Ladies Of The Night

There was no love here.

I could smell sickly-sweet alcoholic fumes flirting with bitter-dry cigarette smoke, I could hear the ladies laughing their rehearsed, high-pitch schoolgirl squeals, I could taste the primal, naked lust in the air.

But no love. I could sense no love here. Not in this dimly-lit 7-11 of vices. Love was even more elusive here than an emboldened demon making merry in the streets of heaven.

I pushed past couples locked in embrace, their passions on coarse, open display. My neck itched, victim both of my vanity and the new shirt I had just bought. I came here the night before as an ordinary, forgettable leaf from the past, but tonight... I wanted her to remember me.

There she was, seated between two men, their arms around her like diseased tendrils across her fair skin. A curious mix of jealousy and anger bubbled in me. I had no right to feel that way, not when she was not mine. Not anyone's, for that matter.

She recognized me, a fleeting moment before I wrenched her away from them. And in those seconds as she was uprooted, she suddenly looked lost, confused, her gaities falling away like melting wax. No longer the confident, commanding lady of the night she pretended to be.

At a quiet corner, she lit up, pointedly looking away as the smoke rings danced away from her.

"You can't just pull me away like that. They will be angry, and you don't exactly look like the sort who can defend yourself."

"I can pay. I will pay. Look, just come away with me, again." I sounded desperate. I didn't care.

She laughed. "Pay? And towards what purpose? I'm a girl who likes to earn her money, you know, and last night didn't do much for me at all."

I wasn't shaken - the facade was as plain as day. "You lie. It was the best damned night you've had since forever, and you know it. Come with me, again, please."

She was silent for a while, then she struck out at me like an enraged rattlesnake. I was pushed back against the wall hard, but the pain barely registered. I could only notice the creases in her makeup, thin flaking lines etched in by the scowl she wore.

"Last night did not happen. You hear me?"

"It did, and nothing you can do will make you forget it."

"No. You came to me for my body, paid for it, got what you wanted, and you left. That's what happened. Another simple transaction in this sprawling existance of ours."

"I never wanted your body, never touched it. I only came to talk to you. You know that."

My perseverance was paying off. Just like last night, her defences were coming down, one at a time. The brimming tears of anger in her coloured-contacts-eyes said it all.

"You had no right to do that, you hear me? You had no right to spend the whole night doing nothing but talk to me, talking like we are still the friends we were so long ago. You were supposed to come in, take me, then leave! Not linger like this!"

I placed a hand on her shoulder, and waited for her to calm down. "I'm sorry," I found myself saying, "You said you were lonely last night, and all I wanted was to talk to you again. That's all."

When she eventually looked up it was as I feared. The mask was rigidly in place again, the pleasant, genial, vacant expression she wore for all her customers.

"Honey. Last night won't ever happen again. That girl you talked to, the one you shared old stories and laughed with, she's not living here anymore. She left a note for you, though. She said she's moved away, and if ever she finds a place of her own again, she'll contact you, so don't bother looking for her now."

She patted my cheek in that infuriatingly condescending way of hers.

"She said, don't be so idealistic anymore. Our youth has deserted us. You think you have choices in life, that you're always in control, but it's not so simple. We all have responsibilities, wouldn't you agree?"

"You know that's not true. You know that..." Her finger to my lip cut me off. I'm weak that way.

"Don't spoil the moment." She smiled then, but from whom the smile sprung from I was no longer sure. "If it matters to you that much, she also says thank you, for being nice to her last night. She felt... appreciated, and maybe one day, one day she would like to feel that way again."

I lost her then. She turned and slipped back effortlessly into that black, oil-slicked sea of leering faces and earnest hands. My feet guided me out, for I could not stay and watch. The pain was killing me.

To anyone else my resolve to return and try again may seem suicidally stupid, but no one else saw her as I did last night. And if they did, they would know it would be worth it.

Another day it would have to be, then.

* This was inspired by a friend's post, and is not reflective of my real life. Maybe the emo bits, but not the salacious bits. Sigh.