The Client
The room was a mess. A bunch of worn-out dresses lay hanging on one corner. The dim lights were on. Smoking a beedi, she waited for the door to have a knock. She had put on a blue pair of inner garments. Her eyes were half shut. The bed on which she rested cosily, had a sheet that was washed months ago. However, little did it bother her. In fact, nothing in the room bothered her. It was her room. Her world. And she loved it. As she pulled the smoke from the beedi deep into her lungs, and exhaled it slowly, a smile ran over her lips. She smiled over how coward she was years ago. Today, she was the talk of the entire brothel because of her services. The pimp had seen her high demand, and had increased her rates. However, she was the same girl who had cried a hell lot when she was brought to this world. She was seventeen back then. As she looked deep within herself, she felt she was missing something. Though she had accepted her fate by now, yet, she was craving. For something sh...