DIANA - A. 2. DIANA 1. - ORIGINAL ENGLISH

ORIGINAL INGLÊS

DIANA 1



INTRODUCTION

It was the beginning of February 2003. I had just turned thirty and my financial situation was increasingly getting worse to the point of loosing everything I had ever generated.
It was coming up to my sixth year in the country. I had moved here to open up my own business shortly after graduating with a Masters in Law in London. I still had the Import and Export business and it continued to be my main source of income.
What had been my downfall was a very negative period in my life that had begun in 2001. I was involved in a car accident that put me in coma for three months, resulting in a build up of debt.

I was the one that had once appeared to have it all; independence, attitude and success. Many women wished they were me, or at least had a little of my confidence. My success was just a part of their dreams and the new silver Clk I drove illuminated the illusion even more in such a fake society. Men on the other hand, felt strongly attracted to me as a person. It was as if I could mysteriously pull them towards me like a magnet attracts metal.
Before my problems had begun, the society I lived in seemed to worry more about my business than I actually did. To them I had it all and must have therefore obtained it illegally. The possibility that I had been a successful businesswoman was not likely because I had been thought of as a wild character. In this society at least, this was not normal.

Due to my stubborn independent character and my determination to continue succeeding on my own I had to come up with a plan, and soon. Everything had crossed my mind, suicide, drug trafficking and even prostitution. Suicide was the easy way out. Drug trafficking was too risky. Prostitution was the remaining option. If that’s what it would take to help me out of the problem, so be it! The Problem was, it was easy for me to talk and even easier to think, but could someone like me really go through with it?
Discussing the problem with an old friend Simon, I mentioned what had crossed my mind and the lengths I was willing to go to solve my dilemma. This tall, lanky green-eyed man replied that if he knew me like he thought he did, I would go through with it no matter what he said and therefore volunteered to be my first client.
Jokingly I said yes, and asked him when. Simon was quick to answer that the following evening sounded good and before I allowed myself to think any further, I had agreed!










CHAPTER 1
As arranged, Simon came over the following evening and being no stranger to my apartment he treated it as his own, walking through the divisions freely describing every little detail of every art piece as if this was just another visit. The only thing that initially set this visit apart from all the others was the strong smell of Armani after-shave that he left in his tracks as he smoothly travelled across the light marble floor and at every opportunity looked at his reflection in one of the many tall mirrors. Simon left his accounting office earlier than usual and had asked one of his employees to attend his meeting. This thirty-five year old man had, by my calculations, taken over an hour to prepare for the event. He was unusually clean-shaven and for the first time in my memory, wore a neatly ironed shirt.
He handed me a bottle of red wine and I aimed for the kitchen to get the corkscrew and glasses.
Simon knew a lot of my secrets. I had shared many with him over the years but I had decided not to share this one. It was the first time that I was about to have sex with a friend and I was incredibly nervous. However, I had a role to play, just like those who mix business with pleasure. I was now a prostitute and had to act like one even though Simon was an old friend! I was trying very hard to contain myself as I really couldn’t afford to screw this up or loose a friend for that matter.
I had spent the whole damned day dreading the whole experience. How I was going to act? What I was going to do? Never before had I pulled my pants down and waited to be screwed. This was all new to me.
Deep down I could feel that Simons was nervous too. He was fidgety and giggly and acted completely out of character. I felt he was uneasy at first, although the fear was drowned with every gulp of wine that travelled from his mouth to his Adam’s apple. Since we met, he had waited for this day. He was finally going to fulfil his dreams.
Within a short while we had drunk the whole bottle of wine, by which stage I was feeling more relaxed and less preoccupied than I had felt the whole day. There were no more excuses to delay things further and wanting to get it over and done with, I was as ready as ever to face the music and stop the torture that had been tearing at my stomach like acid dissolving skin cells.
Clearing my throat, I gripped myself, took one last deep breath, and getting up from the sofa asked him what he was waiting for.
The journey from the living room to the bedroom appeared to be my shortest ever and hoping that the rest would be equally short, I just wished for it to be over.
While he sat on the gym bench waiting for me to undress, I once again I became conscious of what I was doing and drifting off into mind, I asked myself countless questions. What is he going to think of my body? Only to quickly reassure myself that he had already seen me topless on the beach. What he had not yet seen was what was hidden in my Knickers. Well, I thought if he has seen one, he has seen them all! Then came the final question, what would he think about my performance? What if I wasn’t up to scratch? Trying to find a way of consoling myself I flicked back to a past relationship, my yearlong experience with a woman, Paula.

Paula and I had met five years ago during a very hot summer. Within a short while she had became a member of our large summer group, and somehow Paula looked up to and admired me. She was a National athlete and her body proved that she was hard working; it was very toned and the lack of visible fat gave way to a very sculptured and muscled body that somehow didn’t match her pretty face. During that very hot long summer everybody finished the party nights at my apartment. Apart from a few, all the members of our group had good social and working positions; One or two were directors of International companies; others had prosperous businesses and the remaining had good employment status. What brought us together was the shared identity of being in a foreign country, that is, all accept Paula.
Despite the wide variation and responsibilities of the group somehow we had begun occasionally to smoke hash and my place was the usual venue. At weekends it was common for people to leave at sunrise if they hadn’t fallen asleep by then.
This one night everyone left early to hit the town. Already extremely stoned by then, I decided to stay home and for some reason, which at the time I believed to be her rusty English, Paula decided not go without me and we remained there laying on the sofa listening to the Enigma CD.
At one point I asked Paula if she would massage my feet. Knowing that it was common for me to ask friends to do so, she began massaging them, only to place her head on my legs within a short time.
Due to the influence of the drugs we were both very drowsy and slowly I became more involved and more concentrated on the spiritual music that surrounded us. Sandalwood incense was burning in the background and as usual, the candle light reflected off the walls of the room. Actually, everything in the room was the same as usually accept for one thing, the feeling.
As Paula continued to massage my feet I felt her hands move more and more slowly and become increasingly firmer as if they were being led by the rhythm of the music. Sound, touch and smell were the only senses were dominant. My eyes were closed and my mind remained empty. All I could feel was an overwhelming sensation of adrenaline; a prohibited adrenaline that was taking over my body.
Not sure why this was happening, I opened my eyes. My eyelids were extremely heavy but I forced them to hold the weight as the energy that surrounded me spelt out to me that something indescribable was happening. I looked down at Paula. Her hands were no longer massaging my feet but instead making their way up my leg. We both caught eye contact but said nothing.
In the silence the smell of incense became sharper while the music become louder and yet softer and slower. It felt as if I was in a different time zone, not knowing how to calculate things but just let go.
Continuously looking into my eyes, Paula continued sliding her hands up my body, stopping only when she reached her chosen destination, my breasts. She caressed them with her hands for a few moments while looking at me to read the sensation in my eyes. Moving her head closer to them she placed my nipple in her mouth, licking it before gently sucking. The sensation was too strong to give into the forbidden implications of it. The more I thought about the implications the more powerful the lust became. The breathtaking thrill of my first sexual encounter came flooding back in potent doses, three times more amplified than ever before. I was a virgin all over again with this strange experience. Paula looked up at me again. I remained still, expressionless. Placing her body on top of mine she slid her way up to find my lips and began kissing them. The feeling was stronger than ever. I wanted to explode in ecstasy. The weird sensation of the absence of facial hair added an unexplainable electric sensation to the forbidden scene that led to a full-blown relationship.

I came out of my thinking bubble. Simon stood before me and noticed that I was feeling more relaxed. Remembering this little fraction of experience I convinced myself that I had more experience than the majority of women! I knew how a woman’s body functions. I had learned how every part of a woman’s body works and reacts. I had gathered more information and understanding of a woman’s body in that year than most men would ever do in a lifetime.
Now all I had to do was block out my feelings and enter my character role with Simon who by that time was wondering if I was having second thoughts as I gazed into the wall.
“Hey girl with the big green eyes! Have you returned yet or am I still forced to interpret your mysterious thoughts? You have been staring at that wall for about ten minutes now” he said
I quickly unlocked my gaze and made my way to the bed replying
“Sorry, I was just thinking of a meeting I have lined up for tomorrow and I was trying to get psychologically prepared for it.”
By now we were laying on the bed listening to Simons atrocious jokes as he tried desperately to lighten up the atmosphere. But the last thing I wanted to hear was “Blonde jokes”. They just didn’t seem appropriate at the time but nervously I laughed anyway. Our nervous state froze us into doing everything but what we were there to do. As soon as our fits of laughter had died down, Simon lent over to kiss my neck. I forced myself to play the part and handed myself over. Simons natural instincts had now began to take over his social being. His breathing was becoming heavier along with his uncontrollable urge to devour me.
Once again I floated back to my ex girlfriend remembering how we used to touch each other, how we glided over each other; how we rubbed against each other and made our bodies transpire with passion during those heated moments. How we led and directed each other’s hands to our sensitive zones.
I reached out to Simon’s hands and led him across my body just as I had with Paula. For some unknown reason, I tried to touch him in the same way, as I had with Paula. Every step I made was in connection to Paula and not connected to any other of my numerous past experiences. Every reference I made was in relation to her; to the different, the unacceptable and to the forbidden.
When I returned, I realised that Simon was abandoning his pleasure for the false illusion that the quality of sex rested upon a man’s stamina. Simon’s concentration lay solely on the length of time that he could perform. For him that was exactly what it was, a performance. He appeared desperately to want to prove something; to show me he was good enough, to impress me, when in practice I should have been the only actor. Maybe it was because I wasn’t faking noises or showing any sign of coming?
We were both sweating, it was proving hard work but I felt that he couldn’t hold out much longer and to my great relief I was right.
“I can’t hold it. I’m coming,” he said before letting out a huge yell.
The whole thing was over. After Simon left, I lay on my bed thinking of how easy it had been. All that predominated in my mind was Euro signs. I now knew I was capable of doing this again but I also realised that I had done this with someone I trusted and not with a stranger. Anyway, I was determined to do it again if paying off my accumulated debts depended on it.

I spent countless hours analysing how on earth I could get more work if I were scared to tell other friends of Simons and my secret. If I refused to talk how could I get work? Suddenly someone come to mind, Marco. I had known Marco almost two years. We met at when he chauffeured me to the theatre the one evening.
He was a sweet guy although we had both shared a bad experience. Marco had fallen in love with me. The truth was that he had over stepped the line and at one stage was dangerously obsessed. He had sent endless love letters, poems, messages and flowers, only to resort to stalking. For four months he would park outside my apartment building in the evenings and control every movement I made. In a few cases, he had sent some threatening text messages when he saw me accompanied by a male friend.
Somehow this average height, olive skin man with thick brown parted hair and glasses didn’t appeal to me. His conservative grandfather dress code, even though he was thirty-three years old was even less inviting.
He was far from being the ideal person to tell but he was a safer option in comparison with everybody else, as he didn’t know my friends. Actually he didn’t have many friends in the country so it would mean that nobody else would get to hear about it.
I had nothing to lose, only gain so I decided to call Marco and invite him for dinner that same evening. He agreed but I was still unsure of how I was going to break the news to him. I thought it would be better just to come out with it. He knew my situation so would have to understand.
Well, he understood, or better, was more than pleased to understand. It was his chance to do what he had wanted to do for a very long time!
At first on breaking the news he acted disturbed and reluctant, but deep down I knew that he wanted to jump my bones. Making me feel that he was doing it to help me, he asked if I would accept a cheque, as he hadn’t come prepared.
On agreement I made my way to the kitchen, filled two glass tumblers to the brim with Old Ballentines and asked Marco through to the bedroom. I woke up the next day with a cheque and thumping hang over!




















CHAPTER 2
Munching as much toast as possible to soak up the half bottle of Whisky that Marco and I had downed between us, I stared out of the kitchen window wondering what the hell was next? I knew many men who would jump at the opportunity to sleep with me but was unsure if they would keep quiet about it.
Anyway, I needed to speak to someone who would keep the whole thing confidential and lend me a shoulder to cry on. Howard was the perfect guy. His forty-five year years had provided him with much experience and wisdom. He was a calm character of Indian decent and had a comforting aura that somehow didn’t match his the hard expressions he portrayed on his chubby, cinnamon coloured face.
He was my oldest and dearest friend in the country and we shared far too much respect too even mention the possibility of this type of service between us. I called Howard and making it sound like a matter of life or death convinced him to meet me that same afternoon.
I arrived at the café to meet Howard and as usual he arrived late. He was a computer engineer and somehow found it difficult to unglue himself from the keyboard. I sat there looking out of the window wondering how the hell I was going to break it to him. I must have been hypnotised with the thin air for quite some time before Howard knocked on the window.
Howard made his way in, greeted me and sat down. He knew something serious was up as I wasn’t my normal bubbly self and asked if everything was ok but I just could not bring myself to come out with it and spoke of everything else but that. He made his way to the counter and stood there in the queue. Every now and then I felt an incredible urge to run and tell him. Just as he was making his way back, the courage evaporated into mere cowardliness.
Howard sat down and automatically started talking of his friends financial situation and how much trouble he was in. Without hesitating I took advantage of his friend’s “situation” and just came out with it. Howard froze his coffee cup somewhere between his mouth and chest and asked me to repeat what he thought he had heard.
Before he could say anything else I explained what had happened. Sitting there in astonishment he continued to listen, knowing full well that if that was the decision I had reached there would be no talking me out of it.
After hearing me out, it was my turn to listen. Howard told me that he had recently watched a documentary on working girls and handed me all the information on a plate making me aware that if I wanted to work from home I had to advertise in the local paper. This scared me! The whole thing about strangers in my house was terrifying but if I were to be my own boss that was the way things would have to be. As soon as he added
“According to the documentary, I understood that the majority of them make an average of 7.500 per month. And that’s the ones who work in low class brothels”
I was more determined than ever to sacrifice my fear. It seemed to fill me with enough energy and will power to advertise regardless of the consequences.
On my way home I dropped in at the local newsagents and asked the man standing behind the counter if he could advice me on the most popular local paper.
Arriving at the car I sat down and fiercely flicked the pages of the whole paper to see if I could find anything that resembled what I was looking for. After a while I realised that I had passed them so many times, as I wasn’t expecting to find as many pages. These girl ads occupied at least six of them!
As I analysed the section, I grew increasingly disgusted with what I found. My God! I murmured as I read the low, vulgar and desperate adverts. How could these women be so undignified? I just couldn’t believe what I was reading. Picking up a pen I started jotting down information in an attempt to put together an advert of my own.
Arriving home, I picked up the phone trying hard to find the strength to dial the newspaper. Finally on the twentieth time I took a deep breath and plucked up the courage to speak to the intimidating high-toned Lady on the other side.
The Lady was being awkward and successfully succeeding in adding insult to the wound. I knew I had an accent but it was perfectly understandable! I was trying to place an advert not having a clue which section it belonged to. Actually it hadn’t occurred to me until then that I needed to. It was as if the Lady wanted to add to my embarrassment and complicate things. If that wasn’t enough she added a touch of sarcasm to everything she said and asked.
“Oh, I finally think I know where you want to advertise. I think it must be in the classified section,” she giggled.
The Lady must have held in the laughter as I read out my text. It was simple and sincere.
“Yes, that’s right, it’s the classified section” I replied not having taken any notice of what section it actually was when I had analysed the other adverts.
“What would you like to write?” she asked
“Oh! Post graduate. 27 years old.
Works from own home, alone.
Private and discreet.
Tel....”
“Is that it? Are you sure”?
“Yes” I said politely before giving the Lady my card details.
It was a truthful text. No frills, no exaggerations. Well, I had to lie about my age just in case my real age was past the sell by date.




















CHAPTER 3
It had been six days since Rozen had left for Greece. He was returning the following evening and I had no idea how I was going to break the news to him.
Rozen was my roommate. Three months earlier I had decided to rent out a room in my apartment to help cover my basic living costs.
He was a young Jewish man who had left Egypt in pursuit of his dream, making money and making it fast. Rozen had been in the country for a little over a year when he moved in with me.
He appeared to be at least ten years older than his twenty-three years. His face bore vicious acne scars and refused to let go of a hard, chiselled expression. He repeatedly wore his long hair in a greased tightly tied pony tall, which along with his long leather jacket gave him a really tough Mafia image.
Rozen devoted all his time to his dream by working hard at his job and achieving excellent commission. He knew very few people in country; thus I became his best friend in the short three months we knew one another.
During our first few flat mate weeks, our natural instincts took over us and led to the beginning of a short-lived relationship that lasted only a few weeks. Knowing I was feeling needy and that my life was in total shatters, I quickly became aware that it would not have otherwise happened and to Rozen’s dismay I broke it off.
Rozen however continued to be fuelled by the false illusion that I felt deeply for him, and waited patiently for better days that would pave the way for a new start of a perfect love story.

I heard the key screeching to open the door and quickly made my way towards it. Rozen opened the door with a big smile on his face. He was extremely happy to see me and dropping his thousands of bags to hug me.
“Hey Diana. I missed you so much. How are you?” He said in his heavy broken English accent.
I remained locked in his firm grip for a few minutes. He was happier than when he had departed for his much-needed holiday. Helping him with his bags I told him that I needed to speak to him and asked him to come and sit down.
Rozens expression dropped when I told him my decision. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Yes. I already had two friend clients when you were away. I placed an advert in the paper this afternoon. It will be out tomorrow. I really am sorry. It’s not fair on you I know but please understand I have no other choice. And I want you to know that I understand if you want to move out. Actually I’ve been thinking it over and it’s only fair that I move out if you so wish. The choice is yours”
Rozen got up, grabbed his bags and made his way to his room to unpack. The whole conversation had left him drained and speechless. Feeling helpless I followed him in and stood there at his bedroom door watching him divide his clothes into one pile and the presents he had bought me into another.
After a short while he sat down on his bed and placed his head on his hand. I joined him and somehow felt the need to place my arm on his shoulder and comfort him.
Rozen just couldn’t believe that I had reached this point and decision although he could perfectly understand my desperation. When I told him how long I planned to work he responded
“Yes, Five months Diana. That’s your plan? They all make plans; six months, a year but they just never stick to it. You’ll see. You will become greedy”
Rozen suggested that we both continued living at the apartment, saying that it was “safer” for me and that he wouldn’t dream of abandoning me despite my decision. I just wasn’t sure if his decision was due to the former or his fear of being alone again. One thing was for sure. I was relieved.
This type of business was not new to Rozen. He had previously told me of his involvement with a brothel back home in Egypt. To some extent I believed that his move had been because of that; to close and leave behind a bitter chapter that had caused pain and embarrassment to his family. He was now out to prove to them that he could make his dream come true in a different way by working hard at another job, even if it had meant leaving his country.
Before I left his room, Rozen explained some points that he thought I should know; the need for a “stage” name, how to act professionally, how to respect time allowances and above all, never to get involved with client’s, be it on a friendly or emotional level.
I could not for the life of me understand why I should change my name and soon reached the conclusion that although all the prostitutes did so; it was a stupid idea for me to do the same, as I would only end up putting my foot in it!




























CHAPTER 4
That morning at seven thirty, I woke up with Napoleon my dog barking and the new beams of sunlight seeping through my blinds. After countless tosses and turns I decided that it was useless, I just couldn’t get back to sleep and instead lay wondering if anybody would reply to my advertisement.
I lay there repeatedly asking myself the same damned questions, would anyone respond? If they did, what would I say? How would I react? How much would I charge? I tortured myself to the point of feeling sick thereby finding an excuse not to work that day if I lost the courage to do so.
It must have been eight O’clock by now as Rozen knocked on my bedroom door. I pretended I was sleeping and didn’t answer him. My nerves just wouldn’t allow me to face him and silently wished him to go away.
Within a few minutes I heard the front door close. To my relief he had left for work. Suddenly I jumped up at a strange high pitched, unfamiliar tone. It was my recently purchased work phone ringing at ten to nine! Contemplating whether or not to answer it, I quickly grabbed it before I had a chance to change my mind.
“Hello Darling. I’m calling about the advert in today’s paper. Can you give me some information please?” asked an old voice before I had the chance to say hello.
“Hello. Of course! What would you like to know?”
The man laughed at my innocence.
“So you are a young girl, twenty seven right? What do you look like; height, build, hair”
I hesitated. It quickly dawned on me that someone was going to come around to have sex with me when they didn’t know what I looked like, but rather had to count on some imaginary picture made up of my features. I had thought men wanted to have sex with women because they were attracted to them and at that point realised that we women were under an illusion; an illusion of which I was about to experience the truth to.
The voice asked if I was there as the line had turned silent.
“Oh yes, sorry sir. I’m average height, slim build, I have long hair and green eyes”
“What are you measurements?”
“I’m 1.65”
“Yes but the measurements?”
“I’m so sorry. I’m not familiar with the European measurements. Can I tell you my English ones? God, I didn’t think of that”
“Thought of what Darling? You are new at this aren’t you? Are you English then?”
Realising it was my first day, the man immediately stopped asking questions and made a booking for the following hour, at which point he would then be in my street and call back for the extra details.
My gruesome first call was over and to my surprise I had scored a client who was programmed for an hour later.
Without a doubt it was proving to be the longest and the shortest hour of my thirty-year history. Pacing up and down the apartment continuously, not a single item of furniture, CD or sculptures was left unchecked for dust, not a single air particle escaped the smell of lavender air freshener, and not a scrape of dirt or dog hair could be found under the mats. Everything was checked, double checked and triple checked. I had no more excuses but to think about the whole ordeal that was to follow and the consequences that would cause; society, my family, my status? It was like singing to a song that you just couldn’t quite remember the words to but repeat the tune anyway. Over and over I asked myself the same questions, to the point that I subconsciously yelled out answers.
The wild, although intelligent laid back person that I considered myself to be, evaporated into a creature of social norms and values. Remembering the rumours that had travelled around my present high society neighbourhood when I first moved here, I instantly shook off the regrets. They had originated due to; my non-dress conformity, my extrovert personality, my attitude, my expensive car and above all my independence. I looked down at my restless dog and said
“Well, they accused me of being a high class Hooker because I was independent right? I had the fame without the gain. So what the hell is my problem? Who is to say they are not wrong again? They’ve heard it all before right”?
Fifteen minutes to go; “What type of man will I find at my door? How on God’s name am I going to react? What the hell will I do with him, Napoleon?” I just couldn’t stop myself or escape my mess, and at one point was very close to a black out.
The dog was increasingly picking up on my frustrations and adding to the tensions filling the air. Ready to crack I took deep breaths and tried to find answers to my next set of frightening questions.
The dog just sat there listening to me like a psychologist listens to his patients, simply waiting for me to come out with the answers. Suddenly my work phone rang again.
“ Napoleon, it’s him! How the bloody hell am I going to deal with the rest?”
The man was at the bottom of my street, where we had arranged. I gave him the details and stood there at the kitchen window looking thoughtlessly into thin air.
The doorbell rang. Pulling myself together I locked Napoleon in the kitchen and dragged my feet to the front door. The doorbell rang a second time. I hesitated before opening a small gap. To my amazement there stood an old man with white hair and a smile that crossed his entire face. I went absolutely numb, speechless, as if the cat had got my tongue. Pulling myself together I forced a smile, moulded the man’s face into a Euro sign and asked him in.
“Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable. I’m Diana, and you are...?”
“I’m Carlos. What a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t expecting to find someone like you here”
The man was surely being sarcastic. I had hardly slept, my hair was messier than usual and I didn’t even have on a scratch of make-up.
Within a few minutes I became relaxed with this character, probably due to his understanding Grandfather image and his curiosity that left me no space to think about what he was there to do. Somehow I felt an immediate urge to justify myself and explain why the hell I had reached such a degrading point. Maybe it’s a cry for help? Maybe it’s so they don’t look upon me as a looser? Maybe it’s just a way to convince them that I had no choice and that I had been successful in the past? Maybe it was a way to gain respect and be taken seriously? Whatever the reasons this lead to precedence as future “breaking the ice, ritual” with new client.
Carlos was extremely friendly. He noticed that I was too nervous to invite him to the bedroom. Aware that I was killing time he didn’t comment, for he felt privileged to have someone who listened to him for so long.
Within an hour he had practically told me all his life’s stories; endless stories that to this retired engineer brimmed with adventures, but to me, made things all the bleaker.
Time was flying. My phone had already rung about fifty times. I couldn’t delay it any longer otherwise I would spend the whole day speaking to this man and loosing more business. I took a deep breath, pulled my self together, thought of better days and asked him to follow me into my bedroom.
As I walked through the corridor I felt faint and telling him that I had slipped, managed to disguise the fact that I nearly collapsed by the bedroom door.
Bubbly Carlos went silent as we entered the room. The poor guy couldn’t find any thing to smile about when he discovered that the room was a gym, and the bed was directly on the floor. I guess the last joke was on me after feeling so intimidated for that past hour. No mattress, just a duvet!
I had been sleeping there since Rozen moved in and had actually grown quite accustomed to sleeping on the floor due to my back condition and money problems. All of a sudden it dawned on me that a mattress was now necessary and smiling at him I apologised for not having thought of it earlier.
A still shocked Carlos got straight to work and began to undress in silence as I sat on the duvet watching in awe. I had never seen a man of his age in the nude and had no idea what to expect. I was numb with the suspense, having no idea what to do or how to react but wishing that I could extract my body from my soul and leave my body there to collect later. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t and I had to face the music to whatever tune it was about to play. Instead I just wished it to already be the afternoon.
Bending down his frail, saggy body, he asked if I was going to undress. He placed his arm around my neck trying to reassure me that I shouldn’t be nervous and that everything was going to be ok. I got up and made my way to the gym bench to undress. Carlos complimented me as each item of clothing unglued from my skin.
Feeling intimidated and like a born again virgin I returned and lay nervously by his side. This was to be the fourth time that I felt I was about to break my virginity; the first was with my first boyfriend, the second with Paula, the third with Simon the guinea pig, and the fourth with this man who was about to be my first official client.
Not knowing what to do, I asked him if he would like a massage, at which point I wondered why I had asked such a stupid question, realising I had no idea of how to give one. To my dismay he replied that he would love one.
Kicking myself, I made my way to the bathroom to see if I could find any oil. I walked back into the room with a bottle of moisturiser to find Carlos waiting with his bum in the air. Sitting by his side I poured the cold nivea on his hanging skin as I wondered what the hell I was going to do next. Suddenly he let off a yell.
“Enough. That’s enough cream”!
As I looked down I realised that I had poured half the contents of the bottle, apologised and quickly fetched a towel to soak it up before I plunged my hands into his back. Then I remembered the condoms and panicked, as I had no idea how to place one on. Further, I had even less of an idea how to tell him and convinced myself not to.
Carlos wasn’t enjoying the message and quickly turned over. Squeezing my eyes increasingly tighter, I felt his cold hand on my Vagina and lay there completely still. No past experiences, and not even ex girlfriends could come to save the day; I was lifeless, without senses, non-existent.
Increasingly asking “Darling do you like that?”, he continuously tried to make me come by consistently alternating between messaging my clitoris and placing his fourth finger into my Vagina. He was adamant to do so, but I just wasn’t going to. Immediately I thought of faking it.” But what if he can tell?” I thought. Suddenly I remembered how I taught my male friends to examine if their partners faked or not. The majority of them initially swore blind that their girlfriends never faked, but couldn’t prove how they knew. Ok, I’ll fake it. But shit, what if this man amongst all of them can tell? After all, not all men are so ignorant and he is older and more experienced.
From that second on, I just could not bring myself to fake it, at least, not then. I just had to endure it or change strategy. Plucking up courage I turned over and started kissing Carlo’s grizzly chest before rubbing myself on top of him. Looking at the condom that lay on the side of the duvet, I stretched over to grab it, only to be interrupted by Carlos
“Sweetheart what are you doing? All the other girls suck me without the condom. Nobody has ever used one to give me a blowjob. It’s ok; I am not going to come” he insisted.
At that precise moment I felt helpless, nervous and scared, but more intimidated than ever. I had no choice but to convince myself that he knew best, that he was an educated man, and above all, he certainly had more experience within this environment than I did. Although I wasn’t so naive and somehow knew that this man was taking advantage of my lack of experience.
Holding onto his semi limp penis, I scrunched my eyes tightly to block out reality and began sucking it in vain. The damn thing just kept sliding out of my hands forcing me to open my eyes and face bitter reality, whilst trying to retrieve it. Why is this happening? I asked myself, loosing more and more confidence and becoming increasingly insecure. My last drop of self-esteem evaporated by the experience of every second, in a restless effort to make it erect. I had no choice but to let him take over again.
He started kissing my lips. In a desperate plea to get away from him I politely said that prostitutes didn’t do that. Once again Carlos said that the ones he visited did and left me in an awkward position, in which I had to feel his thin, snake like tongue in my mouth.
To my astonishment Carlos was determined to penetrate me, erect penis or not. Placing me on all fours he balanced his frail body on mine, placing his whole body mass on my back. My Vagina was past sore; it was now numb from all the activity that this man had put it through. Continuously, he rocked back and forth, but I just couldn’t feel if he was actually penetrating me or not. I could no longer feel the friction between my anus and Vagina. Finally Carlos released a cry and to my enormous relief, somehow he had come!
I quickly wrapped a towel around me and walked Carlos to the door asking for the money before I opened it. For some reason I just could not do as Rozen had told me; ask for the money up front.


My first advertised client, this sixty-five year old had proved that patience and stomach were necessary to stay in the game. The time allowance I had set went down the drain. Although the actual act was over pretty quickly, the conversation had run past an hour and I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t always going to be like this.
From what I gathered Carlos was a regular brothel client and had visited the majority of prostitutes and brothels in the area. It as if this was his escape, his hobby, allowing him to fill those long and empty spaces that the countless days offered him.
This elderly man was hot on the trail of the classified section. He was its favourite fan, spotting a new number immediately. Out of thousands, he had managed to spot my first one, and actually won the race. It made me wonder if he liked visiting new girls because they were novelties or because he could take advantage of them like he had with me. Had I been lucky or unlucky?

Rozen arrived home eager to find out my first day’s adventures. As soon as I began to tell him my experience, he started going crazy. Apart from receiving the money, I had broken the majority of rules that he had advised me to follow; not having asked for the money up front, not respecting the time allowance, not changing my name, not wearing a condom during a blow job and kissing the client. Everything I had done was the complete opposite to what I should have.

The whole day’s experience had left me exhausted. I had received hundreds of calls but was not able to work in the afternoon as a problem had come up with my business. Since my accident and the down spiral of events that had derived from not having a supervisor to manage the business in my absence I had employed a manager. Off all days, that afternoon he went home sick.
It was by now ten O clock in the evening. I received a call from what sounded like a young man. Before answering the phone I asked Rozen if he minded that I worked while he was home. He said no, so I proceeded to let the young man book for eleven O’clock.
Somehow I was feeling more confident. Maybe it due to the fact that Rozen was home? Maybe it was because the young man who was about to appear sounded very nervous and inexperienced on the phone?
The doorbell rang. Rozen quickly went to his bedroom to make himself scarce. I opened the door to a spiky hair man no older than nineteen and with a big smile, asked him through to the bedroom.
As we walked into the candle-lit room with his hands in his track suit, I asked him to sit on the duvet apologising for not yet having purchased a mattress, and started to break the ice, telling him the reason why I had reached the point I had and asking what he did for a living.
Russell was a security guard at one of the local shopping centres. He didn’t seem to be the brightest of people and spoke with a common accent. His presence gave off a moth ball odour. He was extremely nervous and kept quiet unless I asked him a question.
I started undressing as he sat there looking in awe and then suggested that he did the same before we lay next to each other on the duvet.
Russell wouldn’t stop shaking and didn’t appear to have any experience. It was as if it was his first time. I started kissing his chest to relax him before I lent over to get a condom. His penis was not erect but I placed the condom on it anyway so that I could begin to suck it. Unlike Carlos he didn’t argue. He felt intimidated as a crouched down and sucked it.
No matter how hard I sucked him, it was useless. Nothing seemed to be working. His body was shaking nervously and he just couldn’t relax. The mothball smell had been taken over by a suffocating body odour. Russell had no initiative and instead just lay there. I was becoming tired of sucking his limp penis but somehow felt I must continue doing so until his time was up.
All of a sudden a breeze came through the gap of the bedroom window and with it brought the most disgusting smell of manure which stuck to my nose, making me all the more uncomfortable.
I stopped sucking his penis and told him that I needed a break as my mouth was becoming numb. As he continued making no moves I picked up my mobile and looked at the time. His half an hour was reaching an end. I just thought of Rozen, knowing full well that he would give me a lecture for having allowed the client extra time.
I looked at him and advised him of the problem. He insisted I gave it one last chance. I did. This time, knowing that he had to hurry, he took the initiative of lying on top of me and in desperation tried to penetrate me with his limp penis. Suddenly the smell of manure came back stronger. The more he moved the stronger it got.
“Sorry Russell. We really have to stop here. Its no good, you are trying to penetrate me with a limp penis. Whats more, you have no idea how much pain you are causing me. It’s not going to work. I’m sorry. I have another client arriving soon. We have to do it another time ok?”
Russell could see that it was useless trying to persuade me to carry on any longer and stopped. I wrapped a towel around me as he was getting dressed, received the money and then walked him to the door.
The strong smell that filled the room was still there. I turned the light on to see if anyone had stepped in dog’s muck, but nothing. The smell was as strong as ever. As I lent down to tidy the duvet, the smell became stronger and suddenly I saw it. Russell had left a huge skid mark on my white cover. He had been so afraid he had literally shit himself. Disgusted I stripped the cover with the tips of my fingers and left it on the veranda in a bin bag so that Rozen wouldn’t find it. No matter how many baths and showers I took, I just couldn’t take the smell away. I felt contaminated and could still smell the odour all over me.

My first day had proved to be one of extremes. I had received two clients; an old man, who was more than familiar with the local prostitutes and had tried to take advantage of my inexperience. The other, a very young man who had no experience at all, but instead had been so scared that he left his mark in my bedroom.
One thing was for sure; on the one hand, I had learned not to let men take advantage of my situation. On the other hand, I learned that I should always try and persuade future clients to use the bathroom before we started. Most importantly, I realised that men who visit hookers cannot be classified by age or class, but rather, the whole spectrum, at the least that’s what I was about to find out!













CHAPTER 5
Within a few weeks I had had endless calls and visits from all types of men from all social backgrounds but the majority belonged to the middle class. Those who were familiar with the classified section were overly curious to see what surprises a new advert had in store.
Being a professional receptionist was by now was an important part of my new job. No matter who called to inquire about the advert, the same questions were asked in unbelievably the same order. It was as if the male inquirers had attended the same lectures classes, at the same school.
“Hello, I am calling regarding the advert in the newspaper. Can you give me some information please?” they said.
The first few times proved to be highly intimidating situations as I allowed the men to be in control of the conversation. Within a few days, I answered quickly and confidently, finding myself reading my so-called script in parrot form before the predictable questions could be fired. Always careful to answer the phone with a bubbly personality I would say mechanically;
“Hi. I am twenty-seven. I’m 1.65m tall, thin, long brown hair, good bust, and green eyes. No, I don’t have friends with me. I work from home alone. Its totally discreet” In cases;” No, its not complete, I don’t do anal. Really, I don’t do it!” and in others; “Sorry; no I didn’t graduate in massages but you can give me one if you like” just to give a touch of humour.

Rozen had come to be my strength during those few weeks. Without him I would not have dared receive those late night clients whilst he secretly hid away in his bedroom.
I would find myself recapping on the day’s events on Rozen’s return home from work. Endless hours would be spent on my numerous analyses and observations. However, I would find myself omitting certain details such as still using my original name instead of reverting to “Natasha”, and not having the guts to ask clients to pay up-front and finally not being able to treat them coldly like a true professional would.
One of the main topics of conversation was telling Rozen about all the information I had gathered from my clients regarding other working girls in the area. Out of the blue on this rainy Saturday morning I took advantage of the conversation to ask Rozen if he had ever visited a prostitute himself. Laughing out loudly he told me that he had visited many. Shocked at the question he quickly exchanged the discussion to his past sex life.
For some reason Rozen had a desperate urge to impress me, thinking he could do so by boasting of how many women he had had sex with. For such a young man he sure exaggerates I thought as he looked at the ceiling to calculate his trophy and paid experiences numbers, before eventually arriving at over the hundred and fifty marks.
Somehow I couldn’t blame him for his wishful thinking. After all, Rozen came from a society where male dominance seemed to prevail. I therefore didn’t find his behaviour on the subject surprising and thus I wasted no time arguing against it and instead directed my energies into something else.
“Rozen, would you do something for me? Would you go and visit a prostitute?” I asked.
He burst into laughter. It was his way of dealing with stressful moments.
“Diana. You are crazy! Why do I want to go and visit a prostitute? I’ve been too many. You are one mad women”
At first he was reluctant, but with a little persuasion, I managed to convince him on the condition that I went with him.
Within the hour we were at the petrol station purchasing the local paper. Searching through the classified page, I circled all the local girls and handed the phone to Rozen to make the calls. The plan was to visit only those who agreed to accept the both of us.
Rozen giggled as he hung up the phone. The first advert he called accepted. Off we went and within five minutes arrived at the address that was jotted down on a blank corner of the newspaper.
In the meantime, my work phone rang. I answered it and to my dismay it was Russell, asking if he could make an appointment for the same time that evening. I nearly died! The smell of shit came whiffing past me again. I apologised and said that I was fully booked for a few days, allowing me to think of a better strategy in the meantime.
When I hung up, Rozen asked what was wrong. He found it strange that I had declined a client. Quickly I used the excuse that the client was not hygienic and had refused to take a shower on his first visit.
The whole middle class estate was still. We stepped out of the car and made our way to find the building door number. Before ringing the ground floor bell, Rozen turned to me and said that it had better be worth it and that I had no choice but to join in.
I smiled and rung the bell. An elegant Lady who appeared to be in her early forties opened the door. Dressed in black to match her tied hair and with a strong but sweet Brazilian accent asked us to go in. Looking all around to see if anyone was watching, we followed the ladies instructions and walked past her as she held open the door.
The Lady led us across the spacey hall finished in light oak wood, leading to the living room which consisted of two large leather sofas and a corner bar, all of which rested on a creamy marble floor. Two sculptures decorated the bare room that was filled with soft Jazz music delicately playing in the background and the sweet smell of fresh Lilies that rested on top of the bar.
“Please sit down. Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll just call the ladies,” she said.
Rozen and I sat down tightly together as if the three-piece sofa had been condensed to a single seat, and waited with baited breath to see the girls.
Suddenly two very young girls appeared, followed by the Lady. I was astounded to note that they were no more than eighteen years old, if not younger. Not one of them uttered a single word, as they stood there extremely intimidated by our presence. They just didn’t seem to know where to place their expressionless gazes. They looked humiliated and full of fear at the prospect of being chosen whilst at the same time facing the possibility of being rejected as if they had been placed in direct competition; a meat competition. A competition that was based on their looks, their sex appeal or whatever else makes a man chose a woman.
To break the silent, tense atmosphere, the Lady looked at us, cleared her throat, and asked which girl we would like to choose. I looked at Rozen but he simply shrugged his shoulders without uttering a word. I took another look at the half-naked girls that stood in front of us, balancing their legs as if they wanted to go to the toilet. They were both semi dressed in see through underwear, one in white, the other in black. One with dark long locks, the other with light brown.
“The girl with black hair please” I said “Yes I think it will be that one”
“Oh Cindy?” said the Lady “Very well, please follow us”
Placing her arm on the winning girl, the Lady led us to the opposite end of the cream, soft lit corridor, opened the bedroom door and asked us to wait a few minutes before shutting the door behind her.
As soon as the door closed Rozen quickly turned and asked why I had chosen Cindy. He was by no means pleased with the choice. I opened the door to find Cindy having a briefing from the Lady in the hall. I called the Lady aside and advised her of the mistake before Rozen’s sulk screwed every thing up. In one way I was pleased, as the both girls had actually been chosen.
As we waited I looked around and observed the clean tidy bedroom. It consisted of a King size bed, a bedside and dressing table and a huge built-in wardrobe all made of light oak wood. The brown floor had been sparklingly polished filling the air with a deep smell of wax.
When least expected, the other shy girl with long light brown hair walked in with her head hanging down. Looking up quickly, she gave us a forced smile before returning her head to the same position. We dared not ask her name. She looked so terrorised and appeared to be there against her will, as if she had been the victim of white meat transportation.
The girl began to undress in the silence. Rozen immediately did the same. I remained quietly on the bedside chair getting ready to watch the show.
Laying himself down, Rozen held the young naked girl’s hand and led her to sit on top of him. The girl dared not look in my direction. Looking at me Rozen pulled his head to the opposite side, calling me over to join them. I shock my head, I wasn’t there for fun and above all I didn’t think sex was fun without feelings. Also, God help this girl if I was to add insult to her misery!
Within a short time, I had seen all that I had been curious to see. It was all the same. The girl didn’t change position but instead continuously moved up and down on Rozen inactively while every now and then, nervously pulled her loose hair away from her face only to swish it back down to hide her embarrassment. The only thing that had changed in that room was the smell. The air was filled with the strong smell of vaginal fluid that mixed with the material of the condom. Occasionally, caressing Rozen on the head, she transmitted nothing more than her humiliation. Without words her energy clearly spelt out the shame she had for her young, inexperienced body.
Twenty minutes had passed and Rozen was showing no sign of climaxing in the energy waves that were circulating in the floral decorated bedroom. It seemed as if he had entered her skin and been taken over by her anxiety. Here he was with a pretty girl, but it just wasn’t happening. Maybe he’s thinking the same as me? I thought to myself as I stood up and made my way to the bed, placing my head between Rozen and the girl’s in a desperate attempt to ease and end the situation. With the back of my head facing her, I tried to hide her anxious expressions, to rid her of the feeling that she was being examined, at the very least to make her more comfortable.
Within a few minutes Rozen climaxed. Thank God, for the poor girl that this is all over! I thought with a sigh of relief.






CHAPTER 6
It had been two months since I had started, five since Rozen had moved in, and four since I broke off with him. It was proving ever the more difficult to live with Rozen´s jealously, which was increasingly getting out of hand at the mention of a client, especially those who became regulars.
As we sat there in the living room that Friday evening my work phone rang. It was a client wanting to make his second booking for the following Saturday evening. Rozen remained quite as I hung up and continued watching the film. Not being able to contain his anger any further, he turned off the movie and in indirect words accused me of being to nice to my clients. Without biting back I said good night, called Napoleon, turned off my work phone and made my way to my bedroom, where I remained awake until the early hours in the suffocating atmosphere that Rozen´s jealousy had created.
As I sat on the side of my mattress I began to roughly outline a typical client visit;
The initial routine was always the same. It never really deviated, as the clients would usually climax by the time we had a chance to try out something new.
It didn’t really matter if it was the client’s first or fifth time. They somehow knew what was initially in store, but they still came back and went through the same mechanical thing.
The only thing that differentiated a client’s first visit from the rest was what I called `the ice breaking ritual´. Somehow I just needed to justify why I had ended up in this field of work.
Apart from that, it was always more or less the same. I would eventually ask the client to come through to the bedroom, before asking him if he would like to use the bathroom or have a shower.
The next step would be to get undressed and lay on the mattress. Erect penis or not I would place the condom on before sucking the client’s penis, in some cases, as a means of getting it hard, in others, just for the added service.
From there I would ask the client if he would prefer to be on the top or at the bottom. This is what set the clients apart. Many would chose to come down on me to make the whole experience last longer while others, couldn’t wait to penetrate.
Within minutes, the whole thing would be over. In most cases, the oral was what prolonged the experience.
My final step would be to lay there for a while with the client discreetly delving into his life and getting to know him a bit better before hinting that I had to go for a bath as another client would be shortly arriving. At this point I would ask for payment before seeing him to the front door with a towel wrapped around myself.
As I lay there I began analysing; wondering why in such a short period I had gained so many regular clients. Quite amazed, I became fascinated in discovering possible reasons for their return visits as in the past I had always been under the illusion that men visited prostitutes to increase their male egos and trophy numbers.
Why these men returned, somehow didn’t make any sense to me. Not that I complained! In the vast majority of cases, it was exactly what I needed; as many clients as possible. Clients equalled, Euros, Euros paid cheques! Yet the mystery led me up the path of analysis
Firstly I evaluated if there was anything special about me but could not arrive at convincing answers. Unlike many women, or in this case, the great majority of prostitutes, I did not give a damn about my appearance. Maintenance such as hairdressers, beauty parlours and spending countless hours fussing around clothes shops and boutiques were things that I considered to be a waste of time and avoided them at all times, if I had money or not. I had rejected this way life, dismissing it as false and could not for the hell of me accept it just because I was working as a prostitute.
At the opposite end of the professional scale was me the women who washed and brushed her hair twice weekly, worked out two months per year, never had manicures and pedicures, never followed diet regimes, and sacrificed shopping sprees for jeans. It was how I felt comfortable, jeans and lipstick. My slogan was; “Like me or lump me, but in no way am I going to go out of my way to falsely impress you”.
Remaining faithful to my personality I would often wonder how I would appear if I was to fit into this “women thing”, convincing myself that I could be a huge success with the clients. But I refused to do so as it was a violation of my being. Thus I remained true to myself; not wanting to dive into the role deeply in case I became comfortable with it, when all I really wanted was for it to be over.
However, they never did see me all dressed up. They never saw me make any sort of effort, so what could it be? Maybe it was my wild look? Maybe it was good sense of humour? Maybe it was my shyness infused by a strong personality? Maybe it was my sweet, yet rebellious attitude? Maybe it was simply intelligence stirred with naivety that strengthened the mystical picture I portrayed?
One thing was clear; I was different from the others I knew in the country, in a society where people who consider themselves intelligent have to behave in a superior way; a small-minded society, which sacrifices individuality and being “yourself” in the name of accepted behaviour and appearance. Maybe I was a positive breath of fresh air compared to the others?
The possible answers were endless, although I could not seem to substantiate a single one. This therefore led me to arrive at my own theoretical conclusion that it was my versatile nature that was able to adapt to any man, despite his social status, race, appearance, charm, intelligence, stupidity or his mere ego minded nonsense. It was the ability to reach up or even down to their levels without acting a part, but rather, being my true self. More complicated still, the capability to do the above, treating them equally and understanding their needs. Simply, I could make any man comfortable with my presence, so much so that many overstayed their welcome.
In the past many men had called me gifted, only to continue doing so regardless of the circumstances that faced me. Yet it is only now that I realise that it is not a gift, it is about personal honesty and discarding the falseness of society for the truth of self-existence.
Arriving at the above was a satisfactory conclusion for me, together with another fact that is of equal importance. I worked from home, alone influencing my “client return trend”.
Brothels are normally attached to the underworld where women work for a boss, usually a pimp. Such characters control these establishments with extreme vigilance, as the norm being that the women divide client payments with their bosses in return for a place to work and protection.
Painting my own picture derived from endless conversations with clients, I saw the cheaper brothels as run down apartments, in the most cases (although I had been lucky to have visited a clean hygienic one with Rozen) Such places consisted of a mixture of rough looking ladies and immigrants, usually from Brazil and East European countries, many of which are prepared to do anything for an extra buck even if that means unprotected sex.
Higher class or Luxury brothels on the other hand are safer as the majority are camouflaged as massage parlours and thus legal. The girls are not necessarily better looking than the cheaper brothels but the facilities such as Jacuzzi’s, private suits, pools and overall decoration are of much higher standard, principally the safety levels of entering these establishments.
Thus I added another valid reason to my analyses; Men probably felt more comfortable returning to me as I offered a safe, clean and relaxed working environment, which as well as being totally discreet did not involve any middle men.
As an extra means of analyses to support my initial theory, my attention was then turned to “regular” client’s sexual behaviour in bed to allow me to place them in the following categories;
The “Needy”
Men who have recently split up from a previous relationship and are needy of affection.
These men usually react immediately to any type of attention and many usually develop obsessive behaviour.
Their sexual manner varies although a lot of touching and caressing occurs.
This type of client returns often as they feel they are receiving the attention they require, although once they feel the change of attitude on my part or even a rejection they will stop returning after the obsession dies down.
The “Unhappy”
Men who don’t love their partners and are unhappy but somehow find themselves imprisoned in a relationship. Usually not only one aspect of their relationships is wrong, but rather the “whole”
These men usually react immediately to any type of affection and can usually fall in love easily as they need to fill the empty gap.
Their sexual manner transmits a strong energy better described as lovemaking.
If you pick up on this energy they thus relate to what is missing in their personal lives and try to hold onto it. This type of client does not return as frequently as the others as he is more cautious of what can result and is aware of his responsibilities. He appears to fight it.
The “Lonely”
Men who are single and feel lonely, mainly because they are shy in the outside world or because they have not found an ideal partner to relate to.
These men usually react to feeling comfortable and open up on being understood, being able to relate to and being accepted for who they are.
Their sexual manner varies to a point of how involved they become. After a certain period it usually leads to lovemaking.
This type of client returns often as he feels there exists a part of you that he has not found in the outside world and thus in many cases ends up falling in love, only to stop visiting on accepting that there is no mutual feeling.
The “The Show off illusion”
Men who find it necessary to be perform. They have created a false ego, which is fuelled by the illusion that they satisfy women with a number of irrelevant factors. They are looking to impress.
These men react to women who play along with their performance and don’t show signs of being impressed, thus fuelling the need to conquer.
Their sexual manner is the same in each case, thus being the sole reason for their classification. They feel a necessity to impress with factors such as stamina, speed, and penis size. They are deprived of experiencing lovemaking and understanding a woman’s body due to this behaviour.
This type of client returns only occasionally as he alternates between other working prostitutes, only to return to the same ones in the desperate pursuit of increasing his ego until he feels he has conquered the sex scene.
The “Lost cases”
Men without self- respect and even less respect for women. It’s common to find this type of man between the age group of forty to fifty-five.
These men usually react to an acceptance of their ignorance and being treated as superior
Their sexual manner is often low and dirty and in many cases vulgar language is used. They are ignorant of woman’s sexual needs but are incontrovertibly convinced they are right, resulting in a total lack of respect.
This type of client returns occasionally often in-between visiting other prostitutes. He returns until the point that his behaviour is no longer accepted which is usually within the first couple of visits.






























CHAPTER 7
It had been a great working day, two new clients and three regulars, one of which was Simon, and still only three O’clock in the afternoon.
Simon had just been for his third visit. He was the typical “Show off illusion”. After his second visit I understood what made this guy tick. It was stamina, performance, and a need to impress. It was just like a porn show, bang, bang, bang, a few daring positions and then only after a good twenty minutes, the predictable.
He had been my last client. Keeping me company before my next booking, he stayed behind for a coffee and a chat. He knew something was wrong. I wasn’t my usual bubbly self. Eventually I opened up to him and told him that living with Rozen was proving to be an intolerable problem.
“Ah, I see. Has the hot for you does he? Well, it was going to happen sooner or later. You just have this effect on them,” he said, finishing with a blot of laughter.
“No, Simon, it not funny. I had this “thing” with him the month he moved in. It’s over now. Actually it was over a few weeks later. The problem is he still likes me and he still has hopes. It’s just becoming increasingly difficult to live with him. Actually, I don’t think I can much longer”
He confirmed what I already knew, I had to pluck up the courage and speak to Rozen, as my sanity was becoming dependent on it.
The phone rang. It was my next client, advising me that he was in my street. He was forced to leave in the middle of our conversation, but I was as sure as ever that I needed to speak to Rozen and do something about the awkward situation.
The bell rang. I nearly dropped! It was Fred again. He had disguised his voice making the booking and pretended he was a new client.
Fred was a handsome, clean looking, twenty Five-year-old who worked as an air steward on the airlines. He was my first client from the narcotics group. It was now his sixth year clean, but somehow he still showed signs of other addictive behaviour.
This was Fred’s tenth visit in fourteen days, of which he had been working abroad for five. That made it his tenth visit in nine days. On his first day, he visited twice!
“Fred, what the hell are you doing here again? I thought I had told you that this is not healthy”
Fred stood in the hall with his head down and his hands in his pockets.
“I know. I know. You are absolutely right but this is the last time. I swear!”
“But the last time should have been the last time Fred, we agreed, remember? Anyway, you just pretended you were a new client. Jesus, you guys all take me for a fool”
As he stood there my phone rang. Looking at him I answered the client on the other side who was inquiring if I was free. To his dismay, I accepted the booking for four thirty. It was then four twenty. As I hung up he looked at me with an annoyed expression.
“Fred, you are making me feel like shit. You know I’m doing this for you. What’s more, have you forgotten my critical financial situation? I could use you and you know that! I could take advantage of your situation and make money out of you, but I just cant. I can’t do it.
I lifted his chin up and looked into his eyes.
“I don’t have to explain again do I Fred? I told you before and I’ll tell you again, we can remain friends. You can even pop over for coffees when you need to talk. You just can’t continue wasting your money on this shit”
Fred looked into my eyes and holding back his tears he apologised and hugged me tightly before making his way to the door. He looked back and said
“Thanks. You’re a great friend. I admire you”
Fred had recently split up from a relationship that was taking place over the borders. Although he and his girlfriend spent little time together it had lasted two years and the split affected him strongly.
Due to his past compulsive drug related behaviour, I believed his obsession with visiting me was linked to a physiological imbalance and in no way, regardless of my situation could I take advantage of this man. Further he was increasingly transmitting energy as he was screaming out for love in bed. What would be greeted with open arms to any other prostitute was to me abusive behaviour of somebody else’s misfortunes be it mental and financial.
That evening Rozen arrived home around eight O’clock. The phone hadn’t stopped ringing all day and it was only at around eight thirty that I managed to speak to him. Just as I was going to start, the phone rang again. It was a booking for midnight. As Rozen was going to be home, I accepted.
“Finally you are off the phone Diana. Lately you seem to spend your life on it,” he said with a disgusted look before making his way to the kitchen.
There goes that opportunity I thought
Dead on midnight the doorbell rang. To my horror I opened the door to a familiar face. All of a sudden, it all came back to me. Shit, this is the guy from the nightclub I recalled. Feeling extremely embarrassed I hid behind the door not being able to evaluate if the guy who was standing there with his head tilted was more embarrassed than me.
“Sorry, don’t I know you? Yes I do! Oh my God, I can’t believe you are here. I’m so embarrassed. I have only been doing this for a short time and haven’t experienced this before. I’m so sorry; I just can’t ask you in. I’m too shocked”
The tall Indian looking guy remained standing speechless on the other side. His head remained tilted and an extreme look of sadness was splashed on his face. Somehow I felt an undeniable urge to ask him in so that I could explain everything.
“God, I feel so bad, I mean acting like this. I feel like an idiot. You can come if you like but it will be a waste of time. I just...”
Without uttering a word he stepped through the small opening in the door, only to find my body clung to it on the other side. I asked him through to the bedroom, adding that this was the only private section of the apartment as I shared it with a lodger.
I asked the man to sit down on my newly purchased mattress whilst I thought of how I was going to explain all of this. Somehow I believed that I needed to justify myself more than ever and as he sat there with his arms wrapped around his legs, I paced up and down the room telling him about my history.
When I eventually managed to calm down, I sat next to him on the bed where I remained chatting to this quite, shy, twenty six year old until the early hours of the morning.
For the two almost strangers that we were, we sure found a lot to talk about; the nightlife, his group of friends, his work and his previous split of his five-year relationship.
At one point Celio was already feeling more comfortable, so I took the opportunity to ask him why on earth he visited prostitutes? Celio was quick to reply that he didn’t have the patience to stand around in nightclubs chatting up women to discover at the end of the night that it was all a waste of time.
Time was pushing on, so I hinted to Celio who I somehow felt he still had a hope I would change my mind, that it was time to rest. Feeling much more relaxed, a now more confident Celio asked if I would reconsider.
I’m not quite sure if it was the respect that Celio had shown or simply my desperate situation but I went through with it. I had sex with the guy whom I had continuously bumped into at a local bar in the past and whose friends had effortlessly tried to approach me. Celio had stuck out in my mind, not only because of his colouring but also because, he was the only one of his group of friends who didn’t make a move. But Celio made a move on this night. Celio was to be the first client who tried to make love with me.






































CHAPTER 8
The following morning I bumped into Rozen in the Kitchen. Without uttering a word his facial expressions said it all as he brushed past me. Deciding it wasn’t the appropriate moment to talk, I bit my tongue and waited for his return that evening.
Before midday, Celio had sent me three text messages. The first, asked how I was. The second saying that he enjoyed being with me; the third, finally plucking up the courage to say what he had tried to say on the first; that he was missing me. Politely I responded to the first two, as I had liked him and some how felt that he was going through a tough time and needed as much moral support as possible.
Rozen arrived home a little more relaxed than when he had left. I had spent the whole day practising a speech.
Asking him if we could talk I led him to the sofa. My phone suddenly buzzed so I took a few seconds to read the message as I began talk to Rozen.
“Do you see Diana, it just doesn’t stop. It’s amazing! It just doesn’t stop for a minute. Just doesn’t stop Diana”
This comment was all I needed to hear and without Rozen being able to say another word I came out with everything. The speech I had been practising was thrown out of the window. Everything that had been resting in my chest for all that time came out. Things had reached such a point due to his jealousy that I would no longer give him an ultimatum between him leaving or me. It was him who was going to leave. There were no more chances, they just fell on deaf ears, and I gave him a month to find alternative accommodation and made my way to my bedroom.
Within an hour Rozen knocked on my bedroom door. Feeling calmer I allowed him to come in. I couldn’t believe my ears when he told me that he needed the money that he had lent me. Knowing that he was doing it on purpose, just to spite me I said, “Ok” and asked him to leave me be.
He walked out with his tail between his legs. I knew exactly what he had tried to do. What he did achieve was to diminish the little consideration I had left for him. He knew I didn’t have money to pay him at this time. He knew full well that everything was a struggle that I couldn’t even afford to buy food. Simply put, he had tried to put me in a position, a sick position by trying to use some type of emotional blackmail, a bribe. His plan backfired when I said I would find him the money, along with the idea of respecting him again.

That same evening I received a call from what appeared to be a few extremely young men. They told me that it was their friend’s eighteenth birthday and that they would like to make an appointment for him. Believing that they were joking around, like many had done in the past I accepted the booking to prevent them from calling back.
At ten thirty, they called back and said that they had already arrived at the meeting point. Now knowing they were serious, I gave them the rest of the details and waited for their friend to ring the bell.
Within five minutes the doorbell rang. I answered the door to an extremely young looking, scruffy hair, blue eyed boy and funnily enough felt entitled to ask him for ID. He had in fact just turned eighteen.
I led the shy boy into the bedroom with little chitchat. As I had thought the initial booking was a hoax, I had received another booking from a regular client who was to arrive within the next twenty minutes.
I quickly got undressed, asking the young man to do so to. He was extremely nervous but this extremely excited. He stood there in awe as if he had never seen a women’s naked body in the flesh.
As I reached for the condom to place on his painfully erect penis, the young man scrunched his eyes tightly and came.
Before he could digest his pleasure he began apologising, begging me to give him another chance as he was a Virgin. Feeling terrible, I told him that I couldn’t as I had someone else arriving. I just didn’t have the time.
The young man got dressed with tears in his eyes and walked out exactly how he had walked in, a virgin.

The following afternoon I opened the door to a tall man who appeared to be in his early forties. The bubbly green-eyed, confident character excused himself and made his way into the hall before I had a chance to ask him.
“Hi. My name is Tom and you are…?”
“I’m Diana. Please to meet you Tom. Please follow me,” I asked as I led him into the living room and pulled out a chair on the table inviting him to sit down.
“You are very pretty Diana. Aren’t you the Lady that drives the silver CLK? I’m sure I’ve seen you around. Of course, I could be mistaken”
Before I had time to answer Tom asked me to sit on his lap and began fondling my breasts.
“So Diana, have you been in the business long? I could do with someone like you for a secretary”
I began to tell Tom my history and before I could ask what he did for a living he was sharp to tell me that he was a Judge at the high court. I could not for the life of me understand how somebody like him had the intelligence to practice this and asked him to prove it. He did. He showed me his card.
Tom insisted that I remain on his lap while he continued treating me like a young, brainless child or better, a Barbie doll. Being uncomfortable and seeing that time was pushing on I asked Tom through to the bedroom.
“I’m sorry Diana but I’m running out of time. I have to be in Court within the next hour. Would you care to join me for dinner this evening”?
I apologised and insisted that it was against my policy to socialise with clients. Tom stood up with a puzzled face, smiled, said that he would try his luck again in the future and walked out. I couldn’t believe it! This so called Judge came into my house, touched my body and simply treated me like a piece of meat for his entertainment, only to walk out without paying just because he didn’t penetrated me.
I couldn’t seem to get the event out of my head for the rest of the afternoon. Did this man make up an excuse to leave because he didn’t find me attractive or did he expect special treatment because he was a judge?

The next morning Carlos booked a visit. He was by now a baptised regular. I classified my clients as regulars on their third visit. According to my black diary of booking records, he was already on his seventh!
I was no longer the naive girl that he had met on my first working day. I had gained more insight, knowledge and a certainly a lot more experience. I now knew why his penis wouldn’t stand. It was a common with men over sixty, some kind of psychological problem I guess, but that wasn’t the problem; it was far from it. My main concern was the time his visits took up. I was aware that one of the reasons I had gained clients was due to my friendliness, but later many over stood their mark, expecting special treatment and this being time allowances. They didn’t expect to have a second climax, as this would mean extra money. What they did expect was chat time, as if everything revolved around them.
Ever-increasingly I would convince myself that I just wasn’t cut out for this. The professionals would charge for every second of the time or else wouldn’t allow it. I didn’t charge and would never dream of it. It had been my own fault, I had after all, allowed it. I had spent time listening to those who needed to be heard, talking to those who needed to listen, comforting those who needed to be comforted all for the price of a fuck. That was when I had spare time, when I could and when I wanted to do it, but it was not something to be demanded or expected. It was like taking advantage of my good nature; taking me for granted.
On his last visits, I subtly tried hinting at the situation to Carlos. He continued to ignore it. Now despite feeling bad about it, I was left with no choice but to make it crystal clear and spell out that a given time limit was to be respected due to my busy schedule and situation. My intuition told me that I would probably loose a client but I didn’t care. If they couldn’t respect my situation why on earth would I have to put up with them? But at the end of the day they would never forget me. I gave them attention, made them feel comfortable regardless of their character, race or social class. I made them feel equal regardless of the quality of sex I offered.
I did tell Carlos that morning. I didn’t tell him as I had planned to when I felt annoyed but I told him in a more subtle way. I told him that from then on, I couldn’t continue doing what I had done with him, explaining that I missed early morning enquiry calls that I could not afford to miss.
























CHAPTER 9
Within the next few days, my intuition proved me right, Carlos had taken offence to the conversation and unlike the other days, since his first visit, he didn’t send me a single text message as he usually did.
It was now three and a half weeks since I gave Rozen his notice. Time had flown by and for some unknown reason Rozen still hadn’t found a place.
Then on the morning that I had decided to confront him, I opened my bedroom to find the apartment empty. He had left earlier than usual, as if he had felt my built-up tension the night before. I still hadn’t managed to scrap his money together. I knew he didn’t need it and that he had tried to put me in a difficult situation but nevertheless, it was his money and I needed to reach some kind of agreement with him. Knowing that he had said those things out of spite and had now cooled down; I was ready to confront him and work out an adequate method of payment.
Just as I managed to sit down and draw up a plan my phone rang. It was a client who had called a few days earlier, made a booking and not turned up, leaving me very annoyed due to loss of work. Apologising and using a number of excuses, I gave him the benefit of the doubt and allowed him to rebook.
I opened my front door with a smile which automatically fell to the floor as soon as I saw who was standing there .It was the man who had frequented the same night-club as me and Celio and I!
It was the second time this had happened to me in a short time. The first had been with Celio but this time instead of being accustomed to the situation, it was worse than ever. To make matters even more exacerbating this extremely handsome guy was the most beautiful man I had ever seen in the flesh.
Standing there outside my door he filled the whole corridor with a sense of freshness. His designer-cut suit and his thick, mousy greased back hair made him appear as if he had jumped out of fashion magazine. I remained stunned, amazed, and extremely embarrassed, holding onto the front door for dear life. I simply stared at his impeccable shiny shoes to avoid eye contact.
He didn’t seem surprised to find me there but I felt humiliated like never before. It was as if I felt like that young girl who had stood before Rozen and me. The feeling was so strong that I could not get myself to speak or react, rather, remained there in a daze, hypnotised by his shoes.
Suddenly he broke the bubble and asked if I would let him in. Opening the door an extra centimetre I apologised as I stood there in a state of dejavu, before finally telling the man that I could not accept him as a client. Ignoring my request he made it perfectly obvious that he was not going anywhere.
It was more than apparent by now that the man was insistent. I asked him to go away before I was forced to close the door in his face.
“Please don’t do that,” he said, “I know you do this now so there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Please, let me in”
Suddenly my next doors neighbour appeared, forcing me to allow him through before they could pick up on something.
Andrei introduced himself and made his way to my living room where he walked around continuously trying to convince me that I should go ahead with the deal. The more I resisted the more anxious he became and tried to gain brownie points by telling me how much he had always admired me as a woman; my attitude, my sensuality.
“Somehow you just always caught my attention. You made any woman who was in my presence despise and hate you. You made them envious”
I didn’t answer him but I knew exactly what he was talking about. The times we had crossed paths with each other we were always accompanied. His girlfriend was quite infuriated when we smiled at each other and on one occasion even stormed out of the nightclub as Andrei defended me.
“You know, all the men I know want you. I’ve always been strongly attracted to you,” he told me.
I remained silent sitting on the edge of my table listening and analysing. Somehow, I didn’t take what he was saying as a reason to convince me, I had already felt it in the past. I knew he had felt something for me. I just didn’t want him to so much as dream that the feeling had been mutual reciprocated.
“Do you have anything to drink? Something strong. Whisky maybe?” he asked.
At that moment I realised that Andrei had successfully disguised his nerves at the expense of mine.
I made my way to the kitchen to get his drink, taking the opportunity to breath as much fresh air as possible, as the air in the living room was proving sticky. Madly thinking of how I was going to escape the situation, I found myself pouring two large glasses. If I needed a drink it was now and a triple one at that! I was desperately hoping that it would reach my head soon and relax me a little. Before I left the kitchen I smelt the contents of the glass, closed my eyes and knocked back a large gulp. The gulp was so large, I choked with the strength of fumes, but I didn’t care, I just wanted courage. I rubbed my arm across my mouth to wipe away the dribbled whisky that stuck to the side of it, grabbed the other glass and made my way back to the living room where he was standing.
Within minutes the potent contents of the glass changed the atmosphere and somehow we ended up in the bedroom. Sitting on the bed we continued talking, finding numerous things that we both shared in common. Like myself Andrei was Aquarian and believed in the influences of the planets. Uranus was not being kind to him either. He was a stockbroker who like most, felt the influence of the horrid, devastating September 11th happening.
Andrei was going to be a father for the first time in four months. He didn’t appear happy in his relationship and although he described his girlfriend as a beautiful woman, he didn’t feel anything for her, but felt obliged to remain with her because she was pregnant. No sooner had he ended the conversation than I felt a penetrating look piercing the side of my face.
Within seconds he touched my face passing me some kind of electric current. My smile froze! The energy was too strong to allow expressions, thoughts or words.
“Come on. I know you feel it too. You have already told me why you are doing this and I completely understand your situation. You need the money, don’t you?” he whispered.
He repeated himself various times, each with more desire, more lust than the last. It felt as if he needed me, needed to feel me, not fuck me but make love to me!
As I turned my face to the side he pulled it back to him and kissed me on the lips. This was forbidden. I wanted to let myself go but couldn’t. This was work. I couldn’t kiss a client. I turned away.
“You really can’t imagine how difficult this is for me. I can’t believe I’m going to go through with this”
As I said this, a strong current filled the room, as if Andrei was about to climax hearing my words. Before I had time to digest what I had just said, I unzipped his trousers, and gently pulled them down as he lay there in the darkness. Gazing into his eyes and proceeded to pull my clothes down as his eyes then focused on my black G-strings as they detached themselves from my bum and landed on the floor. I moved towards him and sat on his legs. Continuously Looking into his eyes I slowly took of my top, teasing him to sit up and take off what was left, my back lacey bra. As he finished I began unbuttoning his shirt to find a perfectly defined body. He placed his lips around my nipples whilst I placed his penis inside my vagina. Hugging me closely to his chest we didn’t move, we didn’t rock. We just sat there like volcanoes ready to erupt, not really understanding our actions but feeling every little sensation that the last few years had accumulated. He couldn’t contain the energy we were sharing any longer. He came as I watched every moment of passion escape from his face.
Andrei left half an hour before Rozen usually arrived home. I could no longer think of the payment plan. My mind was taken up with the initial shock and the whole scene I had just experienced. Everything was blurred. Nothing seemed to make sense. He had transmitted something very strong and I had allowed it to be transmitted back.
Just as I was thinking a text message came through. As I was opening it another came through. The first was from Andrei. He had only been gone ten minutes:
“You are very special. I like you very much”.
I immediately opened the second one. It was Celio:
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said
Rozen walked in, as I was about to respond. Immediately I put the idea aside, deciding that my chat with Rozen had more priority. I asked him if he had found a place, only to be horrified when the sad looking guy replied no, he hadn’t. It was only then that I realised that he had not taken me serious. He thought I wouldn’t go through with it, that I would change my mind. As he felt threatened he immediately began speaking about his money, saying how much he needed it. I looked at his mad face and said
“Rozen, you now my situation and you know I will pay you back. I have before. Listen, I can’t pay it all now, you know that. It’s impossible. I’ve worked out a realistic plan; five hundred a month for three month”
He disagreed. He was acting exactly like he had planned, a bastard! He just kept arguing and arguing, making up stupid excuse for needing the money, when realistically, he had more than enough.
If that wasn’t enough, he began inventing ridiculous figures about the division of the bills. I decided not to descend to his level, as that was exactly what he wanted me to do. I said I would pay the bills and he shut up. Once again, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He knew I was in no situation to pay them alone and expected me to bite back.
Suddenly, he began the same conversation over and over like a broken record, which lasted over an hour!
“So Diana, when are you going to pay me? Tell me, how are you going to get the money to pay me. When is it going to be, hey?” he said
No sooner had he repeated this for the tenth time when my nerves could not endure it any longer. I picked up the cup of coffee that was next to me on the table and threw it viciously in his direction, only to miss his face by millimetre’s, before I Stormed off to my bedroom. He remained paralysed without uttering a word.
Within half an hour, Rozen knocked on my door to apologise and said he would accept the payment plan He knew that he had pushed me to such a limit that I could not contain myself further.
Rozen had realised that he had taken things to far. He was aware of his behaviour and understood that even if he wanted, things would only get worse from there on. What happened half an hour before broke off any little residue of respect that I had managed to salvage during the previous months.

That same evening I received a client at midnight. Over loaded with suits and cases, the drained looking man apologised stating that he had just arrived back from a meeting in Brussels and followed me into the bedroom.
Edward as he addressed himself was a big-bellied Politician. We spent a good half an hour discussing Politics and as our conversation was reaching an end, Edward asked me if I was the daughter of Marcus. I couldn’t believe it. The man had recognised me from the start and further, knew my dad! I became nervous and suggested that Edward go home and rest as he appeared to be extremely tired. He sensed why I had suddenly became restless and assured me that he would not breathe a word to my Dad. To convince me further he stated that he had just as much to loose, that being his marriage.
Edward, insisted that he pay my time, picked up his luggage, booked an appointment for the following week and left.
































CHAPTER 10
It had been a week since Rozen left. Notwithstanding that dreading fight we were actually able to remain friends. It was somehow strange to live in the apartment alone again and in a bizarre way I missed the tenseness that had dwelled in it during those short months.
Celio had been around to visit me for the third time the previous week. Despite knowing that my answer would be no, he invited me out everyday. As I now had the place to myself, I returned the invitation by inviting him and his friend over for dinner. Before they arrived, Celio asked me not to speak of my work over dinner, as his friend had no idea about it. I found it strange that he hadn’t told his friend but soon found out why.
The dinner went well, and as usual, I had a fun time. Celio however appeared to be on pins due to my openness. He was just dreading the moment that I mentioned anything to make his friend suspect. From what I could see, his friend appeared to think that Celio and I were a couple, thus resulting in a few embarrassing moments, especially when Celio tried to touch or kiss me.

The following day I woke up with the phone. “Shit” I screamed when I realised the time. It was already ten am. Before I could even think about anything I had to walk the dog. Grabbing my car keys and calling Napoleon we made our way to the near by cliffs where she could walk freely.
This stretch of coast was the working post for many prostitutes who stood there on the side of the road waiting for clients and to then take them into the sand dunes or behind the scattered bushes. As I sat there in the car watching Napoleon chasing the bees and whatever else she could find in the bushes, I noticed a shadow approaching the car. It was a man. It was regular of mine, Luis.
“Hi Diana. I see you are walking the monster. Are you available in an hour?”
Hi Luis. Sorry. I’m fully booked this afternoon,” I told him
Excusing myself I called the dog and headed off back home.
I wasn’t fully booked. In fact I didn’t have any bookings. I just could not bear to be with that man again. Like Carlos, Luis had been one of my first clients and like Carlos he had taken advantage of my inexperience, as it had been my first week. I accepted his second booking a few weeks later, upon which I had been extremely rude to him, preferring to loose him as a client than put up with his revolting behaviour.
Luis was a scruffy looking ex Militant and his common accent more than matched his bad manners. He was slightly over weight although he had a huge beer belly. His breath and thick dark brown basin haircut would always linger with a strange mixture of garlic and Spirts.
On his second visit I politely asked him to stop groping me as I was undressing. My jeans were somewhere between my knees and my ankles and I could feel that I was going to fall. Ignoring me he continued until I was forced to throw myself on the bed, before he tried out some daring positions that would in no way benefit a not so fit fifty something man.
As I stretched across the bed to get a condom Luis started complaining.
“Already? So soon? The last time you sucked me without a condom. Go on love, just suck it,” He pleaded
“Yes Luis, the last time I had only been working for two days. Fortunately now I’m a little wiser. Maybe I’m a bit more experienced? Then again, maybe I just don’t feel as intimidated as I did that day!” I told him sarcastically.
Luis was stunned. He certainly wasn’t expecting me to react this way. At least it had kept him quiet for a while! He thought I was still the naive girl who had been working a few days. Little did he know that I had already categorised his sort “ the lost cases”. The lost cases who knew everything about every prostitute in the area.

That day I had an explosive headache. Just the thought of something touching my head gave me a deeper migraine. Luis accidentally laid his arms on top of my hair when he moved to lie on top of me. I advised him of my headache and he apologised. Luis knew I didn’t kiss clients, so he used his apology as an excuse to try and do so, breathing in my face with revolting breath. After telling him to stop twice, then finally screaming at him to stop, he did and instead concentrated on searching for my vagina opening with his fingers only to try and kiss me again. I was burning inside with his disrespect. Trying desperately hard to avoid lashing out I screamed once again. Luis was by now use to it and didn’t utter a word and continued to rub my vagina so much that the increasingly dry skin was burning up and hurting me. He had no idea about a clitoris or where it lay for that matter!
“Is it good my love? Is that good?” he asked restlessly
At first I said yes as I was going to fake an orgasm. Then I thought to myself, shit, even if I fake one he will probably still continue. He is so ignorant he probably thinks that women can come twice in two minutes! For sure this guy has never made a women come at least not with this type of performance and ignorance!
Whilst I was contemplating faking, his attention moved to his penis and he began to penetrate me in the missionary position, once again placing his clumsy hand on my hair and his fishy breath in my face and saying
“Do you like it love? Is it good? Do you like being with me. Darling tell me you want my milk”
I just couldn’t contain myself anymore and started shouting at him with hatred. I had had it! I felt used, revolted, and above all disrespected. Automatically I told him that time was running out and that I was late. These types of guys just have a knack of treating women like meat.
I wasn’t late. He had been on the bed no longer than ten minutes before he even began to penetrate me, but I just couldn’t handle it a minute more. I held out a little longer without saying a word, just to avoid him speaking and polluting the air with his breath. It was an experience that I didn’t want to repeat and from that moment on I vowed not to allow these types of men to return. I would prefer to loose the work and say that I was busy, although in some cases I would find that these men were smart.
On making his second booking Luis was scared of being rejected and did not say who he was or that he had already been with me Instead he went through the telephone ritual and even went as far as asking directions. Actually a few of this type of client did.
A few days after seeing Luis on the cliff he did this all over again. He knew deep down that I had told him I was busy to avoid attending him. Thus, he waited a few days and went through the whole phone process again and turned up on my door. On opening the door I led him to the bedroom and asked him like I would with all my clients, if he would like to take a shower or use the bathroom. As usual he didn’t want to. I excused myself and went to the bathroom only to return with a valid excuse to avoid the whole thing.
“ I’m so sorry Luis, I’m afraid I have some bad news. My period has just come. I can’t work, sorry”
Luis not realising I was making up an excuse tried to convince me that it wasn’t a problem, period or no period. I told him that it was against my Religion and that I wouldn’t do it. He swallowed it and left.
Revolting is the best word I can find to describe these clients who are, rude, heavy-handed, clumsy, ignorant and disrespectful. My mind often wonders to their wives, feeling sad for these women whose husbands are usually between forty and fifty-five. They have probably never experienced pleasure with their men. Thus bad sex along with an older male attitude has led them to visit different places on a frequent level according to there financial possibility, thus being locals at the lower class brothels that I consider to be “dumps” in the literal sense of “dumping”!

Within a few days, Andrei made another booking. This time the transmission of energy was even greater than the first. His tenderness towards me had tripled. We got on really well and enjoyed each others company but we both knew it was dangerous to carry on meeting. We didn’t discuss it but we could feel it.
On that visit he left his chequebook in the car. He was one of the only clients that I had allowed to pay by this method. The evening was very cold and wet. He suggested that he make a transfer to my account. I agreed and gave him the details.

As arranged, my Dad’s friend Edward visited. Just like the first time we spent a good deal of our time talking Politics. For some reason I felt repulsed at the idea of sleeping with him. I just couldn’t help thinking that it would be like sleeping with my own Father!
Eventually I plucked up the courage and went through with it only to discover that this man was obsessed with having his testicles sucked. To him, this was the primary turn on of the sexual act.

That week was as much a struggle, like any other and I was really counting on this money the Andrei’s deposit. To my horror he failed to deposit the money the following day.
After the third day there was still no sign of the deposit. I had no choice but to send him a written text explaining my desperation.
He wrote back apologising saying that he had been very busy. That same day he made the deposit, but his calls were to end for next few months. He contacted me once again when I had put my prices up. I told him of the price increase although I did not tell him that my regular clients were charged at the old price. I guess I did this to avoid him visiting again. We both Knew what could have come out of this episode. I guess we had both wished that something would save us from a difficult situation. We must have wished a lot. It did!

That same evening Tom called. Ever since that visit that had left me feeling disgusted he had sent me a whole collection of text messages asking me to join him for lunch or dinner. Somehow, he didn’t appear to get the message that if he wanted to see me he would have to make a booking and come to my apartment.
Not containing the memories of his visit, for the first time I made it clear to Tom that I was no Barbie Doll and that if he wanted my services he would have to make an appointment like everybody else. Tom replied that he would call me back the following week and arrange a time and day that would fit into his busy schedule.
From what I could now deduce was that Tom was expecting free VIP treatment due to his title.
















































CHAPTER 11
Within a few months of working I was pleasantly surprised to receive calls from men who had been referred to me by their friends and colleagues. Many would refuse to say who had referred them while others would happily bring their entire team.
A close friend of mine worked at local gym as a part time receptionist and during my spare hours I would frequently pay him visits, just to get away from the apartment for a while.
The gym was next to a yuppie type café and Darren and I would often go there during his breaks. Sitting there on the terrace drinking coffee I began telling Darren of how concerned I was becoming with Celio’s behaviour. After three official visits and a few months of countless text messages, the game was now getting out of hand as the evening before he had sent one reading “I love you. I miss you. I can’t be without you”. I had to think of something and fast, as I never had given him any hope or impression of any sort.
Darren couldn’t really give me any advice. He was facing a similar situation and sat there staring at the people who were sat around drinking their morning coffees whilst I began making my own plan regarding Celio.
This couldn’t go on. I needed to try and explain that he could not feel this way but had to be careful not to further damage his self-esteem which had resulted from his recent split. He was needy and I just couldn’t hurt him. Picking up my phone I wrote:
“My present situation does not permit me to have a relationship. I am a prostitute and will continue being one in the future months. Give me time to finish”
I was more than aware that time was a healer and that during the time he waited he would eventually erase those feelings that he thought he had.
He broke my bubble by saying
“See that guy there? He’s Philip, one of the National Hockey players”
I really couldn’t have cared if it was the president of the United States, but looked out of respect as we made our way back to the gym.
Darren asked me to keep an eye on the reception whilst he quickly ran to the toilet. During this time the tall hockey player walked in and very shyly picked up timetable leaflet that contained all the necessary information regarding gym membership.
“Can you tell me how much it is to join please?” He asked politely
“Sorry. I don’t actually work here, but the receptionist will be back in a little while. If you care to wait…” I told him.
Replying that it wasn’t necessary the man tried to make a quick escape as Darren appeared, only to hear Darren say “hello” just before he left the door. Darren asked what he had wanted. I told him and he smiled.
“Well sweetie. This guy is already a member. Actually, it’s his wife who is a member and he is on her membership”.
Darren went on to explain that Philip who was twenty-four was married to a women nine years his senior who was a popular media figure due to her Royal title. Pulling out a magazine from underneath the counter, Darren flicked to the centre page spread to show me Philip and his wife. Funnily enough, I spotted five of my clients in there too.

As I headed home I was feeling relieved. Celio had only written one message, stating that he understood and respected my decision and that he would wait without contacting me. I knew that by the time I did finish he would surely be with someone else. This “needy” type usually can’t be alone for long
When I arrived at my building I had the biggest surprise, my neighbour Joao had arrived back from Italy where he had spent the good part of seven months nursing his ill mother. As I opened the door to him I couldn’t contain my tears of happiness. I had missed Joao so much as he was unemployed he would spend most of his time at my apartment while his wife was at work. I couldn’t for the life of me understand how such an intelligent man was unemployed, but didn’t really take time out to analyse
While he was in Italy we kept in regular contact. He already knew about my new profession and although he was against the idea, he would always lend a caring ear.
Joao was approaching forty. He was a short man and at least thirty kilos over weight. His thick, black hair and matching colonel moustache created an authoritative air around him. However, Joao was one of the sweetest, caring people I had had the privilege to meet although he was a confessed ex-heroine addict. It had taken away seven years of his life and it was now his thirteenth year clean.
As Joao and I sat down to catch up on all the news we were interrupted with a knock on the door. It was my new client and I hadn’t realised the time. Joao quickly made his way out before the man could have time to reach my floor.
It was to be my tenth client of the day and it was only six in the afternoon, proving to be by far my best day.
The client arrived, a very tall fresh faced man, o older than twenty three. He looked so familiar but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out where I had seen him. As he walked through the door, I was just about to ask him but it suddenly dawned on me that was Philip. I nearly died! Pulling myself together I thought here we go, more embarrassing situations! Pretending that I didn’t recognise him I asked him through to the bedroom. Actually, if Darren hadn’t pointed him out I would have had no idea, as I never watched TV.
Philip, who was looking extremely embarrassed and was extremely shy, acted like a little boy who was being told off by his Mummy. He must have guessed that Darren had told me that he was already a member at the gym. To save him further embarrassment I kept quiet about it, pretending that I had never laid eyes on him. He continued to look puzzled, wondering if I had already worked out who he was.
To break the ice, I asked him where he had got hold of my number only to be told it was from the advert. Holding myself back from asking him further questions about the paper and advert details, I decided to spare him the ridicule. After all, he must have known I was lying saying I didn’t know him, I mean, unless he was a total idiot. What’s more, it had been such a coincidence that a member of the gym had asked details of how to join.
The whole scene was over quickly. I guess I was to blame. I never liked to overtly rush the clients but I was really pushed for time and had to be strict. He didn’t complain. I guess the other girls he had visited also stuck strictly to time allowances. From all my gathered information I arrived at the conclusion that I was the only sucker. Despite spending only a few minutes in bed, I would spend a lot more speaking to these men, lending them a shoulder.
Philip didn’t appear to be the brightest of men. I mean this man who was married to some type of Royal title had come to visit a prostitute who worked and lived in the same area. Further, he knew that I was friend of the gym receptionist who so happened to know his wife and have all her details on his card. I really couldn’t believe it. Here I was, a prostitute due to my financial situation and thus in desperation could have destroyed this guys marriage and his entire reputation if I really so desired. I could have advised him of my intentions and given him an ultimatum. Could have destroyed his life!
But this was not the only case. There were at least another eight that I could think of. Besides famous clients there were neighbours. Beside ordinary married neighbours there were various famous neighbours with famous wives. One such VIP was of a guy who lived at the end of my street, Danny.
Danny was tall with dark curly hair, the most beautiful green eyes and was extremely attractive. The first time he visited me he was terrified and for some reason I just could not figure out why as he was extremely extrovert. Something just didn’t slot into place.
Just before he left he was feeling much more comfortable, and told me how excited he was as the following day he was going on holiday.
As I had found it amusing to see some of my clients in the magazine at the gym whilst I was out buying cigarettes at the local newsagents I picked up the following weeks edition. To my surprise, I opened up the magazine to find Danny on the fourth page, he and his famous wife snapped up on their holidays! From the reports I gathered that Danny was a really famous guy and his wife even more so. That’s why he had been so terrified! He was sure I knew him and found it strange that I hadn’t said I did. What’s more, he and his wife lived in my street!
A few days later, Danny arrived at my building door without warning. A regular had made a reservation for the following hour and apart from that I was fuming that a client had knocked on my door without making an appointment beforehand as it was a violation of my number one rule.
I don’t know if Danny was expecting special attention because of his famous image or his amazingly good looks, but when I answered the door phone he was not to amused as I pretended not to recognise him.
“Hi Diana, it’s me. I missed you so much. I just arrived back. Can you open the door and let me in Please?” He asked
“Oh its you Danny. I’m so sorry. I’m really busy. By the way, I don’t answer door calls without an appointment. Hope you understand that I just can’t allow it. It would be too complicated if everybody decided to do the same thing. Call me and make an appointment. I’m sorry, I have to go and have a bath. Bye” and I hung up the answering device.
Danny was speechless. My intuition told me that he would not return and time proved me right. I’m not sure if he was insulted by my refusal to open the door or if he had come to his senses about the dangers involved in visiting a prostitute who happened to live and work in the same street. Maybe he thought that I had recognised him as a public figure and was expecting VIP treatment?
To this day I have no idea how these public figures could risk their reputations and marriages visiting prostitutes. One thing is to visit women who do not work or live in the same neighbour hood, but another is visiting a prostitute who so happens to live in their area, even in their street. Even more so, visiting a prostitute who had first hand information on their wives before they even became clients and ignoring this they came anyway. They had been extremely lucky it had been on my doorstep they landed. I had a conscience and believed that “what goes around comes around” Any other prostitute may have taken advantage of the situation.


CHAPTER 12
How wrong they were! How wrong they were when the Beatles sung, “Money can’t by me love”. Everyday I stepped into the real world and saw a fake reality and thought, how wrong they were in the majority of cases.
During my short sojourn in the country every type of man from every type of background and profession, convinced they had a chance had approached me. Some believed that they had a chance due to the number of zeros in their bank accounts. Others were convinced that their public-figure image or political status was sufficient, whilst empty headed beautiful boys were sure that their chances resided in their looks. They all had one thing in common; they were under the social illusion that material wealth or images prevailed but were to soon discover that I was the exception of the rule, rejecting the illusion and thus rejecting them. Of course I wouldn’t have resorted to prostitution if I had accepted these fake values. Little did they know that my values were different. I was in the real world; the natural world where feelings were the principle ruling and material things meant nothing without a soul. I chose to sell my body but not my soul. My soul was to share with another soul; an intelligent mind, a beautiful soul.

To my surprise I received a message from Carlos. It had been a few months! I had not heard a word from him since that morning when I made it clear that I could not give him special treatment.
Somehow I was pleased to hear from him as it was like placing water under the bridge. On the other hand I was disappointed as Carlos spoke to me in the same way as he did in the past and soon changed my tone of voice before he had a chance to make another booking.

It was a scorching sunny summer’s day. A booking had been confirmed for four O’clock in the afternoon. The new client knocked at my door on the dot. I opened the door to a man no younger than fifty with slicked-back, thin, silver hair and the most piercing blue eyes that could eliminated the rest of the scenery from a perfect picture. His skin was a toasted cinnamon colour that reflected beautifully with the traditional Navy blue blazer and beige trousers that he wore.
As I asked him in and introduced myself, the charming gentleman, lifted my right hand, bowed and kissed it and introduced himself.
Antonio followed me to the sofa, leaving a spicy aroma of after-shave in his trail. Careful not to crease his suit he sat then laid back on the right side of the sofa, placing his arm on the armrest to support his head. Picking out a large Cuban cigar from the inside pocket of his blazer he asked permission before he proceeded to light it.
For some reason I felt extremely intimidated and uncomfortable by his presence. Everything about this man, his posture, his clothes, his attitude, his aura and above all his convinced superiority was too much for even the strongest to handle. If this was what he wanted to display, he had put together the correct ingredients.
Antonio had not visited for sex. He came to talk. He appeared to be a lonely character. I felt it in his voice, in his bitter words. Actually, in his whole presence. He appeared to be his own biggest enemy. With the package he portrayed, even the strongest of people would feel intimidated.
He had little conversation and was quite happy to take the maximum pleasure from his cigar that was dominating the atmosphere. As usual I began explaining the “ritual” of how I had arrived at my present position and asking what the hell he was doing visiting this type of place. Without answering the question he began to speak of his recent split from his relationship and how the women was annoying him and kept pestering him to get back.
After the conversation ran dry, as with all clients, I asked about his work. He began to tell me the long history of his working life; that he was an heir to a huge family business that ran through various generations, involving the production of crystal.
The atmosphere became lighter despite being clouded with tobacco smoke and he spoke more freely. In between explaining his professional history he touched on his years of alcoholism and of how he had been a victim of a bitter attack. Twenty years had passed since he caught his wife sleeping with another man in their bedroom. He ended the relationship only to receive various emotional bribes from his wife. The threats had continued for so long that they began to fall on death ears, until the day she committed suicide.
I didn’t know how to react or even find comforting words for this man who sat before me with exploding emotional eyes. The best I could do was roll off the subject asking no further questions to add to his grief. I asked him about his experience as an alcoholic later praising him on his ability and will power to leave it all behind.
As time was pushing on I invited Antonio to the bedroom. He looked at me and said
“My dear Diana, I could not put you through such a thing, but please, don’t worry, your time is money. I shall pay you, relax”
I began to feel insecure and think that he hadn’t liked me. Maybe I wasn’t dressed the way he expected? Maybe he was looking for the perfect stereotype of a high-class whore?
We chatted a little longer before I hinted that I was becoming pushed for time. Antonio stood up immediately, placed his hand on my lower back and handed me over almost three times the money that he was obliged to pay. I pointed out that he had made a mistake, as I already felt guilty that he was paying me merely for talking.
“No. Your time was worth more” he insisted whilst making his way to the front door.
Before he left he raised my right hand, kissed it and walked out.
To my surprise he kept in regular contact. He would make a booking to talk and I became increasingly uncomfortable with accepting his money, trying desperately to tell him that I did not charge for talking. But Antonio continued to insist even threatening to stop visiting. On every visit he would bring a gift; crystal and china to add to my growing collection.
One day Antonio was adamant that I joined him for dinner becoming greatly offended when I replied that I didn’t do that with clients. He appeared to be hurt that I had addressed him as such and thus feeling extremely guilty I accepted the invitation.
During dinner he told me the story of his involvement with a Brazilian prostitute who had worked in one of the high whore bars in the big city. Antonio would book her every week from Thursday evening to Sundays. He actually believed that this girl loved him and that she spent these days with him out of love despite the fact that she was being paid. I didn’t try to take the wool away from his eyes so as not to hurt him. This so-called relationship lasted until the day the girl reached her money target and flew back to Brazil. It lasted two years. Suddenly I began to see the picture Antonio was thinking that he could do the same with me not knowing that I was different and had indestructible values.
Heading home from the restaurant we continued the conversation in the Rolls Royce. The car was so big our words seemed to echo in the silence, bouncing off the smell of cigars and after-shave. I just couldn’t discard the feeling that rested in my stomach. He seemed to want us in the same surreal lie that he had been in with the Brazilian. Out of the blue he looked at me and asked
“What do you need to pay your debts dear? What is the total?”
I hesitated but replied honestly. It was still a vast amount totalling around seventy thousand Euros’. Antonio parked the car at the next convenient spot, looked at me, held my hand and said;
“Let me give you that amount. Let’s get rid of it dear”
“Antonio, are you mad? This is my fight, nobody else’s”
“I insist. Let me pay off your debts”
I continued to resist. I would never in this life dream of accepting such a thing.
He continued to drive in silence. I took advantage of the situation and began to think and analyse. Antonio wanted to buy me thinking that paying my debts could buy my soul. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t see that I didn’t love him. But this was the society he was use to and it was what the majority of women would kill for. They would sell everything for material gain including their souls and happiness in return for an unhappy relationship that was as simple as acting the role of a loving partner, a fantasy role where financial rewards are exchanged for dependency and control. Women were willing to not just sell their bodies but also sell their souls and their whole existence.
The weeks that followed were filled with calls, messages and visits from persistent Antonio adamant that I would accept his offer. During all this time I never had sex with him. He appeared to be waiting for me to give in before we did so, waiting for me to be his before he would have the pleasure.
Antonio slowly started to realise that I was not going to change my mind and give into the role that he wanted. For the first time he was faced with a challenge that he did not know existed and gradually became increasingly sarcastic and bad tempered especially when I mentioned other clients. He was growing aware that he was fighting a loosing battle and this one evening conveniently found an excuse to put an end to his embarrassment, his pride.
I was with Joao having a few glasses of wine and feeling quite tipsy. His wife was working late so he was keeping me company. Antonio called. Not pleased with my giggling he promptly hung up. The following morning I called him to apologise not quite knowing the reason why.
“My dear Diana, I would never have imagined a young Lady like yourself to be in such a state. I’m disappointed, extremely disappointed” he said with a firm deep voice.
I was speechless by the overly exaggerated weak excuse. I wasn’t drunk. I hadn’t been rude but was just enjoying the evening with a friend. I remembered every second of that conversation and all that he picked up on was my good mood.
What Antonio wanted was to have the last say and end everything as if it was his choice. He couldn’t accept that he was loosing. If only he knew that I had already allowed him to win by refusing to suck him dry and not leading him on. I had been the first to make it clear to him that “money couldn’t buy him love”, that power was not money. Power was being true to oneself.
So many similar cases had happened to me although not involving the huge amounts of money as with Antonio. Yet they had involved money and bribes. To some extent, even drugs. Many men had seen and felt my desperation. They had fallen for this girl they had met and had ideas. They shared ideas of having, of possessing me. They knew I would not accept money for nothing so offered to lend me money. However when they realised that my attitude to them would not change they began to bribe me. They used my grief and my pain to win their fight. They would prefer to see me suffer if they did not get their way. They didn’t succeed and I came out the winner even though I paid a high price. I emerged with my conscience clear and they, with theirs stained. In the majority of cases they are still paying for their acts. They still contact me waiting for the day that I walk into misery so that they can have another chance. They never will. I’ve learned the lesson of loosing everything and that day will not return!





































CHAPTER 13
It was now five months since I attended my first client and somehow felt more comfortable talking about it with certain friends. It was such friends that I would rely on for company, feeling free to answer my work phone when they were around.
Oley was one of them. He was a true gangster and his appearance spelt out just that. He had a muscular body, blue eyes, pale white skin and a shaven head. His body was half covered in tattoos, sketches of his life experiences and rebellious views. Oley was involved in Illegal projects on International levels.
After meeting at a local gym many moons ago, where he and his wife were enrolled, Oley and I kept in regular contact and remained good friends in the six years that followed. He was recently single after divorcing his wife the previous year. His wife had a strong and confident character. She had had no option for many other equally beautiful women were always surrounding Oley. For some reason however, she was extremely paranoid about our friendship so much so that it resulted in the downfall of her marriage.
Oley appeared to have a lot of free time on his hands and with time I plucked up the courage to ask about his work. I was curious about what this figure of a man did for a living or at least what he would say that he did. My intuition led me to begin analysing him closer until one day I confronted him. I liked Oily and never but never allowed someone’s class or job, or what they did for that matter effect my judgement of them. My judgement of a person was made in relation to me and me alone. Oley admitted that one of his many lines of work was a “massage parlour”, in other words, a legal Brothel.
Oley had only been back in the country a few months. He had been off on one of his thousands of adventures and knowing that they were for illicit deals did not really want to find out more. I really didn’t want the burden of knowing and being very intelligent, he understood why. What I did understand was that I missed him around, as five months earlier his advice would have made the world of difference.
Oley’s freedom was due to his cleverness. His wheeling and dealings were carefully thought out and planned, constantly referring to his lawyers and the legal implications of everything like a game of chess.
Over the years we had gained so much respect for each other that despite his whole image and way of life, I had allowed him to stay at my place during the time of his split from his wife.

Oley dropped by for a cup of coffee and to advice me that he wasn’t quite sure when, but he was planning on leaving the country for another few months. The brothel popped up during the conversation. He had closed it down due to the split. When Oley was explaining how it was such a profitable business and suddenly began having ideas.
When he left I immediately ran out to visit another friend Paulo. Paulo was no stranger to working girls and had picked up a lot of contacts in the night bars that he frequented visited with his business clients. Paulo called it the “Final Destination”. It was always a successful entertaining venue. He was more than aware that it indeed was a very profitable business.
In my excitement I suggested that we open a similar type of place; a brothel.
“Count me in” he said with a smile” For sure you can count me in”
I was shocked. It was as if he had already planned opening one, as if he had already developed a project. He seemed to know all the necessary information and was quick on the ball with no hesitations, just business ideas.
Pleased to have a partner I wasted no time in calling my lawyer to arrange a meeting and that same afternoon it was held in my apartment. All the legal implications and loopholes were discussed. We were ready to start. The green light was on.
That very afternoon my neighbour, Joao dropped by. As he was making coffee in the kitchen I began telling him about the afternoon’s events
“Paulo and I are going to open a brothel,” I said
Joao’ s smile diminished to sadness as he struggled desperately to hide his expression, he smiled with his mouth closed, as to avoid showing his yellow ruins of teeth that had decayed by his past addiction.
Feeling sorry for him, as he was trapped and dependent, relying on his wife for maintenance and spending money, I naturally felt inclined to ask if he wanted to be a partner too. For some reason I wasn’t expecting him to say yes, rather, to feel included.
“Are you serious? Off course I would love to be in” he said with a tear of happiness filling his wide puffy brown eyes.
“Are you sure Joao? You know you are married right? You understand everything?”
For the first time I saw Joao smile with an open mouth, as he could not contain the emotions. They were too strong to control his expressions. He was excited.
The rest of the afternoon was spent making plan upon plan. Joao was too excited to even worry about the implications. This lucrative project was enough to brush off any worries or any risks. He didn’t have any doubts! What counted was that I was involved, making him feel safe. In some strange way I was happy to have his involvement as I saw myself contributing to his independence. Maybe this would give him a start, financial independence? The justifications were made and accepted. It was all for a good cause.
Joao and I had no other topics of conversation during the days that followed. We were like children at Christmas just waiting for the day to open up our surprise boxes. It was impossible to break down his good mood, his excitement, and above all, his quest for adventure as a means of escaping his boring life. We took advantage of our good moods and quickly directed all our energies into finding an appropriate place to open the new brothel after having decided on the location. It would be in a working class environment with a high population concentration and most importantly, easy access. The country was under severe economic crises and it was the middle classes who were feeling it the most. We had no choice but to eliminate them.
We couldn’t believe it! The first place we saw was perfect. The apartment was in a working class neighbourhood near a social Estate. The whole place was dim with very elderly cheap furniture. The plastic looking white walls were adorned with old-fashioned pictures; the type you find in your great grand mothers collection. Even the TV had one of those aerials that stood five foot behind it’s large box screen. Yet it had two beds and two ripped sofas and that was the most important. As a bonus there was a display cupboard made of dark brown vinyl wood. The whole place smelt of stale mouth balls but it would do the trick .It wasn’t a problem as we were not planning on opening up a VIP club. Joao and I looked at each other and nodded with a smile.
“Yes we shall take this one,” I said to the Estate agent.
Paulo had not helped and by now I was becoming concerned with his absence. He was so preoccupied with his own companies that he had had little or no time to contribute to our project. In between my bitching, I suggested to Joao that we go it alone. As usual, what I said was not questioned. I called Paulo, expressed my dissatisfaction and to my relief he totally understood. Joao and I were sole partners!
Joao decided that the rental contract would be in his name alone and I would be his guarantor. We reached this decision because unlike me, Joao had no salary receipts. As the country’s rental laws considers the guarantor as a real safeguard, requiring salary receipts from them rather than the actual tenant, this proved to be altogether the best arrangement.
The morning when we signed the contract Joao and I grabbed the keys and made our way to the apartment, so excited that anyone would have thought it was our first home.
Joao sat on our new, brown patched-up sofa jotting down a shopping list whilst I read the classified pages. This time I was focusing only on the most explicit adverts. I then turned my attention to the recruitment pages to see what was the most appropriate way of advertising with due care for the legal implications.
Within a short time we were done. The lists were made and both adverts produced; one to recruit, the other to advertise the girls. Then off we went home.
Excited with our new project Joao started making future plans. Fixing his teeth came top of his priorities. He had hidden them under his thick colonel moustache for years. Loosing weight came second.
Joao was very over weight and really needed to do something about it. Then appeared a bomb! He asked me to call Oley to ask where he could buy amphetamines.
“They work so well. It’s only for a few weeks. Just the time necessary to loose all these extra kilos” he stated.
Although I found it highly impossible he would loose those extra twenty kilos in such a short time, Joao was determined to buy these pills. I tried to talk him out of it but knew that if I didn’t call Oley, he would make his own arrangements. Thinking it was better that I knew and that way could help him control it, I agreed and called Oley.
“Ok. Ok. I’ll go past your place in thirty minutes” he said trying to cut the phone conversation short in case it was tapped.
When Oley arrived. Joao practically hid behind me in his presence. I nudged him to speak to Oley. In a quiet voice he popped the question and justified the reason only to hear Oley say
“No, no João. Amphetamines will be too strong for your heart. You are better off with Coke. It has the same desired effect but is not as severe on your heart.” Oley explained convincingly to an intimidated but equally excited Joao
“Ok. If you have a gram on you…” Joao said politely with wide eyes.
Oley handed him the little plastic bag and convinced Joao that he would love the quality. As was walking out, Joao examined his handed over candy like a child rewarded for good behaviour.
Nearly tripping over himself, Joao ran to the kitchen, arriving back in the living room with a clean plate, a knife and a Cheshire cat smile. With saliva dribbling from his mouth he looked at me and asked if I could fetch him a credit card.
Just as he was about to empty some of the contents from the plastic bag onto the plate he noticed the plate was damp. Without hesitating he got up from the chair, headed for my CD rack and returned with one in his hand. Like a true professional he proceeded to place the cocaine on the CD, cut it a little then divided it equally into two long lines with the credit card that I had handed him. Before lifting up the CD and offering it to me, Joao rubbed off the access cocaine from the side of the credit card and placed it on his gum.
I was weak or maybe just curious. I took the CD, placed it onto the table, took a note that Joao had been rolling up, placed it up my nostril, heard the rest of Joao’s instructions and then sniffed. “Owe,” I cried. It felt as if a few frozen peas had entered the top opening of my nose. My septum became numb. My throat was filled with a weird tasting residue. As I looked up to Joao, my eyes filled up with tears from the impact my nose had received. Smiling with delight he asked if it was nice. Before I had a chance to answer, I felt a sensation on my chest. Within minutes I just wanted to walk around. I walked around the room until I became dizzy and hot then screamed
“Let’s get out of here”.
The effect died down within the next half-hour although I remained energetic for most of the day. I’m still evaluating if my sniffing was to be in my favour or against it.
I called the paper first thing the following morning. Ana the Lady was by now extremely friendly and asked for how many days I would like to repeat the advert. Laughing, I replied that this was a different one, and read;
Friendly,
Extremely sexy,
Exotic 27yr old….
Tel...
During the same conversation I gave her instructions for the recruiting advert. We were all done. We had bought a phone, placed the adverts, now all we had to do was wait to get some girls and start working.

























CHAPTER 14
Early the following morning an unfamiliar noise woke me up. It was the brothel phone. The recruitment advert was due out the same day; therefore we still didn’t have a work force. Watching it vibrate, I decided to answer and give out any relevant information necessary.
By the end of the afternoon, Joao and I had gone through exactly the same ritual, at exactly the same place with exactly the same consequences. It was like a dejavu.
Out of the thousands of calls made that day, I had answered only three. Deciding it was now promotion time again I answered the next call and found myself chatting away to the point of telling the potential client that although the brothel was not open yet, I would accept him in my apartment.
Within the hour he arrived. Completely high I opened the door to an average height, man with black hair and a mixture of a shy and yet serious expression.
Seated on the bed, Romano listened to my whole ritual, as the majority of clients did. This time, the only difference was that I explained that the advert he had called was not my own but the brothels.
“I would never use that advert for myself. Mine is completely different; post graduate...”
At that point Romano realised that he had spoken to me in the past, he had called my personal advert. Asking him why he hadn’t come, he replied that he thought I was over weight from the description I gave him. During that first contact I had told him the truth, that I was 57kilos. He thought that was far too heavy for a woman and further, if a prostitute said she was 57, in reality she was probably over sixty!
Asking me why I had initially lied about my weight, he was shocked to find out that I hadn’t lied, I was 57 kilos, but did lie however on answering the brothel phone, stating that I was 50 kilos. He couldn’t believe it! Although I was 57kilos I was very slim as my body weight consisted of muscle. People didn’t think me an ounce over 50!
Would I have ever met Romano if I had not placed that advert for the new house? Would I have ever met Romano if I had not answered the phone drugged up? Firstly, it would be very unlikely that I would place an advert like this if it weren’t for the brothel. Secondly, I would not be saying I was 50kilos simply to paint the perfect picture, for the new girls. If I had told the truth as I always did I would never have met him.

Later that evening I had a knock on my door. It was Joao with a larger than life smile. Walking straight past me and rubbing his hands in the air, he got straight to work on preparing another line. I had never seen him so happy.
That evening I had no appointments and didn’t appear that I would have work as the phone calls were scarce as it was a bank holiday and the majority of men could not escape their wives.
Joao offered me another line and thinking “what the hell” I sniffed it and soon found myself dancing around my room until I came up with a plan just as I felt the knock back, looked at Joao and said
“Let’s go. Let’s go and check out our competition Joao. Let’s get out of here!”
At that moment, Joao was buzzing and would go along with anything, so off we went.
The car trip seemed much shorter than usual as I was exploding with laughter, listening to Joao calling the adverts that we had circled.
“Hello. Yes I’m calling about the advert. Can you give me information please?” he asked the girl on the other side.
I just could not help thinking” hmmm, this guy has practice!” causing poor Joao to hang up with embarrassment as my laughing fits persisted. On the few occasions that I managed to control myself, he jotted down all the details with a serious face and then led the way.
In a short while we arrived, speechless to discover where we were.
“No Diana. It can’t be true” he said stunned.
Out of the few numbers in the area, one had to be in the same street! We looked at each other and simultaneously said “Shit” and burst out laughing.
Turning off the ignition, I looked at Joao and asked what he was waiting for. Joao looked back in shock, as if he had dropped the little plastic bundle that his hand clung to. He stared ahead for a while until it finally dawned on him; we were going to pay the girls a visit!
We arrived at the four stories dark building who’s ground floor consisted of grocery shops, butchers, a post office and a hairdressers. Everything was busy with the loud voices of mothers and children despite it being quite late.
Joao rang the doorbell and was immediately asked up. I followed. We arrived at the second floor of the deteriorated building who’s corridors were painted in a shinny grey. I had no idea what to expect, as the girls I was about to meet were my competition! I wiped my nose clean, waited for Joao to inhale any left over’ s that had escaped his previous sniff and rang the apartment doorbell.
A Brazilian girl opened the door that released a strong smell of oil from the apartment. I can’t recall who was more shocked; me for finding this dull looking girl, her, for wondering what the hell I was doing there or Joao who was still coming to terms with my idea? Is this chick really this bad or has this cocaine affected my eyesight? I thought on seeing her and automatically bursting into a fit of laughter that increased as I tried to contain it. Quickly I thought of past tragic events to calm down.
This anorexic, olive skinned, black hair girl was extremely nervous in my presence. With a no-fuss smile I asked if we could go in to avoid the prowling neighbours. She let us in, but left the door ajar as a gesture of a short visit. Immediately she was joined by another two girls who all seemed to be as confused as she was and for sure, equally as ugly. I had to break the ice quickly and with a smile asked,
“Do you have Lesbians?” avoiding looking at them at all costs to control my further out bursts of laughter.
“Maybe my friend inside attends women,” replied one, looking at a bedroom door.
Suddenly the bedroom door opened and another girl dressed in a grey track suit and tied hair came out. The girl was the only one of the four that had some meet around her bones. They all looked at each other and asked her the question.
” No. I don’t do Lesbians” she replied softly and politely wondering what the hell was really going on and why they were asking her in the first place.
Trying to obtain as much information as possible while trying to keep a serious face, I changed the subject. The girls were increasingly confused with my presence as I began probing to find out anything I could about the business. Being careful not to make obvious what I wanted to know. Without actually saying it either, I managed to convince them that I was from the immigration office. After all, here stood these Brazilian girls who were surely illegal in the country.
While chatting to the girls my eyes wondered around to check out the surroundings. The apartment was equally as run down as the one we had rented. The living room was small and furnished with a black three-piece sofa that also showed the holes of wear and tear. There were a few wooden kitchen chairs scattered around. A few fluffy red pillows lay around the room and a shelving unit stood next to the window to support a CD player that was placed on the bottom shelf to avoid a high fall in the event of the unit collapsing. The whole place was filled with uncomfortable negative vibrations that appeared ready to off balance the pile of dirty plates that could be seen stacked on the sink through the kitchen door. Notwithstanding, I thanked the girls, looked at Joao and said, “Let’s go”.
As we left, Joao, who was by now a shade paler than white asked
“How did you make those girls feel frightened and intimidated and still answer you?”
“Well that was not the intention. But surely I wasn’t going to be the weakest, especially with the bloody huge line you prepared for me” I said with a smile.
As we walked out of the echoing building, the girl’s faces occupied the whole window, watching to see in which direction we were heading. Finally recovering some colour back in his face Joao laughed at what had just happened. As we entered my car the curtain dropped but somehow we knew they were still watching. To let them know I could see them, I turned on the ignition pressed the clutch and accelerator simultaneously, caused a side skid, and looking up to the window, laughed and drove off.

On our way back home Fred called threatening me that he was going to visit another prostitute if I didn’t allow him to make a booking. Afraid that he would be taken advantage of if he did visit different women I accepted. After all, it had been a few months since the initial episode.
To my surprise he was in a better frame of mind. Just before he left I advised him not to make a habit of it but to please contact me when he felt the necessity to visit a girl. This way he would not land on the doorstep of somebody that would allow him to visit every possible day or even twice a day.

Girls finally began to call to inquire about the advert the following day. After witnessing our neighbouring competitors, I wasn’t so interested in what the new girls looked like and thus gave all the ten or so inquirers the address, requesting that they turn up at the apartment the following morning, somehow knowing that only a handful would come. The organising was complete. Now we were ready for business.













CHAPTER 15
It was the day of the Grand opening. Joao knocked on my door at 8:30am, an hour and a half earlier than we had previously planned.
I hadn’t really slept. Those thin white lines had kept me awake until the early hours. Joao had already sniffed some cocaine. His wide, dark eyes popped out at me when I opened the door. Quickly making his way in he continued looking behind at his front door that stood at the opposite side of the corridor. Joao paced up and down my living room floor agitatedly. He couldn’t keep still, only to finally stop when he walked into the kitchen to grab two cups from the cupboard to make coffee.
“Well Joao, do you think you are going to tell me what’s going on”? I asked.
Joao began to speak quickly as if he was trying to make up for all those minutes of silence.
“Did you hear that? Did you hear the screaming this morning? Did you hear the noise she was bloody making? I left her. She found the shopping list for the brothel. She knows everything”
I looked at him confused, as I really didn’t understand what he was trying to tell me. In any normal circumstances it would be a matter of life or death. I had no idea what to say apart from “Oh my God”. For the first time in a nervous situation I laughed! I couldn’t believe it. “Why is this happening”? I thought to myself. Trying to overcome the situation we sniffed another line before heading off to the new brothel.
On the way there, Joao continued to show no sign of remorse but to convince him to look on the bright side anyway I pointed out that he at least had temporary accommodation, the Brothel. It could have been worse. The seriousness of the situation dawned on me at this point, this was no longer his pocket money but his lively hood.
Reaching the brothel I decided that I would attend the first already made booking and consecutive ones until the girls turned up, if they did turn up. Opening the door to a very thin man who appeared to be in his late twenties, I asked him in.
The pale looking guy who stood before me in the corridor appeared to have some kind of cold infection or else, was also on coke, which due to his very jumpy and sharp behaviour, appeared to be the most likely of the two. He remained speechless, making me feel all the more uncomfortable. Suddenly he came out of his trance.
“You are beautiful... I was not expecting to find this,” he said.
Suddenly, we were interrupted by a noise in the background and he looked across the corridor nervously.
I explained that it was Joao in the living room wishing I hadn’t as it made the situation worse! He took a few steps back, said he didn’t feel comfortable and left.
I had a strange feeling about this guy, “Nuno” as he called himself. He made me wonder if he used the noise as an excuse to leave. Maybe he was being polite and he didn’t like me…it could happen eventually I thought out loud
Although late, the girls began to appear. Delighted I made no mention of their bad punctuality. One girl Jessica was half cast and appeared to be wearing a wig as her light brown thick hair cascaded half way down her back. Jessica spoke her streetwise vocabulary with a common accent and was dressed every bit as a hooker. She wore high stilettos and a long polyester raincoat to cover her work costume. Jessica was the mother of a young child. By day she worked as a prostitute, and by night she danced as a stripper. Jessica took off her coat to reveal a tight red bra that hugged her breasts so tight they nearly exploded. Beneath she wore a pair of frilly red satin knickers. Covering her lingerie was a white see through white cloak that had a pink piece of fluff stuck to the backside. Although highly exaggerated for my liking, Jessica’s costume allowed her beautiful sculptured and toned body to be admired whilst she walked the house.
Shortly after Jessica arrived another lady Maria. She had long black frizzy hair and was extremely scruffy looking, somehow reminding me of the street hookers that stood on the coast road stretch. She was extremely over-weight and instead of appearing the thirty years she declared, was probably no less than forty years old. Maria discussed her history in the business but avoided discussing her private life at all costs. When she told me it was her tenth year in the business I immediately wondered how she had survived so long with her appearance. However to my surprise it was Maria who was to receive the house’s first client as one of her loyal clients had called her that morning to make a booking.
Later on in the afternoon appeared a third girl, Cindy a young Brazilian of average height and build. Cindy was twenty-two years old with long brown hair and in her simple yet elegant dress, looked the most normal of the three. She didn’t have a Great figure but had successfully disguised the puppy fat around her waist. Cindy never stayed longer than fifteen days at each brothel, choosing instead to alternate between various and the numerous in the country. She had just arrived from the North on a three-hour trip. She had decided to leave after only two days due to a shortage of clients. I told her that maybe she should consider staying put for a while. Staying put and maybe gaining a few regulars but somehow she couldn’t see the validity of what I was saying.
With all the girls sitting in the living room and getting to know each other, Joao and I made a quick escape into one of the bedrooms to prepare another line.
“That Jessica has a fine ass,” He said
While Joao sat there dribbling I realised the time and thought it best to head home and attend to my own clients. I sniffed the line and headed into the living room to say goodbye to the girls, only to be interrupted by Jessica who by now was feeling at home by spreading herself on one of the sofas. Jessica looked at me and asked if I already knew that the apartment had previously been a brothel. It was “burnt” as she called it. Out of all the places in such a vast area we had to choose to rent an ex whore house that for that matter had been labelled as “burnt”, the slang for destroyed. Fantastic, I thought to myself but I was in a hurry, looked at the girls and said good-bye.
As I was leaving the apartment, my paranoia got the better of me after the Jessica’s conversation, or so I thought. Was it paranoia, or was it the coke? Were all eyes on me as I left the building and entered my car, or was it my imagination?

Upon my return that evening Joao happily informed me that although a few clients had refused to stay, the overall numbers were good. This was to be expected, as men want to see what’s around and especially the novelties.
By now I was alone with Joao. All the girls had gone home with fifty percent of what they made, which between them equalled, three hundred Euros for five hours work. As I received another booking, we looked at each, then both looking at the little plastic bag that was lying on the table, headed towards it. Joao sat down and started preparing another line.
“Come on Joao” I said “Come on, I don’t have all the time in the world”. Joao looked at me with a smile on his face and replied
“Easy! One of the pleasures of sniffing this stuff is actually preparing it”!
Thank God. It was finally done. I took one large sniff wiping away the complete line in a swipe just as the doorbell rang. It was my client. I warned Joao to be careful with the noise so that the client would think I was alone and then made my way to open it.
I opened the door to find Nuno! Nothing had changed since our last brief encounter. He seemed as strange as ever! And all along I was thinking that this guy had tried to find a polite reason to leave on his first visit.
As I led Nuno into the bedroom his questions were endless and so fast that they were tripping over each other. I was electric and quickly regurgitated the answers. He seemed nervous with my over confident attitude. He told me that he remembered me from a nightclub in the city where he had worked for a few years
“Fantastic. You remember me! So now you must want to fuck me?” I answered sarcastically and bluntly.
I really wasn’t in the mood to hear stories but rather get it over and done with. After all, this is how normal prostitutes who worked in brothels acted and I was going to take full advantage of it. Too much talk not enough work I thought to myself! Continuously trying to place the emphasis on sex. After all, that’s what he was there for wasn’t it? Taking the necessary steps, I bent over on the chair that stood next to the bed. Nuno sat on the side of the bed and stared at my bum and the way it was trying to get his full attention, teasingly moving from side to side. He was not reacting but rather just continued staring at it as if no other object was in that room. I walked over to him and placed his hands on my breasts. It was fruitless; he just wasn’t getting an erection. We tried moving around in different positions but still it proved hopeless. Standing in front of him I began playing with my clitoris. Damn! It was no good. No matter whatever I did, I did in vain. He just couldn’t manage to get one. He apologised effortlessly with boundless excesses, one of which was that he had never been paid for sex, the other, he couldn’t do anything with a condom.
We finally gave up and as he continued murmuring my head went directly into analysis’s mode. The effects of the coke were wearing off. I wanted him to leave so that I could do another line. Something was wrong and I just could not put my finger on it. Then suddenly he came out with a clue
“What is a girl like you doing working herself? You should just be in charge. Nothing else. Allot of money can be made you know” he stated
He looked eagerly for my reaction as he continued fishing, knowing full well that I was one of the brothel partners.
Slowly he admitted that he had houses of his own. He is not a good player I thought to myself as I allowed him to feel in control of the conversation as he went on to warn me of the Mafia.
“There’s this one guy, Oley. He is fucking crazy. He will make you disappear or at the least fuck you up be careful,” he warned not having the slightest idea of my friendship with Oley.
“Oley is so fucking mad that you can’t even begin to imagine” he went on.
At this point I was really sick of the conversation and especially of his attitude and asked Nuno if there was anything else that he would like to warn me about, before I made my way back home.
As he left I drew my conclusions, he had initially come to check out the competition in his area. Ok, now why did he come back a second time, especially to be subjected to humiliation?

As I expected Nuno called again the following day. Maybe he just wanted to keep an eye on the situation? I thought to myself. My curiosity was just too much. I wanted to investigate and so on a few occasions I accepted his invitation for coffee. Every time I did it was always the same secret interrogation causing him to become increasingly aggressive with my more than apparent sarcastic attitude. This one time he plucked up the courage and said
“You know, the girls at my mates brothel received a visit the other week”
“Is it still open, or did so called Oley close it?” I asked with a smile
“What the fuck do you mean, is it still open?”
Nuno by now when infuriated with my remarks. I knew there was no point lying as the girls had seen me through the window so I admitted that it was me looking for lesbians and saying how bad it was, as they couldn’t cater for my needs.
Nuno stormed up from his chair, looked at me and advised me to watch my step with an overwhelmingly furious tone of voice.
Nuno appeared to want me to ask, even beg for protection. My resistance to do so infuriated him immensely. His incapability of dominating the situation frenzied him thus resulting in increasingly aggressive behaviour.

The same afternoon on arrival at the brothel I had a call.
“ I know who you are and I’m going to put a bullet through your head you high-class whore,” said an angry male voice
The last line of coke was still kicking my brain.
“You are”? I laughed
“You wanna see. Come down to your fucking car and see, bitch”
The voice was exploding with rage at my attitude and then hung up.
I smiled at Joao and the girls who had partially heard the screaming mans voice as it echoed the living room. They looked worried, shocked, and speechless. One girl giggled hysterically with nerves. The others remained there, stunned.
“ Don’t worry it was just a threat. This is a whore house remember? Its normal” I said, making my way towards the door.
I walked down to my car not realising what I would actually find or the danger I faced for that matter. Looking all around and as far as the big city, which sat in the very far distance, I murmured I know you are out there somewhere. Come out you bastard. Suddenly my phone rang again.
“I can see you. You are very pretty aren’t you, bitch?” and hung up.
Unbelievably as it sounds I was emotionless. The coke numbed me and did not permit me to see the seriousness of the situation I was faced with.
After that saga Joao was apprehensive about staying at the apartment alone. He wasn’t the bravest of guys, but there again, it was an intelligent decision. Not even the coke could disguise his fear. To relieve his anguish I told him that he could stay over at my place until we reached the bottom of this.

The calls continued over the next few days, reaching a point that I brushed them off as cowardly threats and as planned I dedicated more time to attending my own clients at home. This one afternoon I was home attending to a regular, Doctor James when I received a call from Joao. I felt an urge to answer it as my gut feeling told me something was wrong. I did and it was!
“Diana you must come quickly. They shot the door”! Joao said with a terrified voice.
“What the hell. You are joking”? I exclaimed
“No I am not joking Diana. They shot the door” he insisted as his fear travelled the phone line.
“Ok! Just call the police I’m on my way” I replied still not digesting the situation.
“No I can’t” he insisted in a frustrated, screeched whisper.
My client was sitting up on the bed listening to the whole conversation.
“Please, I really must leave. Here, have your money. Let’s do it another time”
Doctor James wasn’t given time to ask questions, I was already dressed and ready at the door to leave.
As I drove off I called Oley for advice. Within a few minutes he called me back. I was to pick up a guy, Bruno on the way to accompany me to the house.
We arrived to find a bullet hole in the front door and a piece of paint missing off the wall surrounding it. Joao was in a corner of the living room. He didn’t move. The residues of the coke exploded from each pore of his body. The sweat simply poured down his face. His shirt appeared to have come out of the washing machine and half program through the tumble dryer. Not even the effects of the coke could counteract his fear. For some reason I tried to calm him down. Only to ask myself why he was sitting there lifeless.
“Joao, why on earth didn’t you call the police”? I asked.
Joao said nothing.
He looked up at me with a strange stare and after a few moments said that they had already been, as the neighbours had called them, adding that he was in deep trouble.
Joao asked me to sit down and began explaining how he had been involved in a company fraud, which involved a few of his company colleagues and petrol station employees. Between them they had devised a simple plan to cash in company money with fuel consumption Credit Cards. They were all caught and faced sentences. Joao had not appeared in court and therefore a warrant for his arrest had been issued.
Everything started to come together and reversed the whole picture. Joao had a reason for being unemployed and it wasn’t his wife trying to make him dependent. It was a completely different scenario to what we had seen. Despite what he had said about his wife, she worked a daily twelve-hour shift to support them both.

That night Joao stayed at my apartment once more. At around 12:30 I received a call from my own personal advert. As a rule, since Rozen had left I would never receive new clients at that hour and especially not a couple, but as Joao was there, I did. I sniffed another line to keep me going and picked up a gun that I had previously bought due to the threats. I didn’t know how to use it but it was there for self-protection. If there was a time I needed it most, it was now. I placed the gun in my back pocket and made my way to the door.
I opened the door to two friendly men. Both were in their late twenties and seemed very educated. One of them took a glimpse of the gun but made no remark. “Strange” I thought to myself while making my way to the bedroom. They were extremely chatty and confident but somehow I felt they were not at ease, but there again many hadn’t been on their first visit.
Something caught my attention. Although they were very friendly they were more interested in talking than anything else. One of them seemed fascinated with the portrait of my dog that was tattooed on my back and went on to tell me that he was a partner in a kennel grooming business. He asked where my dog was, only to show me the scar on his leg when I replied that she was in the kitchen. It seemed to be a way of telling me he wasn’t scared. The plot thickened.
I started talking to the other guy to involve him in the conversation. For some strange reason I asked if they were a couple. Before they could answer I felt entitled to tell them of my past relationship with a woman. This way they would feel more at ease in admitting the situation. One replied they weren’t only to be interrupted by the other saying they were.
I had sex with both men individually. As I had sex, the other would be nervous and steer clear. They didn’t appear to be a couple. Their behaviour was highly odd. One at a time? They are not taking advantage of the situation, a threesome or something? They were not telling the truth, I thought.
When they left, I joined Joao in the living room. He was extremely fidgety and nervous and appeared to be writing messages on his phone, which I assumed were to his wife. He was shaking his feet so hard where he sat that I could almost feel a breeze. I told him that I thought the guys were undercover policemen. Joao told me that he had looked out of the window while we were all in the bedroom and seen a third person in their Mercedes station wagon that they came out of. Something just didn’t make sense and I couldn’t put my mind to it! Was it because of the shooting? I left Joao there and went to bed.

Joao headed off to the brothel the following morning. Within an hour he called me saying that the police had knocked at the door again. Trying to explain to him that it was a normal process, it was too late. He had jumped out of the ground floor window!
Before I had a chance to say anything else Joao apologised again and hung up. The house was abandoned.
To this day I wonder how involved his wife was on that day. When I had entered the living room after what I believed were undercover police clients, Joao was writing numerous text messages. Joao only ever wrote text messages to me. Further, he had a very weak character and after the previous day events, he may have wanted to find an excuse to get out of the whole thing, regretting being involved. That he did, closing a chapter of our partnership.





















CHAPTER 16
Joao had abandoned the brothel leaving me with a brand new chapter of problems for me to deal with. I was beginning to wonder why all this was happening to me and why I was caught up in everyone’s problems and burdens when I had more than my fair share of them.
Everything came crashing back on me. How could someone who was avoiding the police ever have suggested placing a rental contract that was destined to be a brothel in his name? I mean someone who jumps out of the window because the police are knocking on the door! How strange! How bizarre! I kept thinking over and over. For some reason I found myself analysing, trying to convince myself that I had never done anything wrong, yes I had a whore house but I didn’t force women to work. So what was happening? Why was I paying for this? Was my theory correct that what goes around comes around?
On my way to the brothel I called Jessica to ask if she could meet me there that afternoon.
I must have spent a good half an hour staring at those morbid walls waiting for Jessica to arrive. When she did she told me the story of the previous day. She also had jumped out of the window when the gunshots were fired, although on that occasion, Joao hadn’t.
I called Oley to tell him what had happened and ask for help, eventually convincing him to arrange a meeting with the owners of the local whorehouses. It had to work, as he was an influential figure.
That same evening I remained at the house with Jessica. A client of mine Antonio called to make a booking. I told him that if he wanted to see me he should come to the Brothel, as I had no way of leaving for the next few hours. Antonio was surprised to hear about the brothel and excitedly demanded the address amidst all the questions “How many girls are there? What do they look like? Are they horny? And what are their Measurements? What do they do?”
His curiosity was endless. Then he popped the question. He told me that he had another two friends.
“Let’s have an orgy, a party. Let’s have one,” he demanded.
I asked him to wait while I asked Jessica. She was reluctant at first put as soon as I told her the amount of cash involved quickly nodded her head.
I made my way to the bathroom and prepared myself a line, and a fat long one at that, before they arrived. I started thinking about the conversation and how Antonio’s phone manner had shocked me. He looked every bit the responsible forty-year-old type. He was the definition of a Saint to look at. Antonio was a national show jumping champion and trainer. Who would say that this Saint on horseback was to request what he had? But he did and he was not joking. They arrived just as I was finishing in the bathroom.
Jessica was looking very much the professional as usual. I was sure she was going to be a hit with the men. She made her way to the door and quickly shuffled her hair around her face before opening it. As she opened the door the men began to walk through. One by one they looked her up and down and began to whistle. Standing at a distance I began to catch the men’s eyes from the other end of the corridor. Antonio walked over to greet me. His friends followed behind him. He stepped aside and introduced me to the second guy, Peter. Before Peter greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, he stared into my eyes for a brief moment, stood back then examined me from head to toe repeatedly until he caught my breasts. At that point he regained eye contact and commented that he was very pleased with what he was seeing. I smiled and looked behind him to greet the last man Roger. Roger was more reserved, not as straightforward and extremely shy. Above all he appeared to be uncomfortable with the situation that the others had put him in.
Everything happened so fast. It was as if life was going to end in ten minutes. There was no time for chitchat with the boys. They just wanted business. Jessica came and stood by my side. I looked at her, “Lets go,” I said as we walked into the main bedroom with the guys following.
They began joking around and groping us. We just laughed.
“Take it easy” I said. “You are going to rip my top”
I began to undress while Antonio began lifting Jessica in the air. Peter and Roger were looking at me with baited breath; like two dogs waiting to be thrown a biscuit. They had already seen what Jessica had to offer. She had answered the door almost naked. Now they wanted to see me. Just as I was taking my top off Peter began to lick my leg. Roger remained silent, not knowing what to do. Jessica was already on top of Antonio, slowly going up and down. Antonio was completely different to the Antonio I had known as a client. He was vulgar and shouting at Jessica as if she was a piece of meat.
Peter had reached my vagina. He was licking me like a cat slurps milk from a bowl. I sat down on the chair to be more comfortable and slowly made way for Peter to place his whole head between my legs. Whilst I sat there and holding onto Peter’s head I heard Antonio shouting in English so that Jessica wouldn’t understand
“This girl is shit. Let’s change over”
We ignored him. Peter got up from his knees and was just about to sit on me when Jessica and Antonio were making their way over. I began to touch Jessica’s breast. Antonio was now excited. Peter wasn’t! He wanted me and me alone. He grabbed my hand and we ran into the living room laughing before Peter locked the door behind us.
The others kept knocking but we blocked them out by turning the music up. Apart from the music all we could hear at that moment were our breaths. All we could feel was the tenderness of each other’s hands. Peter had rejected the orgy to treat me like a real woman. He continued caressing me, talking to me and saying, “you are beautiful” in my ear. He picked me up and wrapped my legs around his waist. Slowly he carried me to the wall and pressed me against it gently as he forced his penis through my vagina. Then he carried me to the sofa and lay me down to lie on top of me. I accompanied the slow rhythm of the music and his movements. Suddenly I felt as if he couldn’t contain himself much longer, that he was going to come. He did. Our bodies had been in tune.
After a few moments he regained consciousness and we reheard the voices on the other side of the locked door while we lay there staring into each other’s eyes. Peter had not only entered my body, he had had touched my soul.
In our own time, we eventually opened the door to the others. Poor Roger had hardly been involved. He wasn’t comfortable. He had made few moves and therefore had been left in the blurred background. Antonio wasn’t happy. He didn’t like Jessica for some reason although he did climax. I thought that Jessica’s body belonged to many men’s dreams but apparently not. Antonio did not want to pay his part. Peter took me aside whilst the rest were discussing it and handed me over Antonio’s part from his own money, saying that he wouldn’t allow Antonio to screw us.
Within minutes Antonio wanted to get the hell out of there. He knew that there had been some kind of connection between Peter and me. Peter and Roger were big industrial owners who lived far up in the North and hardly visited the city. It was as if Antonio did not want Peter and I to exchange any details. We all said goodbye to each other, all apart from Antonio and Jessica. Then they left.

On my way home that evening I was thinking of Peter. Thinking of how a man who had the opportunity to party had turned it down. He never even touched Jessica. He didn’t pay a blind bit of notice of her sexual performance. While I carried on thinking and analysing Antonio called. He was in a toilet at a bar. He asked me if he could come round and meet me at my place. I asked him if he was alone or still accompanied. He told me that he was still with his friends but wanted to leave them at the bar. Somewhere during the conversation I realised that he had been jealous of what had taken place between Pedro and me. Due to his tipsiness he slipped up in the conversation. Peter had wanted to be with me, Antonio was jealous and that’s why he wanted to leave them there. I could see what it was all about and how dirty it was. “No Antonio sorry. I’m tired and need to sleep,” I told him.
From the moment I had put the phone down on Antonio I knew that I had lost a regular client. I was not sure, just highly intuitive as usual. Maybe it was because Antonio had secretly liked me and was hurt at the way Peter and I had acted? Maybe he had told Peter that he had lost my number so that we would not get in touch. Therefore in order to make it appear true, he would have to stop contacting me himself. After all, this entire world was not that big after all. More miraculous events had taken place. He never knew if Peter and I would one day accidentally bump into each other.
After speaking to Oley the threats had cooled down for a few days only to restart a few days later. I called Oley angrily. He said that he would warn them and arrange a meeting to finally put an end to the game. There was however a problem though. Oley was not going to be around for the next couple of days, before departing on his long trip.
“That’s useless” I replied. Forget it. “I’ll deal with the so called Mafia myself”
Suddenly Nuno came to my head. I could not stop thinking that he loomed large in the feature of this small picture. I invented a strategy and called him. I called him and arranged a meeting for that same afternoon. He named the place. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He wanted to be in control so I let him feel that way.
We met that same evening at a café close to his brothel. Once again he acted in a strange paranoid way. I didn’t fight; it would defeat my purpose so I allowed him to feel dominant. Most of all I had to make him believe that he was in charge of the situation. I began by asking him if he was interested in doing business.
“Business with you”? He laughed.
“Yes. You have more experience than me”
Nuno was no walkover or naïve for that matter. He wanted to uncover the reasons for my change of attitude towards him. It was looking all too suspicious. The one who never compromises suddenly changing her tune? It just didn’t go down well. Also, partnerships needed a certain degree of trust. How could this be, especially with our history?
“You were involved in the threats weren’t you”? I said uncontrollably.
“You are really one mad mother fucker,” he said shaking his head and wearing a frown.
But I knew I was right. Oley had that day confirmed his involvement. Oley had also told me that Nuno had fallen for me the first night he saw me in the night-club, but he continuously shook off any accusations. He denied that he had personally spoken to Oley. He was lying. We began arguing under the strain but I had to keep my cool and find a way of getting him back into his domineering ways.
“You are not going to convince me otherwise Nuno but why don’t we forgive and forget? I mean, lets put all waters under the bridge. What do you think?” I asked with a meaningful voice.
“I think you’re mad that’s what I think. I think you are completely crazy” and he smiled.
“Yes but I just want to put an end to this ridiculous rivalry. You know, I’m sure you acted this way because you don’t really know me”. I said with a frown.
What was to follow was something that I had never done before in my life. I had never slept with anyone for gain, and if it was for gain, except for earned financial gain.

I invited Nuno back to my place. He was more relaxed. We talked, laughed and then slept together. He was a completely different person in that bed. He transmitted strong feelings to me, trying to make love. For the first time I was sleeping with someone out of interest to have those who were threatening me eating out of my hand. And that was exactly what I was doing with this Mafia figure that deep down also had the human basics. He needed love and affection.
The next day Nuno was a totally different person. I had delved into his soul and dismounted his façade. He became aware from our conversation the night before that I was short of girls because of the shooting and offered to go and place adverts in the paper to find me more girls. The mission was completed. For Nuno it was the start of something. The start of what he had tried to gain through authority and domination. He was starting to get to know me and loved what he was finding. I on the other hand was about to erase Nuno’s existence in my mind with the news that was to follow the following day.
Early next morning I received a call from the estate agents. The man told me that the owner of the house had called to inform him of the bad news. They had arrived back from holidays to find their homes vandalised with graffiti. The graffiti read, “Whore house on ground floor”. The graffiti had taken place before my meeting with Nuno, but still it was the tip of the iceberg for me.” That’s it. Enough of all this shit” I thought to myself and quickly called Joao’s wife who had been trying to contact me regarding the removal of Joao’s name from the contract. I advised her that I was going to pack it all in thus removing all responsibilities from myself as she had asked. This way she would take everything over and tie all the necessary loose ends. Joao in the meantime had driven to France whilst his wife cleaned up his legal confusion. We were never to speak again.
The whole brothel adventure had come to an end about five weeks after it had started. I ended my involvement only when I felt that I had conquered. To me I did. I didn’t accept threats no matter how harsh. I came out the winner even though I gave up the business. The looser was the guy, Nuno. Just when he was starting to get to know me, he lost me with an abrupt phone call. In the call I told him how low it was to get the landlords involved. It was degrading and disgusting to involve third parties. I never wanted to see him again. Nuno kept saying, “Please no. Don’t do this. Don’t end this now”. The big bad boy was made of glass. I repeated, “Keep out of my face. I will never speak to you again”.
CHAPTER 17
I was actually to see Nuno one last time. It was a brief encounter and only a few words were said. Once again the “want to be hero” conveniently turned up during a tricky situation.
Closing the brothel had its consequences. Just the fact that I had to go back and empty it out myself was a mission itself! So on this one morning shortly after I had decided to close it down, I plucked up the courage and headed there.
It had only been a few days since I left it but somehow it felt like years. The place smelt disgusting. The rubbish was left in the hall, and an egg mayonnaise salad that had been fermenting was making it unbearable. Beginning with the living room, one by one I combed through the rooms, seeing if anything important had been left behind.
As I entered the kitchen I saw a pile of dishes that had been left on the side of the sink. These greasy art pieces had a thick film of mould sticking to them from a previous dish of chilli con carne. I picked out a large plastic bag from one of the drawers and one by one, with the tips of my fingers, placed the dishes and whatever else was laying around into it.
Then I investigated the bedrooms. On the side of the bed I found Jessica’s leftovers. She had not disposed of any of her used condoms and by now had built up a very impressive collection, which sat in an empty water glass. I couldn’t believe it. She could have made extra pocket money if she had sold them to the sperm bank. Anyway, soon the tour of this lifeless house reached an end. I closed the bullet scared door behind me never to return.
As I left I didn’t look around. There were neighbours on doorsteps talking and whispering in low voices, trying to let me know that the conversation was about me, but I gave them no satisfaction, paid no attention and simply walked on down the steps out of the building.
I was relieved to see the back of it. It looked like something out of the Bronx. The building was extremely dark and depressing; the ground floor walls were covered in graffiti and the sound of children screaming echoed through the corridors.
When I eventually stepped into my car I took a deep breath and looked all around. I spotted eight neighbours in six different windows, looking down at the car from above. After all, they couldn’t miss the moment. The girl who was departing had once brought so much excitement to their lives, given them so much to talk about. Gazing through the front screen I turned on the engine to receive a flash back of the experience, which the building had provided. I took a deep breath, thanked God it was over, then looked up to the audience and gave a smile. It was to be the last time I set eyes on the building. The curtains had closed.
Still in the vicinity but about three kilometres up the road I received an important phone call. It was the bank to advice me once again of my never-ending misery. A cheque had been deposited into my account and for a large sum at that. I found myself arguing a losing battle with the banker on the other side. It was proving hard to convince him to pay the damn thing.
Before I knew it, a policeman was driving beside me.” Oh, shit” I screamed.
“I beg your pardon?” Asked the banker.
“I’m sorry. I’m ever so sorry. Can I call you back? I asked and hung up.
That was the last thing I needed and just felt cursed. “Fine me, fine me,” I thought to myself as I followed the policeman down to a safe spot to park.” Fine me but no. Don’t send my cheque back,” I thought trying to send the banker a telepathic message.
The policeman saddled off the ridiculous looking scooter he was on. Actually it was more like a battery-operated bicycle; I mean an excuse of a scooter. I had to see the funny side of it. I needed strength to get my Spirits up and act positively towards the officer who had now made his way to the car window.
I immediately pressed the button to wind the window down, although it had an electrical problem and was very temperamental; sometimes it would come down, and sometimes it wouldn’t. Other times it just appeared to take the Mick and come down so slowly that its declination could hardly be noticed. This time it decided to do the latter. The police officer stood there looking at me through the window. I smiled. He was becoming restless and annoyed, tilting his head, crossing his arms and stamping his foot down in order to demonstrate it. I continued looking at him, and with a smile shrugged my shoulders. He was not finding it funny.
“Excuse me officer. I’m getting out”. The officer stepped back and I stepped out. It was an extremely hot day and I had a tight low cut top on, jeans and high heels.
“Do you know why I stopped you?” he asked examining me from head to toe.
“Yes officer. I was on the phone”.
“Just on the phone? Did you forget that it is obligatory to wear a seat belt?”
“Yes, officer. I mean no officer. I was just feeling a little sick”
“Ah, you mean a little sick of your phone conversation”
“Actually yes”
The officer didn’t find it the least amusing and increasingly became frustrated with my whole attitude. He lifted his hat and scratched his head whilst thinking about his next step, that being checking my documents.
“Do you know that you are not displaying an inspection certificate?”
“No. Why do I need one”? I asked innocently adding to his fury.
“How long have you had a license? You don’t seem to deserve one. Let me see your documents”
“Sorry officer I don’t have them with me”
“Do you know this is a illegal offence? Do you have anything, a name even”?
Just before I could find another stupid excuse my work phone rang.” Shit I thought to myself”
” Answer it if you so wish” said the officer as he made his way back to his scooter to prepare the fine, or in this case, the fines.
Suddenly I had an idea. “Hmm” I picked up the phone and made my way towards the scooter.
“Hi can I help you? I’m Diana” I said with a sexy voice “Oh, yes, you are calling about the advert. Yes it’s with me. No, it’s normal. Sorry I don’t do anal. Oh I’m sorry. I’m fully booked today. Can you call back tomorrow”?
The policeman immediately stopped what he was doing. His hat seemed to raise a couple of inches from his head. For a few seconds he pretended it fell on deaf ears but eventually could not contain himself
“So Diana what do you do for a living”?
“I have a shop officer”
“You have a shop”?
“Yes officer” I replied with a huge smile.
“What kind of shop”?
“Oh, it’s not exactly a shop”
His ears peaked up a little thinking that I was about to tell him what he wanted to hear.
“So what is it then”?
“It’s a restaurant officer”
The officer put me in “check” and rolled his eyes back to the fine. Suddenly he could not contain himself anymore. He was “check mated”
“Is that all you do Diana,” he finally asked.
“No officer it isn’t”. I do other things on the side”
“Ah you do”?
“Yes officer. I have a number of male friends that I sort out at home. You know male friends that I see. You should visit one day. I’ll give you a discount, promise”!
The policeman didn’t know what to do or say regarding the invitation and would have hidden under his scooter given the opportunity. The more embarrassed he became in the silence, the more he fought to avoid looking at my breasts. It was as if they were magnets, which pulled his eyes to them.
During the policeman’s thinking interval out of all the people in the World who would I have to see? Nuno! He just had to appear to haunt me. He could see I was in trouble and seemed to thrive on it. “Just what he wanted” I thought to myself as I turned away.
Nuno asked if everything was all right, if I needed help. Being the usual sarcastic character that I had always been with him, I turned away and told him to mind his own business. He drove off.
Staring at the officer I thought, how dare that prick come and screw up my plans again. He just seemed to love negativity. The officer continued looking down on the fine and said shyly.
“Ok. I’m going to give you a fine for the mobile offence. I can’t avoid it. My colleague saw you talking too. Now, how do you want to resolve the rest? It’s a lot of offences”
“It’s up to you officer. What do you think is the best way to resolve it? I said with a smile.
“I think we should meet”
“Where, my house, officer?
“No. Definitely not! Give me your number. I’ll call you tomorrow.
He stopped for a moment as if to consider the implications and consequences of it all.
“Ok. I will call you tomorrow. I know an inspection centre. I’ll take you there. And drive carefully”
I returned to my car and drove off only to realise half way up the street that I my seat belt wasn’t fastened. What the hell? Guess he is in a world of his own to notice. I thought to myself.

On my way back I received a call from Tim. I couldn’t believe it! The last time he called I had warned him to stop contacting me. I had spotted Tim following me around town a few times and the whole thing was getting extremely out of hand.

First thing the following morning I woke up with a call from the policeman.
“Hi Diana, meet me around four so we can take your car for inspection. I’ll be by the petrol station on the same bike as yesterday, you know that petrol station up the road from where you were stopped”
“Sorry officer. I forgot to tell you, I have a meeting this afternoon”
He went silent for a moment as he felt his authority violated.
“Ok. Tomorrow. Same place same time and no excuses”!

The following day I turned up at the petrol station up the road from where we stood. The officer was already there.
“Hello Diana! Follow me. I’m going to sign out and hand the bike back. Follow me and wait outside the police station. Then see which car I’m going to get into and continue following.
I followed him as he had asked and waited a few minutes before following the white car he had entered. I followed him for what appeared to be miles and finally after the bends and turns that were starting to make me feel nauseous, arrived at what appeared to be a mechanical garage. I was relieved but not really scared as I had already advised a trusted friend about the situation.
The officer got out of his car and once again made his way to my car window. He had changed out of his uniform back at the police station giving him a more approachable appearance. This time like the window worked properly causing him to comment as if I had been playing with him the previous day.
“So you managed to fix the window then?”
“Actually no! It has a mind of its own. You know. It has its days”
As I smiled the officer smiled back
“Ok, I’m going to leave you here to get the car inspected. I’m off for a haircut. Let’s meet again in forty-five minutes for a coffee. Let’s meet at the same petrol station, ok?”
“Sounds great officer. I’ll see you there then”
It appeared that the whole neighbourhood had decided to take their cars for inspection on that day. I peeped my head through the office door to find the room heaving with sad looking people waiting for their cars. The most unfortunate like me, were waiting for their cars to go in! It really wasn’t a place I wanted to be on that day and at the back of my mind was the shadow of how many clients I was loosing to be there.
Within a few minutes, deciding that the queue was just not moving, I thought to myself “screw it. I really can’t be hassled with all this”. And off I went.
Its funny, half way down the highway I remembered the meeting with the officer and took the next exit to make my way back.
I arrived at the petrol station five minutes ahead of schedule to find the officer already waiting and feeling as confident as ever with his new haircut. Truthfully speaking I don’t think I would ever have noticed if he hadn’t reminded me.
“Hi Diana, follow me” he asked.
Why did I even ask? It appeared to be his favourite line.
I must have counted at least a hundred different coffee shops on the way and couldn’t for the life of me understand why none of them pleased him. “Where the hell is this guy taking me?” I began to wonder when it really started puzzling me.
By now I was following him down an empty stretch of land that seemed to pop up from nowhere. The land led to an opening of a small Woody area that stood high above the smog of the City that lay in full view below. Nobody was around. It was deserted; only our two cars and the trees could be seen.
The officer got out of the car. I got out of mine and made my way towards him. By the time I reached him he was leaning cross-armed against the bonnet of his car.
“Lovely site officer. Do you often come here?”
“Sometimes” he replied in a husky voice looking down at the view below.
“Is there much to do here?”
“It depends on what you like doing I suppose”
After a while I worked out where he had taken me. If I was not mistaken we were in the same area that the street hookers took their clients. I had to be clever and fast.
I started discretely delving into his personal life, only to find out that he was married. Suddenly a car appeared in the distance and a plan, a strategy immediately entered my head.
“God! Don’t tell me they are following me here”
“Who are following you? Why?”
“Oh nothing. Forget it”
“Come on, say it. Who?”
“Nothing! Honestly…just a paranoid!”
“Diana, say it anyway”
The officer placed his arm around my shoulder and then moved it down to my waste. Within a few moments he was holding me tightly against him using my apparent discomfort as an excuse to make the first move. I had seen it all before; men taking advantage of what was or what they believed to be my sad, vulnerable moments. They thrived on them; try to use them to their advantage.
Before plucking up the courage to touch my breast Alex asked me once again.
“Come on Darling, don’t be afraid. You can tell me. Nobody can harm you here”
“You are right. They never do. Don’t know why I’m even worried?”
“But worried about what?” he said as he squeezed my left breast and placed his face on the back of my neck
“It’s the damned boys from the secret Police. They just have this thing for following me. Just crossed my mind it could be them. But it’s not, don’t worry. I have a very vivid imagination, you know, it gets the best of me sometimes”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Deadly…”
His tone of voice abruptly changed along with his James Dean attitude. Suddenly he lifted his face from my neck and took his hand of my breast.
“Is that the time? Shit, didn’t realise it was so late”
My guardian Angel had come to the rescue at the last minute. I managed to avoid the same episode that had happened with Nuno. I had found a way to avoid having sex for an interest that interest not being of a professional nature. I had avoided being the schoolgirl that I had never been; the schoolgirl that starts eyeing up her Personal Education teacher, rubbing past him accidentally to gain good grades. I preferred to get what I wanted without using my body but yes using my head. My body was to pay cheques and cheques alone, except for that dreaded experience called Nuno.

All the lose ends involving the brothel had been tied up. What was to continue was my cocaine habit.








CHAPTER 18
The brothel episode had come to an end by mid summer. What was to continue was my cocaine habit.
My life began to revolve around those little plastic sacks. The more often I bought these little grams, the increasingly smaller they became. They lasted less and less. They began to arrive with more plastic to make up for the missing weight. I’m sure that if I had been actually sober enough to weigh them I would have discovered they weighed less than half.
Within a few weeks I realised that I had to cut down. My daily routine began to rely on a single gram a day but only a gram a day, I thought to myself. My claustrophobia at being enclosed expanded to a dreaded fear of being constrained not merely physically but spiritually and this feeling of dependency was violating my free spirit. A Spirit that could not be financially, sexually or emotionally bound. I had to find a way to dominate the situation or at least temporarily convince myself that I had. I decided that consumption would be cut down to three times a week.
That’s exactly what I did. My clean days became filled with anxiety and a bad sense of humour. The anxiety of waiting to do another gram on the consumption days was intolerable. This feeling increasingly irritated me. It affected my body and my soul, my whole being. At one point I wasn’t sure if I was irritated because I wanted it or because I was fighting against wanting it. The whole damn thing wasn’t doing my pocket or me any good. After all, I had turned into a prostitute not to live a life of luxury but to pay my debts. It now appeared that I was doing it to pay my drug bills.
Eventually I managed to cut down to once a week, which took some doing, but I knew that stronger action and will power was needed. By the time I had reached this target I was already becoming more annoyed with the situation. A feeling of imprisonment prevailed. What was this to take over me? I continually asked myself. Just the thought of anticipating my hang over the next day was enough to make me want to throw myself of a cliff. The thought of having to put my responsibilities aside until I felt slightly better was very frightening. Simply knowing this before the hang over would dominate me I would first have to get to sleep and face the ghosts of the past that would come back to haunt me.
Within a short period some of my clients and friends discovered my addiction. One or two clients took advantage of the situation and tried to pay my services with a few grams. One guy Fernando once did but I then refused to do it again.
Fernando was one of my regulars. He was studying in London but would often fly back home to visit his parents. Fernando was twenty-five. He was very tall and thin with curly black hair. Fernando’s style was unique for a man his age. Rather than play the part of a son of a wealthy businessman and brother of a woman who married into a Royal family, he deviated. He had the intriguing appearance of a new-age hippie.
The first time Fernando came to see me he fell in love. As had quite often said by others, he told me that he had never visited a prostitute. He was more interested in winning me over as a real woman and would prefer to see me as a woman rather than a prostitute. Fernando had not long split from a lengthy relationship. It was as if he felt insecure because of his recent break up and needed convincing that he still had his best years to come. Most of all he was “needy” of care and affection.
I recall having a chat with him, suggesting that he should consume less cocaine. He got annoyed and stated that he did not have a problem. Jumping always onto the defence wagon he would try and make it clear that it was a casual thing. He just did it to have fun and that his consumption was minimum.
To me it was a different story. In his words I saw myself. I saw the way I would also try and convince people that I did not have a problem. Yes, it was a weekly thing and above all it was all under control.
Fernando remained in my mind every time I thought of or consumed cocaine. It gave me an even more negative feeling and outlook just thinking of him. Maybe it’s because I saw the effects. A young handsome man from a good social background, a first class education and the world at his feet with everything to be happy about. Yet all he transmitted was sadness. A sadness that was not just due to his recent split, but yes due to the damned mood swings that the thin white dust left behind.

My mind was deteriorating. There was a continual war in my body and soul. The negative versus positive. My clients were starting to pick up on the war that resided within me. It was not a position to be in. I was already in a situation that I would not wish on my worst enemy. A turning point had to come quickly, and it could only be me making that turn, nobody else, only me. I had to be strong once again.
The turning point arrived one evening. Romano had called me to make a booking. I accepted. It was not the first time that he had seen me on coke. I had actually convinced him on a number of occasions to drive down to a rough neighbourhood to buy some with me when I couldn’t get hold of Oley or any other supplier I knew. On this particular evening I wanted to make the most of my night. After all, this had been the night I had allocated to sniff. I asked him to accompany me to the neighbourhood. He agreed. I guess deep down he knew that if he didn’t I would go alone.
We arrived at the neighbourhood. As usual I asked Romano to park at least half a kilometre up the road so as not to involve him in any danger. Not that I felt danger, I only felt desperation. I had not felt danger from the first time I entered the neighbourhood because of my” high mood” but it was dangerous, and very!
The entire neighbour hood consisted of black residents who simply survived from crime, as they had few other options. Society had deprived them of it. The houses were made up from pieces of wood, which had been put together over the decades. Very few were actually made of cement, instead rusty nails that had been gathered like a bird gathers it nest, pierced the joints of the wooden and tin houses. These plaques and strips of wood were decorated with washing, which appeared to be stuck to these so-called shelters. Washing lines were invisible. Doors could not be seen. What could be seen was a vast darkness through them as if light could never illuminated these depressed homes.
These glum shacks that were coloured by the hanging clothes alone, provided the scenery for the older generation who sat on chairs against the walls of the houses. It was as if even they were scared to move in the confusion. They had no other options. For such a small place with such tiny alleys it was densely populated. On top of which the residents all seemed to live in these alleyways that were in fact their streets.
Teenagers ran around fowl mouthing each other, fighting, screaming and running away from someone who would be chasing them. Many of them were already learning the tricks of the trade with their elder siblings. Men and women walked around drugged in streets, which smelled of rotting gutters. Every now and then the whole place would be paralysed with the sound of a gunshot and a scream; an electric waive of adrenaline to light up the gloom. But the drugged up people would ignore it as if it was a normal happening, as if they were characters of Oliver Twist begging for money rather than food. Money paid drugs and drugs fed their hunger. This is how they lived. They would expose themselves as the suppliers in the streets just to get a commission for going into the neighbour hood to fetch the drugs while the rest of the people who lived there appeared to be in latest fashion. The latest trend in hip-hop fashion. They all carried the latest mobiles and wore designer street wear clothing. Their statuses seemed to depend on it.
Every time I approached this lengthy, garbage smelling neighbour hood the dangers that confronted me seemed a mere dot on the rewards I was going to receive. However, on two occasions I had been extremely lucky to walk away without rewards but with my life. On one occasion the incident happened in that neighbour hood. On another occasion it happened in a similar neighbourhood. But my taste for cocaine blinded me from the dangers.
One day on arrival to this particular neighbourhood I parked my car outside the entrance that divided the world from the slum. Within seconds my vehicle was surrounded with no less than fifteen coloured men who ranged from the age of sixteen to thirty. I opened my passenger seat window and told them what I wanted. I had not noticed that there was gap on my own side window and lent sideways towards the passenger side to speak to the men that were competing for business. Suddenly one of the youngest boys pulled my mobile out of my hand through the gap on my own side window. I panicked! My phone was my life. It contained all my contacts.
“Get my mobile. Get my fucking mobile,” I screamed.
The guys that I was talking to told me that it was too late; there was no hope in hell to retrieve it.
Without it I was nothing. My natural instinct was to carry on screaming till they had no option but to recuperate it. I screamed at the guys who were trying to negotiate the sale and said
“Listen brother. No mobile no sale”
“Get the girl the phone,” he demanded looking at another guy.
“That’s right, get my phone. I’ll pay you, just get the fucking thing”
“It’s too late. He has run off with it” one replied. I screamed back without hesitating
“I don’t give a shit if he has run off. Just get my phone. No phone no business”! I heard a word of hope. One of them was telling another to run after him. I immediately shouted.
“Do you want 65euros”? It was all I had on me.
“I have it,” said the guy who liked the sound of the reward. The phone was back in my possession.

The other near escape happened in a near by neighbourhood which was next to identical but with a much smaller population density.
I was with Joao. We couldn’t get hold of our supplier so persuaded Joao to drive us there. When we arrived I asked Joao to wait in the car and walked down into the place that was positioned in a small vale.
This neighbourhood was on a much smaller scale as the local council was in the process of re housing the residence. I could only see three black men in their early twenties when I reached the bottom of the hill. When I caught their attention they immediately stopped playing their card game and looked at each other one by one in a slow laid back motion. I was scared. My stomach was filled with a grey cloud as one of them slowly got up from his seat giving the others a sarcastic forced smile. I didn’t like to feel fear. It made me ever more frightened; and I was! The guy’s look made my skin crawl. I tried to put on a brave face, swallowed my saliva and looked at the guy who was standing and said
“I’m sorry to interrupt your game. Do you know where I can by coke?”
He said yes and asked me to follow him. I did whilst the others continued playing cards and simultaneously remained aware of the situation.
As he led me down a narrow alley, I realised something was wrong. The guy’s back at the table had shook their heads when I mentioned coke, so all of a sudden this guy is leading me where?
“You want coke don’t you? Then follow me,” He added while walking in front of me. He carried on walking down a little slum street no more than one-meter wide. I began feeling claustrophobic within the small space and the whole scenery. I stopped a few feet behind him, as he was just about to walk through an opening to a shack.
“Why do you want me to follow you in there? I’ll wait here,” I said
“You want money for the coke don’t you,” he said smiling.
“Oh no! I am Sorry. You got it wrong. I want to buy I don’t need money thank you”. I said while continuously looking behind me to see if any of the other guys had decided to come.
Thank God they hadn’t. I then looked up at to the guy again, plucked up courage and said in a strong voice,
“I don’t know what your idea is, but let me tell you something, I came for coke. Nothing else! What the hell do you take me for a prostitute?”
He continued trying to convince me to go in.
“Really, thanks but I hear them calling up there, on top. I must go otherwise they will come and fetch me. Great to meet you! Hey and thanks”.
It had been a near escape from a rape scene. I was trembling and quickly made my way up to Joao, not looking back out of fear.

Romano and I arrived back at my place. It must have been eleven PM. The trip back from the neighbourhood had seemed long with the anxiety of wanting to open up the gram of coke. My main priority on walking through the door was to reach out for my CD and my credit card. Romano sat on the corner of the table facing me watching the ritual once again.
I really can’t remember much of our conversation that night. I was more interested in gaining contact with the cocaine. What I do vividly recall is that we had to whisper and that the CD player was not allowed to go over the number 3-volume scale. It was a paranoia that had evolved and was steadily getting worse every time I consumed a line. Every little sound made echoed through my brain, as if it was echoed through the whole five story high building and crashing down on me.
This supposed energy giver was having reverse effects on me and killing my energy reserves. I began to question myself there and then. How could this be possible? Was it because I had naturally more energy than anyone else I knew and thus it was annulling itself, or better still, inverting the effects? Whatever the reason, it wasn’t normal and becoming out of hand.
The negative thoughts were having a drastic effect on me. I wanted to be alone. I couldn’t wait for Romano to leave. I actually wished him to go over and over again but could not bring myself to say it. He had accompanied me to the neighbourhood. I was taking up his time with bullshit rather than allowing him to do what he had initially come to do.
Without wasting anymore time I escaped from the bubble and suggested to Romano that we get started.
The time it took to get from the living room to the bedroom was eternal. It seemed as if everything was in slow motion .It was as if I was caught in a negative cloud that stopped time. Eventually we got there but I can’t recall the sex with Miguel. It was as if I was there only in body but not soul. I’m not sure where my soul was. It was lost and remained lost until “he” had finished.
Romano remained on the bed as he usually did. Nothing was said. The place was in silence and at that time I had found my soul. It was the first time that my body and soul had been reunited since entering the bedroom. I now wished they had remained separated, as what was to follow was indescribable.
Is it possible to describe a lifetime of nightmares? Is it possible to begin explaining the one off feeling of all accumulated negativity emotions from ones life time drawn together simultaneously? I mean, all the negative feelings flashing before you in one overwhelming sensation? This was an understated description of what I was feeling. The emotion was so strong I couldn’t breath. I felt suffocated. I felt sick as my stomach turned like a tornado over the oceans. At that moment I could have killed someone and felt no remorse, no sorrow and no pain. It was a sensation of being possessed and not having a priest at hand to save you with an exorcism. It was the ultimate. It was hell. I felt completely unconstrained, uncontrolled. My actions were out of my hands.
Romano knew there was something wrong. It was impossible for him not to and he asked what was wrong. It was then that I asked him to leave.
“Are you sure? You don’t look to good to me,” he said
“Off course I’m sure. Please leave” The more he said that I didn’t appear to be well the more anxious and nauseous I became. I screamed a final time. He hesitated but finally understood that he had no choice, he had to leave.
The relief I felt on Romano’s departure was indescribable. I was now alone to fight the demons in my head. I paced up and down my living room like a mad women tiptoeing so as not to make a noise. The drop of a pin could make me jump. I walked back into my bedroom in the dark and lay on the bed. My mind continued restless and fought against my dead body. I had no physical energy left. I lay there and looked at the candle I had burning on the floor. I managed to escape for a brief second from the negative thoughts. Desperately trying to let something positive in to light my sole I concentrated on the candle. I continued staring at it till down believing it was the light of hope.
The candle was my salvation. It was burning away all the negativity around me. It appeared to be asking and answering questions using my mind as a channel of communication. It was my subconscious brought to life as if it had been neglected and abused. I allowed myself to become slowly consumed by its flame. I looked into that flame until it faded with the light of the rising sun. The truth had flashed in front of me that night and it filled me with the strength to fight my enemy number one, cocaine!
A powerful negative feeling ruled my body and mind when I awoke from a few hours sleep. All that was shown and taught had to be put into practice. The previous evening’s horror story was the last in a long chain of warnings. There would be no other chance. What was I going to do? How was I going to do it? I didn’t know but I had to find out.
I had to take the day off work for the aftermath was too much to bear. I couldn’t stay in that apartment either. The whole experience was still floating around in the rooms. I had to detach myself from it. I grabbed my car keys not knowing where my destination was to be. I ended up near in a Holy sanctuary hundreds of kilometres away. Its funny, I don’t believe in Religion but believe in energies. I took the opportunity to park outside the Sanctuary. Millions of energies accumulated in one place are better than one, I convinced myself. This is the right place to be in. I told myself.
On arrival I took a long stroll around the church and watched the worshippers going about their duties. I smiled for I don’t believe in the church but believe there is a God, a positive light made up of positive energies. But nevertheless, I respected these people most of all for pouring their belief into this Sanctuary and filling it to the brim with dynamite. Explosive dynamite that a believer could use as a tool. No less than a miraculous tool.
After a long stroll I could not resist walking into the church. I sat there, looked at the statue that was facing me and tried to empty my mind. No analysing the validity of nothing, just emptiness as I sat there and stared. Finally I managed to think about my situation and concentrated on all of the previous night’s flash backs to pass through my mind as a film plays on a wall. Cocaine has to stop. It is destroying me, I concluded to myself in a quiet voice before I got up and left.
As I walked to my car I promised myself that my ghosts were now going to be laid. I came to the decision that I would go out and buy cocaine until the following New Years Eve, which was roughly three months away. Fortunately, I did not touch the stuff again. For a few hours pleasure the hangover was just too overwhelming.

On my journey home I received a booking from a man with a hesitant and quiet voice. I accepted his booking for eight O clock that evening, allowing myself a little extra time in case I got caught in traffic.
When I opened the door I found a bald man, slightly taller than me looking quite confused and scared. I welcomed him in with a smile and received a politely uttered “hello” and a forced smile that made his glasses tilt slightly to the side. Pedro was extremely tense and not in the slightest bit comfortable with the visit. He was the most nervous of all my clients. His hands shook desperately like a young boy about to be punished. The more he tried controlling it, the clumsier he became, and at one point, tripped over his own feet as he walked through the door. It was uncomfortable to be witnessing this behaviour, but more uncomfortable, yet knowing that he knew that I was feeling uncomfortable witnessing it.
Eventually I asked Pedro to walk through to the bedroom, during which time I created some sort of conversation to break the ice in the hope that this poor soul would relax. At the time I knew that this particular “break the ice conversation” would have to be unique in the sense that it was aimed at calming him down indirectly without allowing him to realise that I had noticed exactly how nervous he was.
Pedro was a divorced PhD graduate who worked in electronics.
Pedro continued to be suspicious and shaky until leaving that evening. The whole sex scene didn’t go too well, as his nerves were stronger than his desire.
On his way out, it didn’t help when he noticed my dog through the kitchen window. She was picking up on the vibes and starting to bark at him.
“Don’t worry. It’s Napoleon, my dog. She is like my daughter” I said to avoid him becoming more stressful.
“But, but, what kind of dog is she?” he asked with another puzzled smile
I really did not how to tell him in case he had a cardiac attack.
“Ah, Napoleon, she’s like a big cat... She’s a Rottweiller Pedro but an extremely sweet one. You know they just attract bad media reports but it’s just not true”
Pedro remained expressionless but bravely weathered the storm. To cut the silence and take away the fear that covered his face he said
“Ah! I have a pair of Dobermans”, smiled and made his way out.
I didn’t think I would be seeing him again.














































CHAPTER 19
Pedro returned a week later. I wondered how the hell his heart was going to handle another one of these situations. Surprisingly, he was not as nervous this time, although still very shy and reserved.
However, he remained equally as nervous in bed the second time around, finding it hard to climax just as he had the first time. At one stage he was perspiring heavily and would not stop apologising for the drips of sweat, which slid off his forehead and yip, directly into my eyes. On occasions I just wanted to scream, but couldn’t, as I knew he meant no harm.
I had made arrangement for that night and time was ticking by. At that rate I was going to be late and was forced to find a polite way of telling him that I was running out of time. He stopped immediately, apologised a thousand times, went to the bathroom and then quickly dressed himself and went away.
Like many regulars, he began calling occasionally to see how I was and as usual, I infused him, like any other client, with strength and positive vibes. Maybe this was the reason why he began visiting me more and more frequently. But on this one particular day, I was far from well and just couldn’t manage to disguise it.
On one of his follow up visits I could not contain the accumulated sadness and misery inside for a second longer. I felt confused, alone and thoughts of suicide crossed my mind. Pedro automatically knew something was very wrong and discreetly began to probe. I held back at first but then began explaining things in riddles, being careful not to say too much. What was the point, if nobody could help me? Eventually I opened up to this, intelligent, wise, sweet and caring man Pedro, who was to become my greatest strength and friend through out the whole episode.
Pedro made me feel so comfortable that within a short time he knew everything about me. I had allowed him to enter into the prohibited part of my soul and thereafter, found myself automatically consulting him for advice. He was the shoulder I cried on. He was the one who saw the things that others didn’t know existed behind the strong façade.
Pedro knew that I would not accept handouts, that the only thing I agreed to was loans and work. So that’s what he did, gave me work. He would book himself in for a few nights a week, two hours a time, just so I would accept the money. No sex was exchanged at that time and knowing that I didn’t like accepting money for chat time he cleverly drilled into my head that as he had made me lose work. I could accept.
I started evaluating the situation when I became bombarded with I flower deliveries and an endless collection of written poems. At one stage, he would send up to ten per day by text message.
O encanto Supremo que os ditou?
Acaso, quando os leste, imaginaste,
Que era teu esse olhar que os inspirou?
(06.08.03)

Que embriagante filtro me deste tu a beber?
Que ate de mim me esqueço,
E de ti não me posso esquecer.
(06.08.03)

Increasingly I found myself taking the initiative of inviting Pedro around for a chat which was my way of making him feel comfortable without him thinking he had to pay for my time. On these occasions, Pedro would arrive at my doorstep with a bag full of shopping.
“Oh, just thought you would be hungry”
He knew that I would go without eating as my appetite was drowned by the weight of my problems.
Pedro would then chat and wait until I fell asleep before leaving. Later I would find little notes scattered throughout the apartment the next morning;

Thank you!
Entre nos existe um mar,
Um imenso mar que nos quer separar
Mas e no desejo imenso de te amar
Que a forca, vou entrar, para esse mar atravessar.
(20.08.03)

Increasingly I was feeling more and more uncomfortable with what was happening, began to believe that Pedro was helping me for a reason, that being that he was falling in love with me. At this point I realised that I had to act quickly so as not to hurt him or mislead him in anyway and make him suffer. I would thus spend hours talking to him about how men often tried to help me with the hope of winning me over, only to add to my misery when they realised that I didn’t want to be with them. My intention was to make him realise that he should not be helping me out with these intentions. I made it clear that I could not and would not pretend to want to be with someone just because it was financially convenient.
It fell on deaf ears. He was still hopeful and continued; this time however, changing his strategy and referring to me as a dear friend.

Dear Diana,
You are such a wonderful person. Your strength, your colossal inner beauty, and you are right; you are as the most crystalline waters.
When I came to you I could never imagine that I would find someone like you. And my feelings are absolutely mixed. By one side I feel I’m a lucky guy because in your lifetime you can be lucky to find a person like you in a million or even never met one, but on the other side I think we met in the wrong time, at the wrong place. I do admire you, respect you, because of your dream you are fighting the world to make it true. I would like to imagine how these times are being difficult to you, but I can’t. Only some one that went through out all this will know. Don’t give up. Never give up. Beautiful persons like you shouldn’t have to go through all this, but even beautiful persons like you have to do things that they will not feel proud of. I really admire you and respect you, and I’m 100% sure that you will succeed. You are a fighter and a winner.
Don’t be grateful to me, I’m doing to little for such a great person like you. And please let me do more. If you need a hand, take mine. If you need a smile, I will smile for you. If you need a word, I will talk to you. If you need someone to listen, I will give you my ears. If you need a hug, I will give you my arms. If you need a shoulder, I will give you mine. If you need a kiss, I will give you my lips.
I promise to you that I will use your help whenever I will need it. I do love to be with you.
And please don’t forget me when you will make true the dream. I must be there to see the happiness in your face, to see the light radiate from your beautiful eyes and to give you a big, big hug and kiss.
You have changed my life for the better.
With all my love, to a beautiful Lady. I do really miss you.

30.08.03

Pedro had indeed provided me with a shoulder to cry on. At one stage he lent me a large sum of money, which I’m still slowly repaying. He always respected my person and my struggle and this was the strongest factor in our friendship. I trusted him.
Pedro contacted me less and less when he discovered that I had begun dating an old friend a few weeks later, although to me this relationship was not serious and lasted only a few weeks. To Pedro, it proved a lot. It proved that I was capable of having a relationship even though I had refused to have one with him.
He still contacts me occasionally and the feeling I hold in my heart for him will never die. However, I can’t help but suspect that he was involved with The Secret Services. I had already suspected this on his first visit. Why did he come to visit me in the first place if he was so visibly nervous? Why did his first visit coincide with what I believed was to be the first visit from the secret police? Why did he always hang around until I fell asleep and at one time believing I was asleep in the bedroom stuck around for a good ten minutes?
Further, during one of our many dinners, Pedro became tipsy with a few glasses of wine, as he was not a regular alcohol drinker. When I mentioned that I was receiving visits from the secret police, he told me of his “past” involvement in the Secret Intelligence and training within the FBI.
Despite who he really was, is he treated me with respect and for that I will be eternally grateful, regardless of the nature of his visits.






















CHAPTER 20
Since my first visit from what I thought was the secret police a whole new chapter began to develop. Within a few weeks of my first suspected visit the snowball of events began to grow.
I received a call one afternoon.
“Hi, two friends of mine visited you the other week. They told me you are a very sweet girl. Is it possible for me and a friend of mine to visit”?
For some unknown reason I accepted. I had attended their two friends together only because I wasn’t alone in the house. Joao had been with me at the time so it was a completely different situation. But anyway, even though I strongly suspected that the two previous clients were secret police they had been nice guys and hey, after all, men who visit prostitutes have no class. Police, Ministers and even Royalty visited whores. They all shared a common necessity and natural urges, especially the ones who were deprived of something at home.
The two men arrived. One was extremely handsome, the typical “boys next door” type; average height, muscular build and polished of with blonde locks and beautiful large blue eyes. The other was extremely tall with silky dark brown hair that flipped to the side. Blue-eyed Tim gushed with confidence. The other, Felipe was completely opposite and his uneasiness made him to jump the drop of a pin.
During the time it had taken them to arrive I re-evaluated the dangers of being alone with two men regardless of the fact that I had been with both of their mates simultaneously. Looking at them in the corridor I said
“Sorry. I really can’t allow both of you in at the same time”
“Come on” Tim said, “You can trust us”
“I’m sorry but I don’t feel comfortable with both of you here. I am only willing to work with you individually,” I explained
They looked at each other and agreed but continued standing there. Only then did I realise that they had not fully understood.
“I really am sorry but that means one of you will have to wait elsewhere. Out of my apartment, I mean, ok”? I said
They looked at each other again. This time Felipe was nervous with the idea and tried to convince me to let them both stays.
Tim looked at his friend and gave him a reassuring nod of approval.
“Ok” he said, “Let’s get to it. Felipe I’ll go first ok”?
A look of relief eclipsed Felipe’s face, as he made his way out to wait in the car.

Tim was every bit a playboy. Just like his two friends he was quick to point out and question the meaning of my tattoo as soon as I undressed. When asked why, he stated that the other two guys who had visited me were his partners in the kennel business. It appeared to make perfect sense but somehow not realistic to me. Yet I tried not to analyse as I lay on the bed with him.
Tim was extremely sweet and underneath the stereotypical image he was as sensual as a man could be. His sexual behaviour just didn’t match his macho image. I spotted a scorpion tattoo engraved on Tim’s lower leg and asked what was its significance. Tim said that his girlfriend was a Scorpio.
I took advantage of the topic of conversation and stated that his girlfriend must mean a lot to him. When he admitted this to be true, I asked what the hell he was doing visiting a prostitute. He looked to the side and smiled as if to find a valid answer.
“Listen, I guess my friends were so amazed with you that I had to come and see what I was missing. Maybe I was just too curious” he replied with a relieved smile.
That was a weak response but I refused to discus it to avoid further embarrassment. .
We spent a good while laughing and joking, allowing me to explore into the real person underneath the façade. At one particular moment I looked into his eyes and sarcastically brought up the so-called “kennel business”. He was quick to change the subject by diverting his attention to my body.
“Wow, you have no cellulite,” he said as he caressed my bottom cheek in circular movements.
Suddenly his phone rang. He excused himself and answered it. It was Felipe asking if everything was ok and telling him to hurry up.
The bell had saved him and he knew it. Instead of asking all the questions he had planned, I had diverted the conversation to a point where he could see I was being clever. My sarcastic tone of voice every now and then told him so.
Tim just wanted to get down to business now before his time was up. He was highly affectionate and caring in bed; the type who preferred to feel a woman and transmit his feelings rather than just “dump”
When we finally finished the rushed session Tim invited me out to lunch the following day. I had made a point of not socialising with clients outside the apartment; be it for lunch, holidays, or just paid call outs. Home is where I felt safe and so I declined the invitation.
Felipe was already making his way up. Tim insisted until I eventually accepted just to get him out. When I asked where, he replied
“Ma…I’ll leave it up to you” he said biting back his initial words
“Ma…” I thought to myself without asking where he was initially going to suggest.
Felipe knocked on the door. Tim answered and winked at his friend who was looking rather pale and walked out.
I led Felipe into the bedroom. He wasn’t finding any of this amusing and examined every inch of the corridor wall that led to the bedroom. I laughed and joked but Felipe just could not relax or pretend to relax. It was as if he was forced to be there, forced into doing something that he really didn’t want to. Felipe had little to say, he was too terrified with the whole experience.
I took the towel away from my naked body. Felipe stood there paralysed. He came out of his stare, but still appeared to be brain dead with fear as I lay on the bed waiting.
Felipe eventually plucked up the courage to undress and join me on the bed. As I stretched my arm to reach for a condom on the floor Felipe panicked and said he would rather use his own as he made his way to his trouser pocket to retrieve it. When I eventually saw his penis I understood why as he was really well blessed. It was one of the largest I had ever seen.
Felipe remained frozen on the bed, mummified! To my amazement his penis had been erect from the moment he undressed. leading me to believe that he was on Viagra due to his nerves.
Felipe wasted no time. He just wanted to get it over and be out. He lay on top of me and began to penetrate me with barely any move diversity. He was still extremely uncomfortable and it was starting to affect me; I was becoming dryer and dryer with the grind but persevered without saying a word. Suddenly when I least expected it he climaxed and within a second removed his penis from my vagina.
“Oh no. Oh my God. The condom broke”
I thought he was joking but he wasn’t joking. He was in a large state of panic and began pacing up and down the room uncontrollably whilst I lay on the bed with the bath towel wrapped around me. I tried desperately to reassure him that I was clean. The poor guy must have thought,” yea, right that’s what they all say” but it was true. If there was anyone who feared this more than him was me!
It just so happened that my period arrived that day. During such days, I had used a medical contraceptive sponge to prevent the blood from seeping through. I told Felipe about that sponge, desperately trying to convince this terrified man that I was clean. “It was no prevention but…”
Felipe grabbed his mobile and called Tim whilst continuing to pace up and down. Within moments Tim came up. Amongst the confusion I allowed them to be together in the apartment whilst I went to the bathroom. By the time I came out they were both standing in the corridor. I looked at Tim and tried to convince him that there was no danger. Tim just stood there laughing at his friend before I advised them that I had to leave and walked out of the building with them.
The two men walked into a silver station wagon Mercedes. One of the windows had a child’s sun shield. I got into my car and answered a lengthy call before turning on the ignition to reversed out of the driveway. I couldn’t believe it! Tim and Felipe were still chatting in Felipe’s car. I drove past them and said to Tim if his friend was ok.
“No. Not really. He wants to go and see a Doctor friend of ours”.
At that point I knew it was no use trying to persuade them any further. I was just relieved that Felipe was so worried as it meant he was clean!
During the ride I thought over the whole situation stripping down the visit to the very last detail and concluding that I would wait for the lunch date with Tim before putting myself again through the trouble of analysing the events.

The following lunchtime Tim picked me up at home. He had a similar car too Felipe’s; the same colour and model too. It even had a dog gate panel separating the wagon from the back seats! The only difference was that Felipe’s car had a Whinny the Pooh sunscreen while Tim had a Dalmatian. As I got into the car Tim asked if I had any restaurant preference. When I recommended a particular one, he said
“Oh, no. Sorry! Just remembered I reserved a table at the Marina! Why don’t we go to the Marina?”
Suddenly I remembered that he had wanted to suggest the Marina when he initially invited me out to lunch. The “Ma…” but I kept my observation to myself.

We were led to our reserved table on arrival and within seconds a set of waiters came and handed us the menus. Tim’s face appeared to be familiar to them as he was welcomed casually. I was facing the boats on the terrace table. It was the seating that Tim had wanted.
Despite not having enough evidence I continued suspicious to be suspicious that these guys were secret police. The only way I was going to find out was by having a normal conversation. I had nothing to hide so I carried on explaining to Tim why my personal financial situation had reached the stage it had.
Tim sat there listening to everything I was saying without daring to change the conversation in case he was unable to answer the questions I would put forward. He knew I wasn’t stupid. He had observed that much from the previous day, as he had found himself with a few sticky moments.
A fat bald guy who although dressed casually appeared to have some connection with the restaurant interrupted Tim and me. Tim stood up and shook hands with very little exchange of conversation. The man looked at me and then at Tim and said, “Have a nice meal” before heading into the restaurant. Tim asked if I knew the man who happened to be the restaurant owner. I asked him sarcastically if it looked as if I did.
While we continued talking through lunch I couldn’t help but notice Tim’s interest in what was going on around the restaurant. At one stage I looked back systematically but the table behind blocked my view. Suddenly the same man walked past us again and headed towards a very expensive top of the range Porsche that was parked on the other side of the road I couldn’t believe it! The Marina appeared to be a ghost town at the best of times and I couldn’t figure out how it could be good for business, especially to buy a top of the range car like that.
When we finished our main plate, Tim asked if I wanted dessert. I skipped and opted for coffee instead as time was pushing on.
Tim asked for two coffees and the bill simultaneously. I automatically dipped into my back pocket to get some money. Tim insisted that he pay and reached for his wallet, pulling out a shinny Gold credit card and placing it on the bill tray along with a tip.
The tray was immediately picked up by the waiter and handed back to Tim before we could finish our coffees.

On the return journey I asked Tim about Felipe.
“That’s a long story. Basically we went to visit the Doctor friend of ours and he placed Felipe on some kind of programme. Not sure what the programme is exactly but I know that poor Felipe is going through a bad time. Poor guy is as sick as a pig and has been advised that the sickness will continue for a few weeks. Some kind of cleansing thing I think”
I asked no further questions about the treatment and had no intention of going out of my way to analyse its existence. My main interest was to play my cards right and secretly investigate those who I believed to be investigating me.

Tim and I exchanged written messages for a good few weeks. The following Friday I received a call from the two men he had referred to me. The strangest thing from this call was that they didn’t want to pay me a visit rather; they wanted me to go drinking with them. I refused bluntly and excused myself before hanging up, only to be called again a few minutes later.
“Do you guys think I’m stupid? I mean, do you really? You mean to tell me that you think I am so bloody gullible to believe that you guys have nothing better to do than call me and insist that I go to a club with you because I’m such a nice girl when you don’t even bloody know me?” I laughed sarcastically.
The guy hesitated for a while. I had caught him off guard and for sure he wasn’t expecting the attack.
Within a few hours they called back, this time with a different strategy.
“Ok Diana. You win. We don’t have to go anywhere, just let us come around and see you, please”
Wanting to investigate a little further I agreed.
Within five minutes they had arrived opened the door and I couldn’t believe the clowns that were standing before me. One was black, wore a thick red baseball jacket and had on a pair of glasses with yellow lenses. This character appeared to be in his mid thirties. The other guy was white, roughly the same age but much slimmer and dressed as a twenty-year-old in trendy street gear. They stood at my door looking like absolute idiots! The whole sight was so ridiculously exaggerated that I had to stop myself from laughing at the state of them.
I asked them through to the living room and invited them to sit on the sofa. I decided to sit on my large wooden dinning room table that was placed in front of a huge mirror. “Lets see where this takes them,” I thought to myself, adamant that they were not going intimidate me, rather I them.
It was not going to be as short a visit as I had imagined so I lifted my legs up from the top of the chair and crossed them. My hair was covering half my face. I tipped my head to the side and looked at each of them in turn: one by one, directly in the eye. I knew the power of eye contact and boy did I use it. I was starting to feel a little frustrated for having allowed these clowns to come over and take me for a stupid fool and decided that the game should begin; that they should walk with their tails between their legs.
The “super fly” white guy looked up to me from the sofa. Whatever was to come out of that mouth was for sure going to be worse garbage. I thought to myself. He presumed he was the cleverer of the two and had little idea of how pathetic he looked and sounded. He opened his mouth to spit out the biggest load of streetwise nonsense I had ever heard. It was just so ridiculous that within moments I blanked out his voice. I looked him straight in the eye again and forced a big sarcastic smile across my face without making the effort to raise the sides of my mouth. I was looking at my victim and pierced his soul with my eyes whilst he just carried on talking into deaf ears. I continued concentrating on his eyes; telling him to shut up telepathically, advising him that he had met his match. Suddenly his voice became quieter and quieter until his last word was eaten up in silence. The guy didn’t know what to do but was quickly saved by his friend who once again tried to persuade me to go out with them.
The white guy was trying desperately to recover his strength and asked if I liked the bead necklace that hung around his neck.
“I bought it in Africa. It’s a very lucky object,” he stated.
I looked briefly at the object, caught his eye contact again and told him to get rid of it, as it appeared to be a bad, disastrous omen that made people look pathetic!
No sooner had I said it, his voice tone lowered again and his expression lost strength.
Before I advised them that their time was up I looked at the black guy who was still insisting that I join them and said
“Real shame I don’t have the time to join you guys. I mean we could have found a few interesting people and bought drugs, hey?”
The guy’s ears appeared to lift with the sentence. That was not what he wanted to hear, its what he had wanted to do. To see if they could mingle with the underground scene.
Within a few minutes, insisting that I would be late for my booking, I managed to persuade them to leave. The white guy did not dare look into my eyes again. On closing the door I briefly went into analysis mode. “They belong to the drug squad,” I said to myself.

Romano made a booking for ten O clock on the Saturday evening. When he arrived I spent a great deal of our time explaining the weekly headlines; the main headline being what I thought were, the Secret police.
Romano was argumentative. He wouldn’t just take my “I think” for answer and further, had no idea how I reached my conclusions, suggesting in an indirect way that it could be paranoia.
Deep into our conversation I received a message from Tim. We exchanged messages for a while until Tim eventually called to tell me he was at a Stadium up North. Tim had mentioned the trip over lunch and once again, invited me to join him.
He must have really taken me for fool. We were at least three hundred kilometres apart although he knew from our past conversations that I was crazy enough to just get up and drive the distance.
Suddenly, the whole experience of the night before came crashing into my head. I mean his so-called friends taking me for an idiot. So I decided to play with Tim too. I told him that I would leave immediately and make my way to meet him.
Romano looked at me with a puzzled expression, not understanding if I was joking or not. I asked him if he was going to help me with the game. He agreed, and the game began.
Tim didn’t realise I was no stranger to the route that led all the way up north. I knew it like the back of my hand. The long string of messages began.
First I wrote a message saying that I had taken another car, as I was not sure if Tim was really where he said he was. Further I couldn’t risk this possibility of one of his mates driving passed and seeing my car outside, and thinking it was a hoax.
Then the rest of the messages were sent every fifteen minutes or so! Romano and I would calculate the kilometres and the time and by personal experience would work out on which part of the highway I should roughly be, indicating road signs and petrol stations that I had came to memorise from so many trips.
One Romano’s relatives had a very expensive car with a rare computer system that many people had no idea existed never mind understand how it worked. Romano was familiar with it so I used his knowledge and sent Tim further messages explain what the GPS system reading and the cruise information data stated. Romano and I got so involved in the sense that it was like a film in the making.
Finally, we estimated that I should be arriving at the destination I advised Tim by describing some places and shops that I was driving past just before I should be reaching the first bridge. Tim wrote back stating a meeting place and I replied that it should take no more than ten minutes to get there.
Ten minutes later he called and asked where I was, as he couldn’t see me. I laughed and told him that I was home.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe it. Why the fuck am I so naïve?” and hung up.
I called Tim and apologised. He was furious but accepted. I actually began wondering if the last laugh had been on me for apologising. Maybe he had not been anywhere in the radius of where he said he was.

One thing was clear to me this was secret police and I had no idea what they wanted. It could be for various reasons.
My first suspect was Oley, as he had stayed with me for six weeks during the time that he had split from his wife. However, time proved this possibility remote as Oley disappeared during the next few months but they didn’t.
My past association with the brothel could also be a reason. I had confronted the Mafia and taken care of it this and myself especially for a woman was unheard of. Maybe they thought someone was behind me and were trying to unravel who it was?
Another possibility was that they wanted to use my contacts and extrovert nature, as a tool to enter certain circles, be it rich or poor. I could make conversation with anyone and had a knack of making people open up to me.
Finally, the brothel episode had coincided with the time that Romano had become a client, which in turn coincided with the time they began visiting. Some of Romano’s relatives had access to confidential government documents.
Whatever the reason, the following months led to more visits and more analysis, and the puzzle narrowed down to half of the above possibilities.

Oley called to invite me for a coffee. He was in town for a day before leaving for a few months. I agreed and met him within the hour to inform him of all that was going on. Oley didn’t question me knowing that before I said anything all the indications were there to support my answer. I asked Oley if he had heard of anything going on in the Marina especially in connection with a certain restaurant owner. Oley looked at me in amazement as if I had successfully completed a degree exam with distinction.
“Yes. The guy was involved in a huge drug trafficking deal last year”
At that moment it had all come together. There was no turning back any paranoia. I was right. They were the undercover police and they were hot on the trail of the Marina. They especially loved the ice cream parlour that was next door to the particular restaurant as I received many invitations to join them there.

Later, Pedro, who I believed to be linked to the secret service, advised me that a drug raid had indeed taken place in the Marina. However, there was something else that remained unsolved and to this day I did not manage to retrieve enough evidence to prove my point.
I continued to receive clients of this sort. They were so predictable. It was as if I had graduated to the point of smelling them a mile off. They all seemed to say the same type of thing or act in the same way. The majority were more interested in talking than having sex. Above all they were more interested in inviting me out and being my friend. They were all atrocious at keeping their cover although they would fight to the end to prove me wrong. They treated me like a helpless naïve woman. Maybe this was the way they did speak to women? But the whole thing was just beginning to get out of hand for me. One thing was being in the mood to play their game; the other was being so involved in my own problems and frustrations to have to put up with it. At one stage it become a health hazard.
I called Pedro for help. He was aware of my visits and just hoped he could shed some light on it all.
“I’ll do my best. I’ll call a friend who is one of the top guys in a Secret Police Department”
Pedro called back within ten minutes to confirm the visits adding that my phone was also tapped. The plot thickened! Further his Department contact had also discovered that there was no file open and nothing signed to give permission for me to investigated.
“Its ok Diana. It will now stop. A complaint has been filed to the Staff Investigation department” he assured me.

The visits did stop for a while only for others to open in a few months. When I was suspecting them I would look out of the window on their departure. Nine and half times out of ten they would enter Mercedes or BMW’s station wagon. It was all part of their gold card undercover image, aimed at “Collar crime” But they had changed their strategies and tried to cover up the holes they had made in the past.

A man called one morning and I recognised him as being a friend of a past client. He tried a different strategy to see if I would accept him. Instead of saying a friend refereed him, he said that he had seen my advert in the paper. When I asked which edition, he replied
“This morning’s paper for sure. I just bought it at the petrol station”
I laughed and apologised, stating that I was not working on that day. The truth was I hadn’t had an advert in the paper for five days, as I had been ill. Somehow I just didn’t want to be in the game and had no desire to unmask him. I saved him the embarrassment. Why waste my time? He would probably correct himself by saying that he didn’t buy the paper today but rather, the previous week.

Another strategy they used was to change their whole appearance and think they could fool me, but it wasn’t their appearance that fooled me. This one day I headed downtown to pay my car tax after being stopped by that policeman I noticed a man sitting on some steps half way down the street. When I entered my car he appeared at my window
” Hello Diana. Remember me? We met near your house”
I knew this guy was talking a load of cod’s wallop, so I replied that I did vaguely remember him. At that moment he felt no doubt felt lucky and asked me if I would go for a drink with him sometime.
“Yes sure. Why not? You have my number. Call me” I replied testing his reaction and driving off.
I had never seen this man but played along with him. Further, how could I have ever met someone in my area, when I only travelled by car and never spoke to passers by? Finally, when I told him he had my number he didn’t deny it, meaning that he had received it from a friend. From his behaviour, that friend was from Secret Police. Why else would someone be spying on me, not to mention, discreetly attempting to follow me home.

Until this day I haven’t pinned pointed the Secret polices exact interest in me. Riddles were figured out along the way. Some possibilities were excluded and others continued. Even Pedro’s convincing call led me to believe that it could have been an excuse to say “Ok, you know we were after something but if we now say we shouldn’t be and you believe us, we can be more cautious in the future”
One thing is clear though, they all kept away for a brief period after I spoke to Pedro only to return a few months later with a different cover. Looking at the positive side I did manage to change their behaviour and at least, “blow their cover”







CHAPTER 21
It was now tem months since I started and I had already been working five months more than I had planed. Romano, who on that day called because of the brothel advert had ended up visiting my apartment and remained a faithful regular for eight months.
Romano, unlike myself however, had not been as fortunate as I had in obtaining a large group of friends. He was more reserved and so dedicated his time solely to his business, working hard around the clock to place his products as market leader.
The fee that I charged had a time limit of half an hour, knowing full well of course that I would never spend that time in bed with a client, but there had to be a safety net. Truthfully speaking, the time required after stripping was mostly less than five minutes depending of course on the time dedicated to for play. In rare cases were a client had not climaxed within five to ten minutes I would use my secret technique, position, that would make them climax quickly without appearing that I was rushing the job because whatever happened, they could not feel rushed.
I never allowed clients a second chance unless of course they paid for it. What differentiated me from other working girls was my concern for my clients. Although I didn’t have to do it, and most professionals would not, I found myself chatting naturally to my clients and making up for their maximum allowance. Further, I gave special attention to my regulars; especially those I felt needed it most.
After his second visit, Romano was one of the rare clients who booked a full hour. Although we spent little time actually having sex, we chatted for ages, way over his hour allowance and often I would find myself inviting him for dinner and chats as I felt he needed the company.
Along our history I came eventually to realise something was not right. He spent all his time taking about his business, which is all perfectly acceptable for someone whose life is work, but there was just something I could not work out. This became more apparent when I told Romano that I started dating an old friend. The relationship lasted a few weeks and right from the start I never took it seriously, as I could not feel comfortable with any man that would accept my line of business. It was doomed before it started.
Romano co-operative attitude along with his behaviour began steadily changing from the moment I told him of my involvement with Harry, reaching the point that he could not contain himself anymore and said
“How on earth can a guy accept his girlfriend to be in damned line of work? You would think that he would get her out of it”
I felt puzzled at this remark, as previously he had mumbled something along the opposite lines. Further, he knew Harry was unemployed. Even if the poor man had wanted to, he couldn’t have helped.
It was the beginning of the end and from then on things started to change. On one particular night I decided to go out clubbing for the first time in years, limiting Romano’s visit to the hour he had booked. Romano sulked and stated that he was being rushed. From that moment I modified my attitude towards him. He realised he had made a mistake and the next time he came over gave me the equivalent of a four hour tip.
What further damaged my thoughts and attitudes towards Romano was something that remained a weapon against having fallen in love with him. My attempts to find an alternative line of work were endless and this one day I mentioned a certain project to him as he had in the past made it clear that I could count on his knowledge for support. Deep down I think Romano thought that the idea was another one to be added to the recycle bin, not realising my determination to see it through.
As Romano line of work involved supplying large chain stores, he was indispensable to opening a few doors. Miguel agreed to lend me a hand to launch a special selection of greeting cards on to the market by arranging the necessary contacts.
This is where my consideration of his person pivoted. For the first time Romano “felt in control”, something that he was previously not able to feel with me regardless of his financial status. He increasingly began to ignore my text messages. He knew how important this project was to me and probably realised that it would be successful. This infuriated me.
Despite this, I continued to accept Romano as a client. During one conversation he stated “Even if you break through, don’t give up your clients for the time being!
It was strange. Everything he said appeared to be a contradiction of his past remarks, a contradiction that was linked to certain periods, as at one stage he was fishing about the possibility of me leaving the business. I began to put the puzzle together, reaching the conclusion that, upon having seen me in a recent relationship he was somehow trying to punish me or simply, wishing that I remained in the business. If I remained in the business I would do so until my debts were paid. This meaning of course that it would take much longer to pay back my debts. Thus hitting the Jackpot was threatening. In addition, it would be intimidating for a man who considers power to be based on financial grounds. Fortunately for me but unfortunately for him, I did not consider power to derive from wealth. On many occasions I tried to tell him that money couldn’t guarantee happiness.
Feeling increasingly frustrated with what was happening, I kept on saying to myself, pull yourself together. You don’t deserve this! You have always been the first to help everyone. But the sentence that was too dominant in my mind was “what goes around comes around”. Feeling angry towards Romano and with built up emotion I convinced myself that he would pay the score.
“One day I will show him! One day he will look back and respect me for being his friend, for understanding his loneliness and making him welcome despite the bitterness he created inside me. Most importantly, one day he will look back and wonder why he acted as he did, as I could have been a real bitch and pretended to give him control and sucked up as much money as possible from him”
Despite all this animosity Romano continued visiting me a few times a week, during which times, I was no longer involved with Harry and learned to swallow my resentment.
One morning I woke up with the most bizarre feeling. I could not for the life of me stop thinking about Romano. It had never happened before and felt so peculiarly strange. It continued until his next visit.
Romano and I lay on the bed, he with his glass of whisky and I with a cigarette. As usual Romano was talking about his business ventures as we both starred into the candle that lit up the room. I didn’t hear a word he was saying. His words were blocked out by my deep thoughts;
Damn, why does he try to impress me all the time? Why do you actually exaggerate or lie about money to impress? God, do you have any idea that people should like you for who you are and not for what you will one day be able to buy? Don’t you realise that if you didn’t speak the way you do I would be madly in love with you? I thought.
I came out of the daze and still he continued speaking about some money. I felt sad because the bad memories had more strength than what I was beginning to feel for him. After all, how could I fall in love with someone who wanted control? I wanted to tell him about what I had felt in the past and what I was beginning to feel. This way he could then maybe defend himself, perhaps convince me that the past a misinterpretation on my part. Yet I couldn’t, the past still outweighed the present.
My mind quickly returned to work and as usual, Romano took control. Lying on my front Romano began to caress my bum with his hands. The frustrations of my recent thoughts amplified my feelings, making me tingle, wanting him to fill an indescribable gap that occupied my lower stomach. As I looked into the candle I saw the burning desire that I felt deep inside. Transmitting the explosion inside, Romano began biting my bum cheeks like never before; softly sucking and kissing them before travelling down in search of my clitoris. I turned over, as I needed to give him more access; I wanted to feel him deeper in order to fill my hunger, my lust. His mouth slid from my clitoris to the opening of my vagina, as it was so moist. I opened my eyes to see our shadow on the wall with the reflection of the candlelight. I was ready to explode. The feeling was so good, so powerful that I wanted to live in it. Romano transmitted back every last bit of desire that I passed him, increasingly intensifying the feelings that we shared. Romano made his way up, looked deep into my soul and kissed my face whilst his penis entered my vagina. He didn’t move, for he was ready to explode. The power took me over forcing me to close my eyes once again. I couldn’t hold on for much longer. Suddenly I felt Romano increase his breathing leading me to release all the accumulated energy that was ready to explode as we came together.
I turned over and began looking into the candle again, embarrassed with what I had felt, embarrassed for not being able to control it. The room was so silent that I could almost hear the flickering flame. Romano and I were to shy to look or speak to each other. We felt intimidated by the experience. After a while he looked across at me as I continued gazing at the candle.
“What’s wrong?” he said in a low voice
He knew exactly what was wrong for he had experienced the same, but he was being polite and trying to break the silence. Returning to the past once more I replied
“God. That was intense” in a quite voice as the silence, continued to dominate.
Romano remained silent, forcing me to come up with something else to break the ice. “Yip, it gets quicker all the time...It feels to me…” and did not continue
“It feels to you what?”
I took my time responding and finally said
“It increasingly feels that you are making love to me”
Avoiding the “we are” at all costs.
No sooner had I said that I had begun thinking that the whole situation was becoming dangerous. It had crossed my mind to tell him that he should visit less frequently. However what was to happen the following day was to put an end to our story.
As Romano visited in the late evenings, it was not unusual for me to be sleeping by the time he left, leaving the money on top of my bedside lampshade.
The following day I was shocked to find that the money he left did not correspond with the value he usually left. Somehow I could not bring myself to text him asking if he had made a mistake and by that evening it was driving me crazy. I remembered all those times he had left me large tips every time I that I felt an uncontrollable urge to send him a message. Then I thought “Hold on, okay he left you tips occasionally, but what about the times when he had booked an hour visit and I spent many hours with him, never to dream of charging for it? …And what about that time when he…”
At that moment I grabbed my mobile and wrote
“Hi there. How are you? I think you made a mistake with the money last night”. He promptly replied “Really! I thought I left you... Wasn’t it correct? If there was a mistake don’t be afraid to tell me so I can rectify it”
There was but how could I say it? If I had always kept his past annoying behaviour to myself, how on earth could I explain this? I felt as if it would appear that I was tight or something and it just was not me. It was about our past that, that remained to haunt me in my mind. It was about being good and fair to him despite what had happened. It was about being repaid in this way. Maybe it was also an attempt to escape that deep feeling I had felt with him the night before, to avoid the unpredictable.
I began to bombard him with various messages about how stupid I had been with my clients. All my feelings of anger were interpreted in a sequence of messages that to me were logical but to him were coded. The hate those messages carried must have been overloading to him. The insults to his attitude must have been read and interpreted with a psychologically disturbed question mark. If only I had explained each event, he would understand perfectly. But no, he didn’t have a chance as I explained clearly in the last message that, that was it.
Within a day, Romano asked for my bank account details to transfer some money that I had asked him to look after. I replied endlessly that the transfer should only be made, as agreed at the end of the month, replying
“Unlike people who say things and don’t keep their word, I do. So if I said at the end of the month, it’s at the end of the month!”
He continued insisting until I ended up sending him my bank details. Romano transferred the money he was minding along with the difference from the Saturday night, only to receive a message that read
“Received the transfer. Thank you. One day you will realise why I reacted the way I did. It was not about the money”.
In one way I tried to understand his point of view. Romano always booked an hour, and in that hour we only ever had sex once. On the few occasions that we did it twice, he would leave me extra. The other clients paid for half an hour and had one chance, but they had the option of booking an hour and having a second opportunity. On that evening we had had sex once before the intense scene. Therefore I expected him to leave more money because that’s what he had taught me to expect in the past.
It had been two weeks since we had contact with each other. At the time of writing Romano the last message I was unaware that I would be starting to write this book within days. And now while writing these words I know that Romano will really someday know why I reacted the way I did. Maybe if it’s a success, it will be thanks to him that I actually make millions. It is yet to be seen.







CHAPTER 22
My “regular client” list was gradually building up. In little under a year I had gained close to three hundred. Every time I attended a client I would make a note of all the observations and other information that would then allow me to baptise a client as “regulars” on their third visit.
It was the beginning of the year and I was facing post Christmas blues. I had banned Romano from visiting me after the break up and it wasn’t helping. After all, he appeared to have no idea of why I had reacted that way. While thinking, I received a call to my work phone. It was a Lady! I thought it highly strange and was sceptical. She said that she was looking through the classified section in the paper and my advert had caught her attention.
I told the lady that I couldn’t help as I worked alone and wasn’t an employee.
“My name is Marilyn, I understand, but I’m in trouble. I’m an educated woman with responsibilities. I become unemployed last year and I can’t hold out anymore. I have no choice”
The lady left little room for me to place another word in edge ways and before I knew it she had convinced me to meet her the following morning.

The following day she called again while I was skating along the sea boulevard with my daughter. I had told her to meet me there to avoid giving her my address and within ten minutes she arrived.
I was too busy with my daughter to realise that a Lady was standing next to me. When she caught my attention, she smiled and apologised for disturbing me, introducing herself.
Marilyn asked if my daughter lived with me. I told her that she lived with my parents before advising her that I had limited time to chat as I spent little time with her since becoming a prostitute. Marilyn apologised once again before telling me her situation.
“I’m really desperate. I lost everything! I had a very high salary for the past 20 years. Now I have nothing. I have no choice. I need to work. I will do anything”
For the first time I looked at her face. I saw bitter sad women around forty-five years old. The scars of life had etched their way into her expression. She was a small framed, short woman and very well educated. Her voice was low and desperate and the tone cried out for help. I felt she was genuine. I looked into her eyes for the first time. The only time I would look into someone’s eyes would be to examine their validity.
I told Marilyn to be at my apartment the following day. I gave her my address details and advised her to be positive and said goodbye.

Early next morning Marilyn called and within minutes arrived at my door. She entered and sat down at my table and began to expand on the few details she had touched on the previous day.
Like me, Marilyn had made bad decision regarding her career. She had decided that it was time to work as a free lancer eighteen years into her work post. It didn’t work out. The consequences had been devastating. Suddenly, this divorced woman who earned four times the National average wage during all those years found herself in a loop whole with heavy financial consequences. Freelancing just didn’t work out for her and the gloomy economic situation proved it even the more fatal.
I felt truly sorry for Marilyn; I had been there and still remained there although I had already accepted the idea. I was more than familiar with her situation. I knew how difficult and testing it was and after analysing her geniality I agreed that she could use my apartment to work. I understood that she could not use her own because her children lived there. So, I allowed Marilyn to use my house to work on the condition that despite the number of clients she would attend she would simply give me a fixed daily rent.
I helped her place an advert in the paper and set up, providing all the necessary advice that she required.
This Lady who I was about to help was confused, economically embarrassed and personally demoralised. Her present love affair was coming to an end but still alive in her life. It effect was drastic and had invaded all areas of her life and at times she would worry more about her dying relationship than face her financial responsibilities.
I felt defenceless for Marilyn. She didn’t even have enough money to buy milk for her sick mother let alone buy her own cigarettes. I had to act quickly and decided to contact two of my regular client, Andrew and Pedro. I told them about Marilyn and asked if they would see her rather than me on their next visit. They both agreed and to my surprise made bookings straight away.

Andrew was an engineer in his fifties with thick grey hair and glasses. He was a no nonsense character and had little conversation. Unlike my other regulars he did not come to talk about the weather or anything else for that matter. He was purely mechanical. He knew his routine and stuck to it faithfully.
Andrew was a strong man. Our experiences together were always the same. He would arrive in the morning, kiss me hello then make his way straight to the bedroom and light up a cigarette whilst I was undressing and then lay on the bed smoking with his pants off not missing a single moment of it.
By the time I was naked the cigarette would still be dangling between his fingers. His hand would be stretched out to the wall as to allow me to start playing with him. I would start sucking his penis and within a few seconds his groans would commence at which point the cigarette would be violently bashed out.
He would then tell me to lie on my side with my bum towards him. It was all so predictable. Andrew would start whispering “do you like it? Do you like it, hmmm”? The more he would thrust himself into me the louder his chant would become. His voice at this point would be filled with domination. This was my signal. It was the sign that it was nearly over. I too would then start groaning at his pace to accelerate the process, wiggling my bum more and more as I did so. Andrew would then give a loud sigh of relief, although he actually never ejected liquid. His recent operation prevented it. His mission was accomplished and within a few minutes he would be dressed, leave the money on top of my gym seat, say good-bye and be on his way.

Pedro, the other client I had contacted for Isabel, was a truly charming gentleman. I imagine Pedro was in his late sixties. His hair was slicked back, a shinny silver. Pedro spoke to me in a pure English aristocratic accent. His level of English was remarkable. He had worked abroad during many years of his long life and on our many encounters he would addressed me as” Lady Cardiff”. Pedro’s chubby figure was always well disguised in a suit and finished off with a pair of sparkling black shoes. His shirt would always be buttoned up to his neck with a tie placed carefully over.
I referred to this Pedro as “old” Pedro to differentiate him from the many I had. Old Pedro never took off his pants. I think his age would not permit him to have an erection. His aim was to give me pleasure and me pleasure alone. Pedro would bring along a tube of lubricating gel every visit sometimes forgetting it in the car and having to put a hold on everything while he went down to fetch it.
I never saw Old Pedro’s penis. Of course it would be hard with his pants on. He would take his shirt and tie off and sit on the side of the bed waiting for me to finish undressing whilst he flattered me with beautiful remarks.
Gently and slowly he would begin to suck my breasts as soon as I lay by his side, filling the once silent room with the sound of the sucking. Whilst sucking he would pick up the gel and place a little on his finger. Then slowly he would move his hand down and place the pea sized lump onto my clitoris before spreading the cold gel around, up and down from my clitoris to my vaginal opening. The motions were so delicate and slow and the sensation of the gel alone aroused me!
On a few occasions I climaxed with Pedro. It was as if I had too. It was as if I could not fool this man. He was very aware of women’s body and certainly would not finish unless he knew I had come. He had an aim…it was to give me pleasure. It was like proving to himself that he still had it in him. That he was still a man. That he could still do it.
I recall being with Pedro on that bed only in body while my mind would wander and be filled with erotic scenarios so that I could grant his wish and climax. After all, that was Pedro’s aim.

Marilyn received her first client that afternoon. It was Andrew. She was very nervous and just before the doorbell rang I described Andrew’s rigorous routine.
The doorbell rang. He had arrived. Marilyn stood paralysed in the living room for a few seconds asking what the hell she was going to do with him.
“Come on Marilyn. You just do what you always do” I added.
She had no time to answer back. Andrew was already at the front door of the apartment. She opened the door, said hello and Andrew did his usual thing and made his way straight to the bedroom. Marilyn looked at me whilst I was sitting in the living room bit her lip, crunched her face and went off to join Andrew.
The minutes started ticking away and still silence filled the apartment. Everything was taken over by emptiness. Half an hour passed by but still no sign of life. I was finding it strange as Andrew’s routine never occupied more than twelve minutes of my time; three to undress, three to have his cigarette, three to turn me side ways and climax and three to get dressed and leave. What on earth was happening in there? I thought, at the same time reassuring myself that Andrew was a nice, harmless man.
Just before an hour was up Marilyn opened the bedroom door. Andrew went to the bathroom whilst she waited to escort him to the door. Then she walked into the living room with a smile on her face.
Marilyn was extremely happy and when I asked why her eyes filled up with tears as she said
“Diana, I came. Can you believe it? Only now I realise how rough my boyfriend is in bed. The fucking bastard treats me like meat and is only interested in him. This was a man Diana. This was a real man! He was gentle, a real gentleman! He treated me with affection”
Whilst she was speaking I went off in daze thinking how useless her boyfriend really must be and how deprived Isabel had been all this time. After all if her experience with Andrew was anything to be excited about…
We were relieved it went so well and just before Marilyn got ready to head home she pulled out the rent money and placed it on the dinning room table. I picked it up and placed it in her hand. I refused to take it and told her that the first day was free. She was adamant but I managed to convince her to use it to buy her mother milk.

The next day it was Old Pedro’s turn to visit Isabel. This time Marilyn was more relaxed and spared me the details.
Her advert had come out in the paper that same morning and when she and Pedro had finished she began to take the calls after I had given her a briefing on what to say. To her horror one of the first calls she received was from her boyfriend! She was gobbed smacked and hung up before he could realise it was her.
Marilyn spent the rest of the day cursing him, even though she was already aware of his behaviour. It was not new to her. Isabel began to explain how he had once fallen in love with an Eastern European stripper. He had left Marilyn for her only to restart their relationship when the other woman returned to her country. I knew that it was some kind of sick relationship she was having but also felt at that moment that Marilyn was not just doing this for the money alone but yes, as proof that she could do it. To her it was confirmation that she could still do the same as the other woman.
Marilyn’s age was stated in the advert and we were both totally shocked with the amount of young callers she received. I found it bizarre, but it was true. Marilyn had a problem though; she would loose clients due to her phone manner. Instead of keeping the conversation short and brief she would instead spend as much as fifteen minutes chatting to the potential clients.
One young caller, use to call her everyday and eventually plucked up courage to ask her for a drink and to my disbelief she agreed. After she hung up I began telling her off.
Marilyn and I had come to an agreement that she would pay me a one off rent sum but she could not afford it as she hardly received clients. I had let her off for the first couple of days to help her out and she began to take advantage of the situation.
Although she spent all her time complaining about her financial situation her relationship problems took over. Some days she would not even turn her phone on and the days she did it was as if she was looking for guys to talk to rather than work. I was beginning to feel used became increasingly angry as I lost a number of bookings due to clients she was expecting at the same time.

Within a few weeks I plucked up the courage to speak to her. I had no choice I was going absolutely bananas and the bomb inside me was about to explode. I told her exactly how I felt and that I would prefer it to end. After all, I had passed some of my clients onto her but was not getting anything in return. Instead I was loosing money and my situation was worse than hers.
Marilyn respected everything I told her. She knew I was absolutely right. We managed to remain good friends and supported each other in our lengthy chats as I waited for clients. We shared many secrets and discussions and we understood and respected each other. We were accomplices. We came to meet each other’s families and kept our secret under lock and key. I gained a good friend, a friend who a few months later was offered a teaching position in the South that which, to give her financial stability she once had. But my fight continued.
CHAPTER 23
The Christmas period had left everybody’s economic situation worse than ever and the days began to pass very slowly. The calls became scarcer and at one point I was forced to go out and buy the paper to see if my advert had been placed. I had to change my strategy. If it weren’t for my regulars I would not have work.
Marilyn had come around to keep me company one afternoon and I began to tell her what had happened with Romano and how and why I had banned him a few weeks before. I explained how uncomfortable I was that he had not understood why I had reacted the way I did.
The whole thought of it was haunting me as I hated leaving things with ambiguity or no explanations. Nevertheless I shock of the guilty feelings for a brief moment and started remembering what Romano had often suggested I should do, put my prices up.
I told Marilyn that I was going to try it out, aim for the upper middle class. So I did. I placed an advert in a different paper, which highlighted the price to avoid unnecessary calls.
To be fair, my regulars on the other hand would remain at their old prices. From then on any new comers were to be on the new tariff. I had tripled my prices and on that same day went out to buy a new phone to receive calls from potential “Expensive” clients.
The next day I tried to make an effort for these new category clients realising that I could not open the door without makeup anymore. Then the calls would begin. On answering the phone, the first thing I would ask was if the person was aware of the price stated on the advert. This was my way of saving time on the phone. It’s funny; the few occasions that I did not ask the inquirer would then ask at the end how much it was, then say it was too expensive.
Despite the price distinction the whole process was the same minus the fact that clients were not restricted to twenty minutes (although I use to spend more time speaking to my regulars) but for up to an hour. Sex didn’t have class. If you were a minister, a Doctor or merely unemployed sex was classless although I found that the majority of these men were dirtier, more chauvinistic than the others. Some used vulgar language especially those in legal positions.
The younger men were usually involved in medicine. They hardly saw their wives due to their long haul working schedules and most gave me the impression that they were married to wives who shared similar careers and social status. One man in his early thirties who was to become a regular actually told me that he remained in his marriage because of his work congresses saying,
“It is good to arrive at these meeting with a woman in the same industry”
I couldn’t believe it, or actually I could. I mean, just for a few meeting a year this man remained in an empty marriage, which brought him no happiness or satisfaction and instead like many found himself visiting prostitutes.

In between clients I continued to invite Marilyn round to keep me entertained although half the time she would entertain herself with tarot cards. At one stage I was very concerned as she would consult the cards at every opportunity and take the answers as gospel truth often leading to extremely negative situations. The cards seemed to have taken over her life and dominated her every move and action.
Marilyn and I spent the other half of our time laughing and joking about my experiences with clients. However, one of them was no laughing matter. The way in which I had banned Romano increasingly concerned me. Marilyn would grab her cards for consultation and then insisted that I only felt guilty for what had happened because I was attracted to him. This was news to me.
As the days passed she continued to insist that I had feelings for Romano. I continually disagreed with her and insisted it was just because of the loose ends.
On one particular day when again she insisted, I remembered the night that Romano had made love to me. I took a few moments to remember and physically feel the feeling he had transmitted. Marilyn continued talking whist I was reminiscing. I came out of my bubble and began to hear her as she continued speaking. At that moment I evaluated the validity of what she was saying. Could it actually be true what she is saying? I thought out loudly.
From then on every time I thought about Romano I remembered the moment when he was speaking to me and soon found myself thinking of him more and more. It was as if he was thinking of me and couldn’t get me out of his head. It was as if he was making me feel for him by some kind of telepathy and it was becoming uncomfortably uncontrollable. Yet, the feeling of guilt still prevailed. I had to do something. At the least, I had to clear the air and make him aware of my past actions, give an explanation to explain my past attitude. That way I would feel better and lighter. My consciousness would then no longer need to carry the weight.

It had been a few weeks since the argument with Romano and I could not hold it out any longer. I plucked up the courage and decided to send him a written message. When I went to do so I remembered that I no longer had his number, I had erased it out of anger.
I looked into my message folder to see if I could recuperate one of his past messages to find his number. I recalled the first four numbers in his phone sequence and found a message that showed them and quickly placed a forward on the message and sent it off.
A few minutes later I received a call from the same number. It was not him! It was somebody else’s number. I warned them of the mistake and hung up.” Maybe it was just not meant to be. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to contact Romano anymore” I thought to myself.
Just when I thought all hope was lost I remembered searching my old phone. I had been forced to change the phone due to its unreliability nature with stored data. It was strange, whenever it turned off it would recuperate old data from the past. I grabbed the phone and switched it on. Nope! I had erased Romano’s number from that also. I searched the message memory, missed calls, dialled and received calls but nothing. Suddenly the phone played one of its old tricks and switched off. To my amazement when I switched it back on the data had been replaced. Romano’s number was on it! For hours I was thinking it was not meant to be but after all, it was!
This time around I took my time and actually thought out the message I would send. I was more apprehensive as the whole recuperating thing had been so bizarre! I scribbled a few lines saying that I hoped all was ok with him and to my surprise within minutes he replied.
I was scared to open the text, as I was unsure of how he would react. For all I knew he could have told me to fuck off and not given me a chance to explain my past actions. When I did eventually open it I was extremely relieved at what I read,
“I’m good thanks. Great to hear from you!”
It was as if he had spent every moment looking to see when a message would finally arrive. I was happy, as the reply had alleviated my tension I was so relieved to think that if one day were to bump into each other I would have an opportunity to explain instead of receiving the cold side of his face.

The following evening Romano wrote me a message asking if I was busy. That was his way of asking if he could make a booking. Unfortunately that evening I was.
The day after, he wrote a similar message again. I had no bookings and replied, inviting him over.
It was a strange situation. At first neither Romano nor I brought the up the past. We acted as if nothing had happened although a strange tension filled the bedroom. In an attempt to break the ice I told him that I was writing a new book. I picked up my laptop, which was on the side of the bed and showed him extracts of the text I had already written, especially the part concerning him, which contained our argument and the reasons for my reaction.
I was too embarrassed to show him the rest of the information, especially, the detailed scenes involving other clients. Romano was speechless when he read what I had written. He looked at me not knowing exactly what to say. He placed his head and said
“You really misunderstood it all. You got it all wrong about me”.

The following Monday proved to be an excellent business day. All my clients were from the new advert and also I had a few good tips. My last client that evening was Juan. Juan had various businesses many involving tourism and his general and cultural knowledge was of an extreme high standard. He was a frail-looking, short man. I was surprised when he told me he was sixty-Five. He did not look a day over fifty-five.
At first Juan did not feel comfortable. Maybe he was expecting to find a secretary with high stilettos rather than a wild looking chick? Within a short time however after my brief introduction he became more comfortable and relaxed.
In a while we both undressed and lay side by side on the bed. He was amazed at my figure and continually gave me compliments while circling my nipples in a soft circular motion. He was definitely more comfortable by now and plucked up the courage to lead my hand to his breast as he closed his eyes. He directed my fingers to his nipples and asked me to squeeze. I squeezed them gently while kissing him softly on his chest so as not to hurt him.
He started groaning in a high pitch, asking me to squeeze a little more until eventually he began begging and begging me to squeeze even tighter. The tighter I squeezed the more he would beg. Obeying orders I continued doing as he asked to the point that I could not understand how he was taking the pain. At one stage, I grabbed with all my might and his whole frail body was shocked as he screamed and climaxed.
Juan remained with his eyes closed for some time. I was relieved that it had come to an end. When eventually his eyes opened they were filled with deep satisfaction and his face was very content. Lighting up his cigar he returned to the man who had stepped through my front door. It was around ten thirty PM when he had left.
Within minutes of Juan’s departure Romano contacted me to see if he could make a booking. I found it odd that he had called just as Juan was leaving. It was as if he was outside my building watching. I found this highly and even stranger as he never came on Mondays but I agreed and told him that he could come over.
The energy between Romano and I surfaced again that night. Everything was the same and yet so different. Romano stayed for a few hours and we discussed many things as usual. One of the topics of conversation was the four-day business trip he was going to make the following day.
Just before he was leaving he went into his pocket to get my payment. I told him to stop
“I don’t want your money. I had an excellent day. Really, keep it” I said. He looked at me in awe with an extremely confused expression and after a few moments asked if I was crazy and of course he was going to pay. He left the money and said goodbye.
I was determined to hand Romano back the money and the following day I sent him a message asking his shoe size. Totally shocked he asked why. I didn’t reply but instead went out and bought him a pair of roller blade skates and kit with the money he had left the previous night. I thought it would be a Great idea for Romano to join us skating at the weekends.

Romano arrived back from his business trip the following Thursday. On the Friday he called to make a booking. I already had plans but suggested that he join us to skate the following afternoon. Using the obvious excuse, he replied that he couldn’t, as he didn’t have skates. I told him that was a weak excuse as I had already bought him a pair with the money he left behind on his previous visit. He was speechless.
Romano was nervous about the adventure but turned up at our usual skating meeting place at the time arranged. We both felt a little odd. Romano was extremely shy and I wasn’t my normal cheeky self with my friends.
Within a few hours I decided to pack up and leave so that I could turn on my phones. Romano decided to leave at the same time. We said goodbye and then went our separate ways.
That same evening Romano called to ask if I was free. At that time I wasn’t but we arranged a later time for his booking.
When Romano arrived we acted like complete strangers not really knowing how to act and where to place ourselves.
On this occasion I went straight into the bedroom and Romano followed. I was so nervous I had forgotten to offer him a whisky as I usually did, so he asked if he could go and serve himself.
Romano arrived back with an unusual triple. He was extremely uneasy and it was rubbing off on me. We both lay on the bed fully clothed and chatted for a while as we usually did. The whole conversation was about our afternoon of skating. Neither Romano nor I could bring ourselves to talk of anything else as we both felt quite intimidated by the whole situation.
A few hours had passed and still nothing. For the first time Romano didn’t reach the point of asking, “Are we going to get down to it?” as he usually did. I was dreading the moment but he didn’t.
At one point we began to laugh hysterically remembering how he splattered himself over a car while skating. As we finished laughing our eyes connected and remained focused until our laughter faded. I looked at Romano as he stared into the candle that as usual was placed in front of us on the floor. My stomach was filled with an indescribable feeling, which was ready to explode. It was a mixture of adrenaline, just like I had felt with my ex girlfriend. The more I felt I couldn’t kiss him, the more I felt an uncontrollable urge to do so. It was forbidden. It wasn’t allowed. I couldn’t kiss a client.
Romano continued speechless whilst my internal battle continued. My body was tingling by the minute as I felt the imaginary taste of his saliva, making me wetter and wetter by the minute to the point where I nearly climaxed. Notwithstanding a second longer I turned to Romano and began kissing him. Both giving into the temptation, we remained there until the early hours.
Something had happened. We both knew it. In the evening when Romano left he didn’t even attempt to leave money. We both knew something had started.









































CHAPTER 24
Our first kiss marked the start of a new relationship. I no longer wanted to consider Romano as a client or even remember that he had been one for that matter. In the past I had never jumped into bed with boyfriends on my first second or third date and even though I had slept with Romano hundreds of times I refused to have sex with him during the first week of our relationship. It just wasn’t in my nature and it was something that despite my profession had remained intact.
My last client for the day had left and Romano came over, just like he had done for the previous seven days.
As we lay on the bed listening to soft jazz music, looking at the candle, I remembered the evening Romano had made love to me. As I saw the scene in the flames, my desire began to burn inside.
As Romano started to kiss me, I just couldn’t contain myself anymore; I couldn’t contain the lust and the desire and the passion that was burning inside. The passion was filling my vagina with an urge to be filled and dominated. Once again, I felt like a virgin, but this time it was different. This time I felt like a virgin with Romano. We hadn’t had sex since we had been dating.
As he lay by my side I started unbuttoning his trousers slowly. We both started to perspire at the thought of what was about to take place. Romano placed his hand on my vagina, which was becoming wetter by the minute. I took his hand away as the sensations were too strong, and I was about to come. I needed to feel him inside me first but I needed to wait. Something was missing; it was him inside of me.
Romano knew it was time and lay on top of me. As soon as he entered I couldn’t contain myself. I looked into his eyes and climaxed. Within seconds he came to. The feelings were just too strong.

The first few weeks together were marvellous. We refused to allow anything to spoil our illusion of reality and tried to be as normal a couple as possible. We tried to forget what I was doing for a living and concentrate on enjoying ourselves and doing the things that new passionate couples do when they are in love.
Within a few weeks both our birthdays along and we celebrated both of them with a trip down South. The break was fantastic but the thought of enjoying myself at the cost of lost work left my mind in tatters of guilt. I wasn’t in a position to savour such moments. After all, no work, no money!
On our arrival home Romano could see I was distressed and guessed exactly what was bothering me. During our vacation I had received various calls to my private phone from regular clients and the thought of loosing all that work made my head spin. Every time I answered a call Romano sensed my change of mood.
On various occasions he suggested that he give monthly contributions to help me out but soon ended those silly suggestions when it became clear that I would not accept and further more, disgusted that it was even suggested. I thought by now after having been a client for nine months and listening to my endless stories he would at least know me better than to come out with that.

In time I began to discover that portrait that I had made of Romano was made up of the wrong material and colours, and my evaluation was nowhere near accurate. Although Romano had in the past discusses financial and power games, he too was struggling. What he was striving for was not the position he presently found himself but rather achieving that position that he spoke about so highly. In reality he was faced with endless State debt as he had purchased bankrupt company a few years prior. Behind this strong confident face was a man full of problems who chose to suffer in silence.
The economic crisis was deteriorating just at a point when we all thought it could only improve. Clients were scarce and although regular clients appeared, they did so less regularly. When they did they all had the same sad stories to tell. Those who were self employed just complained about the state of the economy and customers outstanding client invoices.
Things were depressing and it was touching everyone. I became increasingly frustrated and felt even more imprisoned as I could not see light at the end of the tunnel. Instead all I could see was gloom.
It had been a year since I started working and my initial plan had been to work for five months. If this trend continued I would have to work an extra eight bringing the total to just less than two years, or a year and a half longer than I had first planed. I really needed to escape and get out of the business. It was affecting my whole life but most of all it was effecting my relationship.
During this depressive period I spent my time alone gazing at the sky through my bedroom window counting and naming the variety and shapes of the clouds that travelled past. My spare time was such that not even Isabel could fill the wide gaps that the lack of work provided.
Client calls were very few and in between as I waited my time was occupied thinking, analysing and accumulating negative feelings. Mostly it was dedicated to my relationship and especially wondering how Romano could dare be with me or dare love me for that matter. How could he accept the fact that I had slept with all those men? How could he accept something that I would never accept from any boyfriend? of mine? Was it possible that anyone could really love me, as I was a whore? These thoughts would take over my mind.
One of my major “head screws” as I called them was related to Romano being in my apartment when I was attending to clients. This confused me more than I can explain. It made me feel used by him, as if he didn’t care and it made no difference to him whatsoever. Each evaluation I made brought a negative conclusion. I had to speak to him about it. I was not sure how to go about it but I had to. I couldn’t contain this bomb anymore. It was ready to explode. I had to bring it out into the open fast.
Romano knew what I meant when I eventually did tell him. He explained that he preferred to be near me during his spare time when in case anything happened adding the fact that he had premonitions of me being in danger. However he understood my point and from then on made himself scarce whilst I attended clients.

One particular Saturday night Romano was sitting on top of the toilet as usual when I was having a bath. It was a routine to bath after every client. It was like my cleansing ritual.
Romano and I were interrupted by a call. It was my expensive phone. He handed me the phone and I answered it. A deep voiced African accent replied. The man was stuttering whilst highly confident and simultaneously making a number of mistakes. “Why was a man who sounded as if he hadn’t made it half way through high school calling my expensive advert?” I asked myself
I am completely anti racist but there was just something wrong. Yet I agreed to accept him and gave him a time and a meeting place asking him to call me half an hour later so that I could direct him to my apartment building.
Romano looked at me when I hung up and asked what was wrong. I couldn’t explain it, but there was just something strange about this guy and I can’t put my finger on it. Romano suggested I avoided his visit, but I couldn’t afford to loose the work.
I asked Romano if he could wait in the spare room whilst I attended the client. He was uncomfortable with the idea since our last chat and stated that I would probably hold it against him in the future.
After my begging he agreed, asked what time the client was arriving and popped out quickly to get a DVD to watch in the spare room.
While I was getting dressed the phone rang. It was the same man. Now I was even more worried as I had told to call back in thirty minutes but not even ten had passed! The man was already at the meeting spot. I apologised and asked him to call back in twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes later he called again but Romano had not yet arrived. This time around I gave him my address but not the door number, and then quickly called Romano to advice him the man was arriving. Romano was already in the lift when I called and quickly made his way in, grabbed the Napoleon and took her with him to the spare room.
The man called within minutes of Romano’s arrival and I directed him to my building and then my floor. I opened the door to a very tall black man, no older than twenty, quiet and shy with a thin physic.
I said hello politely and asked him in. He followed me through the corridor into the bedroom and started to tell me that he was not expecting to find someone like me but rather to some fat, ugly woman. I looked at him and smiled, asking him to pay up front as I had had an incident where a young man had run out of my house without paying when I was using the bathroom.
We lay on the bed for ages talking. I asked him what he did for a living just like I asked everybody else as a topic of conversation. At the time I noticed a huge scar on his left foot. I allowed him to continue before asking him about the scar.
“I’m a football player. My name is Ben. I play for the best in the country…the reds. Well actually I’m on the B team”
I believed him. For one I had no idea about football and secondly this guy seemed to be brainless and from past experience with football players they were all on the same wavelength. He continued and began telling me the history behind his scar.
“See this scar? Well I nearly screwed up my life. I had a foot injury. The football team found me the best Doctor in Europe. We managed to save it. We managed to save my career. It was a very lucky escape”.
I was speechless. After all it sounded like a sad story with a happy ending.
I began to rub myself on Ben’s thin figure. He had a toned body but not as wide as I would expect a footballer’s to be. Time was already pushing along. All I could think was Miguel next door. It was time to get the job done.
I placed my body on top of Ben’s and continued rubbing. I sat on top of his penis, lifted myself on to my legs and I slowly moved up and down. This position usually cracked it. It was my best option to finish the job and by then it was time. It did not work. We did every position imaginable. Something was wrong. I was becoming sore because the condom was dry by then and it was becoming intolerable. All Ben could ask was if he could spend the night. I’d be damned if I spent the whole night in this situation. What’s more, Romano was next door. There was just no way!
I found his behaviour strange but tried to convince myself that as a footballer he had natural stamina. I looked at Ben and quickly found an excuse to leave for a few seconds to go to the spare bedroom to see Romano and ask if he minded if I spent another hour with Ben.
“Sure, no problem. The film still has forty minutes to go,” he said
I returned to Ben who asked no questions about why I had left the room. He hadn’t moved. He lay naked on the bed with his legs stretched out and crossed looking straight ahead, as I had left him.
As I joined him he began to talk about prostitutes and of a past scandal involving famous players and call out girls a few years prior.
“It was a huge scandal man. They beat the girls then raped them. They were really bad boys. Can you believe it?”
We got back to business and another hour was taken up with the same activities as the first. Ben still had not climaxed. I had rolled on my side exhausted, and said that I had to stop as I had arranged to meet a friend at one PM.
“Come on man. Stay with me the whole night. Go on agree”
On various occasions he tried to convince me to agree to him staying, but I was adamant to stop and sat up on the side of the bed with my head down.
Ben walked towards his clothes, which were lying on top of the gym bench. No sooner had I realised than, I heard the bedroom door slam in my face. Before I could look up I felt something on my head and heard
“Don’t move. Don’t move or I’ll blow your fucking head off! You hear me bitch?”
“What, what are you doing? Stop fucking around”
But he wasn’t fucking around. I was numb, confused and emotionless. I had no idea how to react. The past year had made me confront so much that nothing surprised me anymore. My body and soul had become immune, violated!
My first reflex was to stand up and head for the door
“Where do you think you are going bitch”? He said calmly and pushed me against the wall, blurring my senses for moments.
Suddenly I realised that I needed a strategy. It was not only me in danger but also Romano and he had no idea of the situation I was in. It was all so quiet. Everything was taking place in painful dark silence. But I needed to find a discrete way to advice Romano; it was my first priority and needed an immediate solution. I had to make him aware of what was taking place before it became too late for the both of us. I was praying I could think of something but my mind did not allow was blank.
I could not allow Ben to know that someone else was in the apartment. It could get messy and then there would be thin chances of escape. How on earth was I going to do this? My brief moments thought allowed me to remember my castrophobia. It dawned on me that there I was in a closed room and began to feel my breath, my oxygen violated in a suffocating bubble. I panic stricken and screamed at Ben
“Open the window! Just open the fucking window” as I made my way to them. He pushed me back to the initial place and warned me that he would shoot.
“Please stop this. You are scaring me. Stop this shit now” I said loudly so that Romano could hear that something was up and come prepared.
It was the first time that a strategy had come up. An excuse to speak loudly without Ben realising that I was warning someone what was happening.
Romano heard it clearly. He had already heard a few noises that had caught his attention and was by now, on the alert. Suddenly I heard Romano’s voice
“Is everything ok in there?” He said loudly
“No! No it’s not,” I said as I recalled Ben didn’t speak a word of English.
Before Ben and I knew it Romano pushed open the door. Ben was standing to the right of the door behind a wall. Romano had no idea what he was about to see.
As he walked through the door he saw me, naked looking straight ahead at Ben. Ben was still out of site to him. I was panicking. I had no idea if the gun was loaded or what Romano’s reaction would be. Romano took a step forward and looked to his right. He was paralysed for a few moments at seeing Ben standing there with a gun pointing at him. Without having time to think Romano immediately shouted
“What is this? What the hell do you think you are doing? What the fuck are you doing to my girlfriend?
Romano walked towards Ben and grabbed the gun. Ben shocked and without reaction remained calm and silent whilst he checked to see if it was loaded. I didn’t wait around and ran straight to the spare room to release the dog that ran into the room and went straight for Ben. I stopped her just in time.
I quickly remembered my gun and ran out of the bedroom once again. My dog sat at Romano’s side and remained there until I entered the bedroom with my 0.22. I handed Romano the gun and left him arguing with Ben whilst I called one of my clients Pedro for help. If anybody knew what to do and quickly it would be him. If I called the police in this country I would be lucky if they appeared within the hour.
To my relief Pedro answered. It was now about 1:30am. I explained what was happening and he told me to be calm. Help was arriving.
Romano continued arguing with Ben in the meantime and searched every pocket of Ben’s clothing for money to try and make up for the two hours of my time. He then asked me if he should let him go, but I told him no.
I locked the corridor so Ben would not try and escape and told Napoleon to lie next to him. Romano and I were still convinced he was a football player and somehow began arguing with Ben over lawyers.
“Ye man. You don’t know whom you are messing with. I will call my posy to come over here and sort you out. You are going to regret this, especially when my lawyer hits on you”
Within five minutes the police arrived at my door and I opened it to find four armed officers. A few others remained outside the building on guard. They took me to the living room and heard my story before taking Ben into my bedroom for interrogation. To my surprise Ben admitted to everything but insisted that he had done it for “fetish” reasons. The police took him away.
The following day Romano and I were called to give a statement at the local police station. I was very lucky, as the law governing the country did not consider prostitution illegal. It was not legal either for that matter and maybe that’s why Ben thought he could have got away with it.
However, I was within the boundary and had not broken the law. After giving our statement the police officer informed us that we had been very lucky. So-called “Ben” was serving a long jail sentence for armed robbery and rape. He had been let out for good behaviour the day before he visited me. The night before he had held another couple at gunpoint, stolen their belongings and car.
I had been very lucky that Romano was with me that night and if he hadn’t been there I have no idea how the whole scenario would have concluded.

CHAPTER 25
The “hold up” episode made me realise that I had to get out of the occupation quickly. Romano asked me to give him a spare pair of keys for security reasons. The plan was that I would send him a written message every time I was to accept a new client. A twenty-minute period would then be allowed for cheaper rate clients and an hour for expensive ones. If I did not answer his phone call after that time he would take it for granted that I was in trouble and act.
Work was becoming more and more scarce. Everyone was complaining and I was feeling it even more than ever. At one stage I got paranoid and thought that my regulars had fled to other girls. It wasn’t the case. I contacted everyone I knew who had contact with whorehouses or individual workingwomen. The situation was equally depressing for all.
I still had cheques landing in my bank account daily and struggled to continue paying them. My budget had not gone to plan. I had written out predated cheques to pay off my debt under the illusion that I would be able to pay. My schedule was nowhere near the target.
Romano was also struggling in a similar situation. Sometimes he would bend over backwards to scratch money together to help me. But he kept his problems to himself, as he didn’t want to burden me with any more and instead suffered in silence.
Ever increasing periods were spent looking at the clouds from my bedroom window, feeding and empowering negative thoughts. My “head screws” were alive and kicking. My analysis mode was on top gear. Every bit of information, every movement Romano made or failed to make was under my microscope. The microscope was now more focused than ever and not even a bacteria on his plate would be left untouched, would be left uncombed. If I could have sold my apparatus at the time I would have made a small fortune.
Up until this time I had never been to Romano’s house or even knew what it smelled like. He had never invited me and instead, all our time together was spent at my place. He lived in the area and the thought of not being welcome in his home frustrated me. I could see why he had not invited me but somehow could not accept it. He was scared someone in his building would recognise me, someone who knew my profession. He was a businessman and consequently had a lot to lose if any such gossips hit the fan. Still, it was eating me alive and the fact that he was not truthful about his reasons added salt to my wounds. All I wanted to hear was the truth. No matter how painful, it was the truth instead of a package of endless excuses. Why was he taking me for, a fool?
His parents were another big topic for investigation and did not escape the powerful glass of which my microscope was made. I had never met his parents although from the beginning he had insisted on meeting mine. Romano simply gave me an endless collection of excuses as to why I should not meet them. “They were not worth meeting” he would say, “They are irrelevant to me”. He must have thought I was stupid, as I knew how important his Father was to him and his daily business.
Romano was once again scared. He knew that anything could happen and they could find out what I was doing. He didn’t want to be in a position to choose between them and me. Again, I felt extremely wounded and annoyed. Why couldn’t this man just tell me the truth? Why was he taking me for a fool?
Within my “trance” periods I answered even fewer calls and never missed an opportunity to attend regular clients.
One Friday afternoon, a specific caller grabbed my attention. My head was still working over time on the incident involving the gun. I needed to continue to trust my intuition which led me to feel something was not right about the client that was about to appear at my door for the first time.
I called Romano and told him. It just so happened that on that afternoon he had gone away for a business meeting and was already two hundred kilometres away. I began to explain that a client with a cockney accent had called. Romano suggested that I didn’t attend to the client but my financial situation could not permit such a choice.
Romano took all precautions and reminded me that I had a time period to be with this client and could not violate the time allowance. If I didn’t answer the phone he would make arrangements for someone to knock down my door. I felt safer. Plucked up courage and soon the new client arrived.
He was a very exquisite looking man of around 163 in height with a clean- head and skin. He was dressed in black with a long white designer shirt hanging tidily over his trousers. The clothes he wore were of the best quality and cut and yet strikingly simple. His hands were dressed with few but powerful platinum rings and to complete the look he wore a long platinum chain. His style did not have a category. He was in a class of his own.
“Hello Darling. I’m Christopher. Well, I wasn’t expecting to find someone like you here love” he said in his cockney accent.
As he spoke he was already making a tour around my living room. My photographs hanging on the wall called his attention.
“Wow, you are gorgeous aren’t you Darling”? He said looking at me with a convinced expression.
We sat in my living room. Strangely enough I felt comfortable with his character and asked if he wanted a drink and made my way to the kitchen.
I returned with his drink and sat down on the opposite sofa where we sat for at least half-hour chatting before heading for the bedroom.
When we finally arrived in the bedroom I wasted little time to undress as time was by now pushing on.
“You really are gorgeous aren’t you love. Look at that body! But what’s a young girl like you doing in this then?” He asked
My nerves had prevented me going through the whole “ritual” of explanation that was usually did with a new client before they even have the chance to step through the door! Somehow, I had got carried away with this character that lay before me. Maybe it was because he was telling me about his thousands of fascinating adventures he had experienced whilst travelling the world on tours.
Christopher made me stand in front of him for a while with my back to the window. At the time the shutters were semi closed allowing the warm rays of sunlight to seep through. He appeared to be in a trance looking at me. He realised I had noticed and broke the silence by asking if he could roll a joint.
He started to burn the hash and roll the tobacco. For a brief moment there was silence again as he concentrated on rolling his art-piece. I on the other hand was already tripping to the inside of my soul that had felt the sweet and bitter effects of these little escapes called drugs.
I returned in silence to find Christopher on the last lap of his project. The joint was made and as he was about to light up he looked up and asked if I ever smoked hash. I told him that I use to but preferred not to anymore. He just lay there with a huge look of satisfaction as he inhaled his first few drags.
I began to explain that I had smoked on a few occasions omitting the fact that I had actually smoked it on and off for a good few years.
For a brief while my thoughts were focused on analysing the night that I had gone to hell and back on coke. The night I had arrived at the conclusion that no matter what drug you took, soft or hard, it had lots of side effect, some immediately apparent whilst others only long term. I remembered going back to my first few experiences of hash and recalled that unfortunately my first paranoia feeling followed shortly after. Bottom line, I saw through the whole drug thing and was adroit enough to realise that its not so much the today, rather the tomorrow that one has to be careful with.
Christopher took a few moments to appreciate the first few deep puffs that were inhaled He was far more relaxed by now and an expression of pleasure took over his face.
I wriggled myself closer to him and he began to touch my bottom slowly asking if I liked it as he continued to do so.
“It’s a shame I have to be in a meeting in a little while. I’d really love to spread those legs of your across that dinning room table Darling. I mean spread them right out” he told me.
While saying this Christopher opened my legs as I lay with my bum facing up. Then he placed his finger between my bum cheeks as my wide spread legs had allowed easy access. His fingers then worked their way up my back leaving a trace of electricity through the travelled route as they crossed it in the direction of my neck. On reaching my neck Christopher turned me over and held me close to his chest as if to nurture me, possessing all the power and domination in a gentle movement.
“You all right love? I just can’t get enough of you Darling,” He asked as he turned me on my back and spread my legs apart very slowly before placing his well-toned body on top of me and entering my vagina. Every step he made was slow, very slow in a deliberate attempt to devour every second and every move.
Christopher was there to feel love and pleasure. He was definitely not there just to “dump” and after pouring out his feelings with his movements he eventually climaxed in that position.
By now I had experience at analysing men and their needs. I had created my own defined categories of placing men and their reasons for visiting these places. I knew the reason why Christopher visited women such as myself. Christopher lacked something and that was simply love and affection. He needed to feel the tenderness of another body, of someone who cared for him and could return what he gave. He needed to feel affection as much as he needed oxygen to breathe. I wanted to be sure that my analysis was correct and began to delve into his soul discretely.
Before I had a chance to ask Christopher any questions he apologised for climaxing so quickly, assuring me that it was a rare occurrence. I comforted him by saying it was nonsense that it was not very quick. Actually, it was true. It was the average time.
“Christopher is everything ok? You seem down. You seem to have something on your mind. By the way what on earth is someone like you visiting this type of place?” I asked in a casual way.
“I don’t know Darling. Guess its because things are not good between me and my other half”.
To make him feel more at ease I told Christopher about Romano and how uncomfortable I was having allowed myself to get into a relationship at such a time of my life. The situation just did not permit such a thing and it was increasingly frustrating.
Christopher eventually opened up as I had planed and told me of his past love for his wife and how in recent times she had betrayed him; not with another man but with something else that he was too hurt to speak about. It must have been really bad, as Christopher was no longer aware if he still loved her.
When I asked why he remained with her, he said that he really didn’t know, but the main reason was the children.
The conversation was not surprising. I had heard it all before and was more than familiar with the situation; people would rather be stuck in unhappy ties just for the convenience of it all. Some were too weak to escape and made up excuses; Christopher was one of them, but he was human and desperately needed affection.
By now Christopher looked at the time and realised how late he was and quickly got dressed and departed.

Within a few hours Romano arrived. Before we could both sit down to discuss the day’s events, my phone rang again. It was Christopher asking if he could make another booking. Romano left again and I got ready to receive Christopher.
Christopher had various houses spread through out Europe. One of them happened to be a five-minute drive from my apartment. It was this house that his wife used as her main residence. He was there when he had called me and within a short while was back on my doorstep.
Christopher was much looser and relaxed this time around and walked around my apartment as if it were his own. Maybe the few drinks he’d had over dinner had relaxed him?
This time around we didn’t even enter the bedroom. Christopher was blunt with what he wanted. He wanted to carry out what he had been describing that same afternoon and without uttering a single word he gently pushed me forward onto the table.
I was wearing jeans and high heels with a tight sleeveless top that defined my chest. Directly behind the table hung a huge mirror that took up three-quarters of the candle lit room. Whilst I was bending over the table, Christopher could see my every move bouncing off the mirror that was facing him.
He unzipped his trousers and then mine without altering our positions before I knew it I felt a firm penis entering my vagina causing me to move forward slightly to try and feel less pressure. Christopher noticed I had moved a millimetre and pulled me back. He wanted me to know that he was in control, he dominated the situation and that the situation was about his pleasure, nothing and else!
Still with his penis inside me he stopped for a second and gently spread my legs apart, carried on doing so until they were so far apart I felt his penis with even more force, even more presence. I hadn’t notice, but Christopher had actually climaxed very fast and continued to carry on until his penis was no longer erect. The alcohol was taking him over.
Within a few seconds Christopher asked in a sleepy, stoned and extremely slows voice if I had a drink.
When I returned from the kitchen with his drink I found Christopher looking at my photographs again. These pictures had been taken a few years earlier and consisted of two sets taken from two different photographers. Both photographers had stopped me in the street and asked me if I would be photographed. One wanted photos for his work portfolio, the other for an international magazine competition. Christopher was fascinated by them and suggested that I should do some modelling work.
I remained silent for a while and blanked out Christopher’s voice to enter my soul. The truth was that I had never intended to do any modelling work in the past and had actually refused propositions before those photographs. Now, however, I would do anything, I was so desperate. The experiences of the past few years had carved their way through anything they could get their hands on. That anything was any little part of me, vibrations and all six senses included but never the less, times were hard.
The economical situation that the country faced was making them harder. My priority was to leave this episode behind me and get the hell out quickly in order to liberate my body and soul. To recover them totally before it was too late. I could not share them much longer. I could not carry the weight of all those souls that visited me transporting some type of problem, leaving their negativity behind to glue onto my own. I was already marked and the money I was at the time making did not justify the sacrifice.
The drastic effects this whole thing was now having on my relationship and me were more than evident. The time that I had to think and develop more “head screws” was just contagiously unhealthy.
It was exactly a week to the day that I had been at my bedroom window thinking of alternative money making solutions. I considered myself intelligent and had given away some splendid money making ideas to friends but somehow felt damn stupid at times for not having been able to put some of them into practice myself.
Suddenly soft porn came into my mind, as all I could remember was my client’s reactions when they saw the hanging pictures. Could this be an answer I asked myself. I knew it was not that simple but anything-helped right? There and then being the impulsive person that I am I picked up my phone and called one of the photographers. The choice of the two photographers was easy as one was automatically eliminated as he had blackmailed me in the past when I refused to have any sort of relationship with him.
The photographer was on holiday but was delighted with the proposal, suggesting that we should do a photo shoot when he arrived back three weeks later.
At that moment I returned to Christopher and for some strange reason felt the urge to tell him my plan. I told him that times were hard and alternatives were now necessary. I told him that I would do anything and I had contacted a photographer to produce a semi naked photo shoot.
Christopher began to ask lots of questions regarding the photographer, especially about his level of professionalism. He said
“Don’t use him love! I work with the best in the country. I can arrange a whole team of professionals for you. It’s all on me”
Christopher was one of the most professional men in his field worldwide and had gained recognition as a professional hairdresser working with a top notch of the celebrities. He toured the world preparing them for photography shoots and films. He knew exactly what was necessary and wasted no time in calling his friend, the photographer who he considered to be the best in the country.
Christopher and I were deep in conversation when the phone rang. It was Romano. My time allowance was drawing to an end and I explained to Christopher the reason for it.
“Its ok Darling you don’t have to explain. By the way was that your boyfriend I bumped into in the lift as I was coming up? He seemed like a great guy. I admire him for standing by you. Call him up Darling” he suggested.
I didn’t want to place Ramano in such a situation but called him back and told him what Christopher had said. As was to be expected, Romano hesitated and felt very uncomfortable at the invitation, asking if I was crazy.
It took a few moments but I finally convinced Romano by telling him that I needed him by my side, so he made his way up.
As I opened the door to Romano he gave me a rude expression that pierced my soul. He didn’t feel at all comfortable with the embarrassment of the situation. I tried to remain positive and absorb all the negative energy he was releasing.
Romano walked into the living room. Christopher stood up and made his way to introduce himself to Romano.
“Oh don’t worry” said Christopher. “I know why she is doing this. She already told me the situation. I understand and actually I respect you both very much”.
I got Romano a drink to calm him down and began explaining the whole conversation to him as his judgement meant everything to me.
Romano was already in the picture and by now on his second large whisky. The atmosphere was warmer and the iciness could no longer be felt in such extreme doses.
“Oh my God. Look at the bloody time! My wife is going to kill me. Come on guys, let’s go to my place” he added.
Romano and I said nothing but our expressions said it all. We looked at each other in awe and amazement as if to reassure ourselves that Christopher was joking. But we couldn’t, as Christopher repeated the invitation.

We actually did, we went to Christopher’s house. Not really sure if it was the alcohol taking over or not but there we found ourselves at his door.
When we arrived luckily his wife and two kids were in bed. Two of his cousins were slouched across his luxurious couches watching films in the semi-dark living room, which was reflected by the moonlight hitting the pool.
Every now and then I would make some indirect comment regarding my profession, which would leave Romano and Christopher in a paralysed, state and make their hearts miss a beat. Everyone was on pins until I eventually suggested that we went to a local club.
Christopher did not join us but I bet my life he was relieved the situation was over. Out of respect for Romano, Christopher did not return as a client although we did all meet occasionally.
Christopher also took me to meet the photographer as promised, and dates for the shoot were arranged. I asked for a few more months to get my body into better shape. Those next few months were to change my direction once again. Eventually I didn’t end up calling the photographer back. However to this day he occasionally phones and asks if I’m interested in posing for this or that. I never give him a concrete answer. Maybe I just leave it open for another rainy day.










CHAPTER 26
During the hours that I referred to as “empty holes”, if I wasn’t staring out of the widow into my soul I would spend hours on my laptop. After five years I had regained contact with a few of my best friends from university, one of which was like a long lost sister. We had a lot in common and across the boarders we began writing endless e-mails on a daily basis.
In between the endless e-mails, I would scam the net looking for I don’t know what. This one afternoon I began to search for alternative medicines for some unknown reason. Maybe I was going through a hypochondriac period or something? Well as long as it wasn’t the menopause it was good enough for me. Acupuncture caught my attention and I began to investigate further. I had a problem with blood circulation and this seemed like an excellent option.
Over the following days, the only topics of conversation I would have with my clients was acupuncture. Acupuncture this and acupuncture that! I was waiting to get a response from one who could refer me to a good Doctor.
Well a client of mine Francisco had been and had excellent results. He told me he had gone to the best-known Chinese Acupuncturist in the country. Right, I thought. It’s to him I shall go to. I called his clinic. Damn, I thought when they told me he was fully booked for the next three months! I asked the lady to advice me of any cancellations and very soon she did!

I missed an afternoon of work and travelled north to see this man personally, not having the slightest idea why I just didn’t go to one of the many clinics in the area.
I arrived there on a miserable afternoon. It was pouring and blowing a gale. I managed to weather the storm from the car to his clinic but when I got to the reception realised I was not the prettiest of sites. The receptionist fell silent as I entrance. I was absolutely soaking wet and my jeans were covered in mud from a car that had driven past. I smiled at everyone and quickly sat down to wait my turn.
Within forty-five minutes I was called in. I greeted the Doctor and sat down as instructed and advised him of my problem. The Doctor sat there staring at my mouth, as if he was trying to lip-read causing me to say
“Sorry Doctor. My accent is not very good I know”.
But it was. I was just trying to politely tell him that he didn’t need to lip read but he continued to do so.
The Doctor got up from his chair and walked a half moon around his desk. He stood in front of me and began to feel my pulse. He asked a few questions and within seconds I began to tell him my past traumas as if he was a psychologist. Then he asked me to lie on the marquee to examine my stomach.
He returned to his desk and started to tell me that I had an imbalance in my Kidneys. He set out a treatment procedure and asked me where I lived before advising me on his nearest clinic to my house.
The Doctor picked up a business card and stared at it for a while. Then quickly he began to jot something down on it and hand it over to me.
“Diana, you will see I have placed my personal mobile and e mail address on it. Whenever you have problems contact me personally”
I thanked him and left.
It was not until I returned to my car that it had dawned on me. Why on earth had this doctor given me his personal contact numbers? I thought. Anyway I soon began to think of more serious issues and brushed the whole analysis away.
The next day I realised that the Doctor had failed to give me a vital bit of information, forcing me to contact him. I sent him an e-mail asking him to clarify the situation and within minutes he called me.
“Hi Diana. I’m so sorry. You should dilute the fifty drops in water twice a day”
Hi Doctor. Oh thank you. Please forgive me. Sometimes I’m the dumbest person on earth”
It was my way of acting stupid as at the same time being naughty. The Doctor knew I was no fool.
He then advised me that he was going to be at a clinic in my area the following day and asked if I would like to join him for a coffee. I somehow agreed and we arranged the time and meeting place.
Everything started to make sense. I mean, it was convenient that he had omitted vital information.

Two O clocks the following afternoon the Doctor called again as arranged. I gave him my address details and he placed it into his car computer.
Within Five minutes he arrived at my door in a car that paralysed the on looking neighbours. I lived in an upper middle class area and it was not unusual to see a good few porches parked in the drives, but this car was in a league of its own, a top range two seater Mercedes. Only two existed in the country and this was one of them.
I went downstairs to meet him and stepped into his car as he asked. He requested me to lead the way to a cafe near the sea so I suggested we go to the Marina, as it was usually quiet. He agreed and off we went cruising in this beautiful car.
We arrived at the Marina convertible. Everybody stopped for a few moments to admire the car. All eyes were on us. The Doctor drove around to find a quiet spot at one of the Marinas dead ends. We got out of the car and stood against the rail. All we could see in from that angle was the sea.
“I love this. It is one of my greatest pleasures. It’s very magical. It has lots of energy,” He said
We began to elaborate on energies. Pretty soon coffee was forgotten and replaced by a deep Spiritual conversation. We seemed to understand each other. We both understood our views on energies and how the world is made up of them, the Ying and Yang. We had both once worked out theories our own theories and they appeared to be the same.
“Why did you forget to give me the prescription details? Is that your normal practice?” I asked
“I didn’t forget and you are an extremely intelligent girl. You know the reason”
I looked at the Doctor as if I had no idea what he was talking about.
“One day you should use it and use it well. You are going to be so successful in later years,” he added.
For a moment I was silent and stared at the still sea. If only this guy knew what I was doing for a living. If only he guessed. I thought to myself. The Doctor interrupted the moment and came out with it.
“ There is something about you. Something so rare and yet so strong. When you sat in front of me at my desk every word you said just... It’s very hard to find people with your energy. The way you speak, the way you talk, just the whole package. It’s rare. I have never come across this type of hypnotism in my life”.
I began to remember how the doctor stared at my mouth during the consultation but said nothing; instead I quickly changed the conversation and delved right into his personal life.
The Doctor was married. This was his sixth marriage. He said he fell in love all the time. At that point I turned the subject to my boyfriend, Romano, to avoid him getting ideas.
Time was pushing on. I had a client at four-o clock, so I apologised, saying that I had a meeting at four and should really be heading back.
He took me home and left me in the place he had picked me up!

For the next few days the Doctor would call me at every opportunity we spoke for hours. Many of the conversations consisted of confessions from his past that haunted him. At one stage I was scared because he was telling me too much. Telling me things that even his wife or closest friends had no idea about. It was frightening for me. It was like being an accomplice.
During one conversation he spoke of how deeply he liked me, how much he wanted to be with me. Romano was always brought into the conversation. I would always remind him of my love for Romano. At one stage it was falling on deaf ears and I came straight out with it.” I’m a prostitute,” I said and he remained silent.
Within a few days he called back asking if he could make a booking. “I want to be with you and contribute”. I didn’t really analyse his request but agreed and arranged a day and time.
Two hours later he called me back
“Hi Diana, its me again. Can we meet today? I have some free time before my TV interview. Is it possible that I came today rather than Thursday?”
“Sure it is. I have no bookings for that time. I’ll see you in an hour”
Again the Doctor arrived on the dot. His whole attitude had changed and he was not his softy spoken self. After all he did not have to play the game of run and catch anymore. He was excited. As if it was going to be the first time that he would touch, examine and play with a woman’s body.
He had little time. He had to be in the City within the next hour and the traffic was always horrific. He just wanted to get straight into bed. So we got undressed quickly.
His body was well toned from all the martial arts he practised and had a very slim figure, actually too slim for my liking. Within seconds of lying on the bed, the Doctor placed himself on top of me and stared deeply into my eyes while entering my vagina. It was as if he was trying to connect with my soul. Maybe he did because within seconds of penetrating me he had climaxed.
He seemed slightly embarrassed. It was as if he had not been with a woman for over a month. He apologised and blamed it on his lack of time. That was original. I thought to myself as he continued to dress.
Within a few minutes he had left the house. He called me on his way down to the city to say how much he had loved being with me and once again apologising for the quick event blaming it on his schedule.
After that, the Doctor called me less and less.” Maybe he had got what he wanted? Or maybe he had become too embarrassed with the scenario? One thing was true, he spoke highly of his wife but for sure did not appear to have an active sex life!



CHAPTER 27
The following week I received a call from London. It was Molly. I had been dreading her call for months. It was the last thing I needed! The thought of this call made me want to vomit. Things were not going to financial plan, just like everything else for that matter. Objectives were nowhere close to being reached. Everything was a shade darker than had previously been imaginable.
Molly had loaned me a large amount of money. She had placed her life savings in my hands. It was not the first time she had done so. The first time had been six years prior. My concern was now the second loan she lent me two years earlier. It had already been outstanding for much longer than arranged, a year over due. Molly understood the situation and had never pressured me.
Every time I had spoken to her on the phone I put on a brave voice and tried to make it sound as optimistic as possible. On various occasions that was actually the truth. Clients were visiting more and more and things were looking up. But plans were crushed with the reality of the country’s situation.
I knew exactly why Molly was calling that afternoon. We had arranged that she would come and visit and at the same time collect her money. I was right. The trip that she had been talking about for the past six months was close. Actually, it was very close. She informed me that she would be arriving in the country the following Monday. I put on a brave voice and said “Great”.

Ramano arrived home that evening and I told him the news. I was short; I was still very short of the outstanding amount. I needed a quick strategy. There was no way over my dead body that I was going to let this woman down.
Before Romano arrived I was already planning on asking two friends to lend me the money. I was not optimistic, after all, who feels safe in lending money out when someone is in a situation like mine? Before I could think further, I was already discussing it with Romano. He kept quiet and listened. I didn’t count on his help. He couldn’t. It was not even an option for me.
I took my problems to bed that evening and began to think positive. I was going to ask the two friends I had initially thought of. They had never let me down so why should they this time? I convinced myself and went to sleep.
The following morning Romano woke up said little and went to work. Within a few hours he called me to explain that he went to speak to his bank manager and managed to raise his credit card limit to very close to the outstanding value I needed. “Its not the total outstanding but its very close” he said
“What. You did that for me? You shouldn’t have. I know your situation. You can’t”
Romano had gone out of his way to do the impossible for me once again and to this day I still owe him this value, which is way above the yearly National average salary.

The day before Molly was arriving Romano and I lay in the bedroom by candle light as we always did at the end an evening. The candle was placed in a candleholder above a mini cooler fridge that sat by my bedside. The fridge had just enough space to accommodate a few mini bottles or cans of drinks. The candle was not usually placed here but rather left burning on the floor.
I fell asleep, as Romano was usually quite responsible. It was amazing though as I had felt the urge to remind him of the candle. Unfortunately I hadn’t.
I was in a deep sleep when Romano interrupted.
“Get up. Get up now. Now” he screamed.
It was the fridge. It was made of fibreglass and the candle had dripped onto it and it had caught fire! The flames were becoming out of control and quadrupling with every second that passed.
While Romano was thinking and fighting the flames, I ran to the bathroom to get a damp towel. It was only then that I realised how dangerous the actual situation was. The corridors were filled with thick heavy smoke and the walls were already stained with soot. The air contained a heavy suffocating weight as it was taking over the oxygen supply. I grabbed the wet towel and ran back to the bedroom
“Here. Just throw it over the fridge. Quickly, just through it”
It still wasn’t enough for the flames had quadrupled. During those moments I knew I was going to lose everything I had but our lives were more important.
“Let’s get out of here Romano. Fuck it. Let’s just go”.
I ran out of the bedroom towards the front door. I thought Romano was behind me but he wasn’t. I had no choice. I wasn’t going to leave him there. No way! I ran back into the bedroom to fetch him.
Romano had somehow thrown the fridge on to the veranda. What was left in the room were little Islands of flames on the floor feeding on patches of liquid materials and wax.
Romano was on the veranda still fighting the flames that hug onto the fridge but soon we put them out with more damp towels.
Romano had severely burned his feet in the process. We wrapped them in damp kitchen cloths and olive oil as he refused to go to the hospital that night.
We both thanked our lucky stars that Romano had woken up in the nick of time. We both thanked our lucky stars that the fridge that was standing directly next to our bed lamp had not yet spread to it. It was a four foot boxed bed lamp; a typical Chinese lamp made out of paper. If that had caught fire there would have been no hope in hell. We would have been burned alive with the bed in flames!
Eventually Romano and I calmed down and tried to get some sleep in the mist of the smog-polluted room.
The following morning we woke up to see the extent of damage the episode had created. A whole corner of my room had been burnt. The floor had its own scars. The whole apartment was covered in soot, which clung to every inch of every wall and our bodies. We couldn’t believe how lucky we had been and tried to see the funny side of it. We started commenting how the neighbours had come down to see what was happening just as the fire had been extinguished. Not one of them had remembered to bring any of the many fire hoses that sat in the building corridor.
The pain bothered Romano. We undid the bandages covering his feet. His skin had exploded into blisters the size of huge ripe strawberries. There was no choice accept to go to the hospital. I had to stay, as I had to travel three hundred kilometres to pick Molly up at the airport.
A few hours were left before I was to start my trip and I spent those hours scrubbing the bedroom floor. Scrubbing and rubbing to eliminate the work of art that had emanated from the fire.
The room most scared was the most important one of the apartment. It was the room that I worked in; my sacred place that paid the cheques. The other bedroom was not convenient as it had too many echoes. The bed was noisy and a total give away to the neighbours.
Just as I was leaving for the airport Romano called. He was bandaged up and had been told how lucky he was. Romano was ready to leave the hospital
“I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off and coming with you,” he eventually said.
It was the best news I had heard all day.
We were both exhausted but Romano insisted on driving. He knew I was in no fit state to do it myself. Every time he moved his feet on the pedals I felt his pain in heavy doses. I was helpless and did not know what to say to comfort him.
The one topic of conversation during the trip was about our sheer luck and by the time we knew it we had already arrived at the airport. Molly was already waiting. She had been landed for fifteen minutes.
As soon as she saw me she knew something was badly wrong. My face was still stained with soot. I began to explain the story. Molly went on to add that the night before she had a premonition that something was going to go wrong. I went silent for a while and began to consult my soul. It all made sense. Molly had probably been afraid that she was going to arrive to discover she would leave empty handed and her desperation to receive the money to pay her lawyer a huge legal fee that had reached culmination and was causing her nerves. Her anxiety could have contributed to this sad story but I kept quiet and did not mention it. After all what was the proof of my analysis? The majority wouldn’t even begin to understand my reasoning.
Molly was in a strange mood on the trip back. Maybe her nerves gave her that sarcastic, empowering tone of voice. But Molly was like a second mother to me and I let it go unmentioned.
Molly continued to ask Romano questions. It was the first time they had met. Romano was exhausted but responded. I changed the subject for a brief while and began to explain the photography proposition I had received. Molly was in a negative mood. Every reply was negative and I felt my last drops of optimism being left on the exact spot on that highway stretch. It was not what I wanted to hear on that day.
The encounter was not good for me. During months I had consumed myself in a living hell. At that moment it seemed that Molly was contributing to it. I was not strong enough to let it wash over me. I was so weak that I was sucking up every last drop of negativity, which for someone in my position was like deadly medicine.
Molly was no stranger to what I had been doing. She was one of the first people I had confided in. She had visited me the year before and experienced what it was like.
Every time I had a booking she would make herself scarce and go for a walk. Those were different times though. She soon realised that her number of walks were much less this time around and was quick to realise that it wasn’t me that was the problem.
During her visit I placed different adverts in the paper just to further test the outside situation and the results were drastic. There was no increase in calls. It was merely a sign of the times and I now had no choice but to juggle with my prices. I had tripled my price to one hundred and fifty Euros but kept my initial price for regular clients. However, now I had to accept what came along depending on which advert they called and if they were new clients or not.
For the first few days of her six-day visit, Molly had not plucked up the courage to discuss her repayment. I sensed she was scared to do so in case I let her down and not scratched up any money. With Ramano’s help and the little that I had saved the amount was nearly reached. But still, I had to find the extra amount to attain the target.
In a day or so I managed to scratch together what I could. It was close but not close enough. Still, compared to many I had gained a knack of making money appear. It was the desperation of many situations that I had experienced during the horrific past months, the fighting, the determination, and the impossible.
I sat Molly down on this particular morning to discuss the situation. In front of me I felt her nerves and fears place a weight on the air around us. Before her face could loose more colour, I told her that I had not managed to get the money. For some reason I had said it wrong. Instead of saying “all” I said” the” and during that brief instant in between correcting myself her mouth fell to her knees as her complexion turned a shade whiter. Before she had a chance to think answer or scream or even have a cardio I quickly rephrased the sentence. “I’m really sorry but I’m missing two thousand five hundred Euro”. She let off a huge sigh of relief. That quantity was nothing compared to the outstanding amount. She smiled and said
“That’s ok Doll. For a brief moment then I thought…It’s ok, pay me in the future when you can” she added as her face recovered some sign of life.
I told her that if it did make a difference I would go out and find it. After all I felt that I could still count on those two friends, although I would avoid doing so if I could. I didn’t really want to.

A few days before Molly was to depart I received a call inquiring about my cheap advert. The man made a booking so Ramano and Molly made themselves scarce and went for a drive.
The client arrived. I opened the door to an over-weight man who filled the corridor with the sharp smell of body odour. His hair was a greasy blonde and he wore it in a long, loosely tied ponytail. He skin was shinny from perspiration. Every thing about the character that stood before me was far from hygienic.
I kept my conversation short and asked the man to follow me to the bedroom. The man mumbled his name, which I understood to be George. I just wanted to get the whole thing over and done with and was in no way interested in gaining him as a regular. Further I was in doubt whether this man could have been responsible for a number of past perverted calls I had received. I didn’t question him though, it wasn’t worth it but his voice didn’t fool me.
Sleeping with George was one of the most disgusting scenes I had experienced. During intercourse he dribbled like a dog waiting for a bone and to add insult to the whole play he kept shouting
“You bitch! You sad fucking whore”
The condom was becoming dry and hurting me and he showed no signs of climaxing. Time was running out. Romano would be calling soon. I told George that we had to finish.
“Not yet. Give me another minute and I’ll come,” he begged
As he showed no signs of coming, I kept reminding him of the time but by now he was becoming angry, as he knew that I was not convinced. The atmosphere became tense and incredibly stuffy. My anxiety reached his stomach and his tone of voice changed abruptly
“I said one more minute! Ok?” I shouted
He couldn’t disguise it. He was very angry and continued foaming and dribbling at the mouth more than ever. It was revolting and for the first time I was scared. Something was badly wrong with this perverted man. I grabbed my towel and ran out of the room, picked up my phone and pretended to make a call
“Ok, give me two minutes, he’s leaving,” I screamed.
I did not want to call Ramano as not to worry him.
By the time I returned to the bedroom to tell George that if he wasn’t out within the next few minutes someone would break down the door. George was already half dressed. The tone of his voice returned to normal and he no longer sounded possessed. He grabbed his shirt and made his way to the front door with only two of his buttons fastened up.
Thinking how lucky I had been to escape the situation I returned to the bedroom to get dressed. I was too stressed to even have a bath. Suddenly I remembered the money that I had left in my shoe at the side of the bed. I made my way to it and discovered that he had taken it whilst I was on the phone. He had seen where I placed it and recovered it.
It was then that I realised that this must have been one of George’s old tricks. He probably could not afford to be visiting hookers, especially with all the dirty calls he had made in the past without ever making a booking.
It seemed that things went completely to plan for George. I on the other hand just felt relieved that it was over.
When Ramano and Molly returned I was feeling calmer and decided to give the bedroom a once over just in case I had placed the money somewhere else in the confusion. However, I did find a gold chain, which belonged to a new client who had visited me that same afternoon.

The next day the gentleman who had left the chain called and asked if he could pop around to get his chain I said
“Oh my God! You are never going to believe what happened last night…I was robbed”
The voice on the other side of the phone went silent. He must have thought I was using a ridiculously weak excuse to tell him that I no longer had his chain. I immediately put him out of his misery and told him how lucky he had been, as George had not discovered the chain, which was lying close up to the edge of the bed.
If he had spotted and taken it would have all appeared to be such a coincidence and I would have been the culprit of stealing that heavy gold chain that according to its owner was worth more weight in sentimental value than in gold.

It was now the Eve of Molly’s departure. I didn’t receive any text messages from Romano all morning. Something was surly wrong! He always sent at least a dozen by lunchtime. Finally he called.
“The damn bank! They still haven’t raised my credit limit. They are saying that the process will take another few days”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My mind was taken over by a thousand negative thoughts.
“Why didn’t you warn me earlier? Oh my God. I don’t believe this is happening,” I cried.
It was too late to make alternative arrangements. I was screwed and just could not digest the situation.
Romano felt helpless and told me that he would call me in ten minutes. He knew he had let me down in a big way and that it was too late to try and raise the money anywhere else. I had trusted him and been assured it was a done deal.
Romano called back as he had promised. He had personally visited his bank manager and threatened to close all business and personal accounts at the bank, stating that such a lapse was unacceptable.
The bank manager had agreed it was completely out of order and arranged an alternative; to hand over the money until the raised credit limit reached his account. It was another close one!
The following day we took Molly to the airport. This time the trip was different. Everyone was relaxed and calm and very glad the week was over. It was another task accomplished and several left to go.












































CHAPTER 28
Molly had left along with another worry. Although I had been forced to borrow more money to repay her I had repaid her. I owed less money than initially but my problems still continued. During the first few days of her leaving her absence left enormous empty patches in my days and only the clouds I saw from my window could fill those holes.
That day an ex “fling” of mine Ricardo who I had already confessed about my work, surprised me by wanting to make a booking. Beggars can’t be choosers, I thought to myself and although reluctant I did not hesitate to agree.
Ricardo was tall and charming but above all very vain. In fact, I had never come across anyone as vain as him. Vanity ruled his life to such an extent that it appeared to be a psychological illness. If combing his hair every five minutes and looking in the mirror every two minutes weren’t enough, he would carry a toothbrush and paste and clean his teeth sacredly on the hour! A spare shirt and tie would always be hanging in the car just in case a mosquito touched the one he wore. Ricardo would never be without his green contact lenses to disguise his brown eyes. I was one of the only people to share this secret. He was the extreme of the word, vanity. He was the reason the word existed!
Ricardo called again before the arranged time and asked if I was free for coffee, I said yes and within twenty minutes he was updating me on recent news at the local coffee shop. He sure had a lot; from his wife being pregnant to his fine looking new Porsche that beamed at us through the window.
Ricardo had spent years being obsessed with me. He was intrigued by my personality to the point that he imitated my expressions, laughter and speech. It was as if this man had an empty personality that he desperately wanted to fill, thus choosing mine. It was so completely wrong, at least to me. I could see through him, so I guess it was a biased opinion.
This character was simply predictable. He would repeat lies so often he eventually started to believe they were true and they all derived from the necessity, to impress.
Looking again at the shinny blue car that blinded us from the road I told Ricardo that things appeared to be looking up for him. With a boyish giggly he stated that he had finally bought the car of his dreams, only to quickly correct himself when he saw me looking at him with a puzzled face.
Ricardo felt the urge to correct himself as he knew very well that what stood outside was the car I was in the process of buying before things had turned bitter.
He had invited me for a coffee to rub salt into my wounds but didn’t succeed, especially with what was to follow. This was again proof of his empty personality, his total lack of character and his desperation to be like me, different.
He purchased a car with the exact specifications, colour, motor, interior and wheel spokes that I had in mind. The whole image made the car different, unique.
Within a few minutes he felt it necessary to tell me that he had bought the car with money from his Grandmothers house sale. When I said “sorry”, thinking she had passed away, he quickly told me she, she had just moved in with him and his family.
He didn’t need to say another word. I got the picture. What was standing outside was his Grandmothers home. In the name of vanity or in my name, this guy had actually managed to bribe his grandmother into handing him over his inheritance whist she was still alive!
By now I was getting bored with the sick conversation and my mind began to float backwards and forwards from my problems to his predictability. I suggested we head back, and we left.
As we entered the apartment Ricardo hung his head down and said he had a difficult question to ask me.
Just as I had began to think that he was going to turn back and head out of the door he said
“I want you to treat me like a slave. Can I be your slave? Can I? I’ll do anything you ask me to Master”
I looked back at Ricardo with a scrunched face to convince myself that he was joking, but he wasn’t! He was dead serious. His expressions had changed. Vulnerability and innocence took over his face like a young boy being reprimanded by his schoolteacher. I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say or how to act. I had never been in this sort of situation and whilst I was digesting it asked him to go through to the bedroom.
I wasn’t sure who was more shocked him or me, the Master or the Slave? I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. It felt like it was my first day all over again but this time a year later with painful memories amplified.
“I’m working. This is work” I convinced myself as I opened my wardrobe doors, experiencing a whole new feeling of emotions. I’m working and I am the actor. I mumbled to myself once again in a low voice.
“Did you speak Master?” Ricardo asked gently.
My new role quickly dawned on me
“No I didn’t speak and who gave you the bloody right to speak in this house? Get on that bed. Get on that bed and pull your trousers down to your ankles. Now!”
“Yes Master. I’m so sorry master. Off course Master”.
Ricardo wasn’t taking the experience with a pinch of salt. To him it was no joke. He meant business.
I looked back inside the wardrobe throwing all my clothes into a heap on the floor until I finally managed to find some toys that I had hidden underneath the once neatly packed rows of clothes, I stumbled across an extremely sexy set of white lingerie and held it up for a while contemplating to slip it on or not. I suddenly woke up from the daze. Put something sexy on, am I loosing me mind? I had never gone out of my way to impress clients, was I about to start now? I mumbled to myself. My clients found my body naturally sexy and not the decoration that adorned it, so I dropped the set there and then!
What I did walk away from the wardrobe with was a pair of handcuffs and a string of silver beads. With one hand holding the items and with the other releasing my hair from the bun I turned around to Ricardo who hadn’t dared move in the silence and remained lying on the bed with his suit trousers around his ankles.
“How much do you want me?” I said as I placed my breast in his face.
“So much Master. So much that it’s painful” he replied lifting his hand to feel.
I slapped him across the face and replied
“Who is Master? Who is Master here”? I yelled.
“Master Please forgive me. Please allow me to touch it. Please allow me to suck it.” He pleaded.
I was no stranger to his body and knew how it reacted. I wanted to make him suffer as he had requested and placed my nipple in his mouth until I was sure that he needed it to remain there, until the moment I felt that he depended on it being there to suck it. I knew he loved sucking my nipples. I knew the pleasure he derived from it, as in the past it had been his passion. Suddenly I took it away and demanded he get up.
“Yes Master” he replied humbly.
I made my way to sit on the gym bench and before I could turn around I felt a breeze behind me. It was Ricardo.
“What are you doing there?”
“Please forgive me Master, please”.
He fell on his knees and began licking my feet violently begging for forgiveness. I grabbed him by the hair and led his head to my nipples and asked him if he wanted it, if he needed it.
“Yes Master! Please give it to me. I do. I want it. I’ll do anything Master” He begged over and over.
I kept his head at arms distance to tease him and then sat him on the gym bench, handcuffed him to the back poll and sat on his legs.
The strings of beads were still in my hand and he stared at them wondering what I was about to use them for. One by one they disappeared into my vagina until the sixth was swallowed up and all that was left was the string hanging down from my vagina. Ricardo released soft groaning in psychological ecstasy. I pulled the beads slowly out, with the rhythm that his groaning died down just to restart it all over again.
I hung the whole string over my head, gently popping one into my mouth like grapes. When the third one was in I slipped them back out again in the same sensual motion. Ricardo’s groans were taking over the whole apartment and when I asked if he was in pain, he replied
“Yes Master. Please let me suck the beads. Please” he shouted desperately
I released his wrists from the handcuffs allowing him to get off the bench only to lock them again behind his back and throw him on the bed. The string of beads was still in my hand. Ricardo couldn’t see anything!
“What are you doing Master”?
Just as he was asking I began forcing a little silver bead into his anus. He belched out loudly.
“Be quiet slave. Who told you to make a noise?” I screamed as I continued forcing the beads in till the last one evaporated.
I turned him around on the bed, looked him in the eye and again asked who was the Master before I sat on his face and allowed him to lick my vagina while he lay there handcuffed.
Within a few seconds I lifted myself up a little and waited for him to beg to come back down but I didn’t return to the position. It was time to end it so I made my way down his body and with my back towards him I sat on his penis, lifting myself up and down in a slow but firm stride.
When I felt Ricardo’s urge to climax I grabbed hold of the string that held the beads together and pulled them out in a sharp sweep. Ricardo screamed in pain and ecstasy and remained in a trance for many minutes. His orgasm had been prolonged with a curious mix of pain and pleasure.
When Ricardo left I spent hours analysing his behaviour and trying to unravel what actually made this man tick. I had already placed him under the microscope in the past so I knew him pretty well, or so I thought.
I scuffled up all the information I had stored in my mind about this character and compared it to his recent fantasy; his insistence on being ordered; his begging to please; his need to be dominated. What was the reason?
I concluded that his need to be ordered was a mirror of his natural urge to please and thus be accepted unconditionally.
Ricardo’s need to be dominated was no doubt due to the fact that no women could actually do this. He had all the women he wanted and not wanted for that matter throwing themselves at him, that is, all but me, this was why he had been so obsessed with me all these years. I had been the only woman who would not take orders, would never kneel to him, who would never put up with shit. Simply put, he had to fight for me like he had never fought for anything in his life.
His infatuation with me even led him to ask to marry me, promising to leave everything at the drop of a hat, on command. Further, he must have acted like me and wanted to be like me because I was stronger than he because I was stronger than any women he had come across. Maybe he was even getting sick of the field and turning to men, thus wanting to copy my girlie expressions and behaviour?
No matter what the reason, Ricardo expressed his true self and desire in that bedroom scene. His frustrations had surfaced his meaning of existence. I had been privileged to see his true feelings, as he knew there was no point in hiding them from me when he had lost the battle. Maybe if he still held any hope it would not have surfaced, as there would be no need; I would always be in control, regardless.





























CHAPTER 29
On that afternoon my energy had been completely absorbed by Ricardo’s little fantasy play out. Pedro Felipe, one of my regulars called to make a booking and it was greatly appreciated. Little did I know how different this visit would be from the past.
Pedro Felipe had been a regular for around six months. He didn’t visit often but every time, felt an urge to justify why he had not visited recently. His excuses were always the same; his wife was always around, taking the kids to school, picking them up.
He called me often in between his visits to tell me this as if we had some kind of relationship. I didn’t pay too much attention, as it wasn’t rare within my circle of clients.
Pedro Felipe was extremely tall, at least 1.95. He was very handsome and his short thick grey hair made him resemble George Clooney. His whole look was extremely attractive; what everyone women dreamed of. But Pedro Felipe was a very shy introvert character that was astonishingly insecure and overwhelmingly defensive.
Pedro Felipe’s first visit remained vivid in my mind. For some reason he was reluctant, even scared to take off his trousers. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why such a handsome man no older than forty years was shy to do so.
When he eventually did, the second obstacle was to prove even harder. He just wouldn’t take off his boxers. They remained glued to his man hood until I eventually had to advice him that time was running out.
When Pedro Felipe finally plucked up courage to pull off his firmly fixed boxer shorts I immediately realised what all the fuss was about. Pedro Felipe had a minute penis. It was like no other I had ever seen. Truthfully speaking his manhood was no bigger than two inches. I was shocked but tried desperately not to show it, to prevent his further despair.
From personal experience, the taller the man the bigger his manhood. Pedro Felipe however was the extreme exception of the rule. His penis was so small that when we eventually tried intercourse it was extremely difficult to find a position that would allow penetration.
The accumulation of Pedro Felipe’s frustration and anger were released for the first time on this visit. He was behaving strangely and far from being the relaxed man that he had learned to become with me during his previous visits.
I liked Pedro Felipe and wanted to help, as deep down inside I knew that he wanted to hear me ask if he needed help or at least a shoulder to cry on. The whole atmosphere was filled with a silent scream, with Pedro’s silent scream asking to be heard.
That afternoon I had no further bookings or calls. Romano had called to advise me that he would arrive later than usual so I decided to create a cosy atmosphere to help Pedro Felipe feel comfortable in releasing whatever it was that he had to liberate from his soul.
I asked him if he wanted a coffee and made my way to the kitchen. He followed and leaned against my fridge while I was preparing the over percolated coffee that filled the kitchen with a divinely strong smell of warmth.
“So Pedro, what’s been on your mind? Come on Pedro a handsome man like you who has everything in his favour” I said trying to give him confidence about what I feared he would eventually tell me. My fear was correct.
“A man who has everything, is that what you think? Well, I don’t have a penis, do I?” he replied
I tried to find the words to dispute against his inferiority as he was taken over by emotion. His frustrations could be felt bouncing of each item of furniture that resided in that living room and rebounding back on me. I felt his pain and his sorrow and felt helpless at his despair. But I knew he was wrong about something. I knew he was under the same false illusion that many dwelled under. He was convinced like many others that men’s pride and women’s pleasure depended on the size of a man’s apparatus.
“You are totally wrong Pedro. You are so badly informed. Only a woman can answer that question and I am a woman and can tell you that you are so misinformed”.
Pedro Felipe looked down when I continued.
“Pedro, all I can go by is my past experience and I think you know I have more than most women. Some men think stamina is needed to please a woman. They are wrong! Some men think that only penetration pleases a woman and they too are misled. Some like you believe that it’s the size that makes the difference, I mean, the bigger the better. They couldn’t be more fooled. The problem is, women have bodies to. They need to be explored and many men have no idea as to how women work and react. The size of a penis is irrelevant in the majority of cases. What is important is how a woman’s body is aroused and many men don’t even consider this to be important”
Pedro Felipe continued to sit there listening without interrupting the conversation. I decided that I should tell him about an ex boyfriend, Rui.
I was head over heals in love with Rui but the relationship was short lived due to a sudden work transfer. Rui like Pedro was a very attractive man. He was extremely popular with the ladies and at one time he was the talk of the town.
Rui had the smallest penis I had ever seen on a man, but I loved Rui and every time we made love I could feel the sensations not just through the penetration but also through the whole experience. Rui knew how to touch me. He knew how to awaken every dormant cell in my body and fill them with ecstasy. He knew how to awaken senses that many men could only wish to know although they never would. They never would because they are more concerned with their size in comparison to others and have no idea, or are even, too selfish to try and have an idea of how women’s body reacts and functions.
Rui also had a complex due to the size of his penis. On our first night together he was extremely shy which prevented him from having an erection.
At the time I didn’t understand why and felt worse than him, but it was simply his embarrassment, which had caused his impotency. Only when he felt that the size of his manhood meant nothing to me did he eventually relax.
Pedro Felipe continued to sit there listening to my lecture. There was another story that I felt I had to tell him. This time it was tragic but I felt that he needed to know.
One of my past clients, a famous Economist called Paul had been advised to call me by his Doctor. Paul was a man of fifty-five. He had been divorced for a few years and lived alone in a seaside mansion.
Paul had an operation on his penis due to cancer a few years before his first visit to me. No matter how hard he tried he was unable to reach an erection after his operation; it simply remained flaccid and lifeless.
To be truthful I could not see any signs of hope for Paul but he remained under the false illusion created by his Doctor that he needed to train the muscle, as it was merely lack of practice. I believed this was his Doctor’s way of escaping the guilt of badly performed surgery.
Deep down, I think Paul had the same opinion and was depressed by the truth and his whole experience. It was one of the saddest and most tragic situations I had experienced with a client. The only words of wisdom I could offer Paul were to tell him that he was still lucky. We live in a generation where anything is possible and implants can be inserted as a last option. All the rest was simply down to knowing how women’s bodies actually functioned.
Pedro Felipe remained speechless when I finished telling him of my experiences. I took the opportunity to float away for a few moments and recap on what I had been telling him and questioning certain masculine behaviour.
In the majority of cases it was men with the big penises who were most likely to be promiscuous. Perhaps they thought they were doing a good job and continued to try and impress as many women as possible? Maybe it was because they had never really impressed a woman that they did not experience making love as opposed to” fucking?
The bottom line for me was that, big penis’s caused big illusion egos, which in turn deprived the male of feeling the sensations they continued to search for. To attain this sensation total compatibility, understanding, comprehension, chemistry and feelings were necessary. Maybe these men were simply deprived of these and continued their lives searching for something they had not yet experienced. After all, there are some men who don’t feel the need to search any longer. They have all they require rolled in one…maybe they just know how to trigger it off and vice versa.
When finally I returned to Pedro Felipe’s side in body and soul the room felt lighter. Pedro had a smile on his face and was ready to leave my door with a totally different frame of mind. I was mentally and physically shattered; it had been a long day.





















CHAPTER 30
As I sat there at my bedroom window on this depressing sunny afternoon, Francisco called to save the day. Not a single inquiry had been made that day causing me to head off and buy the daily paper to make sure that my advert had been placed. Off course, it had! People were just feeling the economic situation more than ever so this regular’s call was welcomed with open arms.
Francisco was a great guy in his mid thirties who suffered from a liver disease leading him to attend weekly sessions of dialysis. Francisco was one of a long chain of clients from a narcotic group that I had been recommended to. Although clean for six years he continued attending the group because of his violent drug addiction, which had lasted for ten. His worsening condition was a result of his past experience
During a visit Francisco and I for some reason spoke about the group, discovering that the chain of visits had started with a particular client, Fred the air steward. As mentioned earlier I banned Fred from visiting, as his behaviour was becoming obsessive. If I had allowed it he would book everyday, even twice a day. Despite this Fred and I remained in contact, as he had understood exactly why I had taken those measures. During one of Fred’s calls Francisco’s name was mentioned leading Fred to warn me of the situation; Francisco was HIV positive.
Francisco and I never had intercourse. His physical condition prevented it. His left side was semi paralysed and although he could scrape his leg along he couldn’t move his arm. After speaking to Fred I was unsure if Francisco avoided penetration due to this or simply not to place me in contact with the virus.
Francisco arrived. We chatted on the bed for a while as usual before he decided to roll me over on my side and penetrated me from behind. I was scared but and couldn’t bring myself to tell him what Fred had confided in me. I didn’t know what to do apart from get it over and done with begging God that it would be ok, that everything was safe. Francisco was indeed one of the most blessed men that I knew. His penis was extremely large and above all, very wide and as he entered my vagina from the back my heart seemed to miss a beat whilst I scrunched my face hardly moving my body. I convinced myself that it was ok. I had placed the contraceptive sponge inside my vagina (It started just to be used during my periods but due to increasing concern, felt somehow safer using them on a regular basis.).
Francisco laid on his side penetrating me with only the tip of his penis and feeling my body in soft tender movements but I remained paralysed and lifeless. I dared not move, I didn’t know what to do. The harder I tried reassuring myself that it was ok, that Francisco was a trustful guy who would never place me in danger, the more I panicked. Francisco was a psychologist. In the past he had tried to help me with problems. He knows I had enough on my plate, doesn’t he? I asked myself in search of further assurance.
Francisco climaxed to my relief. Those two minutes had felt like two hours.
“Sorry Diana”
“Oh don’t worry I said” thinking he was apologising for the short performance.
“This always happens. The damned condom broke again”
“The what broke? Oh my God. Oh my God, you are joking?”” I cried out as I leaped off the bed hiding my naked body with the towel.
“I’m really so sorry. I was only doing it with the tip of my penis. I was being careful”
“Oh my God! Tell me you are clean. Tell me you don’t have aids! You have haven’t you? You were doing it with the tip of your penis because you have”
“Calm down Diana. I’m not HIV positive. I did it with the tip of my penis exactly because the damn condoms always break on me”
Francisco could see my distress and feel my fear pour out of every pore in my body. I was desperate to tell him what Fred had said but no matter how much I tried I just couldn’t come out with it. I wanted Fred to have been wrong, for it to be a silly mistake, a misunderstanding, a mixed up identity, anything!
But it had all seemed to fall into place. I mean, why else had Francisco avoided penetration in the past?
I could not hold it anymore and without hesitating emotionally asked
“I was told you have aids Francisco, that’s why I’m scared. That’s why I’m so terrified. I just can’t believe…”
“What the hell. Who the hell told you that bullshit? Are you mad? Are you crazy? Look just calm down. You know I do dialysis every week right? Well I’m tested monthly so I’ll bring you the reports, ok?”
“Ok. Great! Do that! Please do that”. I said in a calmer voice.

The next few weeks proved hell. I spent most of my free time pacing up and down in my apartment like a prisoner in a cell. I couldn’t hold it in any longer and needed desperately to find a shoulder to cry on. I wanted to believe Francisco but Fred also appeared to make sense; Francisco was very thin and ill.
I couldn’t hold it in anymore after the first week. I confessed the incident to Romano who in return tried to calm me down assuring me that everything would be fine. I wouldn’t have it; I had to get tested and decided to call a Doctor client of mine to arrange the test.
We chatted for a while and I told him that it was not the first time that this had happened. It was a rare occurrence but had happened a few times. I asked him about symptoms and all other information he knew in relation to the virus.
One of his answers was that at initial stages, there could be a period of prolonged fever that lasted around a month. Lord! That was the last thing I needed to hear. I could remember having had a long period of fever that at the time I believed to be linked to muscular pain and sciatica problems.
By that time my heart was in my mouth. I felt sick and wanted to vomit. It had been eight months since that happened. Was I jumping to conclusions? Was it sciatica, muscular pains or the first sign of aids? Was I going crazy or jumping to conclusions?

A little after two weeks I was ready for the blood test .I called a private laboratory to make an appointment only to find they could only book me for the following day.
I arrived at the clinic early and waited in the waiting room petrified! I didn’t like the feeling of something scaring me. I was scared of being scared and thus scared of being there.
My name was called and I followed the lady into a room, which smelled sharply of chemicals and sat on the chair she indicated. The lady asked what I was doing there. I couldn’t believe she was asking such a question but I responded out of politeness, that my boyfriend’s condom had broken.
“Really. So that’s the type of contraception that you and your boyfriend use?” she asked.
“Well actually no. I haven’t really known him that long…we’ve been together less than a month” I replied to avoid further questions.
Just before I left the clinic I looked at the Lady and asked how long the results would take. She stated that it usually took a week. I couldn’t believe it! I looked into her eyes enabling her to decode the message I was trying to transmit without actually saying. With a wink she knew exactly what I was trying to say, it’s just the way the country functions; you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. In my case, “If I couldn’t beat them I had to join them”.

Late that evening I was distracted from the painful wait as my dog was taken to the operating theatre on emergency. She had developed a uterus infection and it was beginning to enter her blood. The vet gave no guarantee she would survive the anaesthetic. Her condition was deteriorating by the minute and the operation was just not an option.
I stayed with her that night. I was an emotional wreck at the thought losing my six-year-old companion. Early morning we were just about to leave the vets when the phone rang. It was the lady from the laboratory to advice me that the results were ready for collection. I asked if she could tell me over the phone. She went silent and my heart stopped beating.
“Oh my God…That means its not good…”? I asked
“Every thing is fine Diana, I promise. Come and pick them up when you can”
I nearly jumped down the phone to kiss her. I was so relieved! I had been lucky once too often and the longer I remained in the profession the higher the risk. It was just another warning I had to take notice of. I never did ask Francisco to show me his results.

























CHAPTER 31
The whole “Aids” saga had left me drained and added to my endless list of “Head screws”. The culmination of everything was placing my already rocky relationship under severe pressure. Come to think of it everything was under extreme pressure, especially my sanity.
Everyday I was faced with the same damned thing. A single day wouldn’t go by without analysing the apartment walls, the bed mattress, the clouds out of my window and mainly, Romano.
Not a single day would go by without a full investigation of my bank account statements and how much was necessary to reach a zero and start again. I had sold my body to keep my soul but even that was seeping through my fingers. Without it intact everything would loose meaning and no point of carrying on.
Something had to give. Something had to disappear from my life quickly. I could no longer manage feelings and work, one of them had to go and I did not have a choice. Further, I had to find a way to leave the apartment. I could no longer live and work within those walls. They had been caving in for such a long time but now I could scene them on my skin. Another few months within them and I would suffocated to death.

Hardly a day went by that Romano and I didn’t argue. There were times when I could not bring myself to look him in the eye. On occasions I lost complete respect for him and couldn’t take him or us seriously. Simply, there were no conditions in my life for a relationship. I had convinced myself of exactly that from the start but somehow made the huge mistake of falling into one.
I was ripping myself and bringing Romano down with me. The feeling was unexplainably hard, one of the hardest I had ever experienced during my time as a prostitute. Managing the two things simultaneously was back breaking, destructive, but worst of all it fuelled “head screws”, lighting them up to the point of insanity. This living hell that I had created had to disappear before I did. It was too powerful and increasingly making me weaker and dissolving my tolerance.
A major head screw was to leave my place and find another to separate home from work. I needed to find peace of mind but my apartment was just to small to allow it. Apart from the days that we argued and each went our separate ways, Romano had practically lived with me through our relationship.
After a vicious argument the month before, Romano insisted that we spent some nights around his place. But by then it just didn’t appeal to me. If I had never mentioned his apartment he would never have invited me there. It took months of painful analysing before I could actually bring myself to point it to him. I no longer wanted to stay at a place where I had not been initially welcome. I had pride and values and nobody was going to break me away from them.

As Romano continued practically living at my place I suggesting we start considering the possibility of looking for a place to rent, a place of our own. My apartment would obviously be used only for work purposes and the new one, as a home where I could forget work. Every time I touched on the subject Romano would say that we had two places of our own and didn’t need another one.
In silence, I would increasingly get annoyed. Is it just because he doesn’t care? It’s just ok to stay at my place…its cheaper, he doesn’t pay…so for sure this relationship is a joke! I thought.
The whole drama in relation to Romano and the apartment become one of the major factors that I was determined to end the relationship and go it alone. Further, how this man could be having a relationship with a prostitute was just beyond me.
These two factors produced a package of dynamite in my mind that was ready to ignite, leaving behind another chapter. Automatically I slammed the breaks on my feelings towards him knowing from past experience that it would be a matter of time before the feelings would become irrelevant, that as much as I loved him, I would leave it all behind. It had happened in the past.
Desperately I tried to break free from Romano with no avail. My love for him had stagnated into a point of rebound. The more I tried to escape, the more imprisoned I felt. He just wouldn’t let go. I felt suffocated, it was just too overwhelming; a year’s experience, every single second of the year’s experience built up in an accumulation of lethal gases that clung to the walls just ready to explode and kill my soul.
Romano and I had by now been together four months. He knew how to sense and interpret what was happening to me; he shared my pain, anguish and suffering, but I was to busy analysing the confusing state of affairs to appreciate it and thus allowed the mess to deprive my senses of feeling his love and support. Negativity in its purest and unadulterated form was all I sensed. Romano had been there. He had experienced the dangers with me; the hold up, the head screws, my dramatic personality change, the Aids threat. Romano had seen the bitter sad world of my silent survival and become increasingly aware that something had to give.

Although I considered it to be just positive hopes, Romano and I spoke of happier times. The time period that I initially planned working was five months. I was by now on the fourteenth and at least another seven months were necessary. But we both knew I couldn’t hold the situation out until then. I could scrape through alone but not in a relationship.
On various occasions I suggested to Romano that we took a break until I finished. It was my way of convincing him to let go and let me breath as the other attempts just didn’t work. But still Romano wouldn’t as he felt that the plan was unrealistic as the economy just continued deteriorating turning everything bleaker. At the rate I was going it could take forever.
Things appeared to turn backwards rather than forwards and Romano felt increasingly helpless and knew that we were going to lose each other. He too was feeling the rough end of the stick. He was still struggling to reduce the level of debt in his company. He was faced with big governmental payments; his walls were also caving in but he suffered in silence as not to burden me any further.
The only positive thoughts we shared at the time were our hunger to achieve big dreams for the future, the dreams that were buried beneath a thick layer of muck. Despite our situation we both felt that we were destined to make it big.

Romano came home after yet another day of exchanging negative messages and asked me to sit on the bed. I did, only to hear him say that he had found a solution.
“A solution? What solution?” I confusingly asked.
“A solution to end this shit! A solution to put an end to this chapter”
I rolled my eyes, as it was easy to talk and dream. We had spent countless hours doing it all before. Between us we had come up with a number of million dollar ideas but we just didn’t have the chance or possibilities to see them through. Out of respect I allowed him to talk and scribble down figures on the back of an old envelope.
“All you have to do is find investors. It’s as simple as that”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and asked
“How on earth does a bankrupt such as me who has difficulty purchasing a newspaper arrange investors? Who would be rich enough to buy this idea?”
But Romano ignored my comment and spent a few hours going through it. Every detail was placed into diagrams. The plan was that I raised money to purchase his products from the manufacturers. He had several of these middlemen that he used in order to have a ninety-day credit limit. His idea was that we became one of these middlemen. It was an excellent idea and above all, extremely profitable.

After a few weeks of thinking and examining, questioning and evaluating I managed to accept the idea. At first I was very uneasy, as it appeared to be some sort of control. I hadn’t realised that it would also benefit Romano. I thought it was just his way of trying to help and on various occasions I rejected the idea.
Once I stopped being a prostitute I didn’t ever want to go back to it, preferring to stick it out and get it over and done with and thus refused the proposal yet again until Romano made me realise that he really did need all the credit he could get, and if that meant me gaining a percentage like all the other middlemen, great! Now what about the initial capital?
Realising that the benefits were two sided I accepted. Now came the biggest problem, the investors. How can someone so “not” credit worthy as me approach anybody for investments? To gain investors I have to be confident right? So how can I sell the idea? I thought to myself.
After days of thinking I decided that before I even attempted to do so I would have to try and borrow money for different reasons thus allowing me to have at least a project to show future investors.
Romano and I got to work and tried to scratch up as much money as we possible to make a first purchase. I tried my luck and asked one of the people I had repaid if he could once again loan me significant amount. To my astonishment he agreed. Then I spoke to a few people whom I still owed large sums, asking if I could defer payments. I was delighted as they also agreed. That along with Romano stretching his Credit Card limits allowed us to prepare for the first deal to take place a month later.
Romano and I spent the following days-making further plans and setting deadlines to raise investment money for the extra two months to guarantee a flow of monthly purchases. The plan was that by then I would be more confident and take on a professional approach to the whole thing. However for now, I would continue working a further four weeks, in other words until the time the first deal was transferred.

A few Fridays later I received a new client, a man of around twenty-five. Just knowing that everything was coming to an end was enough to diminish the little patience I had left. Without asking his name I asked him through to the bedroom.
The man didn’t take my behaviour to heart as if it was normal for girls of my profession to act the same way. He was shy and remained quite unless asked a question. He had one request; he had noticed my larger than normal wall collection of CD is that stuck out a mile from my living room.
I saw your CD collection as I walked through, do you by any chance have Joe Cocker?” he asked and was astounded when I said yes. I made my way into the living room to get it.
I returned to the bedroom and headed straight to the CD player, programming the song he had requested; “you can keep your hat on”
As I was kneeling down he came from behind and gently placed his hand on the side of my face as I continued looking ahead to the CD player
“You know something? I have a confession to make,” He said in a low husky voice that resembled that of Bruce Willis “I’m addicted to sex. I love women. I can’t get enough of it. I’m addicted. It is my illness”. He continued as I pressed play.
The voice of Joe Cocker began to dominate the once silent room. The man lifted me from behind and led me to the gym at the corner of the room. Still behind me and with the rhythm of the music he bent me over the gym bench, placed his head on my neck and began breathing deeply down it whilst lifting my arms up and leading my hands to grip onto the gym poll that hung above my head.
Slowly he started feeling my breasts that were covered by my clinging top. As the music played he worked his hands down to my waste to then place them under my top and work them back up to my chest to reach my nipples. He pulled them gently as if he was trying to provoke me to the rhythm of the music.
Then he walked around to face me. Kneeling down he unzipped my trousers before firmly grabbing my bum cheeks. Pulling my legs apart he placed his face near my vagina and smelt it, trying to tease me as he looked up to into my eyes before licking it.
Suddenly eye contact was lost as he sucked it harder and harder before unzipping. He made his way up to my face so I could smell his lips. I looked at his Penis. It was painfully erect, exploding with the concentration of energy that was ready to erupt.
Standing behind me again he briskly swept his hands up the side of my breasts to recover my arms that still clenched onto the pole. He bent me over the bench and slowly began penetrating me from behind while anchoring himself on my shoulders. The rhythm of the music controlled his breathing movements as he pushed in deeper, making me aware of his presence, of his domination, his power and strength. The more he penetrated the heavier his chanting became.
The song reached an end. A still sexy, more powerful one replaced it. He pulled his penis out and turned me around to face him. Placing a foot on my trousers that were hanging from my ankles to leave them behind whilst he re-entered my vagina. His body began rocking back and forth to an increasing beat and the sweet started gushing from each pore of his body. He was completely taken over, obsessed with penetrating and leaving his mark on my body. Then he threw me onto the bed and continued his mad movements while on top of me. For a moment he slowed down to regain eye contact and climaxed.

Things had changed dramatically. I felt it more than ever. I was no longer involved in the performance, in the whole act. I was no longer the actor in that bedroom. Knowing that I was going to escape I fled just before the curtains were about to close. I was liberated.

Straight after the client left I received another new client. This client was about to mark the premature end to an era. I treated him in the same way as the last. Didn’t know his name, didn’t really want to. I suspected him to be another one of my mates from the secret police as he was more interested in knowing my business, but didn’t take time to analyse and play the game.
While we lay on the bed, my mind drifted. I began thinking about my fifteen-month history. I had gained over three hundred regular, many of which visited me a few times a month, whilst a hand full, every week. Some fell in love with me. Others tried to buy me while a few attempted to bribe me because I did not feel the same way.
Yet, instead of feeling secure with myself, I felt increasingly insecure, not about my person, but because I had learned the truth about the real world. I had seen things many do not dream or even imagine possible. I was the accomplice to these men that I saw walking around with wives or girlfriends. I saw the dishonesty and the truth behind those who remained in unhappy relationships and those who are betrayed in the name of unhappiness. I don’t feel intimidated or insecure on that level, but because I saw the real sad world of betrayal, lies, dishonesty and sadness. I had felt many men’s pain and understood their wives too. I had felt many women’s anguishes and understood their husbands. It wasn’t just one sided, it was always too sided. In the majority of cases there were always reasons.
The whole experience changed me for life. Although I faced high risks and had escaped dangerous situations, I had been psychologically affected. I no longer saw the world from a female point of view but instead learned to see through a mans eyes.
The client broke my bubble as I lay starring at the ceiling.
“Are you ok? You seem so far away”
“I’m sorry. I really am. I can’t go through with this. I’m loosing patience. Actually I have no patience anymore”
Suddenly the guy looked at me in amazement as if he could feel what I was feeling. He gazed deeply into my eyes for a few moments before telling me that he understood perfectly.
We left it there. The man was to walk away without a nothing except for the money that I returned him.

Not withstanding it any longer I quit three weeks before the planned date. Knowing that the end was so close, it was not close enough. I couldn’t go on any longer. I had greeted my first client with “sorry” and saw off my last client with “sorry” too. But I had started with my soul and ended nearly loosing it.

When Romano arrived home that evening I greeted him on the door and began to hug him before I breaking the news. He couldn’t believe my decision, but knew I had to be desperate to leave it, if I quite three weeks earlier.

He grabbed my hand, led me to the car and off we went to buy a few bottles of Champaign. For four hours we stared at the sea from the cliff top we were parked at.
“Lets find a place and move in together,” he asked
“What? You are joking. After all this you think, you think I’m moving in with you”
“I was waiting to see if you were serious, if you were really going to give up. I didn’t want to live with you whilst you were working. Don’t you understand, I want to live with you, not share you? Lets start looking tomorrow!”