Sex recruiters hit Russia’s towns. Part 4

KP journalists decided to find out just how strictly the law treats the adult-services industry

Short summary

KP journalists Aleksandr Meshkov and Oleg Rukavitsyn headed to Ivanovo in the thick of Russia to hold a casting session for girls interested in earning money via sex services. One applicant realized a video camera was recording our conversation and she got angry and ran off to get her friends. They came to the apartment and stood outside the front door hoping to destroy the compromising material and smash Meshkov’s and Rukavitsyn’s faces in!

Run, Rabbit, Run!

From behind the door, they threatened to beat us to a pulp. It was dark and we thought the chances they would leave were few. We looked out the window gloomily at the black Audi parked in the yard. Its headlights were off and a thug in a leather jacket stood nearby smoking nervously. We thought we heard someone manning the corridor. And we could smell cigarette smoke from under the door.

We could not sleep. And so we waited until late. When we finally saw the car take off, we opened the window, climbed out and ran. We spent the remainder of the night at an automobile sales lot and hopped on a bus to Moscow in the morning.

Pretty woman

Meshkov tore off the flash drive that had been taped to his groin and shook his hands in victory. Then we sat down to watch the show.

Everything would have been funny if it had not been so sad. The girls were sullen, even though they pretended not to be. And their lives were sad and empty, although to some outsiders they probably seemed full of life, orgasms and tenderness.

We had nearly fulfilled our mission and made a bordello. If we were real pimps, we would have needed only to rent an apartment in the capital and pay a cut to the police for protection.

We hoped that the police would stop us during the initial stages of our investigation when we placed our advertisement in the papers. Almost all the girls knew what services they would have to offer if they ended up working with our company. But the police did nothing.

What’s worse is that we had almost given ourselves away up by taping our advertisements all over the main square. It’s not important where the whole story happened — in Pskov, Bryansk or Uglich… Regardless, we were in Russia.

We did not actually open a bordello afterwards, thank God. But we learned a great deal. There were no women among our applicants with a higher education. They were almost all factory workers — sewers, cooks, janitors and painters, who changed their profession often. One reason why they constantly shifted between jobs was their immense boredom. And the negative influence of fictional stories about oligarchs thirsting for young girls and fairytale blockbusters like “Pretty Woman” and “Glossy” should not be forgotten.

Many poor village girls are tired of dancing around in their thick rubber boots and homemade clothes with drunken slobs at square dances. They long for more fashionable love affairs. And while our country is pretending to wage war against prostitution, the phenomenon is growing and gaining pace like a locomotive. READ MORE

Sex recruiters hit Russia’s towns. Part 3

KP journalists decided to find out just how strictly the law treats the adult-services industry

It’s Candid Camera

Everything start off just fine. We spoke to the girls and pretended to enter their information into the computer. Meshkov briefly inspected their bodies as any army recruitment officer would and wrote “Fit For Use” in their application forms. One day, though, our mobile phone connection suddenly went dead and we had no way to contact the outside world. Our potential applicants could no longer reach us. After cursing our mobile operator, we hurried to the main square and started gluing job advertisements all over with our apartment’s landline. We also approached good-looking women on the street and offered them a contract for VIP work in the capital. Needless to say we were turned away time and again.

We headed home discontented hoping for a miracle. And then it happened. In an hour, several applicants called our landline and the recruitment recommenced.

Ludmila was a colorful, sexy blond in a tempting short skirt with short legs, and short fingers covered in gold. She was confident and even a bit rude. She was also the only intellectual among the applicants. She had read “The Da Vinci Code.” She asked most of the questions.

“What’s the police situation like in Moscow? I saw on TV there are raids everyday. It won’t happen like that. I’ll quit everything, go to the capital and then get caught?!” she said.

“You mean no one gets caught here?” we asked.

“Here? Never!” she said proudly. “We have a lot of policemen among our regular clients.”

“Freebies at the station on Saturdays?” we asked.

“Why free?” she asked insulted. “They pay like everyone else. Hey, what’s that over there? A video camera?” She froze. “Are you taping this?”

“Where?” we asked puzzled, trying unsuccessfully to disguise the camera in a plastic bag. “No, it’s nothing…”

“Do you take me for an idiot?” she said. “I see it! Delete everything you taped!” she added threateningly.

“There’s nothing there!” we said stubbornly.

“Okay,” she said, jumping up from the chair. “If you don’t want to do it the easy way, then we’ll do it the hard way. They’ll delete you in a second then…” And she bolted out the apartment.

A knock in the night

We rushed around the apartment in panic. Victims of our own carelessness, we did not want to be burned at the stake at such a young age. It was a bit aggravating. We had tried so hard to mask the camera. We thought we would have made James Bond proud. We looked for a place to hide the flash drive with the scandalous video. And after a lengthy search, Meshkov decided to tape it to the inside of his groin. Gathering our things, we headed to the metal door that separated us from our freedom. And just when we were about to open it, when we heard a loud knocking.

When the telephone is the enemy

We stopped.

“Open up the door, you jerks, or I’ll bust it down!” someone screamed from under the door. Judging from the noise there were at least three or four guys standing outside. They rang the bell, cursed loudly and tried to pry their way in. We hoped the neighbors would call the police after hearing all the commotion.

We stood still for 10 minutes hoping they would think no one was home. Then we could hear them talking about something. And just when it seemed that they were ready to leave, justice had won and we were saved, the mobile phone in Meshkov’s pocket began to ring. Startled, Meshkov stumbled backwards and loudly knocked over the stool behind him. READ MORE

Sex recruiters hit Russia’s towns. Part 2

KP journalists decided to find out just how strictly the law treats the adult-services industry

Girl from the North

We met a girl from chilly Yakutsk named Katerina. She had a sly look a bit reminiscent of Lenin. She smelled like a perfume stall that had been ransacked by hooligans. She was open, clean and tall with long legs and a C-cup.

I fed Katerina a Snickers, gave her a Martini and started to ask her questions. She answered them all without hesitation — even the most intimate. She had left Yakutsk after a misfortune love affair. She arrived in Ivanovo hoping to enroll at the Textile University. But she failed the entrance examinations and began working as a dishwasher instead. She only made 2,000 rubles per month. And all her money was spent on food and renting a room at the dormitory. Like many young female factory workers, Katerina wanted a full pretty life. She was forced to enter the growing sex-services industry to support herself. Now some days she can spend 3,000 rubles on her loved ones.

One and the same women

Our applicants varied in size and shape. But their personal histories were similar. Nearly all of them were from rural towns and broken families. They all had experience in the sex trade. They started selling their bodies when they had financial difficulty. They were cautious about our proposed move to Moscow.

The 20-year-old Svetlana is a blond from Ryazhsk with big breasts. Some days she earns 2,000-3,000 rubles. She used to work 6 months sewing and made a salary of 10,000 rubles per month. Today, though, she sells her body for 1,600 rubles per hour. She gives her boss half the amount. Girls in good shape handle 4-5 clients per day. Some months Svetlana makes 30,000 rubles, although her clientèle is unsteady.

Spending cash money

“Isn’t that a lot — 5 clients per day?” we asked Svetlana.

“If they aren’t drunk it’s okay. And if they aren’t black,” she said. “And if it’s one at a time and not a whole bunch at once.”

“Does that happen, too?” I asked in disbelief.

“With me it hasn’t,” Svetlana said after a moment. “But my girlfriend had to do 15 at one time. They didn’t even warn her. Bastards.”

We sat smoking despondently.

“What do you buy yourself for 30,000 rubles per month?” I asked.

“I buy sweets and expensive clothing,” she said. “Chanel perfume… I bought a cardigan yesterday for 1,500 rubles.” She touched the transparent top delicately. “I also buy toys for my younger sister,” she added. “I sent her a plush teddy bear Friday. The package weighed three kilograms. She’s 11 years old. I’m planning on buying her a mobile phone soon.”

“Do you have any hobbies? What books do you read? What films do you watch?” I asked.

“My girlfriend and I usually watch ‘Clone.’ And someone stole my book… It was about love. The husband kept cheating on his wife and she cried.”

“That sounds familiar,” I said. “Who is the author? George Sand?”

“Who the hell knows?” she said exhaling loudly. “My hobby is going shopping.”

“But you don’t really like doing this… business?” I asked.

“Well it’s better than sitting behind a piece of machinery all day like an idiot,” she said. “And today everyone’s doing it.”

“How much money do you need to be happy?” I asked.

“$100,000,” she said without a moment’s thought.

“Why?” I asked.

“To buy an apartment and have a child,” she said.

“Without a husband?” I asked.

“What the hell would I need him for? I lived in a common law marriage with one jerk. We only had problems,” she said. “He came home drunk everyday.”

“Okay, well, let’s go have a look at you in all your beauty, so to speak,” Meshkov said like a old gynecologist.

“Should I wash first?” she asked livening up. READ MORE

Sex recruiters hit Russia’s towns. Part 1

KP journalists decided to find out just how strictly the law treats the adult-services industry

Russia’s evening news programs occasionally report how the police uncovered the latest bordello after a series of detailed investigations. However, advertisements for adult services are on the rise. Dens of debauchery tempting grown men to spend unforgettable evenings with young blonds close down only to reappear in seeming franchise. Who opens these establishments? And why? Russian legislation envisages prison time for luring individuals into prostitution. So is the law negligible? KP decided to take an inside look at Russia’s prostitution ring to find out. Police statistics show that most prostitutes arrive to the capital from the regions, so KP headed to small cities and towns.

Work or play? Leisure or employment?

Ivanovo is a small austere city that is fairly clean and devoid of outward signs of moral decay. After a look around, our first step was to rent a two-room apartment near Lenin Square. The price: 2,000 rubles per day.

After settling in, we studied the local sex-services industry by flipping through the newspapers. Adult advertisements are usually printed in the “Leisure” section in most Russian cities, but here we found them in the “Seeking Employment” section. Although the easy explanation is that Ivanovo residents consider prostitution to be more work than play, we learned that advertising sex services is prohibited in the city. The loophole is to place an advertisement as an individual looking for employment. For some reason the city finds this method easier to swallow. The city avoids getting a poor reputation and women in the industry are not left without a job.

“Young lady, 18 years old, neat and attractive. Thin without complexes. Looking for highly paid work in the services sector at a time suitable for you.” And adjacent to that advertisement: “Chief engineer looking for highly paid work,” “Driver without bad habits and a new vehicle looking for work,” “Female, aged 35, real estate agent, tidy, looking for work. Will consider all proposals.” It is not hard to guess who is offering real skills outside the bedroom and who is mattress bound.

“We’d like to offer you some highly paid work,” said KP journalist Aleksandr Meshkov in his soft velvety baritone.

“We’ve got a brunette for 1,600 rubles per hour. Height 180 centimeters. B-cup,” the managers told us over the phone yawning intermittently.

“But is she attractive at least?” we asked hopefully.

“She’s ordinary, but keeps clean. If you’re looking for beauties straight off magazine covers then you’re knocking on the wrong door,” they said.

Understood. So we placed an advertisement in the local papers that said the Moscow firm “Etual” was inviting young women for VIP work in the leisure sector in Moscow. And all we had to do was sit back and wait for the calls.

Mandates for deputies

We should mention that we took a huge risk in placing that advertisement. Legislation foresees administrative punishment for prostitution and criminal punishment for luring an individual into the trade. So we sat watching the clock, waiting for the cops to send in a tall-legged undercover agent. The phone did not ring all Saturday morning until lunchtime. It was not long, though, before the calls started coming in.

“What type of VIP work is this?” the interested female applicants asked us feigning naivety.

“Are you fit? We have very high standards,” we asked.

“We’re in great shape,” they giggled.

We told them that they would service the higher echelons of the power structures, leaders of political parties, social movements, public prosecutors and deputies. Although some girls lost interest when they found out they would have to provide sex services, others were curious to learn more details about where they would work and how much they would make. We listed the women interested in attending our casting session and allocated them one hour apiece.

By the evening, our apartment had transformed into a little jubilant political headquarters with a spot of eroticism. The girls differed in color, size and temperament. Some sat gloomily and stared at us suspiciously with their heads down and answered “yes” or “no.” Others grabbed a glass of Martini, told us about themselves and were in no rush to leave our humble seraglio. The majority refused to be photographed and said that they were secretive about their work. READ MORE