I Am a Prostitute, Officer!

“Somebody either light me a cigarette or get the goddamn cop who brought me in. I am not getting a lawyer anyway.”


“Is the coffee too dull, your highness? Must be better than the shit you get in the brothel.”


“Taking the moral high ground, are we? Life must be pretty beautiful and blue from where you’re talking. The pedestals sicken me.”


The crowns, the jewels, the kings and their legacies; sickening!


“Trying to act tough, are we? I could lock you in a cell and leave you to rot. But that is not what I want. You crossed a line when you hit a police personnel. I will have to keep you in here for a while before things cool down. Until then, let’s talk. Here’s a cigarette.”


“Do I get a lawyer?”


“You won’t need one. So, why do you do this? You could quit any day and live a better life, a life with more respect. You could stop being a prostitute.”


And the world could stop hurting. Hope isn’t a city for the scared!


“I could but then, I wouldn’t be happy, neither would be the girls who live with me.”


“You’re happy selling your body to strange men every night for nickels? It won’t even make sense if you earned gold.”


“I am happy that I am a rescue for them, a medium of escape from their depressing, spiritless lives. I feel alive when men succumb to my arms for love and not the saintly women. They talk to me about their lives, the lustful agony, the deceased hope and things they would love to share and the life burns their wives won’t comprehend. I sell them my body and in return, I earn their souls. Like you said, nickels.”


“You’re so insightful. It is not every day that I get to meet a lady like you.”


“A lady, is that what I am now? No more a prostitute? Well, your world would do wonders with more women like me. Aren’t you preaching Women empowerment these days? I could be the face of the campaign. But then, a face who lights up when the sun is down and the hopes are on the rise.”


“But what you do is demeaning, it is cursed and condemned. Don’t you feel sick? Doesn’t suicide seem a better option?”


“If letting the screwed have a taste of ecstasy and coloring the air with peace among the restless is pathetic, color me black. Send me to gallows and burn the remains. But dare not break my stride, for I may not like what I do, but it is what brings me peace.”


“You want another cigarette?”


“No! I wish to go now. This is a business hour, probably what you white collars and professionals would call it.”


“You know, I never thought that I’d say this. But I like you.”


The misplaced sense of sympathy, the exaggerated death of the emotions; we are monsters from within.


“Come, see me at my bordello someday. You like me now, you’ll love me after a night. It’s what I do best.”

“I don’t sleep with women I don’t know.”


“You mean prostitutes?”




“Then bring some food and a bottle of cheap wine. I am sure you have some wounds that need to be kissed.”


She was a fallen angel, a touch for the aching, an inspiration and then, she had a forsaken dark side.


“What if I don’t have any?


“When in my arms, officer, men don’t get naked. They open up their soul, let me into their fears, spirits, thoughts, fears, futures, hopes and dreams. Besides, I like you so come visit me anyways!”


“Aren’t you afraid to fall in love, someday?”


“I am a prostitute, officer. I am not allowed to love.”


“So, Dinner tonight?”


“Five hundred rupees for an hour. Yes, I’ll charge you. Thanks for the cigarette.”


Remember, it is the poison and not the beauty that makes an Autumn Crocus irresistible.


“Has anybody ever told you that you’re agelessly beautiful?”


“Are you trying to seduce me, officer?”


“I am letting you into my soul.”


“Save it for the night!”



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