WE ARE ALL PROSTITUTES
CAP2 EPISODE 2
I parked my car carefully; made sure the doors
were locked and moved slowly into the crowd. There was another herd of
girls. Watching them was free, one could window shop too and since I wasn’t
buying, I took out time to feed my eyes. I checked every lady around the area
but Flora was not there. I dialed her number. She picked like one in a
hurry.
“Coming to the gate,” I grumbled without giving
her any chance to say ‘Hello’.
Her voice was teary when she said: “Please, come
to the back of the building.”
“Behind the building? Flora, I ….”
“Obie, Just come, please” she cut in, and I surrendered.
The back of the building was poorly illuminated,
but the girls meant business. Some were smoking and some were
negotiating with their male clients. I snapped glances into shadows and I noticed one
who stood alone. If she were not Flora, then she was made in the image and
likeness of Flora. I moved towards her and the doubt was cleared.
It was Saint Flora. At the conviction, my
movement towards her instantly lost its speed and I faltered. I wondered why on
earth her breed would stand in the counsel of the ungodly. For Flora to be seen
in this place, then the heaven was asleep; there was no better explanation.
Nothing would have permitted an angel to dwell in the lowest part of the hades.
Heaven would have come to her rescue. Seeing me, she froze. She stood there
and sobbed audibly and because she could not move, I concluded that she was a
fallen angel – but this time, with broken wings.
She wore a short white gown and the tears from
her eyes had washed off some of her make-ups. Her crime was purely
premeditated. From a distance, she looked good. She looked nothing like the Flora I
used to know. She dressed like a club girl who had not learnt her trade or a
model who couldn’t fit into the fashion world.
Whatever the case was, sex oozed
from her and she was as full of amoral as a palm nut is full of oil, but still
fresh like palm nut bursting with oil yet to be extracted. “Come let’s go” I pulled her when I came closer
and she followed. We headed towards my car. She didn’t speak a word.
She wept uncontrollably with convulsive gasps. No explanation would make
sense to me. In my judgment, the summary of what happened was a hustle gone
south; an intro to the real reality.
Girls of her kind thought that prostitution was
an easy trade. They thought that one just needed to lie on her back, mix
pleasure with business and in the end, get paid.
In their understanding, harlotry required no
qualification or experience. False perception. Unknown to them, there was always a
course, a full-time program required: One needed - first and foremost – to
have multiple sexual partners; from there, graduate to operating small-scale
pre-prostitution activities; which would help to beef up personal experience, then
finally sign a deal with the darkness over the conscience before standing in
the middle of the night. She thought it was simple, but in reality, harlotry
was not a mean challenge.
In silence, we drove; and Flora made no attempt
to explain what happened. She couldn’t pull herself together to narrate. Besides,
she would have found it difficult to convince me.
Entering the house, I directed her to the
bedroom. Like a zombie, she staggered into the room and continued with her
audible sobs. I allowed her to have the room alone. While I was deep in sleep,
around five in the morning, someone tapped me softly. I opened my eyes and, ‘Lo
and behold’, Flora was before me. She was not in her short gown
anymore, but in my brief, and loose polo… and a questionable stare.
To Be Contd.... .......Story By Ozii Anieto
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