Are you bi-sexual?
I’m seated at a bar. A very inappropriate one for that matter! They have both women and men working shirtless or very little clothing on their skins. The screens are two all showing explicit content!
Why would I choose this place?
Because in such places people are either full of fear or excitement! My life has been having tonnes of sadness lately and something to break that would be ideal!
I spot a lady; she is in black thigh high boots and fish net stockings, a panty that’s hardly covering the cheeks of her ass. She looks pretty though… Not light skin pretty but the pretty I like!
She is dancing, a sexy dance… she looks my way and smiles I wink at her…
I want to touch her! But I don’t think she likes women, so I’ll just look at her and get lost in her moves and prettiness!
“Are you bi sexual? “The stranger asks again!
“You are alone and you’ve been staring at her!”
She looks good I say!
“You want to touch her?” he asks.
No, I’m not that type I say!
The type that likes women!
I’ve been lying to myself that I am not any type of a person!
Yesterday I lied that I do not love her! She called to ask, how I have been fairing. In the middle of the conversation she said she still cares about about me, I lied that I didn’t and that I have learned to move on and what I felt for her was never Love! I lied…
The same way he said he loves me! Yes him… He said he loves me, but doesn’t know how to keep me by his side! I asked him why all the women, “because love is complicated!” That’s all that he’d say.
The woman! Her hair is short, red in colour, her skin is glossy, shining! She has a beautiful smile… Very beautiful! Her curves are pronounced. Her eyes.. they are not as pretty but that’s not important.. it is the face that matters sometimes…
She looks at me winks, I want to signal her to come next to where I’m seated so that she can dance, dance next to me, maybe then I can touch her, feel the smoothness of her skin beneath my hands.
I don’t want her to think of me that way, like I think she is an object, so I’ll wait for her to finish her dance then offer to buy her a drink elsewhere.
I want to know her, know why she is in this trade, why she allows strangers to touch her, why she entertains strangers. Ask her if she ever feels guilty, if she believes in a God, if she blames God for exposing her to such conditions, I want to talk to her, not just small talk, but deep conversations, I want to see her naked, not this nakedness that she is showing everyone, but one that she will allow only me to see.
I also want to tell her about myself, tell her of the struggles I have, tell her of how I am confused, the fact that I may be in love with a woman, and at the same time love a man that I know can never be mine, tell her how I am with child, a child I am not sure I will learn to love, but I am excited to carry because is a fruit of a love that can never be.
I want to let her see my nakedness, see the scars I have around my breast, those under my thighs, I want her to see me as an open book, her mirror maybe, I want her to touch the new wounds that I have and for her to assure me that things will be okay, that I am not the only broken person, that her just like me has wounds, scars, that never seem to heal nor disappear and in her trade she finds a place to hide, a place to be someone, a person everyone craves to have.
I want to tell her of my relationship with God, of how I love him, and also hate him at the same time, of how I pray!! Of how I hope to be a saint… I want to tell her everything I’ve been wanting to tell someone, and in her I see a confidant, in her I believe I will not meet judgment.
I feel a soft touch on my shoulder.
The stranger again,
“Why are you crying?”
“sometimes, when happy people cry, sometimes people cry because they are sad, other times people just cry because they are overwhelmed, that’s me today,” I tell him.
My name is Mark, he starts, and the woman you’ve been staring at is my girlfriend. I love her, I want to make her mine, but she has been engrossed in this trade she doesn’t want to leave it! That makes me sad and every day after I leave my office I come to join her in hers, I want to protect her, men have taken advantage of her, used her beauty to quench their selfish desires, she thinks I am like them, the other men who have promised her heaven and given her nothing short of hell.
Look at her upper breast, she has a scar, a man gave it to her, he wanted to have his way with her, she fought him off but has a scar to tell her tale.
Why are you here, he asks.
You look decent, not the type that hangs around such places.
I like the atmosphere here, I tell him. The energy around such places, fear, excitement, confusion, I don’t know how to define that kind of energy, but I like it. It is my first time here, I admit. I’ve always wanted to visit a club of this sort but never had the will power to do so. Lately I am doing the things I’ve always wanted to do but have always been afraid, and I began that with this place.
Your girlfriend is beautiful and I want her, not want her as an object, but want her… How do I tell you this, I see myself in her, but she is a bolder me, I want to know her, know her, know her not just meet the eye!
I saw death, and because I never died I have decided to start living again, being different, not conforming, but I am confused, there is a woman I love, I think I do, maybe I don’t.. I’m not sure… There is also a man I will always love; problem is I can never be with him.
The lady joins us; she is dressed in black ragged jeans and a loose white tee, with strapped on sandals. Simple in all forms! She has wiped her makeup off, she still looks beautiful, and she has one of the most beautiful smiles I have ever come across.
She stretches her hand to greet me.
“You are beautiful,” she says.
Shyly, blushing, “you have a beautiful smile” I say.
She leans in, pecks my cheek.
My name is Lurkie.
Stage name or real name, I ask. That’s for you to find out she says as she signals Mark, for them to leave!