Cindy the K street prostitute, part three.

Hapa Kenya, hakuna kitu,
Unaweza, kupata bure,
Kila kitu, lazima pesa,
Cha bure kimekwisha !

The song blared from the expensive stereo in Carol’s house. I liked listening to Swahili stations as I cleaned. Why was I cleaning ? Oh, you thought I was just going to jump straight to Koinange Street ? Then you don’t know Nairobi.
Carol had adopted me and we had come to a kind of understanding over the few days I was at her place. I did all the housework and she provided accommodation. When she had men over, I would sit on the step outside the door until they left. It was very rare, most of the time she conducted business in various bars in downtown Nairobi.
One afternoon as I sat outside enjoying the sun, the watchman came and started talking to me. He must have assumed I was a pro because he asked me point blank how much I sold punani for. In jest, I told him 250 a shot. He drew a breath in surprise and I thought I had succeeded in killing his interest.
He walked away and came back after ten minutes. He showed me a pack of condoms and handed me some banknotes. Shit ! The man was serious ! I couldn’t back down, neither could I take him into the house. I asked him where we could do it and he told me to follow him. I locked the house and obediently followed him with my stomach in knots. We squeezed into a narrow back alley and climbed over a pile of ballast. On the other side was a small pile of building sand. He told me to lie on it.
As I lay there, all I could think about was how to clean sand out of my hair. After years of abuse, my mind automatically detached from my body when sex happened to me. He unzipped his trousers and knelt between my legs. He pulled up my skirt and pulled down my granny panties with all the marks of experience. He spat on his fingers and thrust them gently into me. As he did so, he stroked his thick member and stared between my legs. When he was fully erect, he put a condom on and positioned himself over me. I felt him push in inch by inch until there was nowhere else to go. I felt as if a soda bottle was in there.
Finally, I was going to experience what Carol felt. It was a mix of slight pain, discomfort and in the far distance, slight pleasure. Just when the balance was tipping more towards pleasure, he lost control and came like a donkey. I was quite disappointed. In frustration, I pushed him away and tidied myself. He kept telling me how good and tight my punani was yet all I could think about was showering. I ran back to the house without looking at him.
I quickly showered and cooked. I sat watching TV trying to process my guilt and shame until 2AM when Carol returned alone, drunk as a skunk. She slumped on the sofa and ate the food slowly while swaying from side to side. I sat next to her and took out the 250 from my pocket, placing it on the table.
Hii ni nini ?
I confessed how i had sold ‘it’ to a local guy. She laughed heartily and told me to pass her her handbag. She pulled out bundles of notes and put them on my lap. I counted about 4 thousand. ‘Kama umeamua kuuza coomer, wacha kuuza bei ya upuuzi !’ She laughed. ‘Kwanza vile wewe ni fresh utapata pesa poa sana.’
I sat and pondered. I was broke, homeless and desperate. In this state, it was a matter of time before another ‘uncle’ started raping me and paying me peanuts. It was inevitable I would be ferked, one way or another. Why not get paid properly for it ? The money in my lap spoke maths to me. 4k times 30 times 12 sounded like millions to me !
With all the honesty of drunks, Carol showed me my options - house girl, housewife or whore. Only one had good money. My education, or lack of, narrowed my options to one. Eventually, she blacked out. I lifted her and put her in the bed. I drifted off to sleep dreaming of my millions.
The next evening, I sat in the back of a taxi, wearing one of Carol’s mini dresses, heading towards town. The taxi driver asked who I was.
Carol replied
Baba Toto, huyu ni Cindy. Ni mrembo mpya kutoka ushago.
I was officially launched as a Nairobi prostitute !

Weka previous episodes pris

Nasema kesho hii

maliza pris ithe wa toto

So good, it could be true.

Good story telling.