Short Story: An Unforgettable Night In The Brothel

He woke up, rolled over, and reached for her assuming he is still in the brothel.

She wasn’t there, and would never be again. I sat back to recall what had happened just a day go.

I had gone to Kolkata for official work. Having Partho’s house available, I had put up with him. He took me out to show the city in the most beautiful way possible. After a long day Partho decided to take me for an adventure. Sonagachi is the largest, thriving brothel in India.

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As we enter a dim lit street which he seemed to know quite well; my vision becomes more blurred. In the harsh red light setting, I saw women harassing men for money. There was also a police man in a compromising position with a young girl. Few women were leisurely standing and eyeing me like I was meat. Partho dragged me to a blue building where a fat lady was seated on a diwan. She welcomed us while chewing on her paan.

“Pranaam babu. So, do you want Rukmini as always?”

“Yes. And here’s my friend, Karthik. He’s from Ajmer. Bring out the best piece for him.”

“Saanika, Rukmini, come fast.”

Saanika and Rukmini walked in gracefully. I was blown by Saanika’s beauty. The green dress she wore started low showing off her ripe breasts and ended three inches below her vagina and enhanced her voluptuous body throughout. She had long brown hair which ended at her buttocks. Her sallow skin complemented her almond-shaped eyes and her rosebud lips. She grabbed my hand and took me into a room. The room was dimly lit and had a bed in a centre.

She slowly started stripping me and then took off her clothes. I was ashamed of the instant hard on. She hit the right points and I was so lost in her physical beauty. I tried to hold on but all in vain. It was the best make out I have had ever.

“So, tell me about Ajmer.”

Her question puzzled me. Wasn’t she supposed to leave given the job was over? Anyways, I began to tell her about Ajmer and my past life. Without any inhibition, I told her the difficult stuff like my parents getting divorced when I was 8. She encouraged me to share my darkest desires with the almond-shaped eyes that stared into my soul.

“I want to be a writer, someday.”

She gave me the sweetest smile ever. How was I supposed to get over this night?

“Leave all this. Come with me,” I begged.

“Don’t give me false hopes. You were doing fine until now.”

I could see tears welling up her eyes. I touched her hand and in succession, she grabbed mine tightly.

In the quiet of the night disrupted by moans in the next room, I felt a strange sort of comfort. The women I claimed to love couldn’t provide me with this level of intimacy which a sex-worker could. She laughed and wept with me all night. She stayed there providing a peculiar sense of security to my soul. Warmth crept over me and I don’t know when I fell asleep.

I woke up to a loud bang on my door.