Teenage prostitutes rule Lagos at night

It’s 6pm and she prepares herself for tonight’s rounds. She’s late this evening because twas a long night, the last.

She’d spent the day napping in an attempt to regain the lost strength, yet after all of that sleep and food and pain medication, her body just seem to require more time to be rejuvenated.

It wasn’t like this years back when she was quite younger, her body could take on a Rhino without a single dent. Business has become quite tedious nowadays and age hasn’t helped.

She definitely wasn’t like the others, or so she thought. She had an escape plan, but her naivety cost her dearly, and the man who was to help her secure the visa to go abroad (with him), whom she loved, and thought loved her too absconded with her money, and as she heard with an ‘unspoilt’ girl.

She never recovered from the heartbreak. It totally killed any sense of adventure in her, and buried any thoughts of leaving the game. He wasn’t just like any of her clients, he told her tales that were too good to be true. He told her she could start allover, become a Tabula Rasa, and even experience Secondary Virginity, and he was going to help her see it happen.

All that she invested in him, her light at the end of her tunnel, soon became dashed and tunnel soon became a cave. Once again, her hope in humanity was dealt a heavy blow and she became totally numbed by and of everything around her.

When she hears the recruits whisper their dreams to one another, she laughs inside of her. She doesn’t discourage them though, infact she hopes their tale be different from hers. Unfortunately she’s witnessed the same tragedy play itself over and over that she’s concluded that this business like ‘Hotel California’ cannot be escaped, that “You can check out anytime you like, But you can NEVER leave”.

She’s is lucky to be alive today. Lucky, because she couldn’t categorically say she took any precautions in business, not for diseases of which she had been plagued only by the milder variants, or in selecting clients. Many of her friends haven’t been that lucky, some were lost to HIV/AIDS and other debilitating sexually transmitted infections, some others became mentally deranged, while a few others met gruesome deaths at the hands of ritual killers and dupes.

All those experiences tended to temper her attitude towards the job, unfortunately with age and dwindling resources, occasioned by decreased clientele in the face of high cost of living, she’s had to do the extraordinary to stay afloat.

Housecalls have become hard to come by these days, and she’d be lucky to get a drunk fool part with premium mullah for a few rounds. Her punani isn’t just open for the highest bidder anymore, now only for anyone, maybe even ‘anything’ that’s interested, and for close to any offer.

It was in this condition that she allowed herself to be pummelled by four men who promised top mullah, though she used to make it’s equivalent, even much more years back from a round with just one client.

What she hadn’t bargained for was the firepower these men had come with, certainly not with the way her body has been responding these days. She would’ve enjoyed it many years back, but last night the pain part was more than the pleasure part. The ‘hard men’ didn’t even notice that she blanked out twice during the sessions.

It was painful, but she was motivated by the dough, and by the fact that she won’t be paying her Madam (who met her in the trade many years ago) anything for room space as the men opted to do her in the back of their lorry with which they brought farm produce from the North of Nigeria to it’s South.

These weren’t the kinda men she’d allow near her, even in the worst of times, but these were very bad times and the urgency of her situation demanded drastic actions using the only tool at her disposal, which unfortunately commands less than it used to.

These men had come upon a local afrodisiac which they intended to try out on her. Unfortunately, this particular formulation of “Burantashi” was the most potent, so potent that her orgasms peaked so high enough to knock her out twice.

The men were kind enough to let her lie on their makeshift mattress after the games, but when they roused her later in the morning, it felt like her body was broken into bits. All her joints stood singly, even to her digits, like they were not part of a whole.

Nothing worked all morning, even “Alabukun” scampered for safety when it saw the pain and headache it was meant to extinguish.

Now, she’s out again tonight at her best spot at Obalende, just by that “Suya” man. She’s gotta do this or else she won’t be able to help her six year old daughter at the orphanage with the funds needed for heart surgery.



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