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Once, every so often a strange elderly man would come to my door. I never knew how he knew when I was in and I never questioned it. In my profession you learn never to question the clients.
He wasn’t the client however, more of a go-between. The first time I met him was on the street when I was 18. He drove an indiscreet but fancy car and it was always the same car he used to pick me up. That first time he told me that my client was a private man. I was given a blindfold to wear and was told I’d have to wear it for both the car ride there and back, but also for the session.
I almost left, it sound too dodgy and that the night would more likely end with me being dead than paid, but I was tired and business was slow so I risked it.
In total blindness I was driven somewhere and with kind hands lead from the car into a room and onto a bed. I was told to wait and my client would be there soon. All I could hear was my own breathing. Being in perpetual darkness I had no idea how much time had passed until someone else entered the room.
They greeted me. Told me I had no need to be frightened. I answered that I wasn’t frightened and I was here for them. They told me there was no need to flirt, I would be paid either way. I felt their cool skin against my cheek, their soft lips kissing the edge of the blindfold making their way to my mouth. His tongue fought for dominance and after a little fight back I would let them take over. I always followed the number one rule: Always keep them happy.
This first time and all the times that followed he always seemed tentative, at the start, as though he was afraid of doing the wrong thing but eventually he would relax and surrender himself to the pleasure I’d give him. Afterwards, he would fall asleep, spooning himself against me. Only after four or five times back there did I eventually allow myself to sleep as well. We never spoke, I didn’t know his name and he never asked for mine.
These trips were infrequent. Sometimes I’d be summoned once every month or sometimes it would be months before I was called upon again. This arrangement had gone on for nearly three years. I was happy enough with it, I was always paid extremely well, enough so that I didn’t have to work for at least a month.
Six months had passed since the elderly man had shown up at my doorstep, but once again he was there requiring my assistance to the private man.
It was this time, after those months, after the lacklustre performance I broke our unwritten vow of silence.
“You’re in love” I said.
“What?” came the stunned reply.
“Oh, not with me, with someone else, we know these things. It comes with the profession”
“Whose we?”
“Prostitutes, whores, hookers. Whatever you want to call us. We know when someones in love”
“How so?”
“It’s the way they have sex. Someone angry will be forceful, someone who is indifferent does it normally but someone in love will be slow and unsure, as if they know it’ll hurt the one the love if they find out. And tonight you were unsure”
“What if I just wasn’t in the mood?”
“Well if you weren't in the mood you wouldn’t have hired me”
He was silent for a moment before speaking.
“I am in love” he whispered as though he didn’t want to admit it.
“So you don’t need me anymore” I told him. “You should be with the one you love”
“I can’t. We live in different countries. He would never come here”
“But how do you know if you haven’t asked him? What’s stopping you from going to him?”
“Nothing” he answered.
“So go to him. From the amount you pay me you have nothing to lose”
He remained silent as though he was contemplating the idea.
“You give excellent advice and I don’t even know your name”
“It’s Sophia”
“Thank you Sophia, before you leave can I ask something?”
“Yes”
“You’re intelligent why do you do this?”
“This? You mean prostitution?”
“Yeah”
“It’s the only life I know”
“Sophia?”
“Yes?”
“Will you be alright?”
“I’ll be just fine”
“Well… if you’re ever in any kind of trouble, I know someone who will always help you, he’s a detective known as L, he always owes me a favour”
I smiled. Not the fake smile I usually give clients but a genuine one.
“Thank you” I replied, feeling the guiding hands of the elderly man as I was lead away for the last time. “Thank you, L”
After being returned to my home I watched the rising sun through the grubby kitchen window. I knew I’d never be called upon again. Even if he hadn’t found someone to truly love, I now knew his name, even if it was just a single letter. I did not care. I had helped him and in a way he will never know he helped me. I knew that if the private man could find the one, so could I.