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Stats: 2,483,110 members, 5,622,761 topics. Date: Thursday, 28 May 2020 at 06:34 AM
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by MisterChairman(m): 10:58am On Apr 21|
Wow I so much love this thread .. Love the suspense and the rest .. Kip em coming!
1 Like 1 Share
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 12:28pm On Apr 21|
MisterChairman:glad you enjoyed it
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by KelvinCoaster(m): 4:41pm On Apr 21|
imightnotexist,your name sounds weird but your story is superlative.Keep the good work!
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 10:49pm On Apr 21|
KelvinCoaster:thanks....the username was a spur of the moment thinking, a lot of usernames were already taken
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 10:47pm On Apr 23|
The trip down to the car dealership was rather silent, I closed my eyes like I was asleep, but I was just trying to clear my mind off the events of the day. The dealership was fully parked; cars of all shapes, sizes and colors and most covered with dust. I tried to muster up some excitement about my first car, but it just wasn’t coming. The salesman showed us around, and kept on chattering about how wonderful each and every car was. But my mind just wasn’t in the moment at all, the thoughts of death encumbered my mind. I thought again about Efosa, maybe she was actually murdered like Sandra was and the suicide story was just a big cover up. James was blackmailing Sandra with murder, and now he was a murder suspect himself. I wondered on about what must have really conspired between the two. James wasn’t exactly a blossoming flower, but he also didn’t seem like a cold blooded killer to me. Effiong was pitching in to make convincing arguments about a Red Toyota; somehow I nodded without even paying attention and the two men were headed into the office to close the deal. Shoving my arms, I snapped back into reality to meet a widely grinning Effiong. “You these girls and red cars. This one will fit you well oh” I took a few steps to examine the car that I had unconsciously selected. It was a nice car, and I did like the red color. I didn’t know much about cars, and so far it was aesthetically pleasing and had a working air condition, I was good.
Some excitement was finally coming into my day as my wish was getting fulfilled. The car dealership office was small and scanty; the place was kept cool by a rickety buzzing air condition at the side of the room. I wondered why they couldn’t just get a better office with all the expensive cars lined up. I can’t clearly remember the details of the transaction, but a few minutes later I was holding the keys to the bright red Toyota Camry in my hands. Effiong seemed very satisfied like he had just made a sizeable donation to charity. As we stepped outside, he told me he had to meet up with a few people and he would call me if he got back early. Finally, I had a car but I had a slightly temporary problem. Most people celebrated their first cars with family or friends. I had just myself to celebrate this milestone of mine and the build of emotions was killing me. I couldn’t call my family member as they had no details of my life and what exactly I did, and I definitely wasn’t in the mood for half-assed lies. I really didn’t have friends; most of the girls were either rivals or collaborators in the business. Then I thought about calling Mariam. It was a stupid thought, as she barely even knew me. I sat in the driver’s seat for a few minutes experiencing a wide range of emotions that’s I was eager to let go of.
I took a deep breath and gave myself a pretentious feel good speech. I told myself that this was a “pepper dem” to all the scums at DeBallers, to all the girls who had a fight with me, and to all everybody who trampled on my dignity. I did feel a little good after the sanctimonious self-preaching. It was time to drive my car back home. I usually only drove when I went to Abuja and would use Amaka’s car to go around as cabs were insanely expensive. Yohanna was pleasantly surprised to see me drive in with my car, and as usual he sought this as opportunity to earn a few naira notes. He started an annoying platitude of praise and adulation which always lead to the same outcome, paying him to just stop.
I just wanted to go in, lie down and just stay there till the man of God was ready for my company again. I met James Standing in front of my door and this was one of the few times I had experienced true fear. I didn’t know whether to turn back and run for my dear life or give listening ears to a killer. “Angie, please hear me out” James voice was shaky, it wasn’t the confident love-vendor with foreign degree and political connections, it was a lone murder suspect barely hanging on to sanity. This was an especially terrible situation for me, I knew the Nigerian Justice system well enough to know that being with James for even more than a second was a terrible choice. Unconnected fairy tales could be brewed from this encounter. My mind went to overdrive mode again. I was the first person James called after the murder and now I am the first person he is visiting after the murder. Why was this bastard hell bent on dragging me down to hell with him? “I’m not a killer, I don’t know what came over me… she brought the knife first and next thing I knew…” as James stuttered on my fight of flight response took over me in an instant. I slowly staggered backward, turning my head to a make a run for it back to my car. As I increased my pace backwards, James slowly inched towards me. He sensed that I was trying to get away from him. As I turned, James ran towards me and held my arms firmly. “Leave me alone, I don’t want put myself in trouble, why do you keep following me?” I spoke softly so as not to alert the neighbors.
I wondered why Yohanna hadn’t informed me that James was waiting for me at my door. Maybe he threatened him with something violent. I shrugged my hands more violently as I kept pleading with James to let me go. His voice continued to crack up, and it seemed like he was holding back tears. I tried to run, James dragged me back with so much force, I fell on my knees. He knelt down and continued begging me to give him a chance and listen. The situation was getting rather intense. I started to scream at James hoping this time that at least neighbors would hear and come to my rescue. Soon I was flat on my back as James was resisting all my efforts to escape even harder. The screams were getting really loud, and the echoes along the hallway made for a scary horror movie. James Placed his palm over my mouth to limit the screaming. I bit his hand, and suddenly his face changed. His eyes became bloodshot red, and he removed his palm from my mouth gazing at me intently for a few seconds. Suddenly James’ two hands were on my neck and he started choking me. Seeing that this wasn’t having as much effect as he’d hope it would, he starting banging my head on the bare tiled floor. I could now see streams of blood flowing across the cream-colored tiles.
I woke up immediately on my couch, gasping for air. I had fallen asleep as soon as I got back and it was a bad dream. I wasn’t much of a dreamer as long night filled with alcohol and drugs were my usual. Even in absence, James was wreaking havoc on my life. Then I thought about Mariam again, she was James’ only gift to me. I wondered if she had the same level of relationship with James as I had. Maybe she was just a referral, I thought to myself. I really never bothered to understand the intricacies of the pimping business; I wasn’t too keen on becoming a madam, and like big aunty would yell “Ashawo work no be work”. I was sweating profusely, as I had forgotten to turn on the fans and the air conditioning. I turned my phone on, with hopes that Amaka would hit me with the details of the Abuja cruise. Lo and behold, a call from Mike was the first thing I got. I contemplated whether to pick the call. At the last second I picked up.
It was a woman’s voice. I wondered if I was still dreaming. There was long pause after the customary hellos. Then a long chain of diatribes began “So you’re the slut sleeping with my man?” “Dick Olympic god medalist, you want to steal my fiancé from me abi?” Many more insult filled lamentations followed after that. I just stayed silent as the confusion was too much to bear. I thought Mike was single, how and where did this imaginary fiancée come from? “This is the last warning, stay away from my man!” then she hung up. I stood there for a few minutes with my phone still firmly placed on my ear, wondering what the hell just happened. Mike had a fiancée? All this while, I thought he was just a misguided simp begging for love where none existed. So had just literally been having free sex? All the confusion and questions increased my temper each step of way. I was livid at the end of my contemplations. First, I was the “mumu” in the mental game I thought I had in my palms all along. And now I was a thirsty man-chaser. This was more insult than I could bear, first James, now Mike. I had had enough from all the destructive men in my life. I was going to drive down to Mike’s office and make an even bigger fool out of him. But first I dialed mike’s number, hoping that his exasperating bitch of a fiancée would pick the call, so I would give her the insult of a life time. It had been long since I spoke pidgin, I was sure as hell not going to waste this opportunity.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by aprilwise(m): 8:43am On Apr 24|
Nice one. James should not robbed Angela will his murder Case.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by KelvinCoaster(m): 10:33am On Apr 24|
Nice story but i would suggest you modify the 'story title',let it represent the 'story line'.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 2:55pm On Apr 24|
KelvinCoaster:How so?, Angela's occupation hasn't changed..... any suggestions?
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by temple1985: 10:11pm On Apr 24|
your the bomb
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 10:56pm On Apr 26|
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 10:56pm On Apr 26|
This first mission with my car was rather exciting, taking a man with the gift of another man. Mike never expressly told me any details of his personal life. I gathered the details subconsciously as a habit of mine. Being a working girl in Nigeria meant that you were in charge of your own safety. “Ashawo” and members of the Nigerian Police force are not two words that go together. Mike’s Office was at Victoria island, a slightly long drive, but I assumed the road was going to be as free as usual. The heavy traffic should’ve been some divine sign that I should have made a U-turn and go wait for Effiong’s call back at my apartment. This was the first time I was in Lagos traffic as a driver and not a passenger. I muscled through the traffic. Every ounce of additional frustration increased the fire I was going to throw at Mike today. I had no shame, no price, no status to protect.
The Neon sign appeared in bright red and the building must have about forty stories, most likely a multinational I thought to myself. The security guards buzzed the gate right open as my car approached. I was starting to enjoy the perks of owning a car, if I was in a cab I would have been interrogated like a common criminal. I had on a short black skirt and a well ironed silk shirt to give me a pretend corporate look and prevent unwanted stares from the front desk people. I put on my dark shades and headed straight for the main entrance, exuding the aura of an assassin. “I’m here to see Mike” I told the lady at the front desk. The disconnect between her tone and her smile made It very painful to listen to her talk. “Who are you please?” she replied back. “Oh, I’m his fiancée” I answered with a very evil smile. “Okay, I’ll call him now” She picked up the desk phone and informed Mike that his purported fiancée was waiting for him in the lobby. I assured myself that I was going to be waiting for long, so I picked up a magazine lying on the center table. The magazine must have been about some women’s conference, I’m sure. Just a few minutes later, I heard Mike’s voice asking the front desk lady about his fiancée waiting for him.
It was time to put down the magazine and let all hell lose. I stood up swiftly and the showdown began. “Mike, so you feel say I be fool abi” I screamed in his face as we stood face to face with each other. Everybody’s head turned towards us, and Mike was completely frozen in fear. “you get wife and to dey Bleep ashawo up and down dey hunger you abi, you feel say you be bad man naaa” I continued yelling more two syllable taunts. People started paying more attention to the ugly scene I had created and mike still stood there unmoved by the catastrophic shock. The front desk lady was left jaw wide opened. I was expecting her to call the security guards or at least try to intervene. A few minutes had passed and I wasn’t getting the reaction I wanted, so I turned things up a notch. I grabbed mikes suit jacket and began to shove him back and forth. I topped off the hand action with some crocodile tears and saying whatever falsehood and Inside that I could think of. The situation was completely out of hand as new visitors, employees and even people outside were visibly uncomfortable with the situation. The security guards were on their way now and I was still in the mood to drag things further. As the entered through the door, I directed my finger at them, one hand still firmly gripping mikes jacket. “If you dare touch me, I will sue all of you for sexual harassment” The lanky looking security guards were both perplexed and afraid by the look on their faced. Finally, one of the managers was brought down to the lobby to douse the flames. He seemed like a middle aged man with half of his lush hair already grey. He spoke in a calm voice, introducing himself and asking what the situation was all about.
This was my cue to leave, I had achieved my aim. I deflated every sense of self confidence Mike ever had and I tainted his precious work reputation. As the manager introduced himself, I let go of Mike’s jacket and turned my back to leave. I went straight to my car and drove off back to the expressway and on my way home. “Good for him” I said to myself in a loud sinister tone. I was very assured that I was going to be seeing mike around again. One less man in my life, not surprising. I blamed myself for thinking that Mike was any better than the multitudes of men I had crossed paths with. The revenge on Mike was one I wished could give other men in my life’s history. As I joined the joined the legendary 4:00 PM traffic on the expressway, I took a quick trip down memory lane a bit. I revised past situation where I could have meted out bitter revenge like I had done today. One particular memory crossed my mind in a flash. It was the few months before I had joined DeBallers as a full time local prostitute. I was staying with distant relative of my mother’s in a “face-me-I-face-you” apartment somewhere around Lafiaji in Lagos Island. My mother’s relative, Christie, didn’t care much if I was alive. I only slept on their floor at night and by morning I was out of the house.
I had found a job as a sales girl in a small store around Tinubu square, where I sold pirated CDs and DVDs. The job was terrible looking back now, but It was better than nothing. I could afford to eat and stay alive. The shop was owned by a relatively young guy, who was very nice to me when I started. He wasn’t very attractive. He was short, pot-bellied and had quite the crooked teeth. I didn’t care, insofar I was getting my daily bread from his establishment. Days at the shop were quite hectic, as I had to sort through large boxes of CDs and DVDs. Customers always had specific orders, and would like to have their DVD collections contain all the movies they wanted. I was a relatively quiet girl at that time, and for some reason I cannot explain to this day, it attracted a wide range of unscrupulous characters. Between errands and busy sales periods, I would have guys around come to profess their undying love. Some went straight to the point and teased me with inappropriate sexual comments. I didn’t find any of it amusing, as I had suffered enough sexual abuse to be excited by sexual relations at that time. My boss, oga Chuks, would shoo these boys away from time to time. He quickly assumed some fatherly role in my life as I opened up about my family background to him. Work continued as normal in the store, and soon the shop expanded and became two shops. I was put in charge of the new shop while oga Chuks brought his female relative to join him in the first shop. Life seemed slow and stable, until the fateful day when oga chuck asked me to bring over the sales proceeds for the day to his apartment.
The apartment was situated in Lagos Island, and was a walkable distance from the shop. It was still a “face-me-I-face-you” but the compound was a whole lot cleaner than aunty Christie’s place. I walked into the door and met a battle ready oga Chuks. He launched into a tirade immediately. “So this how you want to repay me abi” he said in an angry tone. I stood there quite confused as to what my offence could’ve been. “So you’re stealing my money, even after I trusted you this witch” looking back now, I think it was his female relative that made up the lie, maybe to cover her own theft. I stood there confused and terrified. I tried to speak, but only faint incoherent words came out of my mouth as my eyes swelled with tears. Oga Chuks grabbed the folded naira notes from my hand and proceeded to do the despicable next. For the life of me, I would never have guessed that he would rape me. The situation didn’t seem like one that would end in rape. And yet minutes later, his hands over my mouth, Chuks had forced his way with me as I let the tears flow freely from my eyes.
After he was done, he sent me out and warned me not to resume at the shop. I think that was a tipping point in my life as the events that transpired after that led me to the DeBallers and set me up in this line of work.
I felt the pain once more as I continued to crawl through the traffic. I wish I could drive down to Chuks and hit him a thousand times with my new car. A text message from Effiong came, he was on a flight back to Abuja. Our weekend getaway was over. In a way I was relieved because all the man hate I felt flowing through my system would’ve ruined our relationship permanently if we went along with my current state of mind. His message of Abuja reminded me once again of Amaka. I decided to call her immediately. It was better than sitting in traffic and remembering horrific details of my life.
“I think say you no wan call me again” her tone seemed pensive. I apologized and we got to talking about our Abuja business. It was some sort of political reconciliation meeting, and our services were needed I addition to the monetary disbursement that the aggrieved side of political party would be getting. The format was very straightforward, we would wait in the hotel lobby, and after the meeting was over, we would retire with our paired man for the night. I asked Amaka if “take jara” was allowed, and she laughed, said yes and hung up. “take jara” was taking any valuable from the client that wasn’t too conspicuous; could be a wristwatch, a few naira note from the stash or even transferring a few thousands from the mobile phone banking app. As dangerous as it was, the repercussions were close to none. Again No big man, especially politician would risk going to the police to report theft by a prostitute.
I wasn’t hoping on making any long term clients, so I was more keen on pilfering what I could get my hands on. Politicians never made good long term clients, hiring prostitutes was a habit for them and so that meant competing with some other bitch every now and then. I didn’t have that energy.
After the call, a sudden realization hit me. I didn’t have any love-vendor, since James was at large. Maybe Amaka could take up the role, I thought to myself.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by samfrancis1(m): 9:32pm On Apr 29|
nice one... thanks for the update
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by KelvinCoaster(m): 8:59am On Apr 30|
imightnotexist:1. Diary of a 'Sex Worker'.
2. Angela's Sex Work Chronicles.
3. Angela's Delima!
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 9:58pm On Apr 30|
KelvinCoaster:will certainly consider.... sorry for the lack of update remote work is crushing me
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by Ann2012(f): 9:56am On May 01|
Thanks for the update
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 11:42pm On May 01|
The drive home was taking far longer than I had hoped and the flurry of emotions and mentions that were flooding through me made it all the more painful. Slowly, the traffic crawled and for the first time, I took a closer look at the street hawkers. I thought this would have been my fate if I didn’t enter my line of work. A tiny bit of morality almost emerged, but I brushed it all aside. I’d rather have the money, morality be damned. I got home a few hours later, really exhausted from the blistering traffic. I thought to myself that would Just land on the bed and sleep. The sight of my corridor brought back some eerie image of James from my previous nightmare. As I turned my key into the look, I continually stared over my shoulders watching for any imaginary intruders I was thinking up. This was somehow starting to take some toll on my mental health. I needed to get away from all of this, and Abuja was the perfect idea. I went straight into the bedroom and lay on the bed with my arms stretched out wide.
Sleep had suddenly completely eluded me. The drain from the traffic was now completely gone, and I stared at the ceiling intently. I knew what was coming next and I tried very hard to fight it. In addition to the hate for these bit and pieces of my life from the past, a fear lurked somewhere deep inside me. I was afraid of the memories, I was afraid of putting them all together and taking one big look at my life. I wish I could somehow erase the memories and still maintain my persona as it was currently. My childhood wasn’t filled with much happiness even when my father was alive. I had lost my mother much earlier on, and was cared for by a string of relatives as my father was always working in the big city of Ibadan at the time. Surreal images of my father crossed my mind. His well chiseled nose, his dark moustache and piercing dead eyes. The few times I saw him, I never saw him smile much. Looking back, I think the death of my mother gave him permanent wounds in his heart that never left him till his death. Even marrying my step mother was a whole other accident as she had gotten pregnant for him somehow.
It was refreshing to have a step mother at the time, as I naively thought that she would replace my mother in care and affection. She didn’t hate me at all, and tried her best to extend her love and affection for her children towards me. But we just remained like two awkward stranger. The string of childhood abuses didn’t help. More and more I became withdrawn, and the poor woman didn’t have the sense to decipher the trauma I was going through. I left home the year my father died. There was really nothing to hold me back anymore in the small community. It had stripped away every last bit of myself as I knew it. My dignity, my parent and my hoped for a better future.
For a moment I pondered what life would’ve been if my parent were alive. Maybe I would have gone to the university. Speaking of university, my mind drifted again to Mariam. I had been too afraid to call her since the James Incident. I was in that wretched state of mind that I had been before our first night together. And now I had come to the conclusion that the touch of a woman, a paid escort, was the answer to my emotional troubles. I think, looking back now, it’s not hard to see how the association was subconsciously ingrained in me. In the confines of DeBallers, those intimate moments with Efosa were the only things that gave me a little Joy. And it just wasn’t the sex. Efosa and I would have long talks over a couple of marijuana rolls. She was a really interesting character, she had wild stories. She didn’t have much of a dented background as I had. In fact, both her parents were still alive at the time. Prostitution was her ticket to a better financial life. She walked into the gates of hell with her eyes wide open, and so the flames never burned her. Maybe the work took a toll on her like me, or maybe she had some stories she just wouldn’t tell me. Now she’s dead, and I’ll never really know. I reassure myself again, that Efosa could never have committed suicide.
I thought maybe she ended up in a situation similar to Angela and James. She was as hotheaded as she was meek, and threatening a man with death wasn’t something beyond her reach. I wonder why she never just upgraded like I did; why did she have to join an International prostitution ring? She was as smart as I was, and she definitely would’ve made it all on her own.
All the thought and memories about Efosa had me craving a blunt. I reached for my bedside drawer and pulled out a stick from the crisp clean jar. As I took out the lighter to fire up the stick, I felt a bit uneasy. I felt like I was being held back. I immediately assumed it was the clothes. I took them off like a crazed child about to have their early morning bath. I settled at the edge of the bed and fired up the joint. Each puff let down a surge of soothing waves to calm my frayed nerves. This time the thought of Mariam was ever more dominating in my head. I was playing a game of hesitation as I stared at my phone at intervals. Halfway through the joint, I finally decided to call Mariam and Invite her over. James be damned! An unfortunate coincidence occurred, and a call from Mike came in at the instant I reached for the phone. “What does this oloriburuku somebody want” I grunted to myself. I had played my last card and was done with him. I picked the phone and aid nothing. A minute of dead silence, and Mike finally spoke “So this is how you repay me, abi? After everything”. His heartfelt lamentations brought a smile to my face, and after a few minutes of listening to him, I hung up the phone. I was sure now that I needed to seal today’s victory with some orgasm.
Mariam’s number was not going through, I sensed that she may have blocked me. Maybe the news of the James saga had gotten to her. The poor girl didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. I was about to give up, then a little thought emerged in the very far back of my mind. Maybe I could hire a lesbian prostitute myself without any stupid love-vendor. And like all mighty revelations, it started with a google search. “lesbian escort in Lagos” were the words I typed into my phone. A poorly built website was my final destination. It had the name, pictures and contacts of the girls that were willing to ply their trade with women. I was highly skeptical. For all I know, these could’ve been men looking to scam women or even use them for far more nefarious purposes. All the weird blog stories that used to be just old wives’ tales were starting to seem more and more like reality with all the misfortunes happening all around me.
I called one of the numbers on the website. On the other end of the phone was a mature sounding lady. I hung up the phone immediately. It just didn’t feeling right hiring an older woman for the night. I tried to call Mariam one more time. The phone rang this time and I felt very elated. “Hello Angela”, I could barely hear her as the background drowned her voice with the blasting of music from speakers. She was probably in a club. “can we see tonight?” I lunged straight into the question. I had wasted the last half hour googling intently for lesbian escorts and wasn’t about to waste more precious time on pleasantries.
“Sure, but I’ll bill you higher since you’re cutting my fun short” She was definitely in a club. Such nerve! Bill me higher? What choice did I even have? “So when will the cab come to pick me up?” it seemed like I wasn’t the only one being very direct that fateful evening. “I’ll come and pick you up myself” “I’m at Club Soda on Awolowo Road” she hung up immediately. Without hesitation I put on a denim bum short and a white tee shirt lying around. I grabbed my car keys and was off again on the road. Mike called again as I pulled into the expressway. I picked up, yelled at him to never call me again, and hung up immediately.
I knew very well that the public humiliation was the only thing that pained him so much. If I had scolded him in private, it would’ve meant absolutely nothing to him. My goal for the night was clear, and I wasn’t going to allow any distractions get in the way. The drive to club soda was surprisingly smooth. I knew a lot of clubs and chill spots around Lagos Island, but I rarely went to these places. It was much harder to get clients here and quite frankly a lot of the men there were just after cheap hookups.
I parked just outside the gate and called Mariam. She picked up the call and began to walk swiftly towards the gate. She had a tightly fitted jumpsuit on. I flashed my indicator lights and waved from inside the car. Her steps became faster as she walked towards the car. It was almost as if she was running away from something. She entered the car and immediately sunk into the seat. “What’s wrong?” I asked Suddenly she started laughing hysterically like someone suffering from psychosis. She sat upright and stared at me for a few seconds while the laugh subsided into a crooked smile. I caught a better view of her face. It was very clear to me now that she was half-drunk. My mind started racing all of a sudden and questions poured in for a few seconds. Would she be the same Mariam that I encountered the first time? Was this even safe, even though we were two women? As I we drove back, her smile stopped and she just stared straight ahead into the road with a blank expression. I stole glances at her as I drove as the situation was beginning to get uneasy for me. Finally, she turned her head rightwards and stared outside again into the road. Whatever sexual tension I was hoping would build up in the car was definitely dead.
Suddenly she shifted her gaze towards me. She stared intently for a few seconds and whispered something I did not hear. “what?” I asked with great curiosity. She brushed it off as nothing and resume her staring straight into the road perfectly lit with streetlights. “I’m not doing this for the money you know” she said out loud. I was confused by the sudden comment. Nothing I has said or done connoted that u was judging her in any way. I was in the business of sex work myself and didn’t ride any wave of moral superiority. Then it hit me. It was probably the alcohol. “My parents are quite rich, so all these money is really just small change for me” as we approached a traffic stop I turned all my attention towards her. And thus began one of the longest car rides of my life.
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|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by lionshare: 2:51am On May 06|
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by aprilwise(m): 9:46am On May 06|
Nice work . Anticipating for more update
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by KelvinCoaster(m): 9:19pm On May 06|
You are flowing! The story is flowing too!! Keep it up!!! imightnotexist
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 11:33pm On May 06|
KelvinCoaster:Thanks man... work is keeping me very busy , will update ASAP
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by Remite011(m): 12:09pm On May 07|
finally I caught up with this story, kudos to d op. But Angela still need to be careful of both Mike and d return of James.
keep it rolling
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 9:45pm On May 07|
She paused for a short while. Folded her arms together and sunk into the car seat like someone drowned in fear. At this point, feelings of irritation began to build inside of me. I wanted a sexually fulfilling evening and not play pretend psychologist. The traffic had reared its ugly head again. And now I had two things to be angry about. “Sorry, I know you’re probably pissed off all of this” she said, getting back into an upright position. I objected, but in a lukewarm manner. “I just feel so down, so dejected” Mariam’s voice started to crack, and it was almost as if she was going to cry. “What the Bleep!” I didn’t realize when it came out of my mouth. I tried offering a half assed apology and she went silent for a few more minutes. “I thought you of all people would understand” she started again, this time placing her hands on my thighs. I was really confused at this time. Why would I of all people understand? I didn’t come from a rich home, and I most certainly wasn’t a lesbian escort. What Image of me did Mariam have in her head?
“James told me you were one of his girls, so I know what you do”. I was taken aback immediately. All this while I had assumed that James had somehow kept my Information to himself and just acted as a broker. “Wait? What?” I divided my attention between her face and the road, as I tried to steady my hands on the steering wheel. “You don’t have to lie about it, I know already”, she was staring straight ahead as she talked now. This was the first time I was hearing about my line of work from somebody who was neither a client nor a fellow working girl. Somehow it stung me deeply, and my irritation was at its highest. Maybe she noticed the angst on my face, Mariam placed her hands again on my thighs. This time she stared at my face as she continued talking. “I know it’s different with you, because you’re with men that never give you that sexual satisfaction. And I just feel guilty taking money from you, while getting all the fulfillment I need” My countenance flipped again, and I felt a little guilty for taking offense so quickly.
Then it hit me. Maybe, just maybe she was actually high or just plain drunk. Nobody would willingly go on a truth spree with some total stranger like this. Suddenly, I was back to being calm and was going to take charge of this situation. “So why do you do it then?” I asked with a snide tone. “I don’t know; I’ve always just done it because I realized that I could” Mariam replied, feeling slightly elated that I was finally on the conversation boat with her. “With the girls in my secondary school who were into other girls, I would Just demand stuff from them. And they would give me straight away!” This time she cast her gaze to the roof of the car and smiled as she seemed in a very reminiscent mood. “I would just take the demands further and further, and there was just no limit to what I could ask for”. It was almost the same thing I’d do with men. Heck, it was the same thing that I just did with pastor Effiong. I felt a little betrayed. And even though I wasn’t a victim of her schemes yet, I had already begun plotting my revenge. I had enough of her alpha lesbian escort charade. So I decided to steer the conversation into something of a much larger interest to me. “So what else did James tell you about me?” I asked, trying not to seem to interested. She Immediately withdrew her soft palms from my thigh as if to insinuate that her next remarks would evoke anger. “Nothing, Nothing more. He just said you were one of his girls, and wanted some fun time with another woman”. I sensed some uneasiness in her tone, she was probably lying. But I wasn’t interested in whatever picture James had painted of me. I just wanted to know where he was. “Have you spoken to James recently?” I lunged straight into the question. Mariam’s hands were back to being coiled together and she stared outside the window once again. “No, it’s like he just disappeared. Nobody has heard from him” The word “Nobody” sent the alarms in my brain buzzing. Nobody? Did they have like a circle of friends? Who else is part of this sacred James circle? “Nobody?” I asked with agitated confusion written all over my face. “That’s what my girl that linked me to him told me” she replied.
It was very clear now. Neither she, nor the circle of people James had around him knew of the murder he had committed. It wasn’t surprising though. The police had not sent out any wanted notice, the other working girls in James’ control would obviously pretend like it never happened. Suddenly, I felt an urge to tell Mariam of the James’ crime. I was almost approaching the metal black gate of my apartment building, and had my mind set once more on the fantasies of the night. The excitement wasn’t as glowing as before, as more thing had taken space in my mind. The feelings of betrayal from Mariam’s drunken confession. The apparent blackout on the truth about James, and the shame I felt from being called a prostitute that I was. Mariam trialed behind quietly as we approached my door. It really was different from the first time. I was the dominant one in this encounter, and It felt a little weird. She quickly found comfort on the couch as I went straight into the bedroom. I came out with two white neatly rolled sticks of marijuana and handed one to Mariam. She never told me if she smoked. I assumed that if she was like me in the same business, then she definitely would need this calming aid.
She grabbed the stick with one hand and the lighter with the other. Almost like a hungry dog grabbing a piece of bone from its master. I held her hand and led her to the bed room. We both lay on the bed as we filled the room with thick smoke from our joints. Her sober attitude was slowly overturning. She started to wiggle from side to side. Turn to me for a little while and then let out a little smile. The disturbing thought were also slowly clearing from my head. All I was waiting for was a trigger.
Mariam pulled off the trigger as she placed her hands yet again mon my thighs. This time she began to rub them slowly. I had no patience for pre intimacy. I took my stance right above her, carefully balancing my weed join to prevent it from burning the sheets. I puffed some smoke in her face as I went straight for her left cheek. I spent a few minutes on there and then continued down the neck with passionate kisses. I took her blunt from her, and placed it with mine in an ashtray beside the bed. I might have been high, but I was well aware of common household fire hazards. The night went along with short bursts of orgasm for me, as I directed Mariam like a Foreman to a laborer. I wasn’t completely selfish as I also did ensure that she got a fraction of the Satisfaction that I got from her. It was now 2:34AM, a drunk, high, and exhausted Mariam was sound asleep beside me. The scene of the bedroom was one of a battlefield. A sexual battlefield.
I just lay awake and stared at the ceiling. The burning desire for revenge was crawling back. Mariam was definitely not going to have clear recollections of our conversation that evening. I was sure as hell not going to succumb to any wanton financial demands she made. Heck, I wasn’t even going to succumb to any financial demand. I wasn’t going to pay her for the night. She said it herself; she wasn’t doing this for the money, and she also got sexual fulfillment from this. A call from Amaka came in. “Babe,dem don move their meeting. You need to get to Abuja tomorrow!” she said without hesitation as I picked up the phone. “Tomorrow? that’s too soon” I replied, starting to feel some angst building up. “Ah, I don’t know ooh. But the main people will be leaving Abuja on the day we planned so we have to go earlier”. I agreed, and she hung up the phone. I thought about all the impromptu travel plans. I fell asleep shortly, and was awoken by Mariam tugging and shoving. She was fully dressed. Her dress was rumpled, and her hair tattered. She didn’t plan for a sleep over and I felt slightly sorry for her.
“I’m going” she said as I stretched out and yawned intensively. Her look was intensely expectant. She was expecting her payment. “Ok, bye” I replied in a slightly demeaning tone. She stood there looking confused. Payment for high class working girls was best done non verbally. “But, but, we agreed” she said still looking confused. “If you don’t have cash, I can order a cab ride for you” I said with my back against her and the door. Mariam proceeded to storm out of the door. I turned back and yelled her name. She came back into the room. “I don’t know if you know or anyone told you, but James killed somebody and is currently on the run”. Her angry countenance morphed immediately into surprise and fear. “Ki… killed someone?” she asked. “yes, it was one of his girls and they had some serious disagreement before that”. Her face was marked with a thousand degrees of fear. I was getting a thrill out of this. For all her wits, and alpha characteristics, she seemed quite naïve and afraid. Maybe my revenge would come early after all.
This was my chance to practice some emotional blackmail, this time on a woman. “The police brought me over for a statement, and are hunting seriously for other people that know him” Mariam took a seat immediately on the bed. She was completely engulfed by fear. As she turned to look at me, I could see the pleas for mercy in her eyes. “Please don’t turn me in” she said, “anything with the police would completely ruin me” I stood from the bed still naked, and reassured her that I wasn’t going to send the police down her trail. She left quickly, without even accepting my offer for a free cab ride.
“Ruin me?” I thought to myself. Did she have any preexisting case with the police? Damn! Why did anything and anyone associated with James have to be so diabolical. I wasn’t too pressed for thoughts as I had to think about getting to Abuja today. Getting tickets wasn’t at all a problem as I could get some through the backdoor from a client of mine from way back. Business these days with him was strictly professional. I don’t play in the leagues as me from that year. Packing wasn’t much of a problem, as my dry-cleaning guy had recently dropped of my clothes. He was a prudish lean guy who was obviously uncomfortable with the pick-up and drop offs. Apparently, I was the ideal candidate for his denomination’s hell fire. I received another call from Amaka. I was quite surprised and a bit scared. What if they had just cancelled the whole event? I picked the call after a short deliberation with myself. “hey babe, when you’re ready, I already paid for your ticket on a chartered aircraft. Just let me know when you get to the airport” Amaka hung up immediately as she said those words.
I stood for a few minutes in absolute astonishment. Chartered aircraft? Amaka? Where the hell did she get the money to blow like this? Heck, I was just able to squeeze my own first car which was “Tokunbo” Amaka was going to be blasted with a lot of questions from me, once I landed in Abuja.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by Ann2012(f): 12:03pm On May 08|
Well done OP
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by Lorayne(m): 7:46pm On May 09|
Nigger we waiting
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by KelvinCoaster(m): 5:49am On May 10|
imightnotexist!! Come and Update!! This Abuja journey should be full loaded oo! Nice work.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by exseJ: 7:13am On May 10|
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 3:00pm On May 10|
I hurriedly packed my bags in both excitement and astonishment. I needed answers and I needed them right away. I wasn’t even sure how private chartered aircrafts even worked. I packed all my essentials in a separate bag. My reefers, and some mind altering pills. Amaka wasn’t too big on weed or pills, her drive was solely from cocaine. Sometimes I wondered why she hadn’t gone crazy or off the hooks yet. The stories I heard about cocaine were just about the only things that prevented me from expanding my drug use into that territory. I settled on a denim shorts and a sleeveless white shirt. I didn’t want to blend in too much. I wasn’t a member of the high class, and I badly wanted to make them feel uncomfortable with my presence. I just assumed that chartered aircrafts were going to be filled with rich people or their families.
I was just about ready to load my luggage in the boot of my car when I realized that I had to order a cab instead. The rush and anger associated with ordering cab rides had somehow disappeared from me. Having a car was started to change bits and pieces of my personality. The cab arrived and the driver was a middle aged light skin man. He had a few patches of grey hair, and looked exhausted. It was the just the kind of driver who would keep his mouth shut throughout the ride and maintain a not so awkward silence.
I beckoned to Yohanna to help me load my luggage in the cab. The abominable grin showed up on his face again. The one that always preceded his unwarranted solicitations for money. The approach was different every time. He was like a beg artist. “Buy something for me when you dey come ooh, aunty!” he shouted as he approached the car. I had a five hundred naira note handy, and so I stretched out my hand in reflex motion as I had long anticipated his nauseating behavior. Handing him the money evoked sudden flashes of my nightmare about James in the corridor leading to my apartment. This was unusually strange as I wasn’t the kind of person to get premonitions or clairvoyance of any sort. As James turned back to return to this outpost, I yelled at him to return. “If any James or any Mike comes to look for me just tell that I no longer live here. You hear?” I pulled my two ears to emphasize the severity of my orders. “Yes Ma!” Yohanna replied emphatically. I couldn’t decide If it was the money or he was just excited to exercise his powers as the gatekeeper.
As I settled in to the backseat, I dialed Amaka’s number. “Babe, I’m on my way to the airport, what should I do when I get there” the excitement was quite visible in my voice. “Just ask for Mr. Ade, I’ve sent him your details. Just show him your ID and you’re good to go” there was a long pause between us after. I was wondering if I should ask some preliminary questions, or I should save all my curiosity till landed in Abuja. “Thanks sweetheart” I hung up the phone after. Damn it! Was I being too patronizing? I had never called her sweetheart before.
The traffic was relatively mild. The air condition worked better than I had imagined given the sorry state of the car’s exterior. I had dozed off a couple of times. I wondered for a while if Mariam had taken the initiative to cut me completely out of her life. A few kilometers to the airport and the air traffic control tower was visible from the cab, and the planes taking off were still close enough to see their names boldly printed on. Out of nowhere two policemen jumped in front of the car. The howled at the driver to stop immediately. “What’s happening?” I asked, both angry and confused. The policemen shouted at the driver to wind down. A few threats ensued. Apparently they tried to stop him a few days ago and he zoomed off. I immediately recognized a third police officer standing across the road. He was one of the officers at the station when Pastor Effiong accompanied me to give a statement about James’ whereabouts. I waved at him from the backseat, and he instantly recognized me too. I breathed a sigh of relief because I was expecting that he wouldn’t give a damn about who I was or whether I was in any kind of trouble. “Ah Ah madam, How oga na? hin do us well that day oh!” seems the DPO had shared Effiong’s largesse with his loyal subordinates. How thoughtfully corrupt of him. He immediately beckoned on his team members to make way for the cab and gave me a goodbye salute.
Another breathe of relief. That situation would’ve led to immeasurable delay. I took this as a good sign of some sort. Today was the day of premonitions and the spiritual. I called Mr. Ade several minutes after arriving the airport. Turns out he wasn’t an airport official of any kind. He was one of the many touts that airport officials recruited to do most of their grunt work. He was a middle aged man who was in his forties. His eyes were bloodshot red from too much drinking I guess, and his stomach bulged out like a pregnant man. He grabbed my luggage and dumped them swiftly into the shiny new cart he brought along with him. I didn’t realize that the airport had carts, or worse new ones. I guess they were reserved for VIP flyers. As I trailed behind him while he pushed my cart, he said something which sent me flying in my usual disorganized detective thoughts. “Senator like better thing oh” He turned back smiled, and continued facing forward. Wait, when did Amaka become a senator? Did this old man have me confused for someone else? I didn’t probe further. His sly smile had a sinister undertone. And I certainly wasn’t comfortable having any conversation with him.
We soon arrived at a separate boarding area, and I met about half a dozen other people. There was only one middle aged woman who was fully clad in traditional attire, and had a scarf signifying that she was a “Hajiyya” of some sort. Neither of the men looked young. They all seemed like men who were undergoing mid-life crisis of some sort. As I stepped into the room, all the attention was turned on me. It was almost like I had hoped. Some of them men looked with caution. Slightly turning their heads in order not to seem to interested. Others tried to catch a glimpse using the reflection of the glass decoration. The remaining few just gawked as I intensified my catwalk past all of them. The woman had a disapproving look on her face. It was easy to tell that she was on the more prudish older folks for whom the scripture "Judge Not Lest Ye Be Judged" had no bearing. Mr. Ade had a brief conversation with the woman at the counter close to the exit door. He pointed at me a few times. A few minutes later, he handed a boarding pass, and It was finally time to board the small chartered aircraft.
I had the misfortune of sitting beside of the old men who shamelessly gawked at me when I entered the room and it was very clear that he was inkling to have a conversation with me. I shoved my earpiece into my ears as I wasn’t at all interested in having a conversation with him. The back and forth staring was starting to get uncomfortable and I finally took off my earphones to allow for a subtle opening. “You know; I am Oloye Akanbi” he said smiling with heightened swagger. His tone was as if he expected an ounce of excitement after announcing his identity. The displeasure on my face heightened as I thought to myself that I should never have given him this opening. “You look like you know how to have a good time, here’s my card” He handed a well-crafted business card printed on what seemed like very high quality paper. I think the Company name was Akanbi ventures or something of the sort. Probably one of those companies that dealt only in getting fictitious government contracts. I smiled as I slipped the card into my denim pockets. I didn’t have a love-vendor anymore, and I realized that I shouldn’t be taking a potential free client for granted. I proceeded to give him my number even without him asking; I planned on being very direct with him. Abuja was turning out to be better than I hoped, and I wasn’t even there yet.
Oloye offered to drop me off at my destination. I almost did agree, then I objected. It was Amaka’s place not mine. I didn’t want anybody linking the both of us. I respected her as much as she did me. I called Amaka and informed her that I had finally landed in Abuja. She sounded pretty excited over the phone. I opted for one the airport cabs, I didn’t want to order one on my phone. We passed by myriads of church banners hanging on billboards. Effiong’s face was boldly printed on one those banners. I smiled to myself when we passed it. An unexpected call from Mike came in “So you told your gate man to lie to me that you’ve moved abi” I laughed hysterically and hung up. The humiliation was eating deep into Mike and this was the best revenge, better than I hoped for.
Amaka’s building looked better than the last time I was there. There was a sparkling red SUV parked in the space adjacent to the fence. I instantly guessed that it was hers. If she was in the financial position to hand me a chartered flight for free, then an SUV shouldn’t be much trouble for her. The cab driver helped me swiftly with my luggage to the door, and I rewarded with a handsome tip. Amaka opened the door, and hugged me right away. She helped me with my luggage into the bedroom. Even her flat had changed so much. The interior décor was better and looked more expensive. I couldn’t take it any longer. “Amy baby, what’s happening, wetin dey shele. How come all these goodies? Chartered flight!?, where are you seeing all this money?” Her face was plastered with a smile and pity at my naivety.
Amaka sat down and patted the sofa for me to sit down beside her. “See Angie, if you only take what these men give you, then you’re only going to be shortchanging yourself” Her face bore all seriousness at this point. “You have to milk and drain everything that you can out of these men. Yes, drain them for every last drop, and have their big head under your armpit” She let out an evil chuckle and I sat there intently puzzled. I thought I was the master of sexual and emotional manipulation. What the hell did she mean by drain them? Put their head under your armpit? I muttered some incoherent babble to express my confusion “whaa, how, pppuut” Amaka smiled again, and then she held my hands. “Calm down, I’ll tell you everything”
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by drewbar(m): 5:59pm On May 10|
You write very well and keep the audience captivated. The different twists and turns are not so easy to predict.
Also, love your grammar and overall writing style.
I want more, please keep it coming.
I am a big fan
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by KelvinCoaster(m): 6:47am On May 12|
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by OPC90(m): 6:29pm On May 14|
This piece of work is so lovely, when I started reading it my dear I became lazy because of how big it was but then I said to myself what are you doing Common this is so fascinating, you can do it and I did... Can't wait for more. God bless your hustle. Thanks a lot
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by imightnotexist: 9:55pm On May 14|
“Wait, first of all, who is senator, and why does he like better thing?” I cut Amaka short as she began her wondrous tales of wealth. “senator? Which one?” she asked looking both puzzled and amused. “The airport guy was telling me that Senator likes better thing”. “Oh” she replied chuckling compulsively. “You used Senator Aloy’s special boarding pass… I told him to give me his flyer card”. My jaws dropped in amazement. How the hell did she had a whole senator under her command and control? I had to be in on this secret of a lifetime. Amaka’s somewhat evil laugh subsided and it was finally time for her tales. “Babe you know say if na by toto, me and you for dey street” I nodded silently in agreement. Big Aunty’s voice also echoed in my head “Ashawo work no be work”. She definitely wasn’t getting all these goodies through sex alone, and she sure as hell wasn’t employing better emotional manipulation skills than I was. “Babe, I went for extra power”. My intent concentration was turning into confusion. “Extra power how? from where?” Amaka resumed her evil laughter again. “Angela, do you believe in spiritual powers?” right after the question, Amaka began to intently stare at my face. I guess she was intently hunting for visual clues.
It was the first time in forever that anybody had asked me this question. I hadn’t gone to church in a long while, and having religious leaders as my clients didn’t do much good to my faith in God. I wasn’t too sure that I believed in the spiritual. I guess it was just something that I believe was relegated to the front pages of sensational blogs. “I don’t know” I replied, giving off a clear body language of equivocation. Amaka still continued her staring. Maybe she wasn’t satisfied with my answer of maybe she was looking for the real answer in my eyes. Finally raising her eyebrows in disappointment she spoke “hmm, you’re still a small girl” I felt a little insulted. No, I felt a lot insulted. I was dead sure that I had more experience in this business than Amaka. Heck, I had more life experience than this bitch. I maintained my composure, barely hiding my anger. “Angie, you of all people should know that you need some spiritual fortification to play in the big leagues” her tone showed genuine concern, maybe she wasn’t being condescending after all. “There is this spiritual woman I was introduced to … The woman sabi work gaaaaan” The whole story was beginning to sound like a Nollywood movie. But, with the whole James’ saga, and my public humiliation of mike, my own life was starting to look like a poorly scripted Nollywood movie. So I sat upright and paid even keener attention.
“You know that woman that has the big salon at Jabi?” I didn’t know any god damn woman anywhere in Abuja, but I nodded my head in agreement. “The woman runs things codedly, she is in the inner circle of this big men in Abuja, and she directed me to this spiritual woman” It’s the same woman that washed her with a new spirit. The fear and bewilderment was starting to build up in my face and there was no way to conceal it any further. Amaka took another short pause and studied my face. She must have sensed the fear. “Fear fear, stop looking like that joor, there’s no human head or juju in this one naa” You just have to do the spiritual transformation things that the prophetess asks you to do. The switch from “spiritual woman” to “prophetess” took me aback. “Prophetess?” I asked, looking more confused than ever. “Shebi I said, it’s not juju naa. Very powerful prophetess” Amaka’s derisive tone had returned once again. I was trying hard to process all of the information I was just bombarded with. If it wasn’t juju, what the hell was the “spiritual transformation” that this mystical prophetess had her clients undergo. Did this thing really work or was Amaka just being lucky? She was quite the go-getter, so it may just have been pure coincidence that her spiritual journey coincided with her changing fortunes.
“Babe.. angieeeeeeee…. You no need fear. I’m your friend, I won’t push you into the fire” Amaka tugged my hands as she reassured me that it was just a perfectly harmless way to gain some advantage in this grueling climate of the Ashawo business. I was still confused; my entire life was transactional. I just could not fathom the thought of something being given out for free. Something as big as the ability to have men figuratively under your armpit. “Bbbut, bbut babe” I stuttered as I mustered the courage to interject with a question. “If you say, no sacrifice, wetin you come give this mama. Abi you pay?” I waited ever more intensely for the missing piece of this puzzle. Amaka’s face wore a new mask of disappointment. “I no talk say sacrifice no dey. I just said that it won’t be juju sacrifice of human blood or any of that nonsense” My fears were finally vindicated. Something had to go for something. My gut feeling said I had had enough of this grim tale.
Suddenly Amaka’s phone rang. I was saved by the sweet, sweet ringtone of her smartphone. It seemed the call was about our expedition for tomorrow. Still trying to balance the phone on her ears, she began struggling to put on her sneakers. I look at her puzzled. Why is this girl leaving me all alone? Weren’t we supposed to strategize and layout a plan for tomorrow? The call was over, and she slipped the phone into her denim pocket. “Babe, don’t worry, when I get back we’ll hammer this matter. The prophetess woman dey Asaba sha” Amaka dashed out the door as those words dropped from her mouth. Asaba? I thought to myself. Then I realized how inconvenient it would have been to ply such a trade in the expensive city of Abuja. My feelings of correctness had all but evaporated from me again. How the Bleep did some spiritual tire changing exercise lead to Amaka’s subordination of her new big time clients? Did they suddenly seek her out? Or was it some kind of “touch and follow” juju? I had more questions lined up for Amaka.
Few minutes after trying to relax on the couch to no avail. I decided to burn one of the joints I had packed along for the journey. As I lit the stick, I wasn’t sure if Amaka would take kindly to the smell of marijuana in her living room. As I made my way to the backyard through the backdoor, I heard a knock on the door. I opened the door to a petite, well breasted dark skinned girl smiling at me. Her eyes were fixed on the joint clutched between my left fingers. She let herself in, without waiting for me to ask any questions. Seeing the confusion on my face, she smiled a bit. I’m Amaka’s flat mate. “oh, makes sense” I replied out loud. Still smiling she approached me, and stared at my face for a while. This was definitely weird, what tales about me had she heard from Amaka. Still trying to ease of out of the awkward situation, Bose, as I would later get to know her, snatched the joint from my hand. Still standing in front of me, she took one deep breath and blew out the smoke on my face while she chuckled loudly. “This is really good stuff; these Abuja boys should really learn how to make the good stuff” She began drawing a second smoke after her comments. I reached for my bag and brought out another stick. “You can keep it” I said, as I made away for the backyard once more.
“Where are you going?” Bose asked. “To finish it in the backyard I replied”. No sooner had I finished my reply that she started laughing. “So it is Amaka that sniffs powder here and there that will now vex for smell of weed” she had a point, but I didn’t want to be too forward, this wasn’t my house, and I had to show some respect. I settled back on the couch and lit my joint, while Bose made way to her room with my joint held firmly by her lips. I laid back completely on the couch reducing the joint puff after puff. Did the Jabi salon woman run any ring of some sort, and used the Asaba prophetess as an initiation priest of some sort? I tried hard to rearrange the pieces of the puzzle to make sense. But my mind drifted on and on, to many things. Why did retired working girls settle for the salon business? It was almost a cliché, and reminded once again of big aunty.
I finished my joint and lay motionless on the couch. Abuja wasn’t my city so I didn’t really have plans. So I stared at the ceiling, hoping and waiting patiently for Amaka’s return. Then I remembered the haughty old man from the flight. I had slipped his card into my pocket. Maybe I would use him for a free meal and cruise around the night life of the city. I dialed the number on his card, and was greeted by the very familiar hello. “This is Angela from the flight earlier today” I said in a calm voice expression sexual undertones. “Aaaah, yes.. my fine baby, shebi you said that you didn’t want a whole Oloye to drop you at your house” it seemed like this man needed to prop up his ego at the slightest opportunity he was given. Men like him were very easy targets for me. Help them prop up their non-existent ego and get what you want. The game was set, the ball was in my court, and It was time to get a little win for the night.
I switched to a needy, helpless voice as my drama began. “Oloye, I’m just bored and lonely and hungry and I don’t know anybody in this city” It was almost as If I was going to burst out in tears. One could almost feel the budding excitement in his voice as he replied. “Ah, Ah, orekelewa like you. These small small boys in Abuja must be blind” his tone had so much concern in it. “Don’t worry, I will send my driver to pick you up.. lemme show you that a real man like Oloye is capable of spoiling you” Just one sentence. It was just damn too easy. I was pretty sure that a man with his money and age could pull off any working girl he wanted to, yet somehow it always had to end up like this.
I thought again about Amaka’s spiritual changeover as I waited for Oloye’s driver. I didn’t need any spiritual bath to pull of the game I just won. I understand men to an extent, and I knew how to play my cards right. What exactly was the spiritual brouhaha supposed to achieve? Would I need less energy to get men to fulfill my wishes? Or would I just get richer clients with my already existing skill.
An unknown number called me, and I thought it must have been Oloye’s driver. That was too fast. It hadn’t dawned upon me fully that I was no longer within the confines of abnormal traffic in Lagos. “Hello, is this Angela? this is Oloye’s driver” that was indeed quick. “I’ll be coming down in a minute” I contemplated changing into something else. But that would have been extremely stressful. I reached for my perfume in my bag. Sprayed some on myself, and sprayed some around the room to suppress the marijuana smell. This seemed like a good start to my Abuja trip. I was about to land my first kill.
|Re: Sex Work Is Work (18+) by KelvinCoaster(m): 5:42pm On May 15|
imightnotexist This 'chronicles' is becoming superlative! More power to your brain.
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