about a little milk and honey in your rice?” I offer. I make a kind of pudding of the rice, cooking it in milk and egg and sweetening it and even dusting a little cinnamon on top. She eats it in tiny bites off the spoon, but she eats all of it, the whole bowl, and then, her shrunken stomach full, she falls asleep. I lie down next to her in the dim, cool death house, with the dates of the dead in the wall barely visible, and sleep, dreaming of sex and cinnamon.
In the evening she smokes more hashish, doing better this time. “I will become a regular rich man’s wife,” she says, “expecting my hashish.” She’s languid and happy and something rises within me, eased.
I buy some tangine to celebrate, but although she eats a little of it, the stew of pigeon and fruit in pastry is too rich for her. “Make me rice pudding,” she begs, so I do, and watch to make sure she eats most of it before running out into the hot evening to go to Karim’s house. I’m almost sad to go, it’s nice to be with Hariba when she’s smoked the hashish.
“Tabi,” I say, coming up the stairs. “Tabi!”
Tabi is sitting in her room, peering into a mirror at her eye makeup. “It’s too hot for all this rushing around,” she says.
I kiss the top of her head. “Thank you, thank you. The hashish really helped.”
Tabi smiles, genuinely pleased.
Mouse sells me more, and suggests that I buy a water pipe. “It cools the smoke,” he says. “It’ll be easier for her.” He tells me where to buy one.
It’s hot, so I’m glad to strip my clothes. I sit hip to hip with Ebuyeth, skin to skin, while the boy and the girl lie together on the couch, watching nothing with sleepy, empty eyes. Away from human needs is such a relief.
The girl is the busiest of all of us. Most nights she has an unending stream of customers. They come in looking for her. Some are hopeful, some are hangdog, a few, here for their first time, are scared, but very few are happy.
My first customer is here for anal sex. I’ve learned a lot since the first night. Anal sex isn’t that bad. I take him back into my little room with its red wash of light. I have a basin and a cloth and first I have him lie down and I soap his penis and clean it gently until it’s standing for me. Then I use the gel, warming it in my hands before I put it on him. He watches me, his robe hiked up so that he is exposed and vulnerable, but he likes the feel of my hands. I don’t feel as if he wants me to talk, and when I glance at him, he looks away. I don’t look at him again.
He’s not pretty, this one. His face is sunken in and he has a thin beard full of white and gray. His thighs are thin, his calves are poor. His breath smells.
When I’ve greased him up, I grease myself. I’ve learned to relax, and it’s easy now. One customer told me a human can never relax the way a harni can-he said it so I’d know that he considered me no better than a slut by nature, so after that I’d act ashamed for him and he was pleased.
There is always some resistance at first, the customer must push past the tight ring of sphincter. That is where most of the feeling is for me. Once he is inside me, I feel him as a fullness, and deeper inside me, a pleasant excitement, if I’m not too tired to care.
This one sighs, “Ahhh,” as he pushes inside me.
I think of Hariba and of how I’d like to sleep while he is pumping. As long as he doesn’t come out of me unexpectedly, I don’t have to think much to stay relaxed.
It’s hard, working all night and tending to Hariba during the day. I’d like to sleep for a whole night. I’d like the smooth suppleness of skin, warm and living, lying next to me as I fell asleep. Maybe if I don’t have many customers, I can sleep tonight.
That’s what I think while he jerks and moans.
After midnight, we have soup and bread. The girl has a bad tooth and she soaks her bread until the crust is soft before eating it. I go downstairs and find Karim.
“Put
In the evening she smokes more hashish, doing better this time. “I will become a regular rich man’s wife,” she says, “expecting my hashish.” She’s languid and happy and something rises within me, eased.
I buy some tangine to celebrate, but although she eats a little of it, the stew of pigeon and fruit in pastry is too rich for her. “Make me rice pudding,” she begs, so I do, and watch to make sure she eats most of it before running out into the hot evening to go to Karim’s house. I’m almost sad to go, it’s nice to be with Hariba when she’s smoked the hashish.
“Tabi,” I say, coming up the stairs. “Tabi!”
Tabi is sitting in her room, peering into a mirror at her eye makeup. “It’s too hot for all this rushing around,” she says.
I kiss the top of her head. “Thank you, thank you. The hashish really helped.”
Tabi smiles, genuinely pleased.
Mouse sells me more, and suggests that I buy a water pipe. “It cools the smoke,” he says. “It’ll be easier for her.” He tells me where to buy one.
It’s hot, so I’m glad to strip my clothes. I sit hip to hip with Ebuyeth, skin to skin, while the boy and the girl lie together on the couch, watching nothing with sleepy, empty eyes. Away from human needs is such a relief.
The girl is the busiest of all of us. Most nights she has an unending stream of customers. They come in looking for her. Some are hopeful, some are hangdog, a few, here for their first time, are scared, but very few are happy.
My first customer is here for anal sex. I’ve learned a lot since the first night. Anal sex isn’t that bad. I take him back into my little room with its red wash of light. I have a basin and a cloth and first I have him lie down and I soap his penis and clean it gently until it’s standing for me. Then I use the gel, warming it in my hands before I put it on him. He watches me, his robe hiked up so that he is exposed and vulnerable, but he likes the feel of my hands. I don’t feel as if he wants me to talk, and when I glance at him, he looks away. I don’t look at him again.
He’s not pretty, this one. His face is sunken in and he has a thin beard full of white and gray. His thighs are thin, his calves are poor. His breath smells.
When I’ve greased him up, I grease myself. I’ve learned to relax, and it’s easy now. One customer told me a human can never relax the way a harni can-he said it so I’d know that he considered me no better than a slut by nature, so after that I’d act ashamed for him and he was pleased.
There is always some resistance at first, the customer must push past the tight ring of sphincter. That is where most of the feeling is for me. Once he is inside me, I feel him as a fullness, and deeper inside me, a pleasant excitement, if I’m not too tired to care.
This one sighs, “Ahhh,” as he pushes inside me.
I think of Hariba and of how I’d like to sleep while he is pumping. As long as he doesn’t come out of me unexpectedly, I don’t have to think much to stay relaxed.
It’s hard, working all night and tending to Hariba during the day. I’d like to sleep for a whole night. I’d like the smooth suppleness of skin, warm and living, lying next to me as I fell asleep. Maybe if I don’t have many customers, I can sleep tonight.
That’s what I think while he jerks and moans.
After midnight, we have soup and bread. The girl has a bad tooth and she soaks her bread until the crust is soft before eating it. I go downstairs and find Karim.
“Put
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