Conversation with a prostitute

by Delroy Nesta Williams

I entered the room behind her, slowly at first, my eyes getting used to the poor lighting and musky feel of the four corners. It housed only a bed and one fan, in the far right corner, that stood on a small wooden stool. A faint light entered from a solitary window that faced a street lamp.

She had led the way through a dark alley, whose cobblestone path made me wobble so much that I resembled one of the neighbourhood drunks that I had left at the bar a few minutes ago. They had been there since noon, drinking away their fortnightly paychecks from the soap factory about a mile away.

She hadn't said a word and I knew nothing about her at all, besides the pink summer dress that hugged all her curves and exposed so much cleavage that I could paint her aureoles with my eyes closed. The stiff sea breeze that rushed through the bar causing her dress to misbehave was a blessing to me, even though the salty air made my eyes water. My damn sinuses always acted up at the wrong time.

She hadn't spent much time at the bar before capturing my attention. After a long, hard day at the office and an even more frustrating period with my wife at home, this was definitely the experience that I had longed for; it was welcomed. I simply knew that I had an itch and she looked like the kind of woman who could scratch it.

I had offered her a drink but she simply motioned "no" with a shake of her left hand while grabbing unto my trousers with her right hand and pulling me off my stool towards her. I fell off unto one knee and she just giggled. She liked the effect she was having on me. Her fingers, long and thin, were painted with a bright pink nail polish, shimmering in the light. The nail of her left pinky finger was broken and she had a slight scar on the top of that wrist; maybe a burn from her childhood days. Those were the only blemishes that I could make out. Those were things I could surely overlook right now.

"Red Cap, no ice!" the bartender shouted in my direction as he screwed off the cap of the rum bottle. He had a sly smile on his face; he was prepping me for what was to happen.

I quickly swallowed the drink, after I made my way back on my two feet. The bar felt a lot smaller now. The four other guys who were there were engaged in a domino match and could care less about what I was involved in at that time.

It was now my turn to take the initiative, so I pulled her towards me, her cotton dress held firmly between my fingers. She rolled her waist against my manhood, to instantly arouse my sensations then proceeded to lead me out of the bar. I didn't need any more convincing than that. I was ready!

Ten minutes later and we were now in this small room. It adjoined the main house but was surely built as an extension, the way it stuck out like an ugly step child wanting attention. The décor inside didn’t seem appropriate for living which could only mean that it served other purposes - the quick rendezvous and scandalous moments. The sheets on the bed looked white but could have been any pale colour, so to the walls as the paint peeled off them. The tiled floor was partially covered with a rug that once we stepped on unearthed a cloud of dust that made it even more difficult to breathe in the closed up room.

She didn’t seem to mind at all, nor did I. She pushed the door behind us and proceeded to turn the lock, dropping the key unto the floor. I moved towards a corner of the room then made my way back to the edge of the bed, barely sitting down.

“You nervous?” she asked. And for the first time I heard her accent. She was Dominican, maybe Marigot or Wesley – I wasn’t sure but I didn’t ask. This wasn’t the moment for questions. Her voice was a little rough but still very welcoming, as she smiled at me. I only now noticed her gold teeth, the faint street light shining against it. She was very shapely with full breasts that wanted to pop from her bra. Her curved thighs were hugged by the dress which still continued to tempt me wildly. She had the face of someone who had been through a few trials and tribulations though. It was either the cause or the result of what had led her to this nightly profession.

“I've never done this before!” I squeaked out.

“Never done what before? Sex? You’re a virgin?” she asked, in a mocking tone.

“Never paid for sex!” I muffled, embarrassed by my confession.

“I don’t want your money. I am doing this for the pleasure of your company,”

“My company? But you don’t even know me!” I said.

“I like new things!” she replied, “now shut up before you change my mind.”

She pushed me unto the bed and I stretched my hands over my head. The bed squeaked and I feared that I had broken a few springs under the mattress. She didn’t seem to mind at all as she crawled over me, still with that sly, expecting look on her face. She unbuttoned my plaid shirt, kissing my neck as she ran her nails over my chest hairs. When she reached my skull tattoo, she kissed, sucked and bit it - twice. I howled from the surprise of the bites. She loved it. Her legs now had me pinned down as she grinded against my waist. I reached for her breasts to massage them but she pushed me back down.

“Not yet… I in control,” she commanded.

My wife never did that to me. Sex had become routine and predictable. She would get naked, make her way under the covers and I would follow her. She only wanted me to mount her in the missionary position. There was little to no foreplay from her. I would do the kissing, biting and scratching, if she allowed it. A good night would include a blow job but that’s only when I was persistent.

“What’s your name?” I asked, realizing that I knew nothing about the stranger in the bed with me.

“Annika,” she responded, “call me Annika.”

“Yes Annika, Annikaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” I howled as she bit a tender spot just below my ribcage, on the left side. I squirmed from it. She had found one of my soft spots. She knew it too. She placed greater attention on that area and continued to bite and suck it. Every nerve in that area was now awake. I was so excited that I closed my eyes and pretended to be elsewhere to prevent an explosion inside my pants. I couldn’t pretend for too much longer.

Annika reached for my belt buckle. She ripped off the belt with one swoop of her arm and then reached into my boxers. Her hands were very warm.

“Well someone’s happy to see me!” she decreed.

A stifled response was all I could muster as I was already halfway through a moan. My legs started to tremble but only in one area. It was my pocket. My cell phone was ringing. I pushed Annika from on top of me and hurried up from the bed and reached for my pocket. My wife’s image and number blazed on the screen. Annika was now picking herself up from the ground. I motioned to her to keep quiet and I moved towards the small window. I looked out the small opening, making sure that no one was looking into the room before answering.

“Hi my Love,” I answered.

“Hi Baby,” she responded.

“What’s up?”

“Why haven’t you come home as yet?”

“I am just having a few drinks with the boys… clearing my head”

“Come home… Kaela is worried, I am worried… she keeps asking for you”

“Tell her Daddy love’s her,” I replied but before she had heard me, she passed the phone to our 4-year old daughter.

“Daddy”

“Yes my Angel” I responded as my heart melted. Shame mixed in with pride wasn’t a great combination at that moment.

“What time you coming home? I miss you”

“I will be home in 30 minutes baby, daddy loves you… okay!”

“Love you too daddy,”

“Let me talk to mammy”

“Okay”

“I am coming home in a few, love you”

“Love you too Michael,” she responded as I ended the call.

Annika was still on the ground. She had a slightly puzzled look on her face but she was all too aware of what had just happened.

“Your girlfriend?” she asked.

“My wife!” I answered back.

“You’re married?”

“Yes… I am… and I should go now?” I asked.

“Go? Why? Nooooo!” she scolded, “we’re not done yet! We have unfinished business Michael” her honeyed voice crying out to me.

The revelation, though it had shook her a bit, didn’t dissuade her at all. She crawled unto her knees and made her way to the window where I was still standing. She pulled the cell phone from my hands and placed it next to the fan and led me back to the bed. This time around, she sat down while I stood over her. She was waiting on my move. I didn’t want to disappoint her but I kept hearing my daughter’s voice in the back of my head. It was etched there. I couldn’t concentrate on Annika with the images of my daughter’s face and smile - she had just lost a front tooth - fresh in my mind. Annika sensed it as well.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I can’t!”

“You can’t… or you won’t?”

“I can’t… my daughter… my wife,”

“Well let me!” she said, standing again to meet me at the end of the bed. I stepped back a bit.

She pulled at my shirt, her manicured nails gripping at my flesh slightly so that I knew she meant business. She curled her arms around my neck, pulling my head towards her bosom.

“You want me, I know! I saw it in your eyes in the bar,”

“Yes I do” I replied faintly, the admission hurting me.

The truth is Annika was doing me things that for years I wish my wife would have done. The dress she wore, her nails, her teasing, tempting nature and most of all… she was being aggressive in the bedroom. But I knew that this couldn’t last. Annika was a lady of the night and my life encircled revolved around my daughter, my wife, my family. Since we had Kaela, I had given up on my personal ambitions and lived to make her happy. She wouldn’t have been happy had she known her father was in this back alley room with a stranger - a total stranger. Maybe she wouldn’t have understood the situation right now but she would grow to resent me for it later in life. I couldn’t have that. I was determined to raise my child in a happy family, different from the one in which I saw my father fight my mother on most night before he left the house like a scavenger going off to feed on the waste of our village. He would return every morning, just before the sun was up and force his way on top of my mother. He probably thought we were asleep but the plywood walls never drowned out the sounds coming from their room. They would fight, she would try to fend him off, in his drunken state but most times he won the battle. It was worst during the weekends and holidays.

All these thoughts were racing through my mind. Did I want to be just like my father? I was beginning to become the very man I grew up despising, I had vowed not to be anything like him. My mother raised me up so that I wouldn’t be like him. I was failing her and myself as well.

“I can’t do this anymore Annika. It isn’t right, I love my wife” I said, withdrawing myself from her grasp. I grabbed my belt and my phone and quickly got dressed. Annika was very understanding to, unlocking the door to let me exit the room.

She followed me briskly through the alley back unto the main road. We crossed the street and re-entered the bar. I went to the bartender to order one last drink before leaving. Annika, who was still walking behind me, followed me and clung unto my shoulders, as I leaned over the bar’s counter. Suddenly I felt very uncomfortable but I didn’t want to create a scene, for me and especially with Annika. As I made my last request for a drink, a figure who was sitting on one of the stools towards the far end of the bar, turned around to look at me, a deep, broad smile upon his face. He got up and walked in our direction. The light now shun on his face. It was Damian, my wife’s brother.

“How am I going to explain this one? “I thought.