MOTELS AND CHEAP LIPSTICK

Nneka rolled over and reached across the snoring man to the bedside table to grab a cigarette.

How had she let this man fall asleep here?

She normally wouldn’t let a customer sleep over but she was too weak after the night’s work. She herself had fallen asleep.

She lit the first stick of marlboro. There was something about the feeling when she smoked that vaguely consoled her. The burning in her chest felt like the cauterization of all emotions she was supposed to feel. It was an essential tool in her line of work and she dreaded alcohol anyway.

Here at Lady K’s brothel or ‘warming house’ as she liked to call it, the girls were classified by levels and graduated proportional to the number of customers satisfied by their performance. As one climbed higher up the ladder, she got the chance to limit the kind of customers that are thrown her way. However, this privilege was limited to just one characteristic. For example, if you don’t like men who smoke, only men that don’t would be sent your way. For Nneka, she shied away from married men. Call it a sense of foreboding but she had it nagging at the back of her head that the more married men she slept with, the less her chances of ever getting married. She always dreamed of a life beyond this. One deemed unachievable by most in this business. Some had tried only to get to the introduction and be sat face to face with an old customer which eventually evolved to the dissolution of the marriage premature to its beginning. Most had resigned to this fate and when they had crossed Lady K’s retirement age, they moved on to either see new places with the money they had spent or run their own brothels.

She crushed the remaining ash and embers on the tray sitting at the head of the bed and rose from the bed, the dull ache between her legs a constant reminder of the rigorous night. She walked over to the full-length mirror to admire herself au naturel. She rubbed at her lower belly, at the scar left behind from when a baby was literally ripped out of her womb. She had discovered she was pregnant and sought to keep it against the Madam’s wishes and without her knowledge. She had no idea who the father was but it gave her a surge of hope. For months, she stayed away from work nursing the beacon of hope in her womb and hoping her absence would be forgotten until one morning, Lady K’s boys busted into her apartment with Lady K right behind them. She still remembers the disgust on Lady K’s face when she saw her protruding belly as she greeted her with a slap. They had driven straight to the hospital to Lady K’s doctor who performed an unwarranted caesarean to take out the baby prematurely. That was the end of the pregnancy for her and with it any chances of nurturing life as the doctor was instructed to take out her womb too. She never got to find out if her baby survived or what had been done with her. She always felt though that the baby had been a girl.

The man stirred awake to behold Nneka’s perfectly flexuous body as she stared at the mirror.

‘Baby come back to bed. We can have another go’

His voice jerked her back to the present but she quickly composed herself and turned to him, mustering her fakest smile.

‘Mr man, your time is up. You may leave now’

‘Ha-ahn don’t you want to make some extra money? Someone is already awake and ready for you’

He motioned with his eyes to beneath the covers.

‘Just pay me and leave’

‘Okay oh. If you say so. You’re the one who is missing. What is the time sef?’

Nneka picked up her phone from the dressing table and checked.

‘It is eight thirty’

 ‘Time is slow today oh. How come it is still eight thirty’

‘It is morning’

Nneka said, rolling her eyes.

‘What? You can’t be serious’

He fumbled for his phone in the pocket of his trouser on the floor and confirmed the time. He sprang to his feet mumbling.

‘Hay god why didn’t you wake me up?’

‘Chill it is Sunday. Unless you are a pastor.’

She chuckled. He ignored her and continued hurriedly dressing up and mumbling.

‘This woman will kill me today’

‘What woman? Are you married?’

‘How is that your business?’

The man retorted, fire in his eyes.

‘I strictly stated that I don’t want married men here. You lied to the receptionist’

‘Look young lady. The fact that you offered me temporary satisfaction does not entitle you to a right of free speech. Mind your words. All you are here to do is open your legs. If you were so smart, you won’t be here anyway’

His words felt like hot water on her skin and she wanted so bad to give him a piece of her mind but she knew better than to challenge a customer too much. It will leave a huge drop on her ratings and she needed every kobo now if she wanted to get out of here and achieve the life she promised herself.

‘My money nko?’

‘Take it’

He flung it to her feet and walked out, slamming the door behind him. She picked it up and counted it, thirty thousand naira. It was five thousand naira short but she felt a grin spreading across her face. He deserved it for lying. She usually took precaution against men like him who lied about their marital status just to be with her. She had smeared lipstick with her lips underneath the collar of his shirt where he would not find it, but his wife most likely would. 

Authors credit:  Rachel Okoji Ifeoma