Love Story Of A Call Girl

"Tell me, would you have liked to sleep in with your clients?" He asked.

The answer was a no. I preferred to go back home, clean myself up and start the day afresh too. This meant waking up in my own bed on my own fluffy, lilac pillow. After each intimate encounter, I had to give myself a good soak in the bath to cleanse away all the impurities inside of me. I was sullied because of sex which took place inside my body. My mind thought like that. It could have been due to all the taunting and bullying from classmates when they found out that my mother was selling herself at the back streets. The teachers at school said that prostitutes were dirty people and have sinned in the eyes of God. I used to be one, and now I am a call girl. By any other name, it was the same.

Yesterday we did not have sex, but it was out of habit that I went home and soaked myself in the bath anyway. It was easy to follow a set routine, despite the motivations which triggered it in the first place.

My train of thought took me on a journey back to memory lane. The fact that he was waiting for my answer slipped my mind for a split second.

"Forgive me, Lila. Because I am new to the world of escorts, you will find my questions blunt. I go straight to the point. I do that at my work meetings too." He said.

Looking at the bridge of his sharp nose now, I said, "It is irrelevant what I prefer. It's what the client prefers. I am a call girl. It is part of my job description to please the client. So don't ask me what I want."

Strange way of answering, I thought then. Because I had been asked strange questions.

It was much simpler to say this, than explain the part where I was compulsive obsessive with my baths. If I had considered sexual encounters with unknown men dirty, he would have been offended.

"But I want to know you; in that sense, what you really think." He said.

His voice was deadpan serious and his eyes appeared kind.

"I think that you ask too many unusual questions. They are not standard questions." I said, looking down at the carpet, away from his piercing eyes.

I felt a little dizzy. My answer was not a good answer either. Whether or not his question could be categorized as standard was irrelevant. I had to answer my client anyhow.

"What's the point of beating about the bush, Lila? Do you not think it a waste of time?" He asked.

I saw that the carpet had animal motives. I tried to make out the silhouette of the animal. Ah, it was a camel because it had two humps. I often mixed it up with the llama which had only one hump.

"You're used to getting your way but I'm not your employee." I said, feeling quite detached from my statement.

The whole conversation was surreal. The carpet of camel motives were also surreal. Who gets camel motives on their carpets?

He was again silent and appeared to look through me; instead of at me. This was really disconcerting. I would rather a client be in awe of my body than peering through the skeletons in my closet. He did not appear impressed by my perfectly contoured body. I wore a different black dress today but it was equally provocative; at least by "the regular, objective man" standards.