Read Coco 5 here (see “Similar Posts” at the bottom of this post for any earlier entries)
Round 6 Challenge: Incorporate a White Russian and the words “over the line” into your next passage, which should be no more than 500 words.
Police ask me if Stavros is man who pays for sex with me. Like they care. Even they go to cabaret for sex. I know stories of police doing sex with marked money and making arrest after if you can believe it. Taxes pay for police to do sex with the butana and then they tell journalistes that Cyprus police fight human traffic.
They put me in prison room and tell me American detective wants interview. I sit on bed to wait. After Frodo I begin thinking about my life. About routina. Every night I go to cabaret at 8 and do dance and consumatsia until 2 or 3 in morning. If man pay Yiannis for me then after cabaret close he take me to house or motel. Then I don’t get to my apartment above cabaret where Yiannis have six of us living until 11 or 12 next day. I rest there because I never sleep good in strangers bed. But sometimes CyTA phone rings from man who want sex after lunch. In daytime its more cheap for them and for me to better because I keep all the money and it sometimes take only one hour.
Different prices for different sex. Overnight sex more expensive and then sex inside cabaret cheaper and daytime sex cheapest. They give more if you let them put it in the zhopa or make sperma on you or take video or do it without condom which is where I draw line and never go over because Ukrainian girl last year got AIDS hear in Limasol. I am lucky not to be beaten yet because many girls I know who refuse to go without condom get beating or rape. Its like that.
Then I begin to think about men. In uniform or outside uniform or husband boyfriend single they are all same. Because always same thing hangs there inside there legs. Maybe this life ruin me for believing in man again. I start to make these thoughts. Because in cabaret man doesn’t just fuck your body. Body can replace itself and forget. But mind does not replace. Mind only buries memory and memories make radiation like Chornobyl. Even when it’s over its not.
Soon police chief walk in with American. I almost laugh. His chest is sticking out and arms out at sides like perspirant is burning him. Its too much funny because he thinks Cyprus police admire him but they call him poushtoamericano and americanaki. Even his name is funny. Frank.
Police chief leave and Frank ask me ridiculous questions about conspiracy but I know really want he wants. Finally he says it. He asks name of my cabaret and I tell him. Venus de Limassol. I tell him I work there tonight and he must come and buy me drink. He tries to make joke about white russian and I laugh because he sound like teenager.
He remind me of Donetsk schoolboys. I like him very much. If man can make me laugh that is very good for me. No matter if I’m laughing at him. Maybe I convince him to take me to America.