I bet I am starting to sound like a broken record; once more, I talk of quitting. This has nothing to do with the many emails and comments I have been receiving to the effect of late. Those I will respond to later.
Sometime ago, in a moment of personal resolution, I promised myself that if I ever stopped feeling guilty about the evil acts I commit during my work, then it would be time to quit. Of course, when I talk of evil, I don’t mean having sex; that is good, but other ‘bad’ things beyond sex, like stealing from clients.
I have always thought myself not fully gone into the depths of sin because I still felt guilty after stealing. After all, it’s things like guilt that separate human beings from animals. Or is it? In those relatively few times I have stolen from men, I have ended up remorseful despite my justification for the act.
My justification for stealing had always been diverse. Sometimes I made it look like a class war; you know the upright beings and us the wrongly condemned. Other times I told myself I was participating in the gender wars. What’s wrong with punishing a man who is cheating and probably making his family suffer? There were also those men I felt were mean, and what I was getting was my rightful fee. However, deep down inside me, I knew I was lying to myself. There is no justification for the greed that feeds my thieving ways. In the end, I just felt terrible.
Different girls have varied strategies and guts for stealing. For me, depending on the conditions, the best time to lift anything from a sober man is before the sex. When his reasoning is made fuzzy by exposed thighs, kinky talk, and anticipation. The foreplay offers such a good opportunity to set up a heist, if stealing a wallet maybe made that grand.
Picking during sex has never been appropriate unless there is an extra girl or the man is a bit tipsy and not fully undressed. The latter was common at the SJ. Stealing from a sober man after sex is quite tricky. For in that immediate moment after sex, many men seem as if they have woken up from a dream. Some become extra alert, reach for their trousers, quickly dress, then leave. But a few will make just a small, careless mistake.
This week a man picked me up and drove to lodging in Parklands, made notorious by its conducive conditions for spiking and stealing. The client was a reserved but polite man, probably in his late twenties. We had some okay sex, which by his facial expression and sounds I couldn’t tell whether he had enjoyed. He paid me Ksh. 2000. We dressed up, and he stepped to the toilet, leaving his phone on the bed. Within seconds, it was in a compartment in my handbag, and I was out of the place. This was the first time I had stolen a phone—a Nokia X something that fetched me a mere Ksh.2,500 on the street. . I felt nothing about it and still don’t. It might be time to quit or perfect my skills.
