The drab, carpeted room smells of cologne and air freshener. The owner, a well-coiffed Jordanian in his thirties, sits behind an uncluttered desk. The monarchs seem to smile beneficently down at the tremendous wad of cash the man is holding. You'd expect security precautions, like bodyguards and an intercom; at the very least, a lock on the door. But there is none of this. Neither the owner nor the burly men crowding the room's two vinyl couches look the least bit worried-or embarrassed, for that matter.
Every few minutes, a door opens at the other end of the room, and out slips a girl dressed in high heels, tight jeans and a top that would attract scowls-or worse-in downtown Amman. She collects one of the men on the couches, and together they disappear through the same door.
An Iraqi man in his twenties enters the room, followed quickly by his chubby, pubescent brother. The man informs the owner that it's his brother's first time. The owner hesitates, asks how old the kid is. More hesitation. It's against the law if you're under eighteen, he says. The older brother insists, promising lots of money. The owner considers this briefly and then acquiesces. The kid waits with a look of detached curiosity on his face.
After money is exchanged, he asks for a Moroccan girl. Prostitution is alive and well in Amman. It is available on street corners, as well as in hundreds of similarly nondescript nightclubs that cater to expats and wealthy Jordanians. The spectre of sex is omnipresent here, used to sell everything from dishwasher soap to sunglasses. The increasingly easy access to sex can be attributed to the huge number of young people in Jordan the median age is twenty-two, compared to Canada's thirty-eight and to its pro-Western government, which is eager to attract tourists and business from beyond the Arab world.
While the modern realities of prostitution and Internet porn are proving to be unstoppable forces, so too are history and religion.
