Photo Credits –

He’s new to the game, this one.

It is his first time, I can tell. The way he averts his eyes when he finally asks if I’m available, his confusion as to how and what exactly to ask, the furtive glances around the hall to see if he’s not acting out of place or if anyone is watching, the burden of guilt that hangs around his shoulders and drags them down and the slight hesitation when I tell him to follow me inside to my room, they’re all giveaways. Even if I’d missed all the other signs, the fact that he doesn’t argue about price is a dead giveaway. The pros always try to negotiate; some will even try to do for free, but not the newbies. They just want to be as unobtrusive as possible and will pay what you ask to get in and get out before they’re are seen by someone who knows them.

This one looks like he’s in his late teens or early twenties. He looks like a mommy’s boy, you know those ‘well bred’ butter children who are always warned to steer clear of bad friends and places. He’s so tentative, as if he’s spending a lot of willpower going against lessons that have been burned into his subconscious by strict parents.

Trying to get inside the head of my customers is a game I play when business is slow. It takes my mind off everything else. This one is probably tired of being teased by his friends for being the last virgin alive and is here to correct the anomaly. He doesn’t look like someone who can chat up girls on his own, much less get them to give it up, although appearances can be deceptive. If only he knows that most of those friends of his face the same dilemma. What’s my own anyway, as long as he can pay, I’m ready to play.

We enter the room and he pays what I ask. I make sure to count the notes and check each of them for genuineness before depositing them in my dressing table drawer and locking it. Checking is important. Some months ago one bastard paid me for two rounds with fake notes. Imagine two bloody rounds of merciless pounding and nothing to show afterwards. God punish him wherever he is, that cheating lowlife. Since that incident I always check my money both for quantity and quality.

Only when the money is confirmed and secure do I relax on the narrow bed. The mattress is not so thick, but there is a wooden pallet underneath, so it is doesn’t sag. I used to have a bed with springs, but some of my regulars complained about the noise, how it draws attention to our romping. The customer is king you see, so one must do everything to accommodate their whims, although I could easily have pointed out to them that the people in the next room aren’t in any way interested in whatever we’re doing here as they are either doing the same damn thing or are about to. Out went the spring and in came the wooden pallet.

I sit on the bed, raise both legs and remove the short corduroy skirt in one smooth movement, briefly spreading my legs for him to see. Panties are an unnecessary inconvenience in our trade, and even in the red dimness of the small room I’m hoping he can see and appreciate the smooth clean passage between my thighs.

My clitoris hangs out like a protruding tongue. Somehow I escaped being circumcised as an infant like other girls, and if it was due to my mother’s illness around the time of my birth I don’t know. The other girls make fun of me when we have our bath in backyard but I’m grateful for that omission, because it comes in handy at those times when I’m in the mood to pleasure myself.

Work and pleasure are two different things in our profession, even if they do look mixed to the casual observer. There’s fucking for cash which is the job we all do, and then once in a while if one is lucky to find a special man, fucking just for the sake of it. Those times are few and far between though, mainly because it is not a good thing to do for free and special men are usually not looking for girls like us. For most of us, “when body dey do us one kain” as Suzy says in her waffi pidgin, fingers, a cucumber or if you can afford it, a vibrator, comes to the rescue. I have one of those battery powered types I purchased from Jumia locked in my travelling bag for special duties.

He is still standing just behind the locked door, unsure of what next to do.


These JJCs ehn, sometimes they can be boring, but there is something refreshing about their naiveté.

“Come closer na.”

My voice echoed in the cramped space and the kri kri sound of the slowly rotating ceiling fan swallowed some of it. The room gets unbearably hot and dark when NEPA takes their light. Since the hotel doesn’t have a generator, I want to be done and back outside as quickly as possible.

He obeys and shuffles forward a bit. I drag him closer still by the band of his trousers.

“Remove your shirt”, I order, while I start unzipping his fly.

He obeys again without a word.

In a few minutes he is totally naked, and I let my eyes travel over his slight build. His eyes avoid mine again and I smile. His penis is afraid too, peeking out from beneath the tangle of his pubic hair, so I play with it a little to get it in the mood. A nod and then two tell me it’s growing bolder. My right hand works automatically while I hum to myself until he is hard and ready.

Now he is eager, and makes to lie down on top of me.

“Hold on chairman. Condom first.”

I almost laugh at how much I sound like a school mistress. But I am teaching him something new, so maybe I should sound like that. By the time he learns the ropes he’ll be the one dishing out commands. I’ve seen it happen a lot of times.

He probably would have turned pink from embarrassment if not for his dark skin. Humming again, I stretch my hand to pick up a packet of gold circle from underneath my pillow, tear one before expertly slipping it over his penis which has lost some of its initial gra gra. A couple of pumps with my right hand restores it to its rigid state.

“Oya”, I command, lying down on my back.

“Now you can fuck”

It was over in less than three minutes. I watched with slight amusement as he scrambles back into his clothes and make for the door in a rush, eager to return to the world that knows him as innocent.

As the door closes on his receding back I allow the smile that has been dancing in my eyes to spread to my lips. I am still smiling as I retrieve my skirt and stand up from the bed to smooth it out, only to burst into full scale laughter when I discover that he bolted without taking off the condom.

I switch off the light while leaving the fan on my way out. Something tells me this one will be back, it is just a matter of time.

On matters like that, I’m usually right.

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