We are each 4 beers down and stumbling down the footpath to the nearby restaurant. I spot a beautiful creature standing to the side of the road outside the five star hotel. Its like she has been, like the Urdu saying goes, made by God at leisure.
About 5’7″, dusky, hourglass figure, shapely legs. She’s wearing a dark brown low cut blouse, a khaki colored skirt reaching down to her knees. She carries a small dark brown handbag, which hangs stylishly from her shoulder. She wears her hair in a tight ponytail reaching the small of her back.
Having spotted her from afar, my mind runs through the possibilities and it quickly becomes obvious. My drunk comrades confirm it. She is propositioning passers-by.
Normally I give these types a wide berth (What disease might I catch?). Alcohol plays games with men’s minds, and I am no exception. I decide to get a close-up look.
I ‘drunkenly’ angle up to her. She turns, and looks up into my eyes.
One expects to see one of many expressions in a whore’s eyes. Vacant (drug addict), listless (resigned to her fate, and emotionally disconnected during the act), lusty (enjoys the act, and the money it brings), many possible emotions, that many expressions.
What I see slaps me in the face.
Her face may be heavily made up, but her eyes remain honest. Slightly moist, the eyes search me. Look at me, they say. Look at what I am doing for my next meal. Her eyes entice and haunt at the same time. Make me want to sweep her off her feet and protect her and care for her. A long moment passes. She smiles wanly. A lump refuses to go down my throat.
She doesnt say anything. Knows the law, this one. She can be arrested for solicitation, but not for just standing on the road.
I angle away from her. Part of my drunk mind tries to pump blood to my groin. Another part gives sage counsel about the ways of the world and my place in it. Yet another asks mockingly, ‘Can you afford her?’.
The coward wins. I walk away. A friend makes a lewd joke about swiping a credit card. I slap him on theback of his head, light a cigarette, dont turn around. I cant bear looking into those eyes again.