Fast Last Time.

He made me, red-handedly staring at her artistic curve in her short miniskirt, too short to be considered a cloth but also not the traditional skin, it was complete all-round, no need to adjust it to your behinds when someone is following you The lights shining from behind understood the assignment, illuminating her inner thighs through the see-through piece of cloth she had around her bottoms but that wasn't my focus; how does she manage this cold? Is anyone up already to get some work? Early birds may be looking for some warmth perhaps, I wondered.

 It must pay, she wasn't alone at that time of the day, and neither was she the pioneer of such hours of operations. Our eyes collided as I turned to look through the other side of the window, and we all smiled. It's a men's thing; we agree in the simplest form on anything we all find interesting.

I've been there before man. He started, they always do. I don't know how I get them to, but they talk. 

I didn't get to look at her carefully, at least to pick something soothing, more of a dream woman I'd like to have a thing with. The busy streets couldn't let me same with my fear of not being seen by anyone, there are always alert eyes whenever you are about to do something crazy. Rushing through the busybodies with a blueprint of the whole street in my head, I needed not to look up, only when crossing the road. It was easy to tell when I got close to the building because they all aligned by the wall all the way to the entrance.

Spotting a brown or black thigh in a miniskirt calling you with all interesting and some peculiar names, others with the audacity to ask you boldly, "bro, do you want to f**ck.” I used to be shy, they disgusted me anytime passing by that street, but on the other hand, I was always stunned, staring at them as the Matatu made its way out of the city," wow, there they are, selling their body, isn't it fun, making money while getting some orgasms, sometimes disappointment, but either way it's a win if he takes two seconds you still get your money if he stays for thirty minutes, well a fun day in office I suppose.

I had a packet of condoms in my pocket, a colourful one dubbed "Never go in without a skin“ I got from a friend's clinic a while back to try it with her (my then girlfriend).

We never used those stuff, you know. We were deep in it, feeling it skin to skin, and with her, it would have been like trying a different thing I figured, not those crazy styles like helicopter, just introducing a skin between skins.

 I kept checking it, I even walked with a hand in my pocket holding it. I had a made-up mind, I was going to buy sex on that day.

 Trying to manoeuvre the busy streets crowded with hawker's spread apparels and foodstuff, other shoes and utensils, a plus-sized diet devout woman was dragging her temple in front, dictating my move. I kept it slow behind her for I figured she would be the perfect abstraction as I selected my object from a distance and then drive straight to her when I got there, just like in the movies. There's no way I was gonna stand there trying to select who looked enticing enough to bed.

In no time I  was on her face, hey, I signalled as I led the way up the stuffed staircases, climbing faster. I cloud hear her steps behind from her heeled shoe creating too much noise. I could feel a stream of sweat trickling down my back  as she said;

Boss, pay for the room here first, 150shilling, we discuss my terms in the room. I dashed out a five hundred note and handed it to the smiley receptionist, not with a friendly smile. She was judging and it made me curious; did I appear to her like a  regular customer, she has seen many of my kind, of course, all sorts or she could flip through my tensed self, my first time perhaps? She handed me an old dirty key with a mark on it Room 2, my favourite number, I felt good.

 I made my way as she shouted behind, pick your change on our way out. My "lady" was now leading the way, she stood at the door, starring me deep in the eyes, she was smiling I guess,  I tried to look at her in the face but still couldn't see her clearly, the corridors were dulled, perhaps for privacy, so that maybe you don't end up bumping into your friend or lover or church mate by God’s grace.

She was already trotting her nails on my back as I struggled with the grubby key, worse than the thought of me going to bed with a woman who slept with men for a living. The key may be just carrying bacteria, what about her, what was she bugging from her first man to today her experienced self? I kept on asking myself. Was this her way out, perhaps she had already given up? The human body is sacred and protected at all costs. But here she was, her body on the line, maybe collecting mates to journey down the dredging path of disease and tormenting demons. I still opened the door, haha.

I went in with her and turned on the lights. There was a bed against the wall adjacent to the window. A small study lamp stood on a little table by the other side of the bed. The switch was at least clean the bed too. A white bed sheets and a pillow. I had forgotten about her for a minute, as I studied the room. She startled me with her voice, I could now hear her clearly.

So, boss, I'll take two hundred for every round, and I prefer cash. I turned to look at her, and for the first time, I saw her clearly. She was quite a young woman, in her mid-twenties I'm sure. Beautiful with a missing front tooth on her upper jaw. She had a scar on her forehead that she tried to repress with a tone of make-up. Glaring deep in her eyes, she was bold, strictly here for business and nothing less. I nodded and without any preliminary or fore_plays, as they call it, in the most coarse, horrible way you can ever picture in your lecherous state, she pulled up her dress. She had no panties, no bra, just a tight dress. she carefully turned to place them on the table by the bedside and picked a packet of condoms from the little drawer.

Gazing at her a nicely curved thick chocolate-skinned body, a butterfly tattoo on her shoulder, and some little stretchmark’s on her perfectly coved waist, her tits were medium-sized, not fallen, just big enough to appear pointing. She was neatly shaved, looking at her perennial.

 I still couldn't picture myself with her thin neck in my hand and little Mr Jon deep inside her. I wondered perhaps they had a specific paean to keeping a customer entertained, or maybe I’ll go hard and she'll forget she's dealing with a client and be the woman I wanted her to be and perhaps I the guy of her dreams if she'd never met my kind before.

I was tensed, Jon wasn't getting hard as I was ogling at her naked body. He's always alert even to an erotic vibe in a song. How do I tell her it was my first time in a year or thereabouts seeking the warmth of a woman?  Should  I even tell her how I ended up here? No, she's here for business. Perhaps she had already figured out it was my first time here, not here here but in here in her kind. Either way, I've never been here or in her kind before but she cared less I suppose.

She was so quick, too casual, nothing I've ever seen before. Her hands were on my belt already trying to let little Jon lose, reminding me of my wife on our earlier day when the transfer of files was incomplete. We couldn't wait to connect the devices anytime we were together, sometimes she'd be wild, pulling him out through the fly. Here I was, with another woman, a stranger reaching boldly for him, little cunning Jon, not out of love but business.

I couldn't do it as her memories came down rushing. I tried piecing myself together with her torturous acts before we parted ways. The way she stiffened and winced, showing me her back. How she was cold, too cold perhaps and fondling or embracing her was like stroking a rock. As she spoke less with rude replies, not giving a damn even to the smallest of requests I made. We fought more frequently. Sometimes she spent days at her sister's place. I had no voice, I was too bobbled inside not to care about her acts.

I thought of bartering stuff from the house to raise some little cash, but everything in that house was dear to me that I thought it was just wise to let her go for she didn't mean much now that I needed her loyalty the most, and she wasn't there. So one weekend, she returned and found I had packed all her stuff, a panga on the sitting room table with me sitting an arm's reach away. She yanked her stuff and left after throwing endless tantrums.

 Now it had been a year or so, but she was still in my mind, maybe it's because I hadn't had any woman since her, and she still held a more significant part in my soul, but the unforgivable crime was promiscuity; I was just here seeking a service, why wouldn't she let me?

Covid punched me hard, bro, he turned to look at the window, some drops of sweat were flowing from the condensing warm breaths inside the matatu, we were seated at the driver's space. The driver was out having a cup of tea with his mates. It was at around 4 am and Indeed people don’t sleep in Nairobi. Someone was already peddling hot tea. It was freezing outside, too cold you could see it on the windows.

I got laid off six months after everything was crumbling without a fat account with some savings. She had just finished campus and moved in with me as she awaited her graduation. Within a month, we were deep in debt, I was in debt just, to be clear she wasn't. She lived through my toil. I loved her so I assumed all the responsibilities. Things started getting cold between us. She fancied a life of fun and friends giving a blind eye to the condition. Moving from house parties to home clubs since it was illegal to go out past 7 pm. I had now become reserved, spending most time indoors, looking for online jobs and applying for anything stumbled upon. I got a gig at a construction site for some months when things worsened.

I was always tired at the end of the day, couldn't even pound her properly nor have those Netflix moments with her.  Sometimes, I got back and went straight to bed, and was up early minutes after she started sleeping from watching and chatting on her phone all night. Sometimes I'd leave five hundred or three on the table for her upkeep during the day and on weekends up it to almost two thousand shillings. She became rude and unmoved. I could come back to find everything as I left, of course, she’d be up but curled in the duvet, remote by her side and her phone in her hands. I used to get pissed, I once whacked her and that's when she started going to the alleged sister's place. Things moved from crazy to violent, all from my frustrations and her lack of support and not attending to them. Sex wasn't on the menu. I had no energy to even think about it by the time she left.

On that day I felt like a man again. I wanted a woman on me. I was a loyal champ with few female friends. All her friends who wanted me when I was with her couldn’t jump in, I was broke and miserable. I didn’t have or make any friends since she left, not even one I could call and ask for a fling. I was deep in the hustle trying to get back on my feet again. My daily route from the site to board a Matatu back home was the Odeon stretch, you see them aligned just before the Maximum Miracle Centre church. So I figured on my way back home the following day I'll jump in and let one get an old dormant Jon, perhaps wake up a sleeping tiger and get bruised.

She was now pissed as she picked up her shoes, all this time as she dressed, up she was facing me, not even a single cycle of guilt or shame ran in her as I was boldly glaring at her dressing up. My eyes, of course hooked to her fine tummy, smooth stretching skin to her woman thingy. Look man, she started;  I don't know what you are trying to run away from, I'm not whom you are looking for, and I can't force you, but you don't belong here, still ill charge you for wasting my time. Fix yourself. Indeed she had a soul. I thought to myself as I pulled out a thousand shillings note from my wallet, keep the change I told her as I was now tying my belt.

 I didn't belong here, it was clear, I thought to myself as I stormed out of the room. I didn't want anyone to notice my face as the receptionist was forcing the balance on me. I shouted as I ducked down the staircase " keep it."

In the Matatu, I was sweaty all over. I was fortunate to get a window seat and as it made its way through the evening  Thika road traffic, I couldn't help but wonder what in the holly shit I was doing. I kept cursing, and it was only after I made a loud click that everybody turned to look at me that I recollected I was in a public space with a gorgeous young lady seated beside me. I did apologize I had no more words to say to her, but she did give me her number and long story short, we are expecting a baby boy this December.

Anyway, man, we are all prostitutes, you know, selling different parts of our bodies, the truth is; if it's not your thing, then don't stress it, it can’t happen. We all laugh whenever we think of our first meet-up, sometimes, she teases me, and I find it funny. I’ll never try that again; that feeling was awful, brother, but I still look at them with amazement, you know.

The Mat was full after some minutes, and as we drove through the cold silent dewy Thika Road, the story had shifted from his crazy fast last time, I never even got his name, I know he's Bro, and I'm sure to notice the face again. I was now crying oh how I'd been harassed at the border the day before as I was crossing back to Kenya from home.