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"Ah…. Madame Priya?" A timid messenger girl spoke through the embrodered rugs hanging across my doorframe. Her voice was high with a slight squeak lingering at the edges, the mark of a child. Keerthana, probably.
"Mister Sriharsha is here. He wants to sell," she continued. Yes, definitely Keerthana. Not one of the brightest lanterns during Chinese New Year, but she was willing to comply with a majority of the sadists.
"Tell him I'll be there in a minute. Make a pot of tea… and put a platter of cakes out as well," I answered. Better get him in a good mood before we began negotiations. Now under pressure, I swiftly finished the forms for makeup, bed sheets, bleach and condoms. Tossing the papers to another girl, I hurried out of the dusty office with a small wad of cash to the main room.
"Priya! It has been too long," Sriharsha said, presenting me with his familiar yellowy tobacco-stained grin.
"I'll say," I scowled playfully. "I was beginning to think that you've found another buyer." Though he wasn't a regular customer, he was well known for tipping often and generously. I offered him a cigarette and the standard seductive whore's smile.
He took one, placing it between his fat lips. After grabbing a few more pricey cakes, he muttered, "Nah. There has been a lack of girls lately. One of them is my cousin's daughter and the other one I picked up off the streets without a tattoo or a chaperone."
I nodded thoughtfully. This could become quite pricey if I didn't negotiate well. "I see. Speaking of the merchandise, where are they?" Merchandise. Honestly. I sounded like some Hollywood pimp that protagonists shot at the end of a movie.
"Keerthana was giving them a… briefing. Shivani! Nabana! Get in here," Sriharsha barked toward the entryway.
Two girls, one fourteen, the other sixteen, promptly stumbled into view. The older one, Shivani, glowered at me with an undeniable passion. I stared coolly back. She'll learn her place soon enough. The younger one, Nabana, was crying and shaking her head in denial. They were both pretty enough.
"I'll give you 3,000 rupees for each," I mused. I was starting the bid almost insultingly low. It wasn't my fault though. We were running short on customers due to the new STI awareness advertisements in the papers.
Sriharsha clutched his chest. "Woman! You wound me. 6,000… and I'll pay for the cakes."
And an hour passed like this, exchanging witty banter, bribes and in my case, kisses. We begrudgingly settled on a price; 5,500 for Shivani and 4,000 for Nabana. I also threw in a complementary session to stay on Sriharsha's good side. The money exchanged hands as the girls were pulled away from their "friend" who sold them into prostitution. Chances are they will become fuck toys to the only man they trusted.
"Keerthana!" I barked. She came running, almost tripping over Shivani, the defiant 5,500 rupee girl. "Take this one to her rooms. Get Meera to show her what our jobs are, okay?
The messenger girl bowed swiftly and practically dragged Shivani away in haste to get away from me. Breaking into fresh tears, Nabana tried to latch onto Keerthana before I lugged her into my office. I pushed her roughly into a chair, feeling no resistance from the young girl. I would admit later that I was being a bit harsh, but I'd wanted rather get this over with quickly, like removing a splinter.
Leaning down to the fourteen year old's height; I gained a clear look at her red, puffy face. The girl had high cheekbones and pretty light brown eyes that were highlighted with gold eye liner. Evidently, she was proud of her prepubescent beauty judging by the makeup that smudged off on my fingers and the fashionable shawl she had on her slim shoulders. Coupled with the fact that she was young enough to be sold as a pricey virgin several times over, I had gotten a bargain off of her.
However, Sriharsha and I both knew that she was weak.
Soft-willed girls never made it far in this place without a sort of… emotional preparation. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Defiant girls like Shivani were easier to handle – put a few bars on the windows, a padlock on the door and leave them alone with a horny man would take the rebellion out of them. Desperate, broken ones are much more unpredictable, resorting to suicide, sabotage and assaulting customers. All in all, getting Nabana to do her job meant wasted time on both our parts.
"You know what people used to say back at home?" I tried the softer approach. "They said that the way into a man's heart was through his stomach." The attempted laugh that followed died swiftly. "Which, of course is complete bull shit," Leaning over the desk, I jerked Nabana's head up and stared into her eyes. Making sure she was paying attention, I growled, "Because I know from experience that his heart is about twenty centimeters below the stomach."
Releasing her head, I smiled in satisfaction. "And believe me when I say that it doesn't give a damn about smarts or beauty." If I didn't have her attention before, I had her fear and respect now.
I continued, "In a brothel you are not special. You are not an individual. There's about forty-six girls in the exact same predicament as you. Whoring for your sick loved one? Join the club. Becoming a slut for drugs? I can hook you up with a girl in room twelve. Betrayed by your father?" Nabana winced at this last question. I had hit a nerve. But I kept pushing, lowering my voice to a volume of a man's.
"At least you weren't raped by him," I whispered. Was I laying it on thick? Of course. Did I enjoy this? No, but I have to make money somehow. Hearing her horrified gasp though, I did feel a twinge of sympathy for her.
I entwined my fingers in her oiled hair, pulling back and making her yelp. "Do you understand that you're an animal, a simple hole with a face? In here, you don't have to worry about anything aside from HIV and sadistic, drunk customers. Do your job. Accept your place. Am I clear?"
Nabana nodded frantically before bolting out the room, down the hall… and up the stairs to the rooms. I sat back down in my chair, exhausted. Bowing my head in mediation for what seemed like decades, I raised my eyes at a soft knock at the door.
Another girl peeked her head into the room, even more afraid of me after hearing Nabana's sobs from my office. She shuffled uncomfortably under my misplaced, frustrated glare. I just wanted this day to be over with so badly.
"Um…. Madame Priya? Mister Anish wants to buy."
"Mister Sriharsha is here. He wants to sell," she continued. Yes, definitely Keerthana. Not one of the brightest lanterns during Chinese New Year, but she was willing to comply with a majority of the sadists.
"Tell him I'll be there in a minute. Make a pot of tea… and put a platter of cakes out as well," I answered. Better get him in a good mood before we began negotiations. Now under pressure, I swiftly finished the forms for makeup, bed sheets, bleach and condoms. Tossing the papers to another girl, I hurried out of the dusty office with a small wad of cash to the main room.
"Priya! It has been too long," Sriharsha said, presenting me with his familiar yellowy tobacco-stained grin.
"I'll say," I scowled playfully. "I was beginning to think that you've found another buyer." Though he wasn't a regular customer, he was well known for tipping often and generously. I offered him a cigarette and the standard seductive whore's smile.
He took one, placing it between his fat lips. After grabbing a few more pricey cakes, he muttered, "Nah. There has been a lack of girls lately. One of them is my cousin's daughter and the other one I picked up off the streets without a tattoo or a chaperone."
I nodded thoughtfully. This could become quite pricey if I didn't negotiate well. "I see. Speaking of the merchandise, where are they?" Merchandise. Honestly. I sounded like some Hollywood pimp that protagonists shot at the end of a movie.
"Keerthana was giving them a… briefing. Shivani! Nabana! Get in here," Sriharsha barked toward the entryway.
Two girls, one fourteen, the other sixteen, promptly stumbled into view. The older one, Shivani, glowered at me with an undeniable passion. I stared coolly back. She'll learn her place soon enough. The younger one, Nabana, was crying and shaking her head in denial. They were both pretty enough.
"I'll give you 3,000 rupees for each," I mused. I was starting the bid almost insultingly low. It wasn't my fault though. We were running short on customers due to the new STI awareness advertisements in the papers.
Sriharsha clutched his chest. "Woman! You wound me. 6,000… and I'll pay for the cakes."
And an hour passed like this, exchanging witty banter, bribes and in my case, kisses. We begrudgingly settled on a price; 5,500 for Shivani and 4,000 for Nabana. I also threw in a complementary session to stay on Sriharsha's good side. The money exchanged hands as the girls were pulled away from their "friend" who sold them into prostitution. Chances are they will become fuck toys to the only man they trusted.
"Keerthana!" I barked. She came running, almost tripping over Shivani, the defiant 5,500 rupee girl. "Take this one to her rooms. Get Meera to show her what our jobs are, okay?
The messenger girl bowed swiftly and practically dragged Shivani away in haste to get away from me. Breaking into fresh tears, Nabana tried to latch onto Keerthana before I lugged her into my office. I pushed her roughly into a chair, feeling no resistance from the young girl. I would admit later that I was being a bit harsh, but I'd wanted rather get this over with quickly, like removing a splinter.
Leaning down to the fourteen year old's height; I gained a clear look at her red, puffy face. The girl had high cheekbones and pretty light brown eyes that were highlighted with gold eye liner. Evidently, she was proud of her prepubescent beauty judging by the makeup that smudged off on my fingers and the fashionable shawl she had on her slim shoulders. Coupled with the fact that she was young enough to be sold as a pricey virgin several times over, I had gotten a bargain off of her.
However, Sriharsha and I both knew that she was weak.
Soft-willed girls never made it far in this place without a sort of… emotional preparation. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Defiant girls like Shivani were easier to handle – put a few bars on the windows, a padlock on the door and leave them alone with a horny man would take the rebellion out of them. Desperate, broken ones are much more unpredictable, resorting to suicide, sabotage and assaulting customers. All in all, getting Nabana to do her job meant wasted time on both our parts.
"You know what people used to say back at home?" I tried the softer approach. "They said that the way into a man's heart was through his stomach." The attempted laugh that followed died swiftly. "Which, of course is complete bull shit," Leaning over the desk, I jerked Nabana's head up and stared into her eyes. Making sure she was paying attention, I growled, "Because I know from experience that his heart is about twenty centimeters below the stomach."
Releasing her head, I smiled in satisfaction. "And believe me when I say that it doesn't give a damn about smarts or beauty." If I didn't have her attention before, I had her fear and respect now.
I continued, "In a brothel you are not special. You are not an individual. There's about forty-six girls in the exact same predicament as you. Whoring for your sick loved one? Join the club. Becoming a slut for drugs? I can hook you up with a girl in room twelve. Betrayed by your father?" Nabana winced at this last question. I had hit a nerve. But I kept pushing, lowering my voice to a volume of a man's.
"At least you weren't raped by him," I whispered. Was I laying it on thick? Of course. Did I enjoy this? No, but I have to make money somehow. Hearing her horrified gasp though, I did feel a twinge of sympathy for her.
I entwined my fingers in her oiled hair, pulling back and making her yelp. "Do you understand that you're an animal, a simple hole with a face? In here, you don't have to worry about anything aside from HIV and sadistic, drunk customers. Do your job. Accept your place. Am I clear?"
Nabana nodded frantically before bolting out the room, down the hall… and up the stairs to the rooms. I sat back down in my chair, exhausted. Bowing my head in mediation for what seemed like decades, I raised my eyes at a soft knock at the door.
Another girl peeked her head into the room, even more afraid of me after hearing Nabana's sobs from my office. She shuffled uncomfortably under my misplaced, frustrated glare. I just wanted this day to be over with so badly.
"Um…. Madame Priya? Mister Anish wants to buy."
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waking.
with gasping willow bones you entered a world that simply isn't ready for you- oh darling, you are new, perfect in each utterance that you invent for my ears.
you are tucked, hidden in my bones, tiny cheeks hollowed out to hold my soul, and already you know fear. my heart aches and your lips quiver in a pain that i cannot take away. in a breath i have already drawn blue prints to rip open the seams and peel back the edges to keep you safe again.
---
i realize these wry smiles have no place in any honest attempt-
i'm reaching, i feel, thinly stretching any solidarity we have. oh please,
hang on-
smile for old times. our similarity lies o
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When I come to see you
I’ll bring sparkling wine
And we’ll spill it on the floor.
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Don’t be afraid when your heart bursts into flames and you feel the tendrils licking at your exposed throat. One day you’ll find the person who will drown you in their kisses and douse the flames and the smoke that expels from your lungs and escapes your mouth every day will be a constant r
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Re-uploaded from my old account with a few minor edits. Not one of my best works, but probably the one with the least number of grammar mistakes. Enjoy!
**All offensive racial slurs are unintentional!
**All offensive racial slurs are unintentional!
© 2012 - 2024 SinsDeed
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Hello ~SinsDeed!
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On behalf of #InspireTheUninspired we would like to congratulate you on being Featured within our group. Please take a look when you have time and support your fellow artists
Keep writing and inspiring!