All Chapters of Love Story Of A Prostitute: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

He looked at me, torn and passionate. Then he sobbed softly on my shoulders. I let him cry himself out. I tried to concentrate on that messy clump of hair of his when I felt tears glistening at my eyelids again. After a while, his sobs subsided. I then led him to the bedroom and got him into a change of striped linen pyjamas from the cupboard drawer. He seemed to have many of those in different shades of blue and grey. In another drawer, I also chanced upon all the pill prescriptions which I assume he had taken he slammed the door. I wondered at the necessity of all those pills. Did he really need to take all of them? The pill bottles were strewn carelessly amongst many spotless white linen handkerchiefs. Had I not known better, I would think that he had a fetish for all things linen. I tucked him into bed, placed his head on my lap, and started stroking his head like I did yesterday. We were both silent. Before he lay on my lap, he gazed at me intensely. He whi

Our conversation yesterday went much deeper than I would have wanted it to. I wondered why I thought about him and the essence which triggered those thoughts. I brainstormed for answers. He had provoked a renaissance from the depths of my mind, and my heart. I really ought to know myself better. I thought about him; the way his eyes pierced mine and his difficult questions. Propped up by my own fluffy pillow on my bed, I came to a realization that whilst I thought about him profoundly and deeply, I had wanted to understand myself better too. Stripped bare, all was left were the feeling of profoundness in the scenarios of the previous two nights. I replayed these over and over again. This realization confused me even more because I could not work out the solution from there. It dawned upon me that my reaction was the one that needed fixing. It was how I felt which made me uncomfortable with it all. And how did I feel? I felt that he was glimpsing into my world an

"What really happened yesterday?" She asked. Apparently I was not to escape the subject called Mr. Boardmann this morning. He was the shroud of my thoughts like mist. I was getting confused about myself thinking about him. "He didn't want to sleep with me. He wanted to talk again." I said. "You did not call Pablo, so I would assume he was not violent?" Penelope asked. I shook my head but my arms tingled when I recalled how he dug his hands into mine like a leech. I guess that was not considered violent enough for protection. "What was it exactly that he said?" She asked. I looked at Penelope, confused myself. "I don't know." I said. "Perhaps it was not what he said, but rather how he said it? Did he treat you badly?" She asked. "No. I mean he was arrogant, rude but he could be very vulnerable too.

He came like the wind, gently and slowly seeping in through the windows. Mr. Boardmann loomed like a relic from my past. Therefore it was only logical that I distract myself. I spent the afternoon walking down to the touristic part of the boulevard from my house at the extreme end of the boulevard. I admired the sea on my right as I walked along the endless blue-bricked path. There was a slight breeze all around me. My hair swayed with the wind. I watched the dune grass sway gracefully; its sharp blades and frilly crowns made a whistling sound against the wind. The migratory herons were standing stoically in camouflage amongst the shrubby foliage, silently waiting for prey. I took it all in. These were the loves of my life at this moment of time. After walking for five kilometres, the uneasiness I felt dissipated. The public library came in sight on the left of the boulevard. I entered, mostly for a cup of tea at the tea café which ma

"What was on your mind when you played it? Cherie asked. "My childhood. Sometimes I think of the incoming storm, cleansing away all impurities. But sometimes nothing comes to my mind." I said. Cherie and I headed back to rearranging returned books on the shelf. She had called me her volunteer assistant. "I won't be here next month. The municipal council is to retrench me and close the library." Cherie said, in a little voice. She told me then that due to the lack of people coming to the library, the council decided that they would just do away with the library. There was a grand, main one in the city and the suburbs need not have a library of its own. "How awful! I am sorry to hear that. You love working here." I said. Cherie looked at me thoughtfully. "Paid membership to borrow books had been decreasing over the years. I do not have many