Wednesday, 14 May 2014

Buying The Girl Next Door

It is one of the hottest nights of June and the usual London grey sky, smiled bluish today. The dash of orange running like a dagger, right in the heart of the summer night made me think of Lucy. How long it had been, when Lucy had walked out on me with Jane, my beautiful daughter? The time did not make sense. The only thing that made sense was the loneliness. That night, the park looked lonely too. The soft breeze felt like a gentle touch of a woman. The leaves whispered their secrets to anyone who cared to listen and I walked around to hear some more.
That is when I saw them. Not more than 16 but engulfed in a physical symphony so strong and smooth that I thought my heart was racing with theirs. The rhythm and the sounds, the curves of early womanhood and the pearls of sweat running down her back, made me want to dive right in.

I hurriedly unlocked my house door and dashed for the phone. "Age, Sex and Address, please," almost sang a woman in a husky, sexy voice. "14, Montague Road, Windsor. Female. Teen," I say with an audible excitement in my voice. "Sending in 15," she hangs up.
I search for an adult tape, drink down two pints and light up a smoke while waiting for what it turned out to be one of the most painful nights of my life.

I am pacing near the hallway, feeling my manhood throbbing through my trousers, when I hear the doorbell rings. I stub off the cigarette and open the door to a girl so sensual, that it seemed like a dream. Was it just her sensuality or what is it her resemblance to Lucy that attracted me more toward her? Whatever the reason, I counted my blessings to have gotten this beautiful God's creation. I welcome her in the house with my hand on her full bottom. She steps in with a coy smile as she puts her hand around my waist. "Hi. I am Roxy. Do you straight want to get to business or do you want to chat first?," she questions.
"You are with a gentleman tonight, Miss Roxy. I am not a savage that you usually come across," I say. There is a clear disinterest in her eyes as I say this. Her eyes. Blue, large and deep. Not like a prostitute's, completely fake. But like a classy woman's, genuine and sincere. "I really don't have much time for a chat, actually," she states while interrupting my thoughts.
Taking the hint, I take her to my bedroom upstairs and ask her to get ready in the bathroom as I wait for her on the bed. I lay on the bed visualising the young couple in the park and my excitement is at the top. Roxy walks out of the bathroom in a white negligee, which barely concealed her milky white skin. She looked like an angel under the ambient lights and she sexily strutted towards the bed. She is about to drop her negligee with a sexy tilt and that is when all hell broke loose.

"WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!," she is screams while scampering off to the bathroom. I am in a shock at her behaviour and run towards to the bathroom. I bang on the bathroom door with a thud.

"Roxy, what is wrong? Are you okay? Should I call the doctor? Your madam? Are you okay? Please answer baby," I yell.
"Who is the woman and the girl in the picture on your bedside table?" she asks from the other side of the door.
"My ex-wife Lucy and my daughter Jane. They left me many years back. Don't worry, baby.  No wife is going to walk through the door to threaten you. Come out now. Let us talk and have a good time," I say as I light another cigarette.
"Your wife will never walk through those doors now, she is dead. And your daughter is a hooker now, hiding in your bathroom," she says while walking outside the door in her jeans and a jacket.
"WHAT!!!! Jane? Is it really you, Jane?"
"I was. I am Roxy, now. I have been Roxy since my mother died two years ago, my step-father tried to rape me and my biological father, probably forgot, I ever existed," she says with an expression of the dead and walks down the steps.
"I didn't know about Lucy's death, Jane. I didn't know, er, er anything. Lucy asked me to never contact you both and I respected her wishes," I cried and ran behind her.

I do not know if she ever heard. I do not know if she ever forgave. I do not know if she is still a working girl and I do not know why I am I still alive. 

Writing Prompt by Reddit