Some of the other girls had noted that some of the staff used words like ‘your highness’, and other such formalities. I was very intrigued.
By five pm we were all instructed to prepare for dinner, which was to be served promptly at seven. All the ladies gathered in the dining room where we found our seats by the photographs that sat among the place settings on tables that seated six people. Each table had one man and five ladies, and I counted twenty-five girls from every corner of the globe. I didn’t know anyone at the table and the language exchange was very challenging as only one other girl spoke English, a model from America. The man at our table was named Ali, but we were not told how he was related to the prince or his role within the palace. It was a very awkward dining experience, because I didn’t know what topics were appropriate. I stuck to commenting on the beauty of the palace, and getting to know the other girls in a very superficial way. I had no idea what I was eating, but decided not to insult the host by not finishing everything.
After dinner we were taken to another room where drinks were served. I didn’t ask for alcohol because I knew that Dubai was a dry country, but everyone seemed to be walking around with champagne flutes or wine glasses. I ordered an ice tea and mingled. By about eleven, girls were being approached by servants and escorted out. I was not selected and was hiding yawns behind my iced tea at regular intervals, but was not sure I was allowed to leave for the comfort of my bed. At midnight, a bell rang and we were shown to yet another room, for tea and coffee and a light supper. I politely took a green tea and chatted to a girl from France with very good English.
‘My god, when will this night ever end?’ I asked.
‘We have not been selected, so after your tea we will be allowed to return to bed.’
I was thrilled, I was getting paid and I didn’t even have to shag anyone. It was common knowledge that cameras were everywhere and most conversations were being listened to. So what went on between the sheets was not discussed.
The following day after a breakfast of fruit—nothing else was presented—I went down to the pool for what I hoped would be a full day of reading and sunbaking. I noticed one of the girls who had been selected the previous evening walk past. She was now wearing a beautiful diamond tennis bracelet, which she displayed like she was being filmed for a jewellery commercial. My brain was full of questions: How much could I sell that for? Do we still get given cash? How would I explain a gift like that coming through Australian customs?
After lunch, I returned to the library. This time I chose my favourite book, Pride and Prejudice, requested a black coffee and settled in for the afternoon. Within half an hour, a man was at my side.
‘You do enjoy the classics, don’t you?’ He spoke with a distinctly British accent, so I knew this was not a waiter wanting to top up my coffee. He also seemed to be making rather extensive notes on my reading material. I quickly sat up and straightened my posture.
‘I do, sir, and what do you enjoy?’ Hoping he would catch on to my double entendre.
‘I don’t mind the odd old-fashioned romance myself every now and then.’
‘Well then, we should get on just fine,’ I said.
‘It was a pleasure meeting you, Annika, I shall leave you in peace to enjoy your book.’
A pleasure meeting me? He knew my name but I had no clue who he was.
Come seven pm, I found him seated at my table. Everybody introduced themselves, and when his turn came around he said, ‘You may call me Mr Darcy.’ I giggled at his little joke.
We discussed literature and music, and he was very proud to boast that he adored Michael Jackson and had had the privilege of meeting him personally. I asked him to show us the moonwalk, but he just blushed and changed the topic, choosing to chat with the other girls at the table.
During the drinks portion of the evening, I lost sight of him, so decided to let my hair down for my last evening and strut my moves on the dance floor. There were about five other girls taking advantage of the music and disco-style floor. Not wanting to get too much of a sweat up, I limited my floor show to two songs, then retired to a virgin pina colada and a round of applause. Some minutes later a man asked me to follow him to a room in another wing of the house.
‘Good evening again, Mr Darcy.’
‘You are a woman with many charms, Erica, you read, you dance and you are exquisitely beautiful.’