I sip my expensive champagne while looking at the girls downstairs dancing and grinding, shaking their bodies trying to be noticed. They are all wearing short skirts that show off their thighs and asses, some so high up you can see their lacy panties. Some are so daring they aren’t wearing any panties, commando is their style. The tops range from shirts to lingerie tops that show off breasts.
Some of them are watching me, they envy me and I know it. Any of those girls would kill to be in my position. I have a beautiful face, made more beautiful by expensive creams and makeup, red lipstick on full lips with dramatic eyeliner that highlights my eyes, which have blue contacts. I have long blond hair, all of it mine (I bought it all for a fortune this human hair.) I am wearing a fitting gold dress that matches my clutch bag and shoes.
Yes, they all envy me and want what I have. I can name my price for a night with a “John” at this gentleman’s club but they have to take what they can get. Whether it is a lap dance, sex in one of the cheaper rooms in the house or a blowjob that the “gentlemen” want to be performed in front of a crowd. These men don’t care. They have money, money to burn, money to buy sex or a warm mouth to take them to heaven, whatever their pleasure. I, on the other hand, choose who I want, I choose the men, not the men choosing me. They vie for my favours, I am very good at what I do, and I charge top dollar.
I have very few competitors. I am at the top of my game, I am always learning, always studying, and always learning new things. I even went to India to learn a few things for the masters of Karma Sūtra so you could say I am the Kenyan queen of Karma Sutra. I see a competitor across the room. She is light-skinned and has great assets for a girl in this profession, she looks like Vera Sidika. She is seated on a white low sofa chatting with a gentleman in Nigerian clothes. I raise my glass to her and then I walk out of the main room and go outside to the balcony to smoke.
I take out my cigarettes from my clutch bag.
“Can I light your cigarette?” I look up to see this good-looking guy with a bad case of acne. I haven’t seen him here before. He must be a newbie.
I nod. He lights my cigarette and asks if he can borrow one. I hand him my pack of cigarettes. The guy is nervous; I can tell that he has not done this before. Looking at his clothes, I can tell that he is one of those types that are common here. Grew up with no money and couldn’t get girls. So now that he has made a lot of money he wants to fuck the most beautiful girls in the club just to prove he can.
Mr. X leans against the balcony. Damn, he should do something about that acne. He looks uncomfortable. I bet he has never had to pay for a high-class escort and he is not sure if I am one or not. We are both looking at the stripper on the pole at the end of the VIP. She is grinding and winding as men throw money at her.
I decided to be naughty. I stretch over to the low table next to me to drop my cigarette in the ashtray so that my dress rides up. My big ass and glistened thighs are now in focus.
He coughs and says “Is it hot in here?”
“Really? Not as hot as it could be,” I say.
He looks at me “What do you mean?”
I go up to him and I kiss him a deep sensual kiss that is both a seduction and a promise. I let my hand drop down to his trousers. I massage him through his trousers as I kiss him. Then I whisper “Imagine what my tongue could do to you!”
Then like nothing happened, I walk back to my seat. He looks stunned like he doesn’t know what just happened. I smile, as I stretch on the red leather sofa. He is watching me, so I take a strawberry covered in chocolate, lick it and then pop it in my mouth. I am maintaining eye contact, telling him to try to tame me if he dares.
I know he will come to where I am seated. This man I can tell wants to be desired and seduced. So easy, after all, I am an actress on the stage called life. He is used to women not seeing past his face. I do, I see deep into his wallet.
Let me tell you about this club. It is a gentleman’s club but not the ordinary type. A lot goes on behind these closed doors. It is a place where a man can party with only beautiful women carefully chosen not just for their looks but their sexual skills. The club had an annual membership of 300,000 then if you want to be in the VIP you top that up with a million.
The guys in the VIP are allowed to bring one friend every month if they want to introduce them to the VIP part of the club. The VIP section has everything a man could want. The women are the most beautiful and expensive escorts in Nairobi. The most expensive champagnes, caviar and exotic foods, shisha, the best weed and wines from all over the world can be found here. This man was a guest, and hopefully, by the end of the night, he would be my client.
I look at him straight in the eye, and then put my hands on my thighs, parting them slightly to show my sexy red lingerie. He swallows and then moves towards me. He comes to where I am seated and asks me “So how much do I have to pay for it to get hotter!” I smile and whisper in his ear.
You are probably reading this and judging me. But you don’t know anything about me. I had a normal childhood like any other in a lower-middle-class family. Like all girls, I wanted to get a good education, a good job, and a good man to have a family with. We all dream about this, don’t we?
When I was in my second year my father was retrenched. His company was relocating to another country and they didn’t want to take any of the staff with them. My father was a machine operator all his life and he didn’t know what else to do. There were no companies that were hiring at the moment; in fact, many of them were retrenching some of their staff. At least Dad had worked for an international company so although it was a blue-collar job the pay wasn’t bad. My dad had to tell me the bad news “Shi I cannot afford your fees. Even with HELB, I will not be able to pay your fees next term.”
If I hadn’t been desperate to stay in school to achieve my dream of working for a blue-chip company I wouldn’t have taken up swami’s offer. Maudi was a rich girl, wearing all the latest fashions and driving a silver VW Golf. She shopped in Dubai and sold some of the things she bought to some other students with money. One day after class she invited me to a party at her house. She had only invited a handful of girls, all beautiful like me. I felt flattered to be invited. We didn’t even interact in the same circles.
On that Saturday I was dropped off by a matatu near her house in Lavington. The house was big, a beautiful red brick bungalow that had quite a huge compound. Maudi opened the door for me. She led me into the sitting room. The walls were red which contrasted with the white leather seats there. There was also a huge TV in the middle of the sitting room with game consoles scattered around it. On the table in the dining room, there were all kinds of liquors, wines, beers, and spirits. Some of them I had only seen in the movies and videos. She poured me some vodka and then showed me a room where I could change.
So this is how the rich lived. The whole room was done in lilac and white. There was a plush lilac carpet with a huge king-sized bed with a lilac bedcover and pillows. On three sides of the room were floor-to-ceiling mirrors and even the ceiling was covered in mirrors. It never bothered me but in time I was to learn the real use of those mirrors. I undressed and changed into my sky-blue costume.
When I went outside into the backyard there was nyama choma and bitings. There were several men around, some of whom looked to be my father’s age. I must have looked uncertain because Maudi came quickly to tell me to stop being shy. “Don’t worry about those guys. They are just some uncles of mine. Come over and have a drink!’
I tried to relax. There was something that was off but I couldn’t tell what it was. I decided to go easy on the booze. The party continued until late. The girls outnumbered the guys 3 to 1. There were very few young guys, only around 2 guys around the same age as me. The other guys looked like they were in their late 30s to early ’50s.
I loved to dance. When I took alcohol I wanted to dance even more. I kept dancing changing dance partners often. At about 2 I wanted to leave. Jason, one of the 30-something guys wanted to drop me. I wasn’t too sure about getting a ride.
”He is alright. He will drop you home. Jason make sure you take care of Shi!”, Maudi said laughing.
Jason was driving a red convertible, Mercedes. He asked me where I wanted to be dropped off. I told him in the campus hostels. He drove me there and just when I was about to get out he tried to kiss me. I wasn’t feeling him so I tried pushing him away. He was insistent and put his hand on one of my breasts and started squeezing it.
“Stop pretending. I know you want it. The way you were dancing with me! How much do you want? I am willing to pay!” He removed his black leather wallet which was full of a thousand shilling notes.
I managed to push him away. I wondered what kind of friends Maudi had and what he had meant when he said he was willing to pay. Did he think my body was for sale? What gave him that impression?
After a restless night, I finally got to get some sleep. In the morning Maudi called me and I told her what happened.
“Jason is not a good guy. He flushed cash at me and told me he could buy me! WTF!”
I thought Maudi would be infuriated and tell me that she would give him a talking-to. Instead what she said surprised me.
“Take it easy Shi. Jason is a good guy. He can take care of you. You should have given him what he wanted. You could have gotten a lot of money out of him. He is a generous guy with his money unlike some of these men I know. How do you think I survive?”
Then the penny dropped where Maudi got her money!
I decided I would have nothing to do with Maudi. I ignored her in class and wouldn’t answer her texts. The end of the semester arrived soon enough. This was one holiday I wasn’t looking forward to. There wouldn’t be a university to come back to. The first month it wasn’t so bad. I wasn’t seriously looking for a job. In the 2nd month, I realized that things were dire in the house and so I went tarmacking. Let me tell you getting a job in this town is not as easy as it looks. I am beautiful and I know it. The men knew it too. They offered me a deal, I sleep with them to get the job or become their mistress or I go home with nothing in my pocket. Those men reminded me of some of our lecturers who would fail students and give them bad grades for refusing to sleep with them.
After 4 months of looking for a job, and eating sukuma wiki and ugali, I decided enough was enough. I had seen how some of my friends who attended that party were being taken care of. They had money and things. I, with all my morals and principles, had nothing.
I was a good person, and I still am. I don’t think the things I have done make me a bad person. If a man has a need that is not been met and he has to pay another woman to get it whose fault is it? Why do they always blame us instead of blaming those men who look for us? It is like in olden times when they stoned the woman who committed adultery while the men walked away unscathed.
I called Maudi and told her I needed some money for school and the house. She set me up with a rich old MP who had a thing for young college girls. He paid my school fees and gave me money and I, in turn, provided a service. When he would go out he would take me with him to make his friends envious. Soon I was approached by a friend of his and another. I decided to take things into my own hands and use these men to finance my education.
I was introduced to the gentleman’s club by Maudi. I was making money so I wasn’t desperate but it helps to have an updated client list. With so many girls turning to this profession in order to live the good life you need a constant supply of new customers.
I only go to the club once a week to find out what’s going on and maybe see if I can catch a new fish. On a normal day when I have clients, I wake up at 7 a.m., have breakfast, and have a personal instructor come over to train me for two hours. I do aerobics and yoga; I need to make sure I am flexible.
At around 11 am I go to the salon. I own a salon in a high-class mall. I check the books, have my hair washed and conditioned, and have my nails done if there is a need. Twice a week I go for a massage and facial just to relax my body and to make sure I don’t start getting wrinkles. I am also taking classes in Italian, German and Chinese so that I can be able to serve my international clients better. Did I mention that I finished my degree in Business so I am using what I learnt in school to make my business global? After all, men have to have sex right and sex is the oldest profession in the book.
I am happy. I know you hoped that I was miserable and I cried myself to sleep every night. I don’t. I am content. I take care of myself. I rarely take alcohol. I like to be sober so that I am in control of the situation. I smoke a pack of cigarettes a day. I always insist that my clients wear condoms. So I hope I am safe. With blow jobs, you never know. I haven’t gotten tested but I think I am alright. This is the life I live, the life I have chosen and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
My name is Shi and I am a high-class call girl in Nairobi. Some of you call me a socialite but I am just another girl, looking to pay my bills the best way I know how to.
Writer’s Note
This is a fiction story but it’s a reality in Nairobi. There are high-priced call girls who live in big houses and drive expensive cars and they are living it up. Some of them are so-called socialites, but they keep where they get their money a secret. The sad reality is many girls look up to them and want to be like them. These girls will do whatever it takes to get noticed, take naked or almost naked pictures, and they will go hunting for men to keep them in the good life. Nowadays girls exchange their bodies for cash and it doesn’t bother them one bit. As long as they are living the good life they don’t care. Nowadays sex is the new currency on these streets and girls are living it up.
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