Sly little thing

"Did I not impress you with my offer? I had wanted you to come back, and I knew I could engage you with the right price. After all, money does make all the difference, does it not?" He asked me, still in that same undertone of emotion.

For pride's sake, I would not tell him the truth behind my motivations to come back. I did not want him to know that I had a soft spot when it came to him. He would have treated me differently; I gather as much; but I would have felt more awkward than I already was.

"Yes, money does make all the difference. It is not personal. It is what I do for a living." I said instead, wanting this relationship to be as business-like and professional as possible.

"I thought you were very much worth the money spent. I doubt that half the call girls are like you. Forgive me, but I had always thought them sly little things, strutting their bodies about; faking their orgasms for strangers. They moan to no end about how much they enjoyed it, when, as you and I know, in reality, they are as dispassionate as can be. Ultimately they have the last laugh." He said.

I felt hurt despite knowing that he meant it as a compliment. Yet what he said could not have been more true. I was that sly little thing. He had described call girls as things. We were not even remotely human to him. We were just objects of desire, ready to be utilized. However to him, I was an object of ridiculous conversation. I would have rather strutted my body about and faked orgasms.

There was a demand from men, and I was there to supply it. I thrived on the sexual desires of men at the expense of my body. It became impure and my soul was gradually tarnished with sin. I had to cleanse myself after every encounter. Each time I spent a longer time in the bath. It was more difficult to feel clean again. It has long surpassed me to want to feel pure, because I had lost that purity twenty years ago. I just wanted to feel a little cleaner as opposed to pure.

"I am that sly little thing. I am no different from other call girls when it comes to sex." I said.

His eyes latched on mine with such force that I felt my body jolt upwards, as though lightning had struck through the very sensitive curve of my back. I prayed that I did not betray the command of my body.

"No. No. You are different, Lila. I can feel you. Right here inside of me." He said, thumping repeatedly at his chest.

My gaze was now at his thumping hands. I had not noticed before that the back of his palms were broad and slightly hairy. His words came pouring in and I absorbed his words like a sponge. His proclamation was too abrupt; and my mind was momentarily stunned to be able to process those words.

"I know this doesn't make sense to you. It doesn't make sense to me either." He continued.

He spoke as if he were suddenly humbled.

I could only nod in agreement.

"What do I feel which matters to you anyway? Why do I even bother to think so much? You strange and mysterious creature who..." He said.

"No, Mr. Boardmann. Stop." I said, in a hurried voice.

I was feeling uncomfortable now. I did not want to hear about this strange and mysterious creature, because I could have said that to myself to torture myself for answers. But I would do that in my own private time. Not with this man.

He did stop midway his sentence.