There were some dirty pictures on the wall of Samantha Fox and other assorted favourites looking down at me like the frescos in Sistine Chapel. I said: “First I want to see you naked.” Having said that I thought: Do I really want to? Somehow the fact that those pimps were not here had made me bold.

Simply because any innocent proposal and I was afraid that the girl will complain to the classteacher( “Aunty aunty, that boy…”) There could be nothing worse than that happening. My parents fought a lot and abused each other like sailors. Only businessmen who sold iron bars and Nirma salesmen frequented brothels.

The girls of the 80s and early 90s appeared all to be such prissy crybabies. The reason I do not mention his full name is because he is a moderately famous person now with political ambitions and with more-than-a-little delusion of grandeur. Except that since his parents were divorced, he grew up like a wild oat with mama-papa bribing him for his love, ploughing him with whatever he wanted. But they just would not divorce and despite living in a battlezone, I never got the perks that S demanded as a fact of life. There were several times during the bus journey that I thought of getting off.

I cursed myself for not shagging and getting rid of the spermatile pressure that was building in my ball bearings.

Since I was a “good boy” and to be honest, I never really trusted that bugger.

” I nodded in agreement: awash with something akin to relief. Funny, he looked just like a maternal uncle of mine.

Tall 4 storied buildings on each side—some new, some pretty old. ” Since this is your first time, I am going to set you up with Laxmi. He opened a door and yelled “Lakshmi, a client is here.” A voice from inside called out: ” How much?

I did not know it then but this is a standard “gaming” technique for pimps once they spot a sucker. He asked the other man “What’s the problem Bishu-da? Sweaty turned to him and said: “Look at this piece of shit.

Was he a moral vigilante—those idiotic uncle-types who consider themselves to be pot-bellied superheros out to save the world? Once you spot one such, the game is to make him ever more scared. Just then, as if on cue another man arrived: drawn by the little scene on the footpath. Thin, emaciated with a ugly scar down his right cheek, our Scarface tried to calm Mr. My discerning reader(s) are saying to themselves “The Good Cop, Bad Cop Routine”. I would be beholden to the good cop and give up my money without resistance.

As he went up, one of the kids ran into him and staggering back a step, my pimp let loose a volley of abuses and swung a slap which the running tyke skillfully dodged as a matter of practice. Each one of them” he yelled as the children ran down past him. More than a little chilled at the image of a “shark-like pussy”, I looked up with fear at my pimp.

Now her rate is less…show you see” And he smiled heartily at his own joke. This building looked like normal Calcuttan middle-classed housing: except that there were kids, of different ages, running up and down shouting and playing with each other. “All the girls are resting now.”–continued the pimp ” Night shift you see makes them tired” and again smiled at his own joke.

A glimpse of Lakshmi confirmed my worst fears: I had been mega-ripped off. It was evident that it was me who was getting multiply screwed today.