I gripped and pulled up the waist definer or clincher or whatever it’s called to my upper body so that it sat firmly across my tummy to give a smooth shape. Surely that should help define my figure and make me more attractive along with some newly-purchased ebony crème face foundation. To complete the routine, I had applied eye -highlighting makeup colours to follow that of the pore-refining primer fluid. If you’re not sure what these words mean, don’t worry. I had to keep up appearances so that it would look like things were going well; I applied “look enhancers.”
It’s been a few tough weeks after “mountains” of rejected job applications. Maybe a body shaper was the least of my worries now. Even more so was the shy visitor announcing itself as trickling red spots when I entered the bathroom at the coffee shop. I had been meeting my highly excitable friend, the sexy lady for a natter and we talked so much…
A few hours before, she had called to say that my name had stuck in her head that morning and knew she had to get in touch. So, the very rare phone call registered on my three-times-cracked phone screen with broken cut out edges, barely permitting me to see her smiley face photo that displayed when she called. Tears trickled down my face as I saw her picture come up to announce the caller. “Thank God for these small mercies, technology, and its ability to connect long lost friends again. It had been months or maybe even a few years since we talked, properly.
We usually had marathon conversations lasting hours and she was fun and easy to talk to.
“Where are you now?” Her caring voice asked.
“I’m just getting up from another night of work,” I managed.
“Work? At this time! This hour of the night?
I was too ashamed to admit I’d become a lady of the night. So, I managed a fake smile on the phone and somehow found a way to dodge her question. Persistent, “It’s 3am!” she almost shouted. I had not realised you were back in shift work. When did you start that?” She insisted on her line of questioning.
“Ah! I responded, sex lady, I’m doing sex work”
Silence…deafening and perhaps condemning filled the interval before the next line of questioning.
“I have been holding back. There’s something I need to share with you.” I admitted.
A lot has happened that you do not know about. Sex was easy to do. It was a weapon I had learned to use over the years to get what I want. I was just going back to what I know as far as my childhood was concerned. “Let me tell you how it all began, Winnie.” I continued. It was time to let her into the secretive past and the pain I had been battling with.
In the near distance are voices of the kids playing in their room. You can hear them argue also about whose turn it was to play on the computer. You see research suggests that limiting time on the digital device would at least help preserve the eyesight and social skills of the children.
So as mum and parent, disciplinarian, provider, friend all rolled into one, I had to look out for these precious ones. One would guess the mission to the employment centre to find work would pale in comparison to this.Oblivious to the children were my many thoughts, challenges and dreams as to how I would continue to provide for them.
This was an excerpt from the book: Love at First Byte