By Khyati Shrestha
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When I touched her bare waist, she winced.
Winced as I outlined the little bluish-black bruise on the side of her waist.
“Just some customer”, she said, nonchalantly.
But, how could I stop? How could I forget and do nothing about it?
But I had to. She wasn’t mine. Not yet.
So, I continued with the teasing and the sweet love making.
This was supposed to be pleasurable for her and not for me.
I remember the soft, hoarse moan that unintentionally left her mouth as I kissed her gently.
Slowly first, needy by the end.
I knew she needed it.
Craved it.
No, I did not want to rape her. I just wanted to make sweet love to her.
To tell her that she has someone to call hers.
To tell her that I do not crave her body, but her soul.
Her heart.
Oh! A heart so pure that makes my heart melt.
The careless laughter of hers.
The way her eyes shine when she talks about little Nina.
The way her heartbeat quickens when she finds out about the next customer.
She always leaves the room with a sad smile.
A smile depicting pain. Her struggle.
The reason behind her agony.
But this time, I held her hand.
My eyes begging her to stay.
And for the first time, I saw what hope feels like. She came closer, hugged me and kissed me gently on the forehead and said
“I don’t belong to one man. Let me sell my body so I can feed two souls”
