My Experience As An Escort

This is a story about the time some girl used me to play ping pong.
It happened few summers back. The summer after I graduated from Secondary School. It was a good summer. Myself and my guys made sure we went for as many parties as we could; as many as our pockets could handle. We hosted(ish) one; it was good.
After some time, about a month or so, my situation was like that of a ceramic plate that dropped to the floor; I was broke. I was so broke, I couldn’t afford credit. It was that bad.
This was my time to reflect. I couldn’t leave the house, I dared not. The entire crew was broke so our crew chills were in a group chat, talking about stuff we talk about.
Bulk of my days were spent on BBM and Twitter, (if you take out some other stuff I did to develop myself(yeah, right)) talking to people I knew, sliding into random dm’s, meeting women and magically become unavailable when they mention meeting up (because no money) and all those things.
A couple p’s clicked here and there but I couldn’t follow up since they lived relatively far away.
But not her. This particular girl; there’s no need to describe her since she’s  not all that but she’s alright. And she’s tall too. Anyway, I already knew her, kind of. She attended my primary school but she was a year ahead.
I had discovered her Twitter but i didn’t follow her so all i did was admire from a distance. Technically, we were close, close friends even cos the way I pree’d this girl’s TL was very shameful. I knew her closest friends, the places she was gonna be, parties she was going to attend, along with other basic stuff one can make up from your average social network account.
Funny enough, she followed me. True me to immediately

image

I normally hate seeing notifications so I always reply messages instantly. But this time, I didn’t reply fast cos of my hate for notifications, it was because of joy.
We got to talking and along the line, we spoke about primary school and the name of our school comes up. She goes ‘Wait, I remember you. You were a year behind me.’
As a hard guy, uno, forming uninterested was cool that time so I’m like
image

Friday that week, she told me about this party that was going down over the weekend. We were already familiar so it was easy to make her understand that my financial situation was shaky. She told me not to worry cos the party was free for guys as long as they came along with a girl. And yes, she was going to the girl I was going in with, my ticket somewhat.
I suggested we meet somewhere close to the venue and go from there together but she said it was better for me to first come to her house and then we would leave from there. I’m like ‘Umm, I don’t have a free car and I can’t drive either so I won’t be able to drive down to the party from her house’. She convinced me not to worry and be at her house the morning of the party.
The day came and trust me to be ready on time. Got dressed, bathed myself in one of my dad’s favourite scents and went to her house.
Going to her house actually made sense in the long run, for me. It would make me familiar with her gateman, her mum (apparently), siblings and the way there. #BlessUp
I was at the gate, calling and urging this goat to hurry up and let’s be on our way but she came to open the gate herself and asked that I come in.
On the way in, she stopped me and told me to answer whatever question her parents asked me like a proper grown-up. I’m like okay and we go in.
I assumed I was prepared to meet whoever was going to be home. But I assumed wrong. Both her parents, about 3 girls and 2 of her sibling were in. I greeted everyone and buried my head in my BlackBerry (those were the days), trying to pretend I wasn’t feeling somehow.
Next thing, her mum starts asking me stuff. She started with the basic, who are you, what’s your name, how do you know madam and all. Before she jumped into ‘how are you getting there’ ‘how are you getting back’. I answered every question like a proper man and even told her mum to hold me accountable for her daughter’s well-being.
The entire good boy act was for a reason though. I had to earn her mum’s trust so that I could return to the house anytime I liked and her mum would be comfortable leaving me and her daughter alone since I gave her the impression I was her daughters friend from school who only liked books, church and family. Call me a liar or anything but those were tough times for man’s urges uno.
The interview process ended and we set out. I like to believe I must have been very dumb at the time. It didn’t occur to me that I had no idea how we were going to the party. Luckily, our girl had arranged a ride that I gladly got into even though I didn’t know any of the 4 people in the car.
We got to the venue and spent 7 days looking for parking space. Everyone got out of the car once we parked and began the Israelite journey to the house where the party was to go down. Some steps into the travel, our girl said she forgot something in the car and it was important. I offered to follow her back to the car since I wasn’t going to be comfortable walking with the other people because I didn’t know them.
We got the the car and she got in the back and started to search frantically for whatever it is she was looking for. Sun was hot so I got in the car too and pretended to search too. She then pulled one black bag from underneath the front seat and brings a white dress out the bag.
Thinking about it now, I think that was the point where my love for white dresses started.
Without saying a word, she took off her shoes and began to wriggle out of the tight fitted grey jeans she had on. Not gonna lie, I looked at her well. It was obvious she was changing clothes and since I’m not a Disney prince (not at the time anyway), I didn’t look away; and she didn’t complain.
These daughters of Belial know how to do things uno. This woman began to bite her lips. I avoid being forward cos I hate rejection so I called on the 20000 spirits of self control and stayed put. Without making attempt to cover anything, she took off her blouse and… less said, the better. Just know, yellow skin is very nice in some parts.
She slipped into the white dress and Wow! I complimented her and we started our journey. All the while, I was only thinking of how I was going to have her to myself once we got in.
At the gate, since I felt I knew the arrangement, I confidently tried going in. Some large, ugly, buff thug pushed me back out. I’m relatively tiny, compared to him so I calmed down and obeyed. I faced my ticket in and asked her what was going on.
That’s when she broke my heart. She made us walk some distance from the gate and started to explain that her parents don’t let her go out unless it’s with someone they can trust. She went on to say that I was the person they can trust. Or at least, I was playing the role that day. I asked her arrive at her point since the seat belt was hurting. She placed a hand on my shoulder and casually opened her mouth to tell me she actually had a date. I couldn’t laugh or cry, so I begged her to explain what I was to do. She put her hand in her bag and brought out N5000. The gate fee was N3000 so she told me to pay and keep the N2000 for my services. Services cos I practically played the role of an escort.
And then she walked away.
It was at that moment it dawned on me that I’m not really that smart. If anything, there was (changed now) nothing inside my head.
Once the confusion cleared, I found myself going towards the gate to pay and enter. But that day was for me, the devil could not win. And so, I got to a bus stop, got into a bus home for just N100 and went home N4900 richer.
image

She called me later in the evening, asking if I was still at the party, that it was time to leave. I gladly told her I left about 5 minutes ago cos I found one of my guys and some other lie.

I didn’t speak to her after that day because my mama ain’t born no fool.

🙂

Advertisements

5 thoughts on “My Experience As An Escort

Leave A Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s