Short Story: The Prostitute

The city of Abuja was breathing life, it was just 9pm and night creatures were already out. Some traders were still hawking, trying to make more sales, clubs vibrating with the weekend vibes, the usual traffic jam frustrating drivers.

Emmy stopped a cab, her exotic perfume filled the vehicle; "Ladi Kwali way, Sheraton hotel" she told the driver, the cab zoomed off. She stepped out of the cab and walked into the hotel. She is quite an head turner, her flawless fair complexion and hour glass shape makes both men and women stare, her dimples popped out when she greeted the security guards.
Her name? Emabong Bassey, a beautiful Calabar lady. An orphan with no relatives but she worked her way to the top. Her Kim Kardashian assets paved the way for her, people call girls like her a prostitute or harlot, she prefer calling herself a business woman. She is well known for her skilled art in love making and her services can be ordered online, even home service; to her it is a lucrative business of entertainment not prostitution.
"Health is wealth" so they say, Emabong doesn't joke with her health, she was taught a severe lesson after suffering from sexual transmitted diseases at the early stage of her "Business", she sees her doctor every month for medical check up; her clients are not excused too, they must visit her doctor before "Business transactions", most of them are not bothered by her terms and conditions, they would do anything to get in between her legs.

"Aaah, you will be the death of me" Otunba said, Emmy smiled and stretched lazily on the bed, the blanket slipped revealing her cleavage. "You see the difference between those cheap harlots and I? mind you, I wasn't born with these skills, thank God for the internet everyday I update my knowledge on different ways to please men" she told him. Emmy brought out the POS machine, "Oya pay me, I played my part, now it's your turn", "aah, so you run a cashless policy too?" Otunba exclaimed. Emmy giggled, "This Buhari regime calls for it" she replied. He brought out his debit card and inserted into the bottom gap of the machine, "Are you satisfied now? " he asked when the transaction was done. She smiled and caressed his chest, "Yes dear, you know this is business". And they tumbled over the bed, their legs entangled with the sheets.

Emmy sighed and dropped her luggage on the couch as she entered into her apartment on Banana Island, Lagos. "Ooh!, my project" she exclaimed and brought out her laptop, tapping the keypads rapidly. Don't be surprised; Emmy is a part time student in the University of Lagos, studying Business admin. She is an average student(the B or C type) , not an A student. Although, some the girls in the department started a rumour that she sleeps with lecturers inorder to pass her exams. Emmy was not fazed by their gossip; she knew it was all out of envy, they lust for the type of clothes she wears, her different wigs, her mobile phones, her opulent life style but detest how she gets her money.

People always assume the worst of her, because of her job, they created an evil picture of her and believe her heart is also like that. However, despite the nature of her job, Emmy is a down to earth person, always helping others. Most times, she donates things(cash and kind) to orphanage homes and charity organizations, celebrates her birthday there. She is also a Christian, although she stopped going to church, the discrimination was overbearing. Their piercing eyes followed her movements, expressing dislike and disgust, their eyes condemned and rip her apart piece by piece. All the mothers warned their daughters to steer clear of her, the girls watch her with wary eyes, treating her like an Ebola patient. Their attitude made her stayed at home on Sundays, besides she is usually busy most Sundays.

Would I ever get married?, Emmy mused. Of course; no responsible man wants her kind of woman, so her future is certain, no husband, probably few adopted children. "Well, I don't care, I just have to live life to the fullest, a husband or children won't follow me to the grave" Emmy said nonchalantly, trying to console herself. She put off the lamp beside her bed, said her prayers, drew up the sheets and cuddled her teddy bear. Deeply down in her heart, she cared, wishing everyone could see her in a different light.

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