The Diary of a Hooker – Final Part

The simplicity and the finality of that statement made me smile, not smile laugh.

I released her and asked, “Do you always like your customers?”

“Mostly, but they don’t meet me in the middle of the night in the middle of the road. But your case I made an exception”, she replied in a matter of fact tone.

“Because you did not like me right”, I said curving my eyebrows towards her.

“That’s correct" , came along with a flash of gleaming white teeth.

“Well if you did not like me, then why did you want to meet me? That was pretty evident from the “look” you gave me”.

“We have been reading a lots of Mills & Boon, and watching friends rerun have we”, said she  in a flow, giving away her convent education.

“Sudha, don’t play around ……..tell me……. Why?”

“Why……… what?” , a maddening open ended retort by her.

“Why are we here?”, a soft plea from me.

“It is because I don’t like you, but I ….lust you”, came an equally soft but firm reply.

She was speaking like me, she was resonating my frequency. That perhaps explained her dislike for me. Nobody likes a duplicate version of himself, particularly if he loves his/herself too much.

It is self hate that makes you go against the world, snarling and growling at everyone. However it is a modicum of self love that makes you distrustful of a person having the same emotion.

“So what are we going to do about it?” , I asked.

“Fuck mostly”, the matter of fact tone returned.

“And …what apart from the mostly part of it? “ , I asked.

"Kiss perhaps" , a flash of gleaming white teeth , again.

This is it, I thought. Goodbye the last vestige of pubescence, the last remnant of the stretch marks on my arms. This it seems is the way it is going to end.

A hooker………in the middle of Banglooru …………a nondescript hotel and….. 11 minutes.

I will not go into further sordid details. I don’t want to do a mast ram, or a desi M&B here, but yes the hotel wasn’t nondescript.

When you have a lot in your mind, and when you have gone through a lot of unexpected, or experienced a high degree of non–conformance, within a short span of time, it manifests somewhere. Astronauts who experience the bone jarring takeoff get some fluid accumulation in their legs. I however am simpler, I just can’t sleep.

And, neither could she.

A formal goodbye later…I realized.

After blowing my half months pay, on a spur, for a mere 11 minutes, I did not really fell burdened. I just felt …happy!!

Reaching home, but first to my friends place. One look at my face told him to keep shut. We both acted that it was just another night, I took my stuff, we lunched and I came and finally crashed into his room itself.

Later when I woke up, I went on to this (winword) and put this down. On a spur, I hit Google for Sudha. Some names and hits popped up. “Sudha Bangalore”, was not forthcoming either. Finally I hit on images. I scanned each image, till the last page. (Now how many times have you gone beyond the second page, what follows next is a lesson that Google is not all that mighty)

I hit pay dirt on the last “o” of Google. There was a giggling snap of her, among a gaggle of friends. None of whom seemed familiar from the night drive before. I searched for the source, but “oops the link is broken”, appeared. It was a nonsensical link indicative of nothing; it was like an internet pensive, a ghost of information that perhaps escaped slaughter (just guessing this part)

Do I wish to see her again, not really? Do I lust her, no not much. Do I disrespect her for her profession... no …

Then probably I do respect her….. Not for her candidness, nor her brazenness or defiance. It is for the power she knew she had over people, and her willingness to use it ruthlessly for herself.

I bid goodbye to my friend, and then I made it down the staircase, to the open door. The poly bag, fluttering on his door was a common sight, it was for the milk. But it was having something inside of it and it said “Sudha”.

Darn she followed me here!

I opened it and found some wads of money. A note, written in cursive said” I lusted not you!!(It ended with two apostrophes also, which I most often do)”.

So here is the diary of a hooker!!

PS – I got a lot of dings on Google uncle, asking me if this is true. You are free to believe what you want to …………..I am neither going to deny nor confirm it.