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Stats: 2,483,105 members, 5,622,750 topics. Date: Thursday, 28 May 2020 at 06:20 AM
|Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 12:29am On Mar 31|
I think I got the address right, the houses did all look the same, white colored one-storey buildings with black well decorated roofing tiles which I could’ve swore were all imported. I still couldn’t fathom why the estate security guards wouldn’t allow an Uber inside the estate. I tried calling Reginald multiple times, but the calls just weren’t going through, I cursed myself silently for not getting a second phone and a second sim card. After the fifteen-minute-long scuttle, I agreed to alight as the rusty brown gate and walk to the house. At first I felt rather uncomfortable strutting in my rather short strapless gown and bespoke stripper styled heels, but my confidence came with the deserted nature of the ensuing stretch of road. Still cursing the telecommunication networks, I approached the number 12 boldly printed on a glass plating with the estate association emblem fixed in the middle with an unusual uneasiness. I laughed off whatever shred of morality was resurrecting the feelings of uneasiness; I chose this line of work, and I couldn’t start feeling any shame now.
I rang the white buzzer at the gate, no response, I rang again. I was starting to get really impatient, and was wondering if my network woes were really just the beginning of a really bad day. “Who is it” replied a voice that sounded either Italian or Spanish, I wasn’t sure which language those telenovelas were done in. “It’s me Angela” I replied back quickly, then the electric gate slid open almost immediately. Again I felt the slight uneasiness, not my broken moral compass nudging me again, but fear of a new frontier. I had never had a white client before, and worse I usually didn’t like to run home service. I tried in every way possible to reassure myself that this was going to be nice, nothing was going to be worse than the accursed Kingsley hotel days. Reginald was a rather plain looking Caucasian man, mid 50’s I presumed as most of his hair was almost white. He grinned and welcomed me to the living room area. The living room area was sparsely decorated, Exquisite art lay on the crisp white walls, with a gigantic TV hanging on the wall just beside the huge glass window which overlay the swimming pool. Reginald smiled, and said “Welcome Angela” as I reciprocated his salutations hurriedly. Tugging at his white bath robe with a sly smile that outed him a smug pervert, I smiled back rather begrudgingly. “The bathroom is right by the corner” he beckoned as I went down a small passage way underneath the staircase. As I changed into my Green satin Bikini, I thought to myself that this wasn’t going to be a terrible experience after all.
As I put on the undersized bra which struggled to pack my firm yet tender 34DD breasts, I admired myself in the full length mirror which has golden lights scattered around the edges of the mirror. Gym wasn’t a bad idea at all. I emerged back into the living area and met Reginald already stark naked, his pervert smile morphed into an evil grin. “Hmm sexy!” I retorted in a rather convincing tone; in an instant the evil grin turned into the blushing grin of a prepubescent teenager. Lying was an integral part of sex work, especially to really big clients like Reginald; It was one of the many things that separated street prostitutes from high end escorts. I always my best to give my clients an ego drive beyond sexual satisfaction, even if it meant meaningless pillow talk and half-hearted comments. Reginald climbed on the single person bed by the corner of the wall which was next to a door which I presumed was a guest room. Reginald lay face-down exposing his saggy hairy buttocks. I l stared at the massage oil, and let out a slightly loud chuckle. “You like it eh?” Reginald asked feeling rather proud of his aged buttocks. “Ooh Yes” I replied with a slight disapproval on my face. I was laughing because I had been introduced as a high end masseuse escort who gave happy endings.
I had never given anyone a massage before Reginald, I had never even received a massage myself. How hard could it be I thought to myself, a thirty-minute YouTube video I watched in the Uber was more than enough for me. I poured a little massage oil on my palm and rubbed them together. I started at the shoulders. I caressed the mass of flesh around the shoulders back and forth in a circular manner, squeezing the collar bone at certain intervals. Then I began to work my way to the spine and the adjoining ribs, spreading my palms like a sea waves parting and coming back together. Going to the massage bottle for more massage oil, I began to work my way to the lower back, this wasn’t hard at all I thought to myself. At this point I had finally gotten to the buttocks area, I was going to massage an old hairy white buttocks, I squeezed my face in slight disgust. I started with massaging the side hips and working my way in a rhythmic manner around the central buttocks area, Reginald began let out small moans. Almost an hour had gone by, and I was starting to feel like I had to open the next chapter of our engagement. I tapped for him to turn over, and he did so in an instant letting out intermittent chuckles. While he lay on his back with this penis slightly erect, I started to strip out of my underwear. It was my idea of dinner and a show, building the anticipation was one of my favorite pre-intimacy rituals. I slowly slid the green panties down my waist, exposing my cleanly shaved pubic area. I stopped tugging and began to roll down the panties from my hip down gazing intently into Reginald’s eyes. His penis was almost erect; the veins were distinct as they had a reddish color which contrasted his pale Caucasian skin. I turned around to take of the entangled panties, my ass in full display in Reginald’s face as he sighed a heavy breath filled with a sexual tension that was quite common with older clients. I turned back at him smiling while I untied the knotted undersize bikini bras letting my fantastic firms breast pop out. I approached the Massage table to kick start the main event. At this point Reginald’s penis was fully erect, and the look in his eyes spelt that he wanted the happy ending so bad.
I wasn’t in a haste, and building up the sexual anticipation was a sure fire way to get a thunderous climax from the client. Rubbing my palms slowly with more massage oil, I started at the feet this time dragging my hands slowly up his thighs. I felt a slight jerk as I rubbed his thighs sensually, followed by the grunts of a man at the edge of explosive orgasm. My hands reached slowly to the scrotal area of the passing as I joined my second palm and held the balls firmly. I grabbed his penis with one hand sliding down while I proceed to grad the tip of his penis with my second palm. “Handjob or not?”, I thought to myself as some clients weren’t always pleased to Cumming before the main event. I continued to jerk the penis with both hands at periodic intervals, and the moans got even louder with intermittent “oohs” and “aahs”. I stopped abruptly and climbed on settling my ample ass on his knee area with my breasts finding a landing place on his thighs looking like a sexy crouching tiger. Wasting no further time, I shoved his penis into my mouth and began to move slowly up as my full lips grazed every vein on his dick. Suddenly it hit me that I was giving a Mouth Gig without a condom on, “rookie mistake!” I thought to myself and reached for some Kiss condoms in my purse.
I immediately slid the condom on his still erect penis, and resumed sucking this time applying more pressure around my lips as I went back up and down in a slow motion fashion. When it seemed like he was having too much fun, I stopped and slowly dragged my lips from his penis up his waist, then to is belly button giving a slight tickle with my tongue, and finally working his nipple with my tongue. As I teased his nipples rather vigorously I smothered his penis with my soft ass, pushing back and forth and feeling satisfied with each moan as a throbbed his erect penis. Finally, I guided his penis into my vagina pushing past my clitoris while providing some lubrications with my massage oil stained hands. My breasts firmly against his chest, I started riding in all earnest while clenching my vagina firmly to provide the sensation of a “tight pussy”. Few minutes later Reginald let out a loud and satisfying “aah”, he was done, the condom filled with what seemed to be quite watery sperm. I climbed off his hairy while body while he lay there feeling the post orgasmic daze which left him with the smile of a teenage boy losing his virginity. My work here was done, my first happy ending massage was a success, and Reginald was the proverbial two-minute man which meant I didn’t have to deal with sores from my dry unaroused vagina. I packed my rumpled bikini, and headed straight back to the bathroom under the staircase. I changed back into my strapless gown quickly and emerged in the living room to meet a still dazed Reginald who lay on the massage bed staring sheepishly at the ceiling. He pointed to the glass table where a hundred dollars in ten dollar bills lay, the Uber I ordered was at the gate, and I requested Reginald call the gate to allow him in. This time, Reginald was back in his white bath robe, and he came right behind me to grope me. I was slightly irritated but then he stuffed a few more ten dollar bills inside my bra, turning my irritation into ephemeral Joy. Tipping was a good part of the business, Maybe I did well I chuckled as I walked out the door to head back home. The Uber drive gave a sly smile as I sunk into the backseat; I hissed and cursed him silently in my mind. I didn’t blame him though, I was a prostitute and I knew it.
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|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by olamikhail(m): 1:14am On Mar 31|
Really expository without being too sexy.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 11:25pm On Mar 31|
The Uber Ride Home was starting to feel like eternity, the traffic in Lagos was getting worse by the nanosecond but I would sure as hell not exchange the comfort of the Toyota corolla AC with a rickety yellow bus. The Lekki-Epe express way was at a standstill, and so was the Uber driver’s countenance after consecutive failed small talk attempts. Why would I would engage him in any kind of talk after his Judge Judy like introduction at Reginald’s house, I continued staring outside the window into what had morphed into a 10 lane monster with cars occupying every single space. I was really trying to avoid my phone, I wasn’t going to pick calls or reply any messages till I was home and had a really long bath as was my ritual after any busy day with clients – My moral compass was probably stone dead at this point, but somehow I cherished my bathing ritual and mendaciously reassured myself it was just a refreshing physiological release. The truth infact was somewhere at the very far back of my mind, I harbored resentment to what I had become, I wore an entirely new Identity which was shoved down my throat by life. My name wasn’t even Angela. My mind instantly raced back to De Ballers joint at Obalende where Efosa as she was popularly called first suggested the name as a good alias to me. Efosa was dead for almost two years now, I heard she committed suicide in Italy where she went to work a new madam. I shook my head in disbelief, there was no way the Efosa I knew could have killed herself. She was stronger than most men I knew, acting as a godmother to us young call girls back at the joint. She would beat any “oshofree” customer who didn’t want to pay the full fee after the action, and would replenish our supply of marijuana anytime we were out. She left for “Italo” as she fondly called it a year after I joined the night bar to make hard currency and become her own madam, or so I was made to believe then. Then there was whispers among the girls that she was being forced to go as she swore an oath at some juju shrine somewhere back in her hometown. The thoughts of Efosa and the all my time back at De Ballers made me even more resentful, no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t get rid of the memories, loud honks from a trailer beside the lowly corolla rescued me from my harrowing memories.
The car had finally arrived at the source of the traffic, it seemed that some traditional engagement ceremony of some sort had been ongoing at an even center right by the express way. “Foolish people”, I cursed silently on my breath hurling further invectives out loud. It turns out I was cursing out loud, and the driver joined in my lamentations towing the very predictable line of blaming politicians and the elite of the society. Approaching Olafimihan Street which was my final destination, the driver muscled one more attempt to kick start a conversation. “Madam, I can do direct pick up saavis for you without the happ for even cheaper price”, oh I replied, “No wahala”. I begrudgingly took his number as he took the last turning to park right in front of the large black gate that sealed of my apartment building. I was happy to be home at last, turning my keys at the door I yanked the gown off my body flinging my heels I made straight for the bathroom. My eyes were tightly shut as I immersed myself in the whole bathing experience, and tried hard to shut out all thoughts. But the subconscious is one hell of a bitch; My mind raced back to Reginald today, and I Immediately thought that Efosa was also fucking white men like I was doing now while earning the hard currency she always wanted.
The two of us developed a close bond over the course of one year we would spend together, we both had similar backgrounds. Unlike other girls who came to ply their trade at De Ballers we were of better intelligence, just helpless victims of life’s cruelty. Efosa and I were much closer than most people expected, close even under the sheets. With her I learnt that a woman’s sexuality is sometimes a blurry cloud of smoke. It started one innocent afternoon, while we were together in the “chairmen lodge” just behind the bar razing down some synthetic marijuana. The “chairmen lodge” was really off limits to younglings like me but Efosa took me in, and since it was an afternoon the place was desolate. We settled down on the uncomfortably thick beds, and she began licking her Rizla intensely to begin wrapping the first joint. We just lay on the bed smoking, the only thing giving off sound was the creaky standing fan by the corner ventilating the rather small room. “These men just dey vex me angie, dem dey vex meee!”, the lamentations came out of nowhere, but I guessed it was the obscure brand of synthetic marijuana manifesting. “One idiot dey stry suck my breast yesterday, I just dey push hin useless mouth commot”, I listened intently at her rants, as I was barely puffing my joint. “If na toto you wan Bleep, make you Bleep am… Bleep am carry your prick dey go” she said a couple of times like a dementia patient. I could sense the frustration in her countenance, it certainly wasn’t the drug speaking. A prostitute with pent up sexual frustration, the grand irony!
The rants continued on a for few minutes, and I can’t quite remember the remaining verses of her lamentations. Then the room got deafening quiet again, this time “NEPA” had taken light and she just stared at the ceiling intently like she was waiting for some sign from above. Then she turned to me with my half-finished joint still struggling to smoke the abomination. Suddenly she placed her hands on my breasts and moved them quickly down to my stomach. I didn’t protest, I couldn’t protest, I both respected and feared Efosa. Now I could feel her breathing down my face, shoving the wretched pillow aside, she crossed my legs with hers. I was immediately filled with feelings of confusion and anxiety, but I could’ve sworn that I felt the sexual tension building up. As he legs caressed mine, I felt every tingling sensation on the hairs on my leg, down to my waist. Her lips soon started to smother the side of my face running from my temple to my jawbone, and stopping occasionally to tickly my earlobes.
I hadn’t felt this way in forever, every sexual encounter I had was purely transactional and devoid of any passion or emotion. The situation become more intense as Efosa moved to lay directly on top of me, locking her red bloody eyes with mine. Her next port of call was my neck, and this time it was tongue duty. She stopped abruptly to grab the still half-burnt Rizla from my left hand and lay it gently on the cream-tiled floors. Resuming intimacy, she started this time at the stomach area, kissing my navel area while gently handling my breasts. Not too long after she dragged my bum shorts from my waist, then followed my panties, and I was about to experience my first MouthAction experience with another woman.
The loud knock on the door, transported me back to bathroom, where I didn’t realize I was already touching myself provocatively. I sighed in disgust, cursing whoever just cut short my bath happy time while I strapped my luscious pink towel barely cleaning my face. I opened the door slightly, stretching my neck to catch a glimpse of the foul devil who disrupted my Zen. “Na me Yohanna, anty no vex ” , It was our lanky “mai guard”. “Yeeees!!!” I replied in a derisive tone. “Oga Mike con look for you today, him say make I give you this thing”, he said as he handed me a paper bag. I slammed the door shut, and squeezed my face slightly in disappointment, why couldn’t Mike just read the handwriting on the wall and leave me the Bleep alone. We had a one night stand at a club rave sometime late last year, and he had been trying very hard ever since to get me. No wonder bad girls are getting these dumb guys every Saturday, I thought to myself. Sloppy sex with an attractive woman and boom! they get hooked like puppies on crack. I chuckled to myself as I opened the case of expensive “BVLGARI” perfume, it did feel nice to be chased.
The screen of my iPhone glowed at the rear end of my couch, it was Pato calling me. He fixed me up with Reginald, I guess the greedy bastard was calling for his cut. Was James my p1mp? I thought to myself. “Naaaaah”, I said to myself chuckling, I would still get clients with or without him.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by KelvinCoaster(m): 11:48am On Apr 02|
Interesting story line with good sentences,cordinated descriptive naratives!
Keep it up!!
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 10:59pm On Apr 03|
I squinted my eyes as I opened my phone’s dialer application to stop myself from seeing all the piled up missed calls, and dialed James. “Waist Bender!” James hailed from the other end of the phone, while chuckling loudly, I guessed Reginald gave a thunderous review. “What do you want oga?” I answered derisively trying to hide my smugness from the wonderful review. “Nothing, just wanted to relay the feedback from a very satisfied customer”. “Not again” I thought to myself, James was never a straight to the point guy, preferring to draw his requests from the mouths of his benefactors. I knew why he was calling, and just couldn’t stop wondering why we always had to ride this rollercoaster surrounding his payouts. “I got two hundred dollars, I’ll transfer forty K to you later, is that all?” I replied in a very hesitant tone hoping to end the conversation as quickly as possible.
“Ah, yes my money! very good, but I was calling for something else”, the tone had become much more serious. Strange, the ever evasive and sarcastic James Bernard Olukayode was serious for the first time ever in his life. “You know Sandra, the thin girl with the oversized boobs?”, he asked with ever increasing intensity. Death immediately flashed through my mind, was this yet another Efosa-esque ending. I sighed heavily and asked wat had happened to Sandra. “Sandra is getting married to Chief Spending, and now his head between her laps”, the tone had morphed into an even angrier one now. I laughed for a few seconds before James rebuttal stopped me in my tracks. “Do you think this is funny?”, he said sounding like a father about to scold a child who came second to last in class while laughing at the child who came in last. “No oh, But chief! Getting married! and Sandra! how? Why?”, I jumbled more incoherent sentences before the angry reply from James stopped me yet in my tracks again. “Be asking me JAMB question there, the koko of the matter is that I have lost of my biggest clients, and one of my one girls is the thief”, the tone was now maudlin.
Chief Spending as he was popularly called, nobody knew his real name and nobody really cared, was quite the rich proverbial fool-at-forty womanizer. He was probably connected in some way to politicians, as he spared no expense to the women he periodically changed like pair of shoes. Somehow James became his personal love-vendor, connecting him a variety of girls who would beg him for the golden opportunity to “chop” Chiefs money. I never did care for that sort of relationship, I preferred to think of myself as an Assassin- Finish the job, and get the hell out of the crime scene. Any extended escort relationship with a much older man was sure to drive me crazy by triggering certain paths of my psyche that I’d rather it stayed dead.
“Imagine chief cutting ties with me because of that skank, aargh!”, James was back to his angry tone. “What kind of knacks did she possibly give him that he has not gotten before, eh!”. My irritation was starting to build up, yes I understood James’ point, but why was he calling me to rant. “James James James James! what the Bleep do you want me to do now? steal chief back for you?”. “Ah! Glad you brought that up! What can you do, what can Angie do! I fell right again into James’ trap, somehow he had drawn his request from my mouth.
“Bleep!”, I muttered to myself silently, “oya what do you want me to do?”. “I know chief, I know that sleazy bastard, no way in hell is he settling down to marry an escort in his mid-fifties”, there was a long pause and I knew the grand request was coming any time now. “Something doesn’t add up, something is just not right, and I want you to help me find out what you can as discreetly as possible”. I laughed hysterically for a few minutes , “James! When I did I become a CIA agent? You can talk to Sandra yourself, or blackmail her if you have to”. I stopped to think for a minute and realized that I had offered a rather sinister advice. “Ah yes! Blackmail! I’ll call you back”, and he hung up almost immediately.
I sunk into the leather brown sofa feeling a little guilty, I had probably handed James a pistol to kill Sandra. Then I thought to myself, what could he possibly have on her that could more damaging than her prostitute reputation. Chief perfectly well knew that, and was going to marry her irrespective. My thoughts drifted farther and farther as I tried hard to make sense of the entire situation without any success. My Phone was blinking again with another call, I rolled my eyes and hoped that It wasn’t James.
Mike! yes Mike! I had completely forgotten to return his call. I smiled to myself in vain pride, this bee could just not keep his hands off this sweet nectar. “Hey Angie, I’ve called you like a million times today”. “Awwn, I’m so sorry I was busy. The perfume was nice”, I said in a slightly smitten voice. Turns out it was Mike’s birthday and he called in hopes that he would treat me to fine dinner at the new Chinese restaurant on admiralty way. It was his own birthday and the poor pooch was still hoping to spoil this bad girl silly. I was hesitant to reply, meanwhile I felt tingling feelings of excitement. It was nice to be treated as lady every once in a while, and not an instrument for condom clad joysticks.
While Is swung the bronzer from side to side, I wondered what the hell Mike saw in me that made him relentless in his chase. Mike was a tall dark and handsome guy who I was quite sure wouldn’t have any problem in getting nice women to be him. Maybe it’s the lust for the forbidden fruit, maybe everybody just had this innate desire for evil. This wasn’t my first trip down the rabbit hole of moral philosophy, and I hated it. The thoughts always reminded of my whole life, and the self-loathing I had been piling in my subconscious. “I’m going on an expensive date, and not to sleep with him for cash”, I said to myself reassuringly hoping to repress any further thoughts of self-denigration.
“Shit!”, I had skipped one of the notifications on my phone. My monthly cycle was here again. Well at least, I was damn sure that I wasn’t going to be having sex with Mike this evening. Up until the last moment I was hoping to wear the purple split mini gown I had gotten last Christmas. The crisscross strap back and the split around the stomach was the perfect combination of slutty and classy, Mike was sure to go home filled with more burning fantasies. Suddenly I changed my mind, I picked out the wine half-strap jumpsuit which carved out my camel toe in a fantastic way. The Uber came swiftly and soon I was out of the house again, hoping to have a swell evening.
Mike was a whole lot dapper than I remembered, his button down shirt showcased the gold chain tightly bound to his neck. “Nice”, I said to myself, but without any hint of sexual arousal. Maybe a few drinks would do the trick like the las time. Weird! My last non transactional sexual encounter was aided by alcohol. I brushed all thoughts aside as I hugged Mike at the table. It turned out to be a wonderful night as I expected. The food was okay, but the live band playing smooth jazz made the experience quite romantic.
I can’t remember much of what Mike talked about that evening, but I just remember smiling and gazing intently at him as he talked, occasionally interjecting with “hmm” and “ah”. He stopped talking and grabbed my left hand, and led me away from the table to the open balcony. The balcony was empty and the breeze of the night sent some shivers down my spine. Placing an arm on the railing of the balcony while still grabbing my left hand, Mike began what seemed both like a love poem and a lamentation verse.
He went on an on in through the night asking why I was constantly rejecting his advances, sending him mixed signals, and not reciprocating his romances. I felt a slight irritation building up again inside me; the tall confident Mike had once again morphed into a begging simp. I don’t think my face could hide my apparent disgust as I tried to keep my crooked smile on. Suddenly Mike stopped, and leaned over to steal a kiss. I instantly stepped back like a magnetic north pole repelled by another north pole. This was starting to get too awkward for me, and for a moment I felt like leaping off the balcony.
Stunned by the rejection of his physical advances, we both stood at the dimly lit balcony staring at each other in what seemed like an eternity. Then my phone started to ring, “thank God” I said as I sighed a breath of relief. No sooner had my relief turned to angst as I realized that the caller was James.
At least James was better than this awkward situation with mike. “Angie! Angie! Yes, you were right about the blackmail, and I have just the perfect blackmail”. The wind got chillier as I heard the words over the phone, I got out of a frying pan and leapt straight into the fire.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 11:00pm On Apr 03|
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by Ekejoestar(m): 10:42am On Apr 04|
Thrilling and captivating story, pls update asap
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 11:35pm On Apr 06|
“Let me call you back, please!” I begged James passionately as I tried to make sense of the situation at hand. “What is it?” Mike asked still retaining some confusion from my stark refusal to his advances. I tried to muster a smile, but my face was still smeared with the sour taste of James’ call. “Nothing, nothing at all” I answered. The evening came to a rather unsavory end, and I asked Mike to just take me home. Ever the pristine gentleman, Mike ushered me to his car offering his jacket as protection against the cold night.
The ride home was deafening quiet as Mike refused to even put on the car stereo. The tension between us was a bright as day, and this was probably the proverbial last straw for Mike. I had really never given in to Mike’s advances so much in the past, but it was also never really a clear cut rejection. Our push pull relationship had all the markings of a professional strip tease. I guess I was simply just leading him on to a dead end and he didn’t know it. After about half an hour’s drive, seeing my sully expression Mike broke the silence. “Angie, are you really sure you’re alright?”, the question was met with no response as I was deep in thoughts. My mind wandered far and wide about James’ grand blackmail, did it have something to do with me? did it involve murder of any kind? if James had dirt on Sandra, what dirt did he have on me? A light tap on my shoulder brought me back reality, and Mike asked his question again.
I couldn’t hide my melancholy any longer, and in a cracked voice I answered “I don’t know, it seems something bad is about to happen to somebody and it’s freaking me out”. Now most people would’ve pressed further to get more information out of me, but Mike wasn’t that kind of guy. He breathed a heavy sigh, remove his right hand from the black leathery steering and held my hand tight. Still looking ahead on the well-lit Lekki-Epe expressway he said “Just chill, I trust that you’ll be fine. It’s you…”. Suddenly I felt a calm waves take over me as I sunk into the car seat.
Damn it! I thought to myself, nobody had this much emotional effect on me in forever. In a flash, we approached the entrance of Olafimihan Street and my troubles were back. I was dreading the call back from James, somehow I wished that I had never brought up the issue of black mail with him. I had dug my own grave, built my own coffin, and now it was time to die and be buried. Maybe some “SK” would clear my head, but I knew that was futile. I had developed some resistance to marijuana, I couldn’t get much high as I used to in the early days. Still plotting my mental escape from the situation, I considered alcohol for a bit. That was also of no use, as I had an appointment in the morning and didn’t want a hangover at all. Finally, we were at my black gate and I was still nerve wracked from plotting my mental escape.
James alighted and came around to help me back to my door. Yohanna , the security guard, in his usual sycophantic demeanor showered undeserving praises on Mike. Mike was definitely not in the mood, and he didn’t even bother with a reply. Finally, at my door, I hugged Mike goodnight. The hug turned out to be a very long one and I didn’t even notice. I guess that sometimes that no matter how empty and detached a person is, they just can’t fight basic psychology. I was all alone with my troubles and here was the only person who gave a damn, no way I was letting him go that night. Out of nowhere, the big words fell out of my mouth “do you want to come in?”. “Sure” Mike answered.
Suddenly it hit me, did I really want mike in my apartment? I had really never invited anyone into my apartment, it was my inner sanctuary, my safe space. But I guess it was necessary as I needed some mental escape from reality. Mike immediately found some comfort on my brown sofa and I sat beside him. Placing my head on his shoulders, we sat peacefully in the comfortable silence. Soon his hand began stroking me hair gently. Mike’s scent was the only thing the room that night, I was still wearing his blazer jacket, my head was well rested on his shoulders, and his huge arms wrapped around me. The spirits of lust had timed their assault perfectly, and all roads were definitely headed to sexual climax. His hands still gently stroking my hair, I squeezed myself further into Mike’s embrace and snuggled him like a child frightened to go back to sleep after a Nightmare. Thoughts of a possible Sexual encounter with Mike flooded my head and everything else out. Our last sexual encounter was alcohol filled, and there were certainly no emotions attached. And now, the sexual tension in my living room was sharp enough to split thin air. New troubles filled my mind, intercourse troubles.
It had been ages since I had sex with another man in a non-transactional setting. Giving my clients good sexual climax on time was the deal, and I had mastered this art in all its splendor. What was I supposed to do now? Did I have to kiss him? What kind of pre-intimacy would be appropriate? For an experienced prostitute I had the sexual intelligence of a naïve teenager. I let out a loud chuckle as I pondered upon these problems. For Mike it was probably the opener he had been expecting, and he stopped stroking me hair. Shifting my head with his other arm, he stared intently at me inching closer with every passing second to my face. A kiss! He was definitely going for a kiss which I thought wasn’t a bad choice. Oh boy was I wrong! Mike’s small brown lips found solace on my neck as he began with soft kisses while grabbing me with both arms.
For most normal girls, the erogenous zone on the neck was sure to trigger sensations and fire up the hot romance. But I was a little different, dead on the inside possibly so I just stared at the bedroom door still silent and pondering. Mike noticed the absolute lack of response from his sexual explorations and stopped almost immediately. “What’s the matter he asked” with a disappointing look on his face. “Nothing” I said, feeling rather sorry for poor Mike. Thoughts of alcohol to set the mood rolling crossed my mind again, but I was still resolute on my decision to not have hangover the next morning. “Bleep him like a client!”, that was it! There was no point trying to flog a dead horse in repairing my sexual psychology.
If I bleeped him till he came it was win for the both of us. I would do what I knew how to do best, and he would feel very proud of himself. In a split second, the tides turned and I was about to become a Tigress devouring her prey. I stood up from the couch and threw myself straight on to Mike’s laps. Staring into his eyed briefly I decided to reciprocate the neck romance. But instead of wrapping my arms round his big chest, I got to work unbuttoning his shirt. Soon the shirts came flying off, exposing his hairy bare chest. I ran my long finger nails up and down his chest hair as I sprang back up to take off my jump suit.
In my usual professional manner, I took this to be a literal strip tease opportunity. Slowly and carefully I slid my arms out of the left sleeve of my one sided jump suit. The I wriggled my body free to get the jumpsuit to my waist exposing my black strapless bra. In one click, the bra hooks were off and my perky breasts were out on display and I could see the mountain sexual tension in Mike’s eyes. It was just a pity that he wasn’t a client, so all this work was just for me. Slowly I turned round to yank the pant section of my legs, my butt laying bare right in front of mike. Throwing all caution to the wind, Mike grabbed my waist landing my ass on his semi erect penis still stuck inside his black trousers. I stood back up slowly and proceeded to lead mike straight to the bedroom, there wasn’t much left to do now than give him the sexual climax he so desired right now. In the twinkle of an eye, Mike’s trouser and underpants came flying off and he seemed ready to charge into sexual paradise.
Well, I could’ve allowed him take charge of the situation but it would only lead to unrequited sexual energy as was the case earlier. Instead, it was I that going to do the fucking. I pushed mike on the bed, this time with a full hard on ready to ride. I mounted the erect penis like a phone to a charger with my opening act being the reverse cow girl position. Half an hour later and two rounds in, Mike had his second ejaculation for the night. I guess unprotected sex led him to climax faster than he imagined he would last. My job was finally done, but unlike most other jobs this was more charity than actual work.
Mike dozed off almost immediately curling himself up like a German shepherd after a long day herding sheep. The time was now 2:30 AM, and I was contemplating taking a bath. A bath, though relaxing was sure to bring back all the troubles of the day back into my head. So I lay motionless beside Mike sound asleep. I couldn’t resist the temptation to look at my phone one last time before I had some shut eye.
Two unread messages. Effiong was having our day planned tomorrow as he landed back in Lagos yesterday night. “Sweet!” I thought to myself. The second message was from James and it read “Sandra has an unfinished murder case and I’m making sure that it’s being reopened”. I turned off my phone and closed my eyed tight, I was sure as hell not going to allow death keep me up all night again.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 12:10am On Apr 07|
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by KelvinCoaster(m): 12:37pm On Apr 07|
Nice storyline! Longer updates will be perfect for this lockdown!#wink
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by iykeany: 10:19pm On Apr 07|
Well done op, you're doing great on this story. Much respect. Try and ensure the names are in order. Twice you referred to Mike as James & John. In all nice story ��
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 10:21pm On Apr 07|
Surprisingly, I didn’t have much trouble sleeping, I guess the sex was a good idea. Maybe the alcohol at the Chinese restaurant did help a little bit too. I was awoken by the extreme cold, I left the air condition on and the rains were finally here. As I dragged the thick brown duvet to cover my seminude body, I noticed that I was all alone in bed. Sex with Mike was definitely not a dream, no way in hell would I be dreaming about a man at this point in life. The loud rush of water from the bathroom put me at ease, still I called “Mike!” just to be sure. “Yeah!” Mike answered sounding like an accomplished marathon runner whose name was just called up in the medal ceremony. Mike emerged from the bathroom with a huge smile on his face, sex did indeed do wonderful things to a man.
“Hey, how’re you doing?” Mike proceeded to ask in a very endearing manner. “I’m good” I answered with a puzzling look on my face. I wasn’t used to this camaraderie with clients after a good night’s work. Mike Immediately started getting dressed, as he was heading to work that morning. In a few minutes, he was buttoning up his rumpled shirt and slamming the door shut after a sequence of cheesy goodbyes which made my soul cringe. I sat on my bed for a few minutes feeling a little disappointed at myself, because I knew with utmost certainty that this was not going to end well for one of us. Nay, this was not going to end well for Mike, he was already too emotionally invested in what was supposed to be a onetime drunken fling. After a few minutes of riding the see saw between self-loathing and pity I went to the bathroom to prepare for a long day ahead.
I stood in front of my bathroom mirror wearing disgust on my face again, not about mike or about any of my troubles but my shabby extensions. The Moroccan virgin hair extensions was one of my most expensive hair extensions. “That bitch sold me rubbish! Ugh!” I said as tugged the strands loose. The bitch in question was actually more popular known as big aunty. A retired working woman herself, big aunty made most of her living selling a wide range of beauty product to us active working girls. She was as vicious as she was gentle, selling on credit to girls who didn’t have the means to pay but wanted to “shine”. She sometimes played the role of a love-vendor for new girls in the business, but for us experienced veterans, her deals were plain shitty. The pay was peanuts and she demanded a greedy percentage of the cut. Sometimes big aunty did offer some sound advice for us girls, some of which I took to heart and changed my life. “Ashawo work no be work , no be work at all ooh!” she would proclaim to me in a sarcastic tone , “na working class girl dey reign now, dem no dey buy moto with short time for joint” was her favorite closing piece. She was damn right, fucking those low lives for three thousand naira per short time was a sure way to poverty. I was finally a working class girl, life seemed good and I could afford to buy “moto”.
Still tugging at the wretched hair extension and thinking about big aunty I wondered what I would be doing if I quit the game. There weren’t a lot of successful forty something prostitutes and I was certainly not about to break that cycle. When I get to that bridge I’ll cross it I thought to myself loudly, but no way in hell was I going to start my own ring or anything of the sort. Yes, I probably had no moral compass, but I’d prefer go to hell alone and not bear the burden for someone else’s damnation. Damnation! I had totally forgotten about James and his grand blackmail plan of an unfinished murder case.
Effiong’s call interrupted my session with the mirror, I sluggishly dragged my feet to the room to pick up the phone. “His Holiness!” I said in a sexy voice as I picked up the phone. “You’re bless, hehe”, was the reply from the other end of the phone. Effiong was calling to tell me that he’d be late for our day out, apparently he was picking up some jewelry for his wife. Yes! he was married, and that wasn’t the most shocking part. He was the founding pastor of one of the big new generation churches in Abuja, drawing a congregation of about ten thousand worshippers every week. Clients like pastor Effong didn’t do any good to my blurred perspectives on morality. Here was a guy mounting the pulpit every Sunday to cast away sin, and then travel thousands of kilometers to mount my vagina and cast away his ejaculation.
I didn’t blame him much though, I was his secret thrill outside of his marriage, his heroine, his cocaine, his occasional high. He wasn’t your typical randy pastor; else he would’ve probably preyed on female members of his congregation. I was his first forbidden fruit, and I had seized the opportunity to have him under lock and key as a long term client. My birthday was coming up, and I was going to pressure him into buying me a car. Yes, a car! I think I was due for one already. Oh! Maybe this is what chief and Sandra have, I started to ponder to myself. As my thoughts drifted towards Chief spending and Sandra, I mustered enough courage to call James. As I contemplated for minutes whether to have the blackmail discussion with James, I finally decided to meet him in person. “Hey James, let’s meet in person and talk about this thing” I said as soon as he picked up the call. “If you still want to sha, Sandra has finally agreed to my terms”. I wasn’t at all surprised, with a Justice system as slow and as corrupt as ours, a murder trial was the last thing anyone wanted to be riddled with. Still, I was eager to understand the whole story, if for nothing, but to gain insights on my own safety. “Yes! let’s meet at the Nescafé shop at Jazz thirty-eight”.
I rinsed my face quickly, threw on some joggers, an oversize tee shirt and a pink face cap. I sprayed the new Bvlgari perfume mike had gotten me, and ordered an Uber which to my greatest surprise arrived in the shortest path possible. I maintained unusual silence in the car, pondering what manner of psychopath James was. How could he possibly have dug deep into the darkest and deepest secrets of a person’s life, and was this going to be a new strategy of his going forward. The shop was almost empty as it should have been on a weekday since most orders were to-go, James sat in the corner intermittently staring at his phone and the clear window glass to his side. “Hey James!” I greeted him as I came from behind. “Hey Angie what’s up?”. James’ demeanor was calm and serene, it didn’t even seem like he was returning from the verge of trying to ruin Sandra’s existence. He started to laugh “why are you looking so worried, you’re not Sandra so you’re very safe”, he paused and then his face took all seriousness “You’re probably wondering how I knew about the whole dirt”. I nodded my head and gazed intently at James as I was hoping to be showered with grim tales of a sinister investigator.” Yeah, Funmi told me, you know Funmi right?”. I didn’t know any Funmi, in fact I preferred not to know the other girls in James’ roll call; I was weary of other prostitutes as I would project the dark side of me into every one of them. James carried on with his tale as his question on Funmi turned out to be rhetorical; Funmi and Sandra used to be very tight, apparently they were from the same neighborhood.
Sandra didn’t actually kill anyone, she was just an unfortunate victim of the dreaded occupational hazard of prostitution, a dead client! Every once in a while, the local news would always be abuzz with tales of old men who died after prolonged sex romps or after overdose on sex enhancing drugs. For Sandra, the victim was a local political party chieftain in Osiele, Abeokuta where she was still a student at the Federal College of Education Osiele. The pair had moved from a bar to a nearby hotel room where they proceeded to have sex. In the middle of the whole sexual romp, the old man collapsed and stopped breathing. Sandra Immediately rushed to the receptionist to report that the old man had collapsed, he was rushed to a nearby local clinic where he was pronounced dead. The hotel management immediately involved the police, and Sandra was immediately arrested. Sandra was clearly innocent, but the shrouded secrecy of the autopsy of the Nigerian Police force, and the insistence of the old man’s semi-literate wife of having Sandra Locked up for life didn’t help matters much.
It was at the Osiele police headquarters that Sandra met Funmi, after she was brought for stealing her client’s expensive gold watch. The part of her getting out police custody was a mystery, and somehow she reconnected with Funmi who was a student too at FCE Osiele. “So at what point did this sisterhood break up?” I asked intently. “As with all break ups, it apparently involved money” James said with a sinister smile adorning his lips. “Well, they had a party with some dumb Alhaji and carted his 24 carat gold wristwatch which Sandra sold but claimed to have lost”. They brought the matter before James who was still trying to kick start his pimping game, but he sided with neither of them as he was hoping to get both of them under his roll call. He ended being Sandra’s “Human resource” personnel, but as soon as shit hit the fan he ran to Funmi for dirt.
I was a bit relieved at the end of the story as it turned out to be a classic case of one bitch back biting another. This only just reaffirmed my decision to not make friends with any other girl in the game, they were all just as soulless and morally absent as the devil himself. Also, James wasn’t the evil genius detective I was imagining him to be in my mind. All was well with the world after all, James had gotten his best client back, and I was going to have a wonderful ahead with my naughty pastor. Nothing! Absolutely nothing could go wrong now!
Effiong was back on the line, but I waited till I bade James goodbye before I picked up the phone. “Angela my baby! you can come to the house now! I’m ready for you, in fact too ready”, Effiong sounded like very much like a teenage boy who had just learned how to wear a condom and couldn’t wait to try it out. “Pastor, better calm down. With all this talk now you still won’t be able to handle me” I said laughing condescendingly, remembering my first encounter with pastor Effiong at a political hangout back in Abuja. He was one of the pastors who had prophesied the victory of the senator from his home state of Akwa-Ibom and he was invited to celebrate with the senator elect.
I’m very sure now that he probably didn’t understand the nature of the political “retreats” which he attended, and the practice of taking a girl to cap off the night. It was also my first night in Abuja, and in a twist of fate one the bar men signaled for me to keep the naïve looking stocky man company. For the first time in a long time, I was completely in charge of the sexual situation. The pastor lost his monogamous virginity that night, and I had the honor of smashing his hymen of marital infidelity.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist2: 10:27pm On Apr 07|
iykeany:Thanks, much appreciated
apparently anti spam bot banned me
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by lionshare: 10:55pm On Apr 07|
Great work. Waiting to read more.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 12:46am On Apr 08|
lionshare:My post has been unblocked.. you can read it above
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by temple1985: 12:22pm On Apr 08|
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by olaspecific(m): 1:33pm On Apr 08|
Nice work.. following bumper to fender!!
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 11:09pm On Apr 08|
As I got to the door of the shop still fiddling with my phone to order a ride back home, I stopped and turned back. I realized that James could just drop me at home, then I turned back again. That level of familiarity was just way out of my comfort zone, I had already allowed on guy into my inner sanctuary, no way in hell was I allowing low budget detective James in. Finally, I was paired to a driver, this time again I turned back, but to go sit in the chair and wait patiently for my ride. I decided to sit just by the counter and not with James, we weren’t exactly buddies and the time was probably not right for any cordial relationship. James barely noticed me as he sat backing the entrance and I tried my best to just sit quietly by the counter. One, two, three, five minutes had passed and I was starting to get impatient, looking at my phone like an obsessed child. As I got off the phone with the driver, who reassured me for the umpteenth time that he was right by the corner a towering figure sat down beside me. I was quite sure it was a guy, but when I turned to have a better look, it was a girl. Slightly tall, well pronounce feminine characteristics and a hips befitting of a true African woman. I felt a slight shock wave run through my body as the tiny hairs on my arm stood electrified. I couldn’t get myself to stop staring at this beautiful goddess who sat beside, and on its own volition, my brain began to run wild. I never like the thought of fully examining if I was attracted to women, sure I had a brief history with another woman but I swore to myself that it was just the situation of thing. Ah, yes! the only woman I had ever being with, Efosa.
Efosa looked nothing like this thick sexy giant beside me, but the lust in my soul was exactly the same. I was fully daydreaming about the past at this point, thinking deeply about the wonderful moments shared with the wild-yet-gentle Efosa. Our first rendezvous was entirely a one woman show of which I was a docile spectator. Efosa took my soft gentle hands into the new world of female sexuality. Moving up and down my entire body, dancing irregular rhythms with her tongue and conjuring satisfaction with her hands, I experienced true ecstasy that day. I was dazed, shy and satisfied when we were done, it was losing my virginity again but in the most wonderful way ever. We lay still for a few minutes on the mattress and she held my hands very tight as we stared at the ceiling. It was a kind of comfortable silence between new lovers. As she stepped up to leave the room, she brushed a light kiss against my lips while holding my cheeks and just smiled. I lay there on the bed still wondering what had happened, was this going to be a regular thing? The bang on the door by one of the cleaning ladies had me scampering to put on my clothes, “who dey there?” the voiced asked still banging the door. I open the door and just excused myself without a word, I was probably ashamed.
At that point, I was still a green horn back at the ballers. A newcomer, a freshman prostitute, a young blood. Somehow I still had bits and pieces of my morality guided by religious upbringing. Acts of homosexuality were one of the most reproachable sins. I remember the pastor always singling it out when we read passages from the old testament. I went back to the shed beside the main bar to find Efosa and the other girls prepping for the night. It was a weekday night, and business was bound to be slow so everyone was out to kill the competition. Suddenly, I was feeling like it that evening. I had just climaxed from meaningful sex, and wasn’t going to overjoyed by the thought of meaningless transactional sex from some dirt bags.
I changed into a pink mini gown for the evening. It was undersized “okrika” gown I had gotten from the night sale market under the bridge at Obalende. I wasn’t making enough money to at the time to afford first-grade “okrika” or the boutiques run by the loud Igbo boys around the market. I sat down on a plastic chair by the entrance as I rubbed my lips to spread the red lipstick I had put on earlier. I sat alone as a lot of the girls took their battle station by the road side catcalling potential customers. “My customer come naaa, I go do you well ooh” seemed to be the marketing phrase for the evening. I just sat patiently inside, resigned to my fate that I would pay my daily dues to Lanre from my yesterday’s earnings. Out of nowhere, a man possibly in his mid-thirties emerged at the entrance and swiftly took his seat on a barstool at the counter. One bottle of beer later, he beckoned at the bar man to go fetch me. I knew it was time maybe I wasn’t going to be paying my daily dues from yesterday’s earning after all. As I took my seat right beside him, he went straight to the point His mouth reeking of alcohol after just one light beer. I would later come to know that he had been drinking before making a stop at our fine establishment. “How mush for short time?”, he asked with a wry smile. “3K” I muttered in a low tone, somehow I wasn’t used to customers being very direct. “Oya, make we move” He gave the commanding order. I collected the keys to one of the rooms in the barman who I had given it to earlier in the evening. I opened the door hesitantly as I hoped this would end as quickly as possible. Something just felt off that night, and boy was I in for a rough ride.
I took of my going, leaving just my bra on and no panties. I never bothered with wearing panties during my shift, what was point in taking them off and back on continually. As I lay on the bad waiting for this alcohol laden scum to begin “knacking”, I noticed him frantically searching for something. I prayed that it wasn’t money he was looking for, as I didn’t want to have to deal with one of those “osho free” ashawo fuckers. “wetin happen” I inquired impatiently, “I no get condom for here ooh” he replied. I stood up to begin to wear my gown back as I was sure as hell not going to Bleep some hood rat without protection, ashawo work no be last bus stop.
What happened next is quite ironical, yet disgustingly painful. Ironical, because most people wouldn’t expect it to happen to prostitutes, and painful because it shouldn’t happen to any woman. Well, I was raped by the man who was going to pay for my service anyway. As I stood up to wear my gown and decline his offer to have unprotected sex he grabbed me by the waist and threw me back to the bed. Sitting firmly on my legs while he yanked the gown of me, he mumbled some incoherent babble. “I must Bleep my Bleep today” was the only thing I picked up. Pinning me down with one hand on my throat and kicking off his loose trousers, he shifted his palm to my mouth to block any sound from coming. Still struggling to push off the lowlife he grabbed my legs and forced them apart placing his chest on my body. Soon, I could feel the tip of his penis right on my clitoris. My vagina was as dry as the desert so he spat on his palm, lubricated his penis with the saliva and proceeded to penetrate my vagina. Still covering my mouth, he swung his buttocks back and forth bruising my dry vaginal wall. A this point I felt really powerless and just lay there motionless, hoping that nightmare would end as soon as possible.
As soon as he ejaculated he stood up almost immediately like a machine done with its task. I still lay there on the bed with a grim looking staring at the ceiling. He tossed me six five hundred naira notes as he left the room adjusting his oversized trousers. This was more than I bargained for, who was going to tell? The other girls were just going to brush it off as a slight misdemeanor, an occupational hazard as “dem no dey rape ashawo”. I gathered enough strength to put my gown back on, and head over outside to see the one person I could talk to, Efosa. I gave Lanre two of the six naira notes with me and began searching for Efosa. “She don go for till day break with one of her customer ooh” one of the other girls told me. I just needed to get this thing off my mind, so I went to the guy beside the lodge to get some synthetic marijuana and smoke till my senses were completely.
The smell and taste and “Colorado” was something still very vivid in my memory even after I had quit and downscaled to normal marijuana. It did put me out of my misery that night, along other horrible experiences back at the De ballers. I hated the memory of that night and almost all of my memories at DE ballers, but somehow I couldn’t block it that morning. All the lust had disappeared from my thoughts, self-loathing and misplaced anger were back and not even the fine seductress beside me could revive those thoughts.
Finally, the delinquent Uber driver had arrived, I was definitely going to give him a one star for his tardiness. “I’m so sorry ma, but this road construction was just causing traffic” he said with a deep remorse in his eye. He was probably another ma just lying, my subconscious man hate was back in action. “It’s okay, abeg” I replied in a disapproving tone. The ride back home was quiet and fast, apparently the traffic was on the other side of the road. I dashed into the shower quickly, disregarding most of my morning beauty routines. I wore a bright blue tight jeans and a white crop top wearing my dark shades which contrasted perfectly with my light bronzer and highlighters. It was time to order another ride again, I was starting to get really sick and tired of this routine, maybe I did need my own damn car. The driver was punctual this time, and we began the long ride to Effiong’s bachelor’s pad in Oniru.
Hotels weren’t private enough, and Effiong could afford to rent an expensive apartment which he used only a few times a year. Our relationship was a little different from the usual thing I had with my clients. There was a weird emotional dynamic which I set in place, and which the venerable pastor seemed to enjoy. Being a Man of God, he was a revered everywhere, from the church, to his matrimonial home, and even among the politicians with whom he was in good terms with. It was yes pastor, yes sir, yes daddy, everywhere he went. All that power needed a safe release point, he needed to get down from that high throne every once in a while. I was that forbidden fruit in the garden for him, he had no jurisdiction over me, and I was the one doing the requesting while he did the giving. Effiong was on the phone again, I smiled as I picked up the phone. “Just calm down baby boy, I’m on my way. Make sure my favorite is ready oh” I said in a stern but gentle voice as I picked up the phone. “hehe, of course, of course. Trust the man of God”. I hung up the phone immediately, feeling satisfied. This was going to be a wild week!
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by Badlimo(m): 7:51pm On Apr 10|
Please more update
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 10:32pm On Apr 11|
Finally, we arrived at the house, and it looked very different from the last time I had been here. The color had changed from a dark green to a more aesthetic blue, and the fence was painted white this time. I approached the gate hoping to ring the bell and be approached by “Alika”, the ever cheerful and beggarly security guard. Unlike most security guards who would yell adulations and just silently hope that you begrudgingly gave them a tip, Alika would press on and on till his very presence became irritating that you literally paid him to leave you alone. Unfortunately, or shall I say fortunately, I was greeted with a tall dark older man with a very stern look. “Madam Angela right?” He said in a rather judgmental look. This look was similar to the one that I would get from cab drivers or domestic workers of my clients, it really got to me emotionally somehow. “Well, yes, any problem?” I retorted back, assuming a hostile position, ready to fire expletives immediately. “Sorry Ma, please come in” he said, sliding the black metal gate wide open. Somehow my miniscule excitement of spending my day with the pastor had all but evaporated, I was livid. Yes, I was a prostitute, but I hated being reminded that fact in subtle means by people who I considered lesser them myself.
At this point, you could hear the anger in my footsteps, my steps were louder and a lot quicker. As I opened the glass door, I met a relaxed Effiong in brown cargo shorts on the couch watching a football game. He immediately sprang up to his feet to embrace me, wearing a smile like I was some early Christmas present he had been praying for. As he hugged me tightly, and kissed my cheeks in an eerily crude manner, the lack of response immediately halted him. He took a step back and the smile completely wore out. “What is it? is it something I did?” He asked looking very confused. “Nothing, I just don’t like the way your security guard was looking at me” I said fiddling my arms like a belligerent kindergartener.
Immediately, Effiong dashed to the door screaming “Sonny! Sonny!”, beckoning at the security guard to come over. Out of thin air, my vexations vanished and I immediately ran to meet him at the door, shoving at the security guard to go away. “ah! It’s not that serious naaa, man of God” I said while trying to drag him and his pot belly back into the lavish sitting room. As we headed back to the couch, I teased him a little about how we wanted to send down fire and brimstone just for me. Effiong resumed his sheepish smiling, and I sat comfortably on his place placing my arms round his neck. As we both smiled, my brain went into overdrive as I planned my emotional and sexual attacks to extract as much money and goodies from Effiong as I could. “You’re losing weight oh, your wife must be making you work hard in the bedroom” I said in a teasing manner as I started caressing his bald head. It was a fairly simple trick I was employing, smear dirt on the competition but in the nicest way possible. If Effiong’s marriage was so great, he definitely wouldn’t have to sneak thousands of kilometers away to taste the forbidden fruit. Bringing in his wife into the conversation was a sure fire way to sprout some guilt and drop all emotional defenses.
“You know you don’t need to work hard when you’re with me, I will treat your right” I whispered into his ear as his whole body jerked forward. I caressed my buttocks around his pelvic area and then headed straight to the kitchen to help myself with some food, asides the coffee with James, I hadn’t eaten anything all day. Like bees to honey in a beehive, Effiong trailed behind me still in a trance like smile. At that moment, I thought in my mind that he definitely could’ve gotten other call girls to spend the night with him in the city, or even a proper escort, but somehow I was the only key to his sexual lock. Suddenly, I paused for a moment, damn it! This was the same reason I never begged for the Chief Spending package from James. I didn’t want any emotional attachments with clients, I loathed the either of being in a relationship with any man. But somehow, I soon got to learn that emotions cannot be divorced from sexuality, and evolutionary psychology always wins.
The assorted delicacies on the kitchen table cleared my mind instantly, as my mouth began to water intensively. This was another reason I loved the Escapades with Effiong, he spared no expense in the food and drinks department. I piled my plate with an assorted mix of abominations; spaghetti, chicken sausage, some beans, scrambled eggs and yam slices. I decided to make breakfast a little interesting as I took off my blue jeans and was left with just my black G-string on. I flung the denim pants to the sofa meters away and proceeded to squish my bare buttocks on Effiong’s laps, who was already seated at the dining. The sexual tension in the room was growing, and the lust in the eyes of the man of God was more than that if King David when he saw the wife of another. It was all part of the plan, a man in the peak of lust was as generous as mother Teresa. I stood up again from his Laps and took a seat right in front of him, denying him any access to “tap current”. His phone started ringing, and as I stretched my head, I caught a glimpse of the caller, “My Wife 1”. I chuckled and blurted “Greet her for me please”, the shame in his eyes was worse than when I brought up her name in the living room.
He excused himself to take the call, and when he was back I doubled down. “Hope you greeted her like I said”. The shame was slowly turning into frustration as he clearly wanted the references to his wife to stop, but I wasn’t done yet. I resumed by previous sitting position on his laps and this time directly facing him with my arms wrapped around his neck. I could feel an erection bulging in his native trousers, and I went in for the grand finale. “How many cars did you buy for her?”, the question dropped like a bombshell as he looked startled.
“You buy her plenty cars, and you expect me to go around Lagos jumping cabs like a low life”.
I stood up angrily and paced about the dining table, “every time Angie baby, Angie baby, and it’s just little change I get from you”. My tone had grown a lot angrier and my gestures were fiercer. At this point Effiong had begun to wear and confused and forlorn look on his face as he stood up to where I was pacing. “Is it car that you want, oya don’t worry I will buy” he said in a very remorseful tone. “No, I don’t want promise and fail, soon you will go back to the real Abuja madam with many cars”, I brought in the guilt tripping card once again. “Okay tomorrow, we will go and pick one for you, is that okay?”, I smiled and nodded my head in agreement. I hugged him seductively as I smiled and muttered some obviously false lovey dovey nonsense. Big Aunty was right, “Ashawo work no be work” the emotional side of the business was what made the real difference between a three figure De Ballers prostitute, and the arm candy of a randy pastor.
I led Effiong to the guest bedroom just right by the Sitting room as he trailed behind smiling with a bulge between his trousers. The lay down on the crisp with duvet as I threw off my crop top and unhooked my bra. Sex with Effiong was played differently as I wasn’t exactly his vacation order prostitute. Moans had to be faked, and I had to allow a certain degree of pre-intimacy. Raising my two legs up, I yanked off my black G-string and struck a pose like a porn star in the opening scene of a low budget movie. Seeing the pose, Effiong hastened up the removal of his chief- like native attire. He jumped on to the bed like a crouching tiger to its prey and began with my boobs. Not surprising as most men were really fascinated with breasts and I had just the perfect size for handling, squeezing, and motor boating. handling my breasts, Effiong sucked on them like a belligerent infant. Sadly, none of this stoked even the slightest arousal in me. I let a series of discordant moans as I had come to learn that vocal responses during sex had a wonderful effect on the ego of men. The proverbial “log of wood” type of woman, was the sexual nightmare of a lot of men, it made them feel grossly inadequate. The biggest part of sex especially for older men like Effiong was emotional, making them feel like raging mad bulls in a bull fight was the peak of sexual ecstasy.
Satisfied with his handling of my breast, he went straight for the spot in the middle. Another strategy of emotional satisfaction during sexual intercourse I had adopted was the size reassurance. Most men sadly had insecurities concerning the size of their penis, and although it seemed very trivial to a lot of women it was a crucial matter to men. Years of porn, and locker room shenanigans did quite a number to the self-esteem of men as regards their dick sizes. So I tried very much to pretend that the average penis, which most of my clients had, was a devilish monstrosity. As soon as Effiong inserted his penis into my vagina, I let out a small gasp for air like a trailer had tried to ram its way into my uterus. The satisfaction in his face was most delightful. As he cycled in and out, his pot belly bouncing off of my own belly, I let out wild moans like a woman in pure sexual bliss. It was like acting a porn movie where you were both the actress and director. Of course, I wasn’t feeling anything, but I had to play this game to get what I wanted. Sex didn’t last long as expected, but as soon as he reached orgasm, I faked mine too.
Effiong lay beside, panting and gasping for air while smiling like a newly minted heavy weight champion. I rubbed his chest slowly, as I whispered sweet nothings into his ears prompting a childlike reaction of throwing his hands into the air and singing praises to himself. Good sex had converted an otherwise powerful man on the pulpit to a sexually satisfied teenager. I made my way to the bathroom to get a quick shower and begin scheming for more goodies for myself, my phone began ringing. It was James, and somehow I was terrified because I had begun to associate him with bad news.
“Hey Angie, there’s one Permanent secretary in Lagos for a conference. Tomorrow night as the Western River hotel?”. James was back to his good old pimping self. “Nah, I’m actually not feeling like it” I said, trying not to give away the fact that I was with my own client. “Wow, you must be very rich now oh. No problem, I will give it to somebody who need it” he said as the hung up the phone immediately in an angry manner. As it turned on the hot shower, I began wondering to myself, maybe I needed to wean myself off James. I was good at getting my own clients and even better at retaining the best ones. Maybe the whole incident with Sandra was just a warning sign, maybe James was a disaster waiting to happen.
My phone was ringing again; I was getting angry as I muttered “What the Bleep is wrong with James”. Well, it wasn’t James, it was my mother. I dreaded calls from my family as it put a different emotional strain on me, I wasn’t the same person to them as I was to the world, or as I am to myself.
“Hello Mosun, I just say let me greet you. Errrrm, JAMB form is out, and Imole wants to write it this year” my mother said as she picked up the phone. “No problem, I will send it, bye bye” I hung up the phone immediately. I didn’t want to be Mosunmola at the point, I was Angela. Angela! I could still stomach memories of De Ballers Joint, but my childhood was one ghost I had spent most of my adult life running from.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by aprilwise(m): 4:11pm On Apr 12|
Nice one. More
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by KelvinCoaster(m): 12:10pm On Apr 13|
Good plots! Angela should stop deceiving the Lord's annointed.Lol Keep the updates coming!
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by temple1985: 8:41pm On Apr 13|
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 11:05pm On Apr 13|
I think I had spent more than fifteen minutes in the bathroom as Effiong came knocking on the door to inquire why I was spending so much time in the bathroom. “You can’t wash away my agility!” he said in a rather boastful tone as he retreated from the door. I never liked the thought of home or having to do anything with family members, and at this point I was eager for some mental escape. I didn’t care how the mental escape came; I hated the very state of my mind at this point. But I couldn’t leave Effiong alone as he really wanted to spend the remainder of the week with me. I couldn’t smoke a joint with him as I assumed that this moral compass could just easily rebuke it since it was not going to be bringing him more pleasure. I spent a few more minutes in the bathroom, and something strange happened to me which had never happened before.
For the first time in my adult life I considered suicide as a mental escape. The thought shook me as the inclination of death scared the hell out of me. Then the solution hit me like the rapture on the last days, Alcohol! I would get Effiong drunk so that I could have some the night to myself to reset my head. As I turned off the shower, my phone rang again; I was starting to think that calls were just a harbinger of doom for me. I mustered enough courage to turn back and was relieved that it was only Mike calling. For a very clingy person Mike had the divine gift of giving a girl her space and it somehow ensured that I never got too irritated of his advances. “Hey Angie, how’re you doing, I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy with work and stuff”, his voice was calm and soothing. “I’m good, just thinking about our last night together”, I’m not sure how those words fell out of my mouth. It was almost as if I was trying to guilt trip Mike into something too, or maybe it was just the left-over energy from the mental play I was having with the man of God. Effiong was back at the door, this time banging and wondering if I was ever coming out the bathroom. I bade Mike a quick goodbye, and strapped a white towel to myself as I tried to put on a fake smile to make my saddening thoughts.
“Were you sleeping there? Why did you take so long?”, his tone was no longer sarcastic as he looked genuinely worried. “I have to cleanse myself from all the spiritual energy in you na, Mr. Man of God” I replied in a derisive tone. His genuine concern wore off, and clouds of shame hovered above his head once more. “Is it the car that is still making you to do shakara for me?”, he replied, trying to shore up the conversation. “We’ll go to that car dealership at Jazz thirty-eight, first thing tomorrow morning”, he continued, feeling like a proud father promising his young lad a gift for topping his class. I felt a slight happiness but my own dark clouds still lay above my head as I was still eager to escape from reality. “Let’s have some wine” I said in a commanding tone, not expecting to get a reply. Still clad in the white towel, I went straight to the wine cabinet and popped out an obscure wine label. The alcohol percentage was only 15%, and Effiong didn’t come across as a heavy drinker himself.
I had a solution within my reach. I furloughed through my belongings in my small purse as I reached for a sachet of sleeping pill capsules. Sleeping pills was one of the formidable tools of the trade of a working girl. While some street Girls used it as a robbery tool, as I did back in my days, the bigger girls used it as time out whistle. Some clients did have the libido of a thousand men and were ready to have sex all though the night. For these clients, it was imperative to spike their drinks and give yourself a break. I didn’t have to use the pills these days as most clients were old men who hardly ever went beyond two rounds of intimacy. I uncapped the pills and emptied two whole pills into the wine bottle.
Another evil, though less frightening thought crossed my mind. I wondered how easy it was to kill these old men, given their undue trust in a mere escort. Maybe there was truly honor among thieves. I let the white towel drop and carried the bottle of wine completely naked to rejoin the pastor in the bedroom. I got the reaction I wanted. As I stepped into the room, Effiong immediately began to gawk at my nudity. I sat beside him and poured a glass full of wine and began to caress his shoulders while my breasts grazed his bald head back and forth. In no time, he had drunk about a third of the bottle contents and was knocked out cold. Finally, I could get out of here and go clear my head. As I put my clothes back on, I thought about the shenanigans I had done with sleeping pills when I broke free from De Ballers. I chuckled to myself and muttered, “yes they deserved it, bastard”. Maybe I did have an unresolved hatred for men, or maybe I just hated men from the parts of my life I also hated. The uber ride back home was shorter than I had prayed for. It was just so ironical that the one moment I had prayed for traffic turned out to be the freest of days for motorists. The debit alert I got on my phone was emancipating, it meant that I didn’t have to interact with my family for a few more weeks or even months perhaps.
It seemed that the day was one of evil thoughts from me, as I began to wish that I didn’t have a family, or that they were all dead. I didn’t seem too ashamed of this particular thought as the woman I called my mother was really my step mother and my siblings were just really my half siblings. I noticed the train of thoughts swinging towards my family life, and I was grateful that the roads were free and I was going to be home to clear my mind. The car pulled over into the streets, everything looked the same as usual. I lived in the street, but I could’ve passed for a stranger as I was barely around to take notice of anything in the surroundings. As I closed the door behind me, I began pulling off my clothes vigorously. It was as if the clothes were somehow binding me to the thoughts from which I was eager to escape from. Naked again, I reached for some MDMA pills in my bedroom drawer. One of the girls had introduced me to psychedelics while I was hustling in Abuja.
It was better alternative to weed and cocaine as there were no hazardous health effects, and I could be transported to a different world where none of my troubles existed. In that obscure world of round corners and 4 dimensions I could even cease to be myself. Psychedelics for me were only a last resort as they were insanely expensive in Nigeria and somehow, I feared that if I got hooked, I'd be trapped in that unreal world forever. I began my dosage with small sized pill of about 10 milligrams that I dissolved in a glass of water. Slowly, I began to feel relaxed as I lay on the bed smiling. The sense of the room began to fade away from my conscious reality and I could see bright colors appearing and disappearing. I took a second dose of 10 milligrams to amplify the psychedelic effects. The effects were not as I had hoped. Instead of the bizarre wonderland I began to feel flashes of my past and soon as I was seeing my young self. I was clad in my bright pink uniform of the St. Matthews Junior High School. It was a wonderful time as I was seeing myself jump around in pure childlike happiness. Suddenly I saw myself walking to the vice principal’s office after school hours as he requested. At this point, I began to shake violently, this wasn’t a pleasant memory at all. I knew what was going to happen, and I didn’t want to see it happen to young Imaginary me. It was the first time I was sexually molested and the beginning of the downward spiral of my young life. The 10-milligram dosage wasn’t as powerful so it wore off quickly, and I set on the bed with teary eyes, waiting to burst open the flood gates of heaven. Why did my mother have to call me today? why did I have a vast array of repressed emotions? Why did all of this have to happen today?
I put away the remaining MDMA pills and reached for some already rolled Rizla in a crisp clear containing in the lower drawer. I lit the blunt and slowly sank into my pillows. The tears dried up and I had some sanity restored to me. I still needed something to clear the night, I needed some passion, I need stronger emotions to battle these emotions. Having sex with another man was off the table as that was only sure to bring more unwanted sorrow to my evening. I hadn’t had sex with another woman since Efosa, and I thought this might just be a wonderful time to get some good woman loving.
There was a slight problem, I wasn’t close to any woman. Even if I was close to any of the other working girls, I wasn’t if any of them would be willing to go down with another woman for the purpose of pleasure.
A wonderful thought fleeted through my mind, maybe it was the marijuana but it was sure as hell a good thought. I could pay for the services of another woman and hire my own lesbian escort. This was both exciting and adventurous for me. I reached for my phone to call James; he was sure to have women available for my pleasure.
“The rich madam has decided to grace my phone this night” James answered in a sarcastic and angry tone. “Stop being so childish Oga”, I retorted sharply. I didn’t want the conversation to take any unwanted turns as it was the case with James. “I need to ask you for something, and you can’t ask me any questions” I continued in a firm tone. “I need a girl for another woman for the night, as quickly as possible”. There was a long pause between us and James finally responded “woah, I’ve never catered to that request before but I can find something out. I can’t promise anything though”. James hung up immediately, did he figure out if I was the one requesting for an escort? I muzzled through my stick, still waiting earnestly for some good news from James. This was purely business for James, and I was hoping he would put his back into this one for me.
James finally called back, “I found someone” he said as I picked up the phone. “Twenty years old, and a student at the University of Lagos, I’ll send you some pictures”. A I tried to speak, James interrupted again “there is one slight problem, you have to ferry her over by yourself with a Cab”. “That’s not a problem” I replied. James forwarded her details to me; her name was Mariam. I ordered a cab ride to go pick her up at her hall of residence in the university. It was finally time to call my girl toy for the evening. “Hi Mariam, I got your contact from James” I said immediately as she picked up the phone. As she replied I heard the most innocent feminine voice I had ever heard in my life. Waves of excitement and fear swept through my body. “Yeah, James told me, I've been expecting you”.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by lionshare: 12:56am On Apr 14|
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by aprilwise(m): 11:26am On Apr 14|
Nice one. Thanks for the update
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 11:00pm On Apr 16|
sorry guys, I've been busy with work. I'll make sure to update tommorow
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 10:40pm On Apr 17|
The prospects of pure sexual satisfactions trumped any leftover moral guilt that I could’ve overwhelmed me. Several thoughts raced through my mind, and I paced about the house like a watchdog waiting for its master. Was she a dominant person, would I have to submit to the power of another woman? Was she submissive like I was, years ago at De baller? Would’ve I have to lead the way? This wasn’t the same sexual naivety I felt with mike, this was different. This was real intimacy for me. I soon realized that I was naked and the house was a mess. I set to work to put the house in order, frantically arranging like a university freshman expecting to score some sex for the first time on campus.
The nervousness kept piling up, fluffing already fluffed pillows, and adjusting a neatly lain bed. Is this what some of my male clients felt during home calls? I thought to myself, maybe hiring escorts was just as psychologically draining for the client as it was for the working woman. I checked my phone to see the current location of the cab, they were just two streets away. I checked my bedside drawer to ensure that I had some cash left and maybe some extra tip If the night went beyond expectations. 11:57 PM, a loud honk finally buzzes at the gate, the package was here. I took a seat by the door patiently waiting for the coveted knock. Finally, a knock on the door, I adjusted my short lace nighties and checked myself out one more time. The sight at the door was one I would never forget. Yes, I expected her to be beautiful, but I didn’t expect that she would be this beautiful. Mariam had a caramel skin like a unique blend of Moroccan and Ethiopian ancestry. She wore a short dinner gown which did much justice to her small yet firm breasts, her nipples obvious through the black lace exterior. Mariam was rather petite, a little shorter than me, but her facial features were slightly. I stood at the door for a few minutes probably still gawking, when she asked in her small voice “Can I come in?” “Yeah Sure” I answered as I closed the door behind me more nerve wracked than ever. What was I supposed to do now? Do I have a light conversation with her? Do we jump straight into intimacy? “God, I wish I had a normal sex life outside work” I muttered to myself. Mariam had small handbag with her which I barely noticed. Maybe it was for clothes and toiletries she brought over.
Still looking like a stray puppy in the enclave of a new master, Mariam must have notice my uneasiness from the sofa on the other side of the sitting room. “Do you have wine or vodka?” she asked in a very innocent tone. It was a relief; light alcohol was a good opening to intimacy. “Yes, Yes, yes” I answered enthusiastically as I dashed to the fridge in the kitchen to bring over some left over expensive wine I got from an old client. I returned back to the living room to find Mariam who had made herself very comfortable on the sofa. The two tine shoulder straps of her evening gown were now down. Her cleavage was almost on full display and the already short gown was almost up her waist. I couldn’t stop staring as I poured the wine for both of us, wishing I could take the place of the gown and be stuck on that sweet chocolate body. “I don’t normally do this; hell I’ve never done this before” Mariam said as she took one big gulp from the glass. “Wait, this is your first time with a woman?” I asked, looking very disappointed and confused. “No”, she said while laughing. This certainly wasn’t her first time a Mariam had been sexually active from her secondary school days. “I don’t do it for the money, I Just felt like doing this because I want to have real sex” he said swirling her lip-gloss-stained glass in slow motion. “real sex?” I asked with the disappointment now fully replaced with genuine curiosity.
Mariam told me of her experiences with other women since she got into the university. She said most of the girls were just experimenting and never gave her any satisfaction. “Most of them, just do It because of some left-over fantasy from movies or just to get back at boyfriends”. It was interesting hearing the sexual frustrations of another woman, I wasn’t alone after all. Mariam placed the empty glass on the table and stood, adjusting her shoulder straps. She began walking towards me and I could shock waves of sexual energy already running through my veins. I thought she was going to take a seat beside me on the sofa and maybe cuddle. She sat directly on my laps and peered straight into my eyes.
Suddenly, Mariam no longer seemed like the small sized sweet voiced young adult who stood at my door a few minutes ago. She was a tiger with her prey in sight. I trembled a little as I didn’t expect that I would be the submissive party in this nightly voyage. “I just want to give and me given” she whispered into my ears. I tried to steal a kiss as she retreated to gaze at my face, this time with her hands wrapping around my neck. She smiled, and stood up immediately. Still smiling, she held my hand and led me into the bedroom. The contract had an innate offer, and acceptance. Our roles were set and I had completely surrendered my soul to this small beauty with me. Sitting on the bed, we took our former position on the sofa in the living room. Mariam went straight for a kiss, locking her lips against mine intently. Her hands held my face lightly as she moved her lips to the side of my neck. I felt a certain fire that I had not felt in a long time. It was like my nerves had returned from a long holiday. Eager to reciprocate, I tried kissing her shoulders as she continued kissing my neck. Mariam pushed me back, silently implying that she wanted full control of the situation. I obliged Immediately, after all I didn’t know when next I would get this much satisfaction. Mariam yanked off my silk nightie top as she grazed my lips against hers in a momentary light tease.
Even I, never gave my clients this much arousal in pre intimacy; I felt like I was only just a needle point away from explosive orgasm. Mariam pushed me gently to the bed, my legs still dangling from the edge as she yanked off her gown in one swoop. She moved her attentions to my breast this time, simultaneously doing things that let off the flood gates of orgasmic release. My body began trembling slightly as she sucked, caressed and squeezed my nipples. She was like one those of Hindu goddesses with many arms. I could feel her arms on both my breast and all over my cervix area. I let out soft moans as she moved back from my breast to my lips. He breasts pressed hardly against mine as our two hardened nipples bumped together like loaded barrels. The kiss was better that the last, with deeper reaches while she slipped her hands down my nightie short. She began rubbing the outer clitoris gently, this time moving between my upper neck and my lips with her mouth. The moans got louder and she receded back to my breasts still caressing my vagina. As she began sucking and caressing, she simultaneously sipped her finger into my vagina which was already wet.
I couldn’t hold it any longer, shaking violently and muttering incomprehensible babble I experienced my first orgasm for the night. It was a rather extended on as It took me a few minutes to get out of the daze. This was probably the end result of years of sexual repression. I turned to Mariam who had taken up the space beside me on the bed. She just lay there smiling like a hunter does as they look upon a prized game. I returned the smile with a shy sheepish one. She looked like she was eager to return to action. I wondered if she was expecting the same explosive orgasm in return. I started to doubt if I could get her the heights to which she had taken me. This was definitely an imbalanced relationship. She had established herself as the dominant one, and I was certainly under no obligation to return the sexual satisfaction. Mariam mounted my bare stomach again as she swiftly yanked off the nightie shorts I still had on. She brushed her tongue against my vagina and swept it all the way from my stomach to my mouth. This was sure to be better than the first round. Suddenly she spread her legs, kneeling on the bed with my body caught between her legs.
She looked at me intently for a while and then smiled and said something in a voice which I didn’t quite hear. She moved up the bed until her vagina was right in my face and then she grabbed my hair and shoved my face right in without a moments warning. I should’ve seen it coming as the night was one without spoken words. I stuck my tongue out and began working my way through the clitoris and inside the vaginal opening. Mariam held her face up, her eyes shut while she let out soft moans. He hands still on my hair she began to tug my head back and forth rolling it around as I pleasured her orally. Soon she began to smother my face and tongue as she swayed her hips back and forth. For a moment, the tugging and the smothering became violent. Mariam was shaking my head vigorously, while she smothered even harder, hitting my face with her well shaved cervix. Few seconds later, she climaxed in a quickly ending orgasm. Maybe this was the reason she was finding it hard to find sexual partners in school. She was a dominant Tiger in the sheets. She gave pleasure, but expected it in return and in full submission. The Night went on in a similar fashion, I would get pleasure from Mariam, and she forcefully get hers back.
A few hours later and we lay naked next to each other, sound asleep. Effiong’s call woke me up and he gave a heartfelt apology as to why he fell asleep after just a little wine. I feigned annoyance and told him he had to atone for his sins. I ended the call and lay on the bed while I recanted the precious night filled with pleasure beyond relief. But I also pondered on the sexual dynamics and I how I was in complete submission to Mariam. I had never felt that way before. Even with Efosa I was never fully surrendered, I was merely a willing participant. This time I was like a house slave, given all the pleasures from the master but still whipped into submission. I stole one last glance at Mariam, who was sound asleep as I went back to sleep. A few hours later I woke up to find Mariam fully dressed in joggers and a black tee shirt. She just sat on the bed and watched me intently. Her stares sent some shivers down my spine. Was the relationship dynamic from last night still at play? Or were we back to client and worker mode? Did she form any emotional connection?
“Last Night was nice, you’re such a good girl” she said as she grazed her palms against mine. The relationship dynamic was certainly still at play. I strapped the bed sheet around my naked body as I grabbed all the naira notes from the bedside drawer and handed it to Mariam. Without even counting it, she stuffed it into her medium sized hand bag and stood up to take her leave. Do I ask her to call me? Should I walk her to the door? More thoughts raced through my head as I sat on the bed still confused.
“Would you help me open the door?” she asked as I trudged behind her obediently. As I receded from the door after opening it, to bid goodbye to my best sex in years, something strange happened. Mariam turned back, she gave me a peck and whispered into my ears “You’re such a good girl, I call me when you need mama”. As she slammed the door, I stood there happy and confused. Being on the other side of the sexual power dynamic was terrifyingly satisfying. But I needed to get back into character, the real man-bending Angela’ today was the day the man of God promised me a car. As I trudged back to the bedroom I got a message from Amaka, there was a political boy’s hangout in Abuja. Amaka had developed a specialty in the political space since she moved to Abuja. She was my plug for the same political victory night where I met the venerable pastor. We weren’t so much friends, but I respected her turf and she liked me for it. Most other working girls would’ve tried to steer clients to themselves but I was happy with whatever she gave me. And since I lived in Lagos, she never considered me much of a competitor. I wondered briefly what she should be like in bed. A call from Mike came in. I turned off my phone and lay on the bed, I wanted to savor my moment of sexual satisfaction and entry into a new frontier.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by daddio(m): 11:46pm On Apr 17|
Thanks for the update
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by aprilwise(m): 9:10am On Apr 18|
Very interesting. Thanks for the update
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 10:44pm On Apr 20|
I lay on the bed for a long time and swayed from side to side like my thoughts. I thought of Efosa, it thought of De ballers. Even the thoughts of what I would be doing much later with my life crossed my mind. I just couldn’t describe my current state of mind, it was like I was happy and sad at the same time.
I wondered if last night was something I wanted to do often, I wondered if Mariam would be willing to go through with it. For moment, there was complete silence and I felt a calm in my soul. A voice that sounded familiar began to play in my head. It was a younger version of myself, filled with joy and happiness. The voice was suddenly drowned by a sea of voices, indistinct chattering like a market place. I closed my eyes and tried to find the voice again, but it kept getting drowned by the noise. I opened my eyes and saw myself in the corner of the room, crouched, with my head buried between my ankles. Was I hallucinating? The noisy voices vanished as I focused on my younger self in the room. I rubbed my face with my palm to clear any illusions. The little girl vanished from the room, and the only sounds I could hear now was that of the nuzzling air condition. I was as terrified as I was confused as I wasn’t one to have spiritual encounters of any sort. Maybe it was just the left over side effect of the psychedelics and the marijuana. I stood up to go have my bath, eager to leave the room as it felt like it something strange sending me away. In the bathroom, I wondered why Effiong had not called back yet, I forgot completely that I had turned off my phone. As I was ready to order a cab back to Effiong’s bachelor’s pad – hoping that it would be my last cab rides for a long time. I noticed immediately that my phone was switched off. I began to wonder how many times Effiong would have tried to call me.
I called Effiong as I switched on my phone, it rang and there was no answer. Perhaps, he was pissed off at me. I called again and he finally answered the phone. His tone was very angry. “I’ve been trying to call you since; your phone has been switched off”, he gave a momentary pause. “This is not nice at all, and later you’ll accuse me of not caring”. I let out a small burst of laughter. Yes, I was wrong but it was foolish to accept it. “Calm down, I was trying to avoid somebody that was pestering for money”. A little white lie couldn’t hurt His tone was immediately back to normal, “You should have at least told me, so when are we still going to the car dealership?” I answered swiftly “Of course, I’m on my way” He hung up immediately as I scrambled to find something suitable to wear for the day. No sooner than I had put the phone that I received another call, this time from Amaka. I had completely forgotten all about my Abuja friend. “Babe, what’s up. Are you avoiding me?” she said in a pensive tone as I picked up the phone. “No oh! I’m just trying to deal with money wahala” Amaka laughed loudly over the phone. The idea of a working girl of my standing having money issues was not very believable. “Come to Abuja naaa, the money problems with disappear in an instant” she replied, still laughing. She continued “Just a small get together of some governors and senators for some reconciliation meeting, and then we deliver thanks-for-coming package”. This was a sleaze ball offer as far as I was concerned. Some guy or big madam was probably in charge of arranging girls, and it was a Bleep-and-go challenge with no option of building a client relationship. Maybe the week with Effiong was beginning to cloud my judgement, or maybe the night with Mariam gave me a little bit of brain reset. As the silence got longer , Amaka spoke “Hello, are you there? Are you in or out?” I snapped out of my thought “Sure, no wahala, what day” “I don’t know, I’ll text you later” she hung up immediately too. It was starting to seem like customary good byes over the phone before hanging up was starting to become a rarity.
I wore black leggings, and a blue chiffon shirt as I proceeded to order a cab ride. The new car excitement had left me, something was troubling me but I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it. The cab ride back to Effiong’s place was quiet and rather quick. As I stepped tried to assure myself that everything was fine, I was going to get my car today and nothing to ruin the day. The security guard was a lot nicer this time around, the judgmental looks were gone and he wore a smile as he saluted. I met Effiong in the sitting fully dressed and impatiently tapping his feet like he was ready to dash out of the house. As he noticed me walk through the door, he stood up to hug me. It was quite the long hug, and soon we were on our way to the car dealership. Meanwhile, back at my apartment a couple of policemen had come to pay me a visit. Almost halfway to the dealership, I received a call from security guard of my building. “Aunty, some police people dey find you ooh” I was both shocked and confused, what crime could I possible have committed. My heart skipped a beat as my mind raced to all the seemingly harmless things I may have done in my past that would count as a serious crime. Then I thought maybe this was the handwork of James, maybe the whole Sandra Saga had given him wonderful ideas on blackmailing his girls. “Hello, are you there” Yohanna the security guard asked. “Yeah, give them the phone” I said with my voice shaking. At this point, Effiong began turning to look at me intermittently. The fear and frustration was written all over my face. “Yes, Madam Angela, we just need you to report to the station for an investigation. Eti-Osa Divisional Police headquarters. Unfailingly today” the voice was stern and the request seemed more like a command. I replied with a squeaky “ok” and hung up the phone. “Is everything okay?” Effiong asked as he shuttled his gaze between me and the highway.
“It’s the police, they want me to come in for an investigation”. Effiong immediately pulled over to the side of the road. “Did you do anything to anybody? Have you had any police case before?” the questions continued and it all soon began to sound like the chirping of a very loud bird. “No, no, no” I answered sounding even more scared wondering if I should have just told a lie and tried to figure a way out of this on my own. “We need to solve this no then; the car can await. You can’t drive of you’re in jail”. We headed for the nearest exit and made a U-turn to begin out journey down to the police station. I felt uneasy the whole time, as I tried to come up with convincing theories to my impending incarceration. The James factor kept popping up as something assured me that it was James trying to pull stunts. But I didn’t steal any of his clients. Or maybe it was because of the fact that I turned down his request to take on a client. I thought to myself that I had to cut all ties with James after this debacle was over. His very existence was starting to cause far too many problems in my life. The police officers treated Effiong and I very kindly. Maybe it was the expensive SUV and the fact that he fit the stereotypical image of the Nigerian “Big Man”. We arrived at the front desk and I immediately introduced myself and told the female officer about the house visit and the request for my presence. Another officer beckoned Effiong and I to follow him as he led us to the Divisional Police Officer’s main office.
The room was quite stuffy as the only source of ventilation was a creaking fan and some tiny windows befitting for a bathroom. I was eager to hear the crimes that warranted a police visit. The DPO apologized for the inconveniences and settled down on his chair right in front of us. “Do you know any Mr. James” he asked. It was that bastard James, this had his name written all over him. I have to cut all ties from him after this over, I thought to myself. “Yes” I answered, leaning forward with eagerness to hear the past crime James had succeeded in digging up from my past. “There was a murder and you were one of the last contacts of the suspect who is at large” the officer said in a calm voice as he leaned his fingers together in a pyramidal shape. My mind began to run a million miles through all my past connections. I didn’t know of any murder. Occasional robberies and swindles but no mention of murders to me. “Well, Mr. James stabbed a certain Ms. Sandra to death in her apartment after some altercation. Neighbors tried to intervene and he fled the scene leaving his phone”. It was both a relief and a shock. Relief, that I had absolutely no hand in this murder case and didn’t even qualify as a witness. Shocked that James was a murderer. At this point, I began to wonder why I was called to the police station. This time Effiong intervened, “But she is not involved in this case, so why Invite her over. I think I need to call the Inspector”. His tone grew angry, and I could see his point. The officer calm him down and explained that since I was James’ last contact and he was still at large they needed to get adequate information about him from me. I interjected immediately. “I don’t know much about James. We do business sometimes, and I know his address. That’s all. His family member should know better”. My tone had gone from shaky to smugly confident. This wasn’t my business at all. “Yes, I understand but I think you understand the situation”. This time Effiong interjected, “So what is the situation that we do not understand officer?”.
“Mr. James supposedly called you after the murder occurred. Either you’re a party to the disagreement which occurred or you’re in his inner circle” the officer explained still in a calm demeanour. “I have told you all I know, so what else do you want me to do” I replied him immediately. Effiong spoke again “Officer, let’s just close this thing here and now, she has no business in this case. You’re better off looking for any of Mr. James’ family members”. As he spoke, Effiong reached within his pocket. He brought out crisp notes in a bundle and placed it on the officer’s desk. “Thank you for your time officer, we’ll take our leave now”. It was like he was in charge of the whole situation suddenly. The officer smiled as he dumped the notes in his desk drawer. As we walked out the door, I wondered what the bribe was for. I was innocent without a doubt and there was clearly no way this would circle back to me. Maybe Effiong was better at reading cues of fellow old men and realized that the whole charade was just to milk me of a few thousand Naira. As we got back into the car, I breathed a sigh of relief that I had the courage to tell Effiong of my predicament. I wondered what would’ve happened if I had gone to the police station on my own. All the horror stories of women being molested by security agents always seemed like fiction, but I was close to becoming statistic today. “Don’t mind these people, always trying to extort people, I wonder how bringing you to the station helped them to solve their case now” Effiong lamented as we started the Journey back to the car dealership.
As I sunk into the car seat, an eerie thought crossed my mind. “What if James decided not go do down alone, and dragged as much people as he could down with him?”
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