37 A Whole Lot of...Nothing (1/2)

*THUMP* *THUMP* *THUMP*

I slowly opened my eyes when I heard the knocks on the door. It took me a while to realize my reality.

It was morning. The timid chirping of birds signaled the dawn of a new day. So did the cool ambience of the room.

Rays of sun pierced the thick black clouds to illuminate the world outside. Now that I was conscious a little more I could hear the voices outside going about their lives. That is when my thoughts of yesterday cluttered in my brain and everything of the recent past came back to me.

*THUMP*

Another dull hit on the door had me sitting up on my bed. I pushed myself off from the dark blue bed sheet and stumbled towards the door. I extended my arm over my head until I touched the cold metal. I turned it around and unclasped the flush bolt, giving myself the opportunity to face the world. Once again.

I slowly opened the door to see Amaan standing there with a mug of hot coffee. January's winter is not forgiving, especially for cities near Tropical Zone. Granted, we fell into Temperate, but the winter was still a formidable enemy to us hairless apes. And yet, Amaan managed to rock her signature black laced lingerie flawlessly. It was an impressive feat, and a visual treat. To be woken up by her while she put in minimum effort to cover her skin was becoming a desire very fast. And that white robe did nothing except accentuate her curves. The way her open robe suspended itself after touching her breasts did nothing less than cast magic in my mind.

”Hey, doll, you have been in this room for more than twelve hours. And no food too. Here, have some coffee.”

She extended her arm and offered me the hot beverage. I looked at her, and I looked at the mug. Then I extended my arm to push the mug away.

I rubbed my eyes and shook my head so as she knew I was not very fond of coffee at this exact hour.

She sighed slightly and put the mug on the corner of the door. Then she pushed me inside of my own room. it was not a forceful one, but I wanted it to be. I walked back and sat down on the bed while Amaan turned around and locked the door behind her.

She turned back and stared at me with her big, shiny eyes. I was too uninterested to imagine what she was trying to do. But when I saw that white robe slipping off her body, I was wide awake. I was fully able to sense where she could be going with it. But this was not the appropriate scenario. The curtain had just lifted and I was already in an erotic situation.

She marched upto me like a vixen and bent over, forcing me to fall on my back. The soft mattress almost enveloped my body as I exerted my force upon it, but it didn't. Instead, I had to face Amaan, who was mere three inches away from my face.

Her voice was loud enough for me to listen when she said,” You have been away from your problems for a long time now, Ms. Kiyomi. If you'd prefer to stay in this room, by all means, do. But you will have to eat something. Either you eat food, or you eat me.”

And there it was, an ultimatum. Either I consume calories, or I perform cunnilingus.

I looked in her determined eyes for a long time. I saw how her red lips remained still, touching each other. I observed how her breath had not escalated. And I finally understood what was going on.

Without breaking my stare, I burst out laughing. The empty stomach did some contractions that made it hard for me to do so, but I did it anyway. I laughed in the face of a woman who demanded oral sex first thing in the morning. The situation was absurd enough to make anyone laugh. And so it did, when Amaan broke down laughing herself. Her laugh was expressive, mine was subdued. But it was a moment of elation, nonetheless.

Amaan retracted herself and sat down next to me. I gathered my strength and sat up next to her.It was a moment in silence and solitude. Even the birds seemed to stop chirping for a while.

Amaan threw her arm over my shoulder, which seemed like she wanted to say something. I waited for her to say something, but she didn't. We were just staring at the wall in front of us. And strangely enough, it felt familiar. I smiled to myself, trying to place where was this peaceful feeling from. This sense of loneliness, that felt personal, that I had not felt since Madonna, that I had craved for more and more, especially during this turbulent times.

I felt this way because this is how I spent my day hours in the brothel. When I worked as a prostitute, I spent my time looking at the tacky colored walls all day. When I was a prostitute, the need to communicate was less, and the time with my thoughts was plenty. When I was a prostitute, the only abuse I could bear was physical one, and emotions didn't exist because the body pain numbed it.

I had really grown, as a person, and as a human being. The same thousand yard stare I sported in loneliness of despair felt nostalgic today.

I guess it did make me what I had become.

And the minimum skin contact, courtesy to Amaan, felt warm and promising.

I could only hope that the light at the end of the tunnel was not a false positive. But that would be too predictable. And thus, I pushed Amaan's hand away from my shoulder and stood up to face the music.

I extended my arm to her and pulled her up when she gripped my palm. I knew that these early moments of the day were important to me, because there was another tale of the past that waited me.

The story of Amaan, who carved my heart and made a spot for herself. The story of Madonna, who built me and made my life worth living. The story of the two individuals that I immensely cared about.

Amaan had her robe back on and I picked up the mug full of lukewarm coffee as we started walking to the room next to mine.

Priscilla's room.

I knocked on the door. No response.

I knocked the second time. Nothing.