y Fatmah’s blessed teats! I can’t believe this! My temper threatens to get the best of me as I mentally categorise the dubious ancestry of what passes for household help here at Alexandria After Dark. I know this is a new establishment, and of course I expected that there would be some rough edges… but this! It is nearly more than I can bear. Picking up costume after costume, I am once again stunned. No, more than stunned. I am truly devastated. All I asked was that my costumes be unpacked, freshened, and properly stored. And just look at them! A small tear of frustration slips from the corner of my eye as I behold the heaps of sodden silk, burned linen, torn cottons, the crushed accessories. Only one garment has escaped this perdition. I pluck it from underneath the bed where it was no doubt unwittingly kicked by one of the so-called maidservants. More tears well up in my eyes. It is a rag, unfit for a camel to wear on an occasion like this! Sniffing loudly, I fall back on the bed, despair in my heart. I look again at the simple gown. There’s no hope for it. The poor scrap of cloth will have to do – and, perhaps with a bit of jewelry, it won’t look so badly. I fish in my trunk for my great jewelcase. Jewelry is not only a source of adornment that enhances my professional appearance, it is also my life savings. Two for one is always best, and in this case quite pleasurable to collect as well. I do confess to liking the icy feel of metal and jewels against my hot skin. I throw back the heavy inlaid teak lid and, with horror, behold an empty box! What shall I do? What shall I do? My teeth scrape the knuckles of the fist I’ve stuffed in my mouth to keep from screaming. Rocking back and forth in misery, I try to get hold of myself. I’m past due downstairs, and I need this job! Hurriedly dressing, trying to suppress all the rage and frustration of this day, I slip the rags I must wear tonight on my perfumed body. One small consolation at least … no one stole my cosmetics, unguents and parfumes. Slipping through the back halls, I finally come upon the entrance to Bar “O”. Peeking through the doorway, I see my new employer sitting at a table, going through more applications. I tug at my gown, pat my hair, and with a dancer’s grace, walk to his side. He looks up at me kindly, but before he can say a word, I break into a piteous moan. “Look at me!” I wail. “How can I go on tonight looking like this?”