The women looked nervous.
“You ladies look wonderful!” he exclaimed, spreading his arms. Now was the time to be charming. “Turn around so I can get a better look at you.”
The women looked at each other timidly.
“Come, now. I won’t hurt you.”
The pretty one stepped forward awkwardly in her shoes, pale with terror, and turned around.
“Very nice!” Mr. Choy complimented. “You look just like a movie star! Now you,” he nodded at the sassy one with long fingernails.
She did not move, but cut him a fierce look. His face darkened suddenly.
“I’m not asking, I’m telling. Turn your ass around,” he said through gritted teeth. He swallowed to keep from becoming irate. His temper tended to flare.
The sassy one stepped forward, more confidently than the pretty one had, but no better in her heels. She spun around quickly. Then the crooked girl did the same. Mr. Choy composed himself again, putting on a mask of absolute civility.
“I want to show you something,” he said to the women. He dismissed the beautician with an impatient hand gesture. The girls watched with uneasy expressions as she left them. “I promised that I would show you the Internet today. Get behind me and watch.” He sat down again at his desk and turned on a computer. The girls crowded in behind him, more from fearful obedience than curiosity. “Just about anything you can think of is on the Internet, and you can access it instantly. You see this blinking line? All we have to do is type something there and hit the Enter key, and bang! Ten thousand related articles will come up. What do you want to look up?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“The Great Leader, Kim Il-sung,” responded the crooked girl as if by reflex. It was the same response all the girls from the North gave. Mr. Choy had the sense that it was the “correct” answer.
“Alright. Watch me type it in. See? Now hit that button,” he said to the crooked girl. She reached forward hesitantly, as if the keyboard might bite her, and pressed the Enter key. “Now look, see how fast that was? Each of those headings links to a web page. And see here? That is the total number of pages that contain some reference to Kim Il-sung. Well over one million.” The girls were impressed, but not convinced. “So we use the mouse—that’s what this thing is called—and choose the heading that seems most likely to give us the information we want. You see, there is quite a variety. Let’s just go to this one, ‘
Kim Il-sung: A legacy of failed Stalinism
?’ ” He clicked on the link.
The page changed, and had both Korean and English words. Mr. Choy was sure that the girls could not read English. The web page read, in Korean:
In the half century since the birth of North Korea, what has become of the Worker’s Paradise? A country riddled with famine, oppression, concentration camps and corruption, it is little wonder that there are signs that the world’s only remaining Stalinist state is beginning to collapse. North Korea, home to the world’s fourth largest military, is controlled by a single dictator, Kim Jong-il, the son of the country’s founder, Kim Il-sung. Kim Jong-il maintains absolute control of his people through fear, propaganda and persuasion in what is perhaps the world’s most bizarre and dangerous personality cult . . .
“Imperialist rubbish!” shouted the pretty one.
“Well, I always say, ‘don’t believe everything you read on the Internet,’ ” replied Mr. Choy. He always enjoyed how the Northerners responded to that article. “Anyway, that’s just one example.” He typed rapidly on the keyboard and another page came up. “This is our website.” This one had a light pink background and pictures of women in risqué outfits striking suggestive poses. Music began to play in the background as soon as the site loaded, and the girls looked around, mystified by the source of the sound. Mr. Choy pressed a button that led to a special area of the website that he had designed specifically for training day. He did not want the girls to see anything explicitly sexual at first. The page showed thumbnail images of the faces of beautiful women, and Mr. Choy explained that the thumbnails were a gallery of videos that a customer at the website could pay to download. He showed that by clicking on the thumbnail image, a video of the girl shown would begin to play. The videos were of young women strutting and making eyes at the camera. All the women remained fully clothed, though they ran their hands up and down their bodies in a sensual manner.
“This is the kind of thing that I want you girls to do. No problem, right?” The girls did not respond, their faces like stones. He showed them the entire gallery of ten videos. “So let’s try it. You can start working off your debt right now!” Mr. Choy brought excitement into his voice, hoping that it would help them feel more enthusiastic. “How about you?” he asked, looking at Il-sun.
“My name is Park Il-sun,” she said, looking offended.
“Very well, Il-sun, how about stepping in front of the camera? You saw how easy it was.”
It looked as if she might refuse, but then she cast a look toward the girl with the fingernails, remembering how Mr. Choy responded when she was slow to do what she was told. After a moment she nodded.
Mr. Choy led the women into the next room. It was long and narrow, with light blue walls. At one end was a camera on a tripod, a video monitor on the wall, and a computer on a small table. Mr. Choy stood at the camera and told Il-sun to stand at the other end of the room.
“Alright, Il-sun, look at the camera for me. You should be able to see your face on the monitor.”
“Gi! I’m on the television! Look at that!” exclaimed Il-sun, pointing at the monitor. Seeing herself, she momentarily lost her apprehension. To Mr. Choy it was a good sign that she would be one of the compliant ones.
“Okay, so when you have a client on the Internet, you will see yourself in the monitor, and he will write instructions, which you will be able to read at the bottom of the monitor, like this . . .” Mr. Choy typed on the computer, and the word
smile
appeared on the screen. “All you have to do is follow the instructions. It’s that easy. So give me a big smile.”
Il-sun forced a smile.
Mr. Choy zoomed the camera out so that all of Il-sun was in the frame. He then typed “Turn around.” Il-sun spun around awkwardly.
“No, no, no. Not like that,” Mr. Choy corrected. “Turn around like it’s the best feeling in the whole world, like turning around is your very favorite thing to do. Do it slowly. Remember, you’re not turning around for you, you are turning around for the camera; and the camera wants to look at you. The camera thinks you’re beautiful. Now try it again.”
Il-sun turned around again, this time more slowly.
“That’s right, now use your hips. That’s much better. Look directly into the camera now and blow a kiss. Great! You’re a natural! Now watch.” Mr. Choy punched a few keys on the computer and the video of Il-sun turning around replayed on the monitor. She was fascinated watching herself. Mr. Choy recognized the look of a girl with vanity, and he knew how to work with that. “Okay, let’s try again. Remember the videos I showed you? Do you remember the attitude that those girls had? That’s what I want you to do. Can you do that for me?”
Il-sun nodded.
“Great. Alright, now turn around again, but use your hands on your body. Pretend that your hands are really a man’s hands touching you. Just like the other videos, okay?”
“Am I paying off my debt right now?” she asked.
“Sure. Now turn around.”
“Okay,” she responded. Il-sun looked at the monitor and a change came over her. She was a temptress, looking coyly at the camera. She smoothed her hands up and down her body as she slowly turned around, exaggerating the swing of her hips. She kept her face to the camera as she turned, flirting with her eyes. She even seemed, for a moment, to be enjoying herself.
“Great!” Mr. Choy hit a few buttons and replayed if for her. She watched it intently. “Okay, let’s let the other girls try it. You,” he pointed to Cho.
“We call her Cho,” said Il-sun.
“Right. Okay, Cho, show us what you’ve got.”
Cho stepped nervously in front of the camera. Even though she was no stranger to the sex trade, she had never worked in front of a camera before. She giggled to hide her embarrassment, even though her face showed a deep strain of fear.
“Don’t be shy. Look at the monitor. See? You’re beautiful!” Mr. Choy had focused on her face. He typed “Dance for me” on the screen, and then zoomed out to show her whole body.
“The only dance I know was the dance my Party Youth group performed at the Dear Leader’s birthday festival,” she said to him.
“Whatever dance you’ve got,” he replied.
Cho started humming what sounded like a military march, then stepped around in a circle, kicking high. She moved her head and arms in rigid opposition, a stiff smile plastered to her face. Kicking her legs caused her to teeter perilously on her shoes and she nearly fell over.
“Cho,” Mr. Choy interrupted her, laughing openly at her. “That’s not what I had in mind. Remember what Il-sun did just a minute ago? That’s what I want you to do. I’ll put some music on to help you get in the mood.” He typed again into his computer, and music played from hidden speakers. “Remember to watch the monitor and follow the instructions there.”
Cho tried to emulate what Il-sun had done, but she was nervous and her movements were stiff. It did not help that she was finding it difficult to balance on her shoes—standard-issue
Chosun
heels never came quite so high. Mr. Choy typed something into his computer. Cho stopped dancing, squinted at the monitor so that she could read what he had written, and then she put her hands over her breasts.
Mr. Choy exploded. “No! Don’t stop dancing to read the fucking instructions! I thought you would be better at it than this.” His patience had suddenly evaporated and his smiling veneer cracked. It was as if someone had flipped a switch and changed him into another person entirely. “Also, when a client tells you to touch your fucking tits, you don’t just put your hands on them. You stroke them, like a goddamn man would. Make it sexy, for crying out loud!” He was on the verge of a dangerous meltdown, and he knew he needed to keep himself in control if he was going to get these girls to comply. He took several deep breaths, recomposing himself. He put his charm back on as if it had been a hat that had simply fallen off his head. He smiled, and said sweetly, “Can you do that for me?”
Cho stood, paralyzed, fearful of further inflaming Mr. Choy’s anger.
Mr. Choy looked from Cho to Il-sun and then to Gyong-ho. His face was glowing red. He forced two deep breaths, then said, “I have a better idea.” He drew his mobile phone from his pocket and punched a button. “Send Jasmine over here,” he commanded. He closed his phone with a snap and returned it to his pocket.
A couple of minutes later the door opened, and a statuesque woman in her midtwenties with intelligent eyes walked into the video room. She was wearing a lacy blue halter top that exposed her midriff, denim shorts that barely concealed her panty line, and red platform shoes that had spikes for heels.
“Teach these girls how to be sexy. I’m going to step out for some air,” he said to the woman. Mr. Choy left the room, his office door closing with a loud bang.
46
T
HE
WOMAN
STOOD
FOR
a long moment, looking from Gi to Il-sun to Cho and back again. It seemed to Gi that she was appraising them, but in a completely different way than Mr. Choy had. “
Chosun
?” she finally asked. They nodded at her. The woman’s face was unreadable, though some deep thought seemed to ripple there. “Let’s bring some chairs in here. This might take a while,” she sighed. It was difficult to tell if she was feeling put out or just sad. They followed her into the office, where they found some folding chairs and took them into the video room. They set them up in a loose circle and sat down.
“My name is Jasmine,” she said after a long pause.
“Jasmine?” asked Il-sun. It was unusual name.
“Most of the girls here go by English names. It’s to make it easier for our international customers.” She paused again, and then continued, “I have seen quite a few
Chosun
girls come through here. Do you know why you’re here?” she asked. The women did not respond. “I mean, do you know what Mr. Choy wants you to do?”
“Well, he wanted me to dance in front of the camera,” Cho replied.
“Do you know why he wants you to do that?” No one spoke, so she answered her own question. “It’s because he makes a lot of
won
every time you do. Did he show you the website?”
The women nodded.
“Did he show you the whole website, or just the page with the girls dancing with their clothes on?”
“Just that page,” said Cho.
“I thought so. You didn’t volunteer for this, did you? You are here illegally, and now you don’t have any choice but to do this, right?”
The women looked at each other, then Il-sun nodded.
Jasmine gazed at the floor, a significant look crossing over her face, but its meaning was indiscernable. “Look, you’re not going to be wiggling your ass in front of the camera with your clothes on. You need to know that right up front. Mr. Choy may post those cute little videos as teasers on his website, but there isn’t any money in it. He may tell you that you have the option to do whatever work you want to do, but ultimately he will make you do what he wants you to. The only reason you are here is to make money for Mr. Choy: otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered with you. It’s better that you know that now, rather than finding out when he makes you do something that you don’t want to do. My advice to you: Do whatever he tells you to. He’s dangerous when he gets angry. Trust me, whatever it is he asks of you will be a whole lot better than the consequences if you don’t. I’ve seen girls beaten. Badly. If you do what he asks, you may not like it, but at least you won’t get hurt. Do you understand?”