She grabbed a bathrobe and headed for the door. She had dreamily ordered room service from a menu she could hardly decipher, let alone make a culinary attempt at its recipes. She closed the door, pushed the spiced yellow slices of potato fries around the plate with a fork clasped by just two fingers and occasionally nibbled at the tasteless French fries and cucumber.
She was glad to have already submitted her coursework assignment and that he had paid her upfront. She was unlikely going to get another client for the night but the previous one she had kind of liked-almost awkwardly attached. She offloaded a slow mo slap that heated up and Usain Bolted to her cheek at the sprint gap almost depressing the shiny dimple but certainly melting off the remains of Victoria Secrets’ foundation.
Fantasy aside, a girl had to survive!
She had half a mind not to touch the bathroom tap and she wiped it aggressively with disinfectant and emptied the tin onto the tiles, washed it down with splashes of maximally heated water before she could use the facilities. Moments later, she checked out of the room, pulled the hood to her forehead and flagged down a passing boda boda.
He had managed to ease the rapturous tension that had welled up that evening and dulled at the snap of a manicured middle finger and thumb. Generosity had visited him more liberally on this particular occasion and he would have been the more glad except that all his money had ended up in the drawer of a ominous creature by the hostel gate, Colline Hotel and now this “not good looking-bird in sheets her father could never think of buying”, he let this off with a distasteful snigger to an audience of one.
The blue jaguar let off a clear friendly waste of unleaded as it mowed over the soft mud and tar up and down the hill towards Seeta. Tracy walked through the gate a pair of strings hanging from her ears like a climbing stem on a tree that could gladly use the extra energy for itself.
$TOH
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