six blocks away he’d come see her; he would never abandon her. Too bad he couldn’t take her from this situation himself. However, Pavel was gay. He’d be her brother, not a lover.

“You should do this, at least try.” He rapped the magazine with his fingers, so intent, so focused that she could not refuse to listen or consider what he said. It was a way out. Maybe a better one, maybe worse.

“I’ll think on it. Okay?”

“Daniela, please. You should not have to…”

“I know. But sometimes, sometimes, I don’t mind it.”

This made Pavel back up and look at her oddly.

“What? You like getting taken like a w***e?”

“Maybe.” She squirmed a little in her seat and avoided his eyes.

“What? You like it what… a little kinky?”

“I didn’t say that.”

But it was as if he knew, understood her better now than ever, and because of knowing this new thing about her was more convinced than ever that Daniela should seek another life elsewhere.

“I’ll think on it, that’s all, Pavel. Now I’m going.” She slipped from her seat, swiping the magazine with the pictures and rose to her feet, embracing her friend in a warm goodbye. Then as Pavel watched, she moved through the smoky coffeehouse on her way toward home.

Going home was always a bleak journey. Going back to her mother wondering what kind of b***h, or shrew or nagging victim she’d have on her hands for the remainder of the day. She always hoped the woman was asleep, knocked out on pills, so she could have time to herself in her room. However, that didn’t happen often enough to suit her.

Two days later, she met with Pavel again, this time outside the butcher shop in the alley behind the building.

“Tell me how I do this,” she said, as she pulled the dog-eared magazine from the waistband of her skirt. It had been hidden underneath her sweater.

Pavel’s eyes lit, looking reenergized in his mission.

“I have a friend who will set up the interview and pictures, and a video, if you want that too – which is what he recommends.”

“And this costs me something?”

“A little. But I’ll take care of that.”

“No, you won’t. I can’t let you.”

“I have the money, you don’t. Don’t quarrel with me, Dani.”

After a deep breath, she vented her concern, “I don’t understand you, Pavel. You want me gone. You’re so sure about this. What if this turns out to be something terrible? You can’t be sure.”

He shook his head – an indication that he didn’t know any better than she did why he was so insistent. “But I do know, I know this is right, Daniela. I’ll arrange an appointment for you tonight. Maybe you can get in to see my friend tomorrow.”

“Daniela!” Laszlo called her from inside the shop.

“I have to go.”

She moved fast, disappearing through the back door, leaving Pavel alone in the alley to wonder over her reservations. Any sane person would feel reluctant. Scams were common with immigration schemes to the United States, but this seemed for real. He would have to trust his friend and Dani would have to trust him.

***

Nikolai had eyes like a bird of prey. Sharp. Piercing. Small and black. Not beady ones like the butcher’s. These eyes saw things in people they couldn’t see themselves. That was what Nikolai, the arranger, would lead her to believe.

He scrutinized her for some minutes, Daniela sitting in a straight-backed chair, Nikolai walking around her, staring with rapt attention but saying nothing.

She finally asked, “Is there something wrong with me?”

“No, no, not a thing,” he smiled more warmly than she imagined this cold, abrupt man could, “I’m just making my plans for you.”

This seemed a little creepy. “Your plans?”

“I have to decide where you’d fit best. There are people on the other side of the deal, who arrange these things,” he explained. “They look for different things in the women they want. Different kinds of customers.”

“I want to be a house maid for a rich man. That is what Pavel wants for me. I want that too. I think that would be right for me. Make those plans.”

He laughed at her. How naïve, how simple this girl was. “Sure, I’ll make those plans.”

Nikolai next picked up his camera and began shooting pictures of Daniela from all angles. She smiled, perhaps weakly, but then more boldly when he urged her. Still she was nervous and her lip trembled.

“Think about attracting the attention of your rich man. Make a bigger smile,” he said.

She did so, but self-consciously, blushing, looking away from the lens and to the floor, coyly.

“Yes. Yes. Very good. They like that, sweet, shy, you’re all that. They will love you.”

When he was finished, Nikolai sat down and started in on the long questionnaire. Questions and more questions. About her health, her weight, her education, her experience in all sorts of jobs.

“I want to be a maid. That is what this is about,” she told him, when the question was if she knew about repairing a car.

Nikolai shrugged. “I don’t know why they ask, but you better answer any way. Maybe you could be a chauffeur if you were qualified.” He smiled, putting her at ease again, and starting with more questions. He filled in the questionnaire with check marks in the appropriate blocks.

“You have a boyfriend?”

She returned with a puzzled expression.

“You have a boyfriend?” he asked again.

“No.”

“Ever have a boyfriend?”“Yeah, sure.”

“And are you sexually active now?”

“That’s a personal question!”

He looked up from the papers. “I know, but you have to answer.”

“A little.”

“A little active. What does that mean?”

“I don’t sleep around,” she said defensively.

“But you have no boyfriend now and you’re sexually active?” This puzzled him. “Does not sound good.”

She didn’t like these questions at all. “Maybe I should lie.”

“I’m not sure they care if you’re having s*x or not.”

“Then why ask the question?”

“I don’t know, but you have to answer. What does active mean?”

“I have s*x with one man when he wants, maybe once a week, sometimes often more.”

He nodded and moved on. “Are you pregnant?”

“No.”

“You take precautions?”

“Yes.” Yes, Laszlo used a condom, except for the first time.

“No sexually transmitted diseases?”

“No, not that I know about.”

Nikolai looked up again. “But you will be checked.”

“I will?”

“A full physical, part of the program. The United States wants healthy people, you can be sure of that.”

Finally done with the questionnaire, Nikolai put it aside, and after a few moments, he stood up, moved around to the other side of the table and sat down next to Daniela on the bench – so he could be closer, so they could talk more intimately.

“You will do yourself a big favor, Daniela, if you make a video,” he said. He gently covered her hand with his, both hands resting on her thigh. She stared at his dark hand and her light one, uncomfortable with the familiarity, although she rather liked the man’s nurturing warmth.

“That’s what Pavel said. That I should make the video.” It felt strange having him sit so close to her, the way Pavel would.

“In the other room there’s a video recorder all set up. All you need to do is walk in there and I’ll start filming.”

“Filming what?”

“You start with a statement about what you want. And there are more things to say, but it’s very easy.”

She thought about this and finally nodded. “All right.”

***

The next room was cheerier than Nikolai’s simple business office. Set up like a living room, there was a window with a drape – probably fake – a table with a bouquet of silk flowers and beside that a nicely upholstered chair.

“Just say your name,” Nikolai coached her. “Then start talking.”

Daniela could hear the video camera running. The soft purr should have soothed her, instead, her stomach turned queasy and she began to blush.

“Go on,” Nikolai prompted.

After a few more moments of sweaty struggle, Daniela finally said with some strength in her small voice, “I am Daniela Zito. I want to come to the United States of America, to be a maid. I’m a good worker. I’ve worked hard here in my country, but I want to see new things, meet new people, have a different life than I have here. I am good with numbers and speak English well. My mother was English and taught me from the time I was a child.” Daniela thought her English speaking was something in her favor. Nikolai had agreed. “I would be a good servant in a home. I am courteous and kind and I follow your instructions well. I promise that.”

These were all things Nikolai had told her to say. However, when she stopped speaking, she wondered if she’d said it all, if she’d said enough. The video kept running, the purring noise expecting something from her, so she smiled, bashfully, then bit her lip and fidgeted with her hands, nervously waiting for what came next.

“That’s good, Daniela,” Nikolai said, as he stepped away from the whirring camera; the tape was still recording. He moved to her side, helped her stand and then put his arm around her. He spoke softly, kindly but urgently.

“The men who see this, Daniela, will want to know what you look like. They like pretty young maids, so you show them now how pretty you are. And you know…” he spoke very carefully now, “there may be things they want you to do…more than just cleaning their houses. You understand?”

She thought so but she wasn’t certain.

“Let’s take off some of your clothes so they can see you better.” He had his hand on her sweater and slowly peeled it away, leaving her in a small white cotton t-shirt. She wore no bra underneath and felt a little nervous showing herself this way. Nervous, but excited. Her n*****s poked through the fabric like tiny buttons.

“Good. That’s very good,” Nikolai stepped back. “So, maybe a little more, huh?”

“More, why?” She looked at him suspiciously. What more could she take off without baring her body? Besides the white t-shirt, she wore a funky crimson velvet skirt, plaid stockings and beaded ballet slippers.