The morals of a prostitute, as I have noted before, have been compared to those of an alley cat; meaning they are non-existent. No indulgence is unexpected from a prostitute. After all, by some self-righteous meter, selling one’s body for cash is the lowest a human being can get. Of course, girls have proved themselves capable of many things, but then the prostitute stereotype is often very misplaced. Every girl is her person. A girl relies on how conscience, and in many circumstances, there is enough leeway for choice.
That said I cannot rule out the role of peer pressure; the need to belong and very often escape the girlish sanctions that come with not conforming. To the larger society that’s not justification enough for some of the things we do. I would be the last person to claim I am innocent of the trademark vices of prostitutes. How can I be when I have already admitted to carrying a sedative in my bag? Yet I won’t steal, or to use a more politically correct word, shortchange a man unless I feel he deserves it. Yes, that has not always been my position, but it presently is. I define “deserve” using parameters of the Jesus Philosophy.
The second day after my recent break a man came to the Street driving a saloon car, whose make I couldn’t figure out. The first day had been unproductive, so I was among the first to rush when the car stopped. But I was not the first choice; he picked Pendo, hesitated then called me too. It’s normal for men to pick two or three girls, and most of us are okay with it, at the least for the simple reason that such a combination commands better prices. I am uneasy about such arrangements personally, somehow I like having my clients by the balls (even literally), and that is not possible when we are two since we jostle to control the man and win his favor. Circumstances though demand I participate in the threesomes once in a while.
Some men think that all prostitutes connect like in this case believing picking any two random girls will result in a super session. That is far from the truth. Girls have their favorite partners, the ones they can work with flawlessly and with some rhythm. My partner of choice is a marvelous little girl called Soni.
Pendo, just like her friend Cheupe, is one of those intimidating Street loudmouths. She says anything. She does anything. She has been involved in more fights than anyone cares to count. She is one of the Street alphas. At this point, I have to confess though I write so boldly (or so I think) on the Street I am almost a nobody, one of the many colorless girls lacking any chutzpah. I am still not sure why I agreed to join Pendo. I might have been blackmailed by her domineering nature or simply needed the money and a lay to feel back on the Street.
Inside the car, the good-looking man asked which lodging we should go to. That is a no-no question for anyone who is street-smart. Many girls will mention a lodging they feel comfortable in. Comfortable means they can walk out at any time of the night without any ado from the watchman or management. Pendo who was seated at the front mentioned the name of a hotel off Accra Road, and the man obliged without any question. A hint that he knew not of the crooked ways of the city.
Within minutes we were at the hotel, he paid and we climbed the stairs to the room. But before we could start the ‘show’, Pendo said some drinks would help us give the best performance possible. She was right. I could not imagine myself having any girl-on-girl action, as is the norm in such scenarios, with her while sober. The man agreed and went for drinks downstairs. And those ten minutes between him going and coming back was all Pendo needed to tell me how we were to steal from him. I was not enthusiastic and she noted it. Pendo is not one to use diplomacy. “If you are not for it then get out, after all, he called me first.” Before I could even reply the man was back, and we were all smiles.
From then Pendo took over. She poured the Richot the man had brought into three glasses and added soda. We started drinking. She said the man looked good, at the same time caressing my thighs with one of her tough hands. Within minutes she was all over him, kissing, touching, and undressing. Pendo embraced him in such a way she was able to look at me, while the man couldn’t. She winked. I didn’t hesitate. From my small purse, I removed one of the Michael Jackson tablets in powder form and emptied the contents in the man’s glass as he and Pendo went all the way.
As expected the man blackened out. We frisked his pockets, removing everything that was in it. He had about 7,000 shillings in cash and some cheap phone. We shared the spoils there and then. Since it was her ‘idea’ Pendo kept 4,000, the phone, and ATM. I took the rest and the wallet.
Back on the street, Pendo narrated the exploit to anyone who cared to listen, twisting the story so that it looked like I was the one who had initiated the theft. The sisterhood was full of praises. But deep inside I felt guilty, and still do. I spent almost all of the money on booze. I didn’t dispose of the wallet as is the smart thing to do. When the guilt weighs me down I look at the passport photo of a woman and a girl that were inside the wallet. I tell myself a man who cheats on his wife and lovely daughter needs to be punished. Yet I know this a mere consolation, and that’s why occasionally I invoke my Catholic roots and say :
I confess to almighty God
and to you, my brothers and sisters,
that I have greatly sinned,
in my thoughts and my words,
in what I have done and in what I have failed to do,
through my fault, through my fault,
through my most grievous fault;
therefore I ask the blessed Mary ever-Virgin,
all the Angels and Saints,
and you, my brothers and sisters,
to pray for me to the Lord our God.
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-I will spend some time this weekend doing some typing to try to post three or more times a week, starting this coming Monday.
-You can get my ebook which includes an introduction cum update of my brand building, Episode 1-30, and selected comments. Just click on Ebooks above
