Michael had waited for what seemed like an eternity before he finally heard a knock on the door. He went over and opened it, hoping the bellboy would have the good sense to come in first and talk to him before bringing whoever had followed him inside. No such luck. He marched right through, prostitute in tow. When Michael had shut the door, he turned to find the lad beaming proudly at his prize, satisfied with himself. One good look at the girl told him his loyal minion had to be rewarded for such a fantastic find. She was beautiful to look at, and she had full br3-@sts. Her a$$ would not be put to shame either and its size tugged the hem of her short black gown disrespectfully further upward. She was averagely tall, she wasn’t chubby but she had flesh where it counted. Her thighs were a joy to behold. He swallowed. He hadn’t expected this, and started to wonder what would drive a girl who looked like this into prostitution, but cut himself short with a reminder that he had seen centrefold-worthy girls on p0-rrn sites.
“She’s the one I told you about boss. You’ll like her.”
“Good evening,” she said softly with a sheepish smile, twirling the end of her long braids.
“Good evening,” he said, and signaled the bellboy over to the door.
He asked in a low tone; “What’s your name?”
“Shabba,” the bellboy said, offering the nickname in high spirits after a job well done.
Michael extended his phone to him and as he typed in his number, Michael fished through his purse. Feeling generous and grateful for his luck, he bestowed his faithful servant with another five thousand. Another overzealous bow later, Shabba was gone.
Michael turned and was surprised to find the girl still standing. He went back to the bed and beckoned her over.
“Come sit by me.”
Her ears perked up at his accent and her eyes twinkled as she walked over to the bed and sat beside him.
“What’s your name?”
“Benita.” He detected a slight trace of an Ibo accent and smiled. He wasn’t tribalistic but being with a girl from the same tribe made him feel somewhat comfortable.
“How much for you to stay the night?”
He steeled himself for her response. He figured Shabba must have told her he was rich, and her body language since she had laid eyes on him told him she believed it. She would no doubt try to exploit him. But he had come prepared to be exploited, as long as he left a happy man.
She paused for a bit, trying to determine how far she could go without overreaching. Finally, she said “15k.”
Michael almost choked. “15k?”
She saw his puzzled look and instantly backtracked, thinking she had overreached.
“Okay how much do you want to pay?”
Michael looked at her and almost felt a twinge of sadness. If she had asked for fifty, he would have gladly paid it and for someone who looked like her, he thought fifty was still grossly underpriced. And here she was, ready to give herself entirely to him tonight for a price that didn’t come anywhere close to paying for the shirt on his back, and scared enough of losing him to settle for even less.
“No worries, I like you, 15k is good.”