Fassara Zuwa Hausa

The Prostitute: A story of extreme love, fury and jealousy (Preview)

“No, you’re not. I can feel the rush of blood in your veins begging for pleasure. You need to satisfy the strong urge of your sexual desires.”

“I’m okay,” Steve said, now feeling uncomfortable. “I told you I’m okay.”

‘Okay, then dearie; I’ll be on my way but in case you change your mind and you need this, you should just call me up, I’ll be waiting for you over there.” She said turning her back on Steve and pointing her long colored fingernails at her rounded and tightly packed buttocks.”

Steve looked quickly away from the direction of her finger and tried to readjust his eyeglasses as if to block every other outlet where the light will transmit the unpleasant scene into his eyes. 

“But hello,” Steve said as the lady took some steps away from him as if a cerebral force just dropped in his mind a golden idea. 

“Here I am Mister,” the lady turned and walked back to him. “Finally changed your mind. “

“No,” Steve replied trying to find his voice. “I’m here to look for a lady called Serena.”

Serena,” she said, surprised. “What have you got to do with Serena? I’ll give you what Serena will never give you.”

“Look,” he said, irritated by her aggressive professionalism and advertisement. “I’m here for her to discuss an important issue that will greatly benefit her.”

“Hey Mister, are you a cop? We’ve had problems with you plain clothes cynics called policemen these days.”