Monday, February 25, 2013

Prostitution: Chloe. A friend.

                                       Prostitution: Chloe.
                                  by Mark William Darus.



(continued from previous entry)

She then pulled out a .38 handgun, saying, “this makes them understand. I’d also tell them I have a friend that watches out. Most times that last was a bluff.”

“so even with oral sex you made them strap-on?”


“I have to ask if you do the ’condom mouth-trick’?”

Chloe smiled, displaying a perfect set of teeth as her body swayed from left to right. Her make up fitting her perfectly for streetlight work, accenting her strong cheekbones and beautiful green eyes. She had short, thick jet black hair that framed her face most grand. Her body, clad in a royal blue tank top tucked into tight fitting blue jeans displaying gorgeous angles of raw femininity. When this warm nights winds shifted her scent toward me, I caught a whiff of passions I’d known so long ago I was nearly startled by the rush of memory.

“Of course I do. It’s always a pleaser. My god! How their eyes always want to explode as I do it!” she said with enthusiasm.

“I’ve got to ask you this question, Chloe. It’s really no biggie, really. Just curious.”

“I do anal, but I’m selective on that one. Very cautious with reason.” she stated firmly.

“Okay, “ I said, taken aback by her statement based so far away from my thoughts at that time, “please continue. Why is that?”

“The only times I’ve had men beat me was when I turned my back to them. Couldn’t see their eyes…” She looked away for a moment. Her eyes getting glassy, perhaps her mind going back to memories she’d wish permanently forgotten. “…couldn’t read them, you know? Granted, I deal with either Pervs or men in frustrating marriages where I will do what their wives will no longer do, but gladly did years ago to catch them.”

“How’s about a refill on those coffees?” the Denny’s waitress asked, quickly snapping Chloe back.

“Oh, yes. Please, thank you.” she said with an even tone and a grateful glance.

“Me, too. Please. ” I added with a smile, taking my eyes away from Chloe briefly.

“Uh, Mark, sorry. Where was I?” she said, her unguarded eyes mating with mine, causing them see what lay beneath her appearance. At that moment I saw something deeper with this woman of the night than I’ve encountered with 99% of those I meet that never drop their guard. The set of her face was calm, yet her voice was shaky, a bit uncertain like that of a young child awaking suddenly from a not so tranquil sleep. “I h-hate it when that happens. It’s like I’m driving forward and realize I’m in reverse. Ya know? Shit, I‘m rambling, aren’t I?” She adds cream and sugar to her coffee, looking down toward it, yet not focusing on it. She is going away again.

“Chloe, it’s no big deal. We all get Amtrak’d from time to time. Here, make my coffee for me. Add the cream and sugar. Please.”

“Amtrak’d?!?! You really are sick, aren’t you?” she laughs as she works my coffee. Slender, delicate fingers rip off the tops of creamers and cuts sugar packets. Her hands working for me for no reason, perhaps her wondering why I’d ask her to do this. Gentle hands gracefully leading to strong arms leading to proud shoulders.

Looking away from as I answer her question, “I suppose I am compared to many. I can face that about myself. For decades I have been told I am different in relation to most have met. I don’t know, I’m just grateful I found out what really made me that way.”

She cocks her head as she leans back against the cushions of the booth. Her blazing green eyes, her mouth curling to a smile most captivating, “A predator, may hap?”

“You’re good. In fact, very good. You deserve a fuckin’ medal.”

“C’mon, Mark. It takes-” she starts.

“one to know one, right?” I cut her off with

“Exactly so!”

Chloe and I were dancing. Our minds connected on wavelengths that went beyond sight and sound, maybe into Rod Serlings Twilight Zone, where the abstract and subconscious are as hard as steel or as soft as the gentle caressing of nude bodies lightly touching for the first time while standing, eventually diving toward full embrace.

“Okay, fine, Chloe. You were answering a question I didn’t ask.”

“come again? Question you didn’t ask?” I caught her off base. Her head raised slightly as her eyes peered at me. She slowly crossed her legs under the table between us, her left foot running across my calf.

“Come again? Hmmm, does a guy pay double for that event?” I had to ask her with a maniacal expression. Anyone that knows me knows full well that some things said must be pounced on instantly.

She bursts into loud laughter, causing many patrons in the Denny’s on Brookpark Rd to stare at us. “Men experiencing multiples… Never thought about it.” Shaking her head, still laughing as she reaches into her purse.

I stopped her hand before she pulled it out. “I wanted to ask you what perfume you were wearing. It hit an olfactory memory is all.” I felt my ability to hold my armor fully slip away as I said that to her. Her hand drew from the purse,, empty.

“Ahhhhh,” she purred, soft lips curling slowly as she began to move to the isle. Standing, she reached for my hand.

A friction arc sparked between our fingers like exiting a car during winter, only more intense as the single blue fire joined her and I differently.

Facing Chloe as she looked at me. It was as if her and I were totally alone in the world. I was holding her hand in mine, the two foot distance apart decreased slowly at first. I felt as if I were melting into her as she liquefied into me. I inhaled deeply with every moment drawing her closer.

“We’re being looked at.” she quipped, uninhibited by it

“Yeah. And how cool is that?” I said honestly.

Tasmin Archer’s Sleeping Satellite fades into Rush’s Time Stands Still descending from the overhead speakers, I move my glance from Chloe and cast a look at a waitress as I extended my left index finger upward. The music volume soon increased.

Feet between us went to inches as Rush played, leading to inches as we threw are arms around each other and hugged.

“Freeze this moment a little bit longer, make each sensation a little strong. Experience slips away….” Geddy Lee sang as a hug turned to slow gyrations of our joined hips and peaceful heads resting on each others shoulders.

“Time stands still, “ Chloe sang to me, somewhat off key, though heart felt.

“I’m not looking back,” I add.

As our voices join: “ See more of the people, and the places that surround me now.”

“The innocents slips away…” the band plays on as we dance in this most unusual place. Her arms thrown upward wildly, unbridled as I do the same as is reaching to grasp and capture air with our fingers.

As the song ends, we stop and look into each others eyes. She and I laugh as our heads look about the restaurant, caring not about the spectacle we created. I believe we both knew we gave these people a memory they will never forget.

As we sat across from each other, me feeling colder than I have ever physically felt in decades, the waitress said desert was on the house. I cannot remember what we ordered, but it was good.

“I’m wearing Ariane-”

“By Avon!” I cut her off with.

“That must go deep with you, Mark.” she said looking almost sad asked it.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever been asked to do?”

“Subtle as a chainsaw, there. I was asked to shit on a guys face. Do you have any idea how hard that is to do? Was the longest Johns I’ve had to date. I mean, it took about two hours to make this happen. I did though. Filthy. I felt rotten right up to when he gave me 500 for it. Still, not as easy as a ‘golden shower.”

“how long have you been a Pro?”

“Just over twenty years. Sorry, but it’s an easier and faster way to make money than any other. You just have to be careful and I don’t just mean with clients. Treat it as a job, ya know. A single martini is okay at the end of a day, just don’t let it lead to a bottle of Jack Daniels, endless joints or drugs. It’s a job, you do your best to please the boss.”

“Sounds like what most of us do for a living.”

“True, but most of you make way less then I do per hour.”

“No doubt, Chloe.”


As her and I left Denny’s, she stopped me and smashed her right into her purse once again. I lit a L&M 100 and she asked me to light her one as she fumbled her fingers about, trying to capture something.

“Here you go,” I placed the cigarette between her lips as her hand came out.

“Take this.” she said as she held out a twenty dollar bill. The same one I had given her a few hours earlier.

“I can’t. Sorry. No.” I fumbled like the Cleveland Browns as I searched for words and like the Browns, failing.

“Hmmmm, then the next breakfast or lunch is on me.” she said, adding; “would you kindly drive a woman home?”

“Not back to where I got you from?”

“Nah. I want home. Kind of tired now. I want you to take me there, Mark.” She inhaled deeply on her cig.

“I can do that. Beautiful night, isn’t?” I asked her looking at a full moon as crickets chirped and cars drove by.

We climbed into my Trailblazer and I took her to her place in Parma Hts.

“Walk a lady to the door,” she’d said as I opened my trucks door for her.

“of course! Got coffee?” I asked.

Entering her private world of MC Escher prints displayed on the walls, cinnamon bisquit Yankee Candles and general comfy-ness, I was transported somewhere else. Her calico kitty, Sam meowed to let us know she’d found us.

“make yourself at home,” she said as she exited from the living room to somewhere else.

I dropped to my left knee and rubbed the kitty. Being a Leo and a Tiger in the Chinese calendar, they somehow flock to me even though I am allergic to them. I get congested and sneeze. So fucking what is that minor problem? I’d rather be congested and connect than fall to weakness and miss out on something.

Chloe draws my attention from her cat as she, standing in a long white cotton robe, says, “Would you like to spend the night with me?”

“Well,, honestly. No. I, uh-”

“That’s okay. I, hmmm, understand-”

“shut up! You didn’t let me finish. I don’t usually wake up until the afternoon. Have you got another robe for me to change into?”

Smiling, she pointed to her bathroom.

I walked into it. It smelled of fresh roses and lilacs, its floored grey ceramic tiled, it‘s walls floral water resistant vinyl. As I closed its door, I saw a black robe. I took it into my hands and ran it across my nose inch by inch. I found it nothing less than that of the Snuggle Bear fragrance. I got nude and covered myself with it. I pulled its waist draw tight. The physical sensations her robe created was vast across my body. I felt vibrations run from my ankles to my shoulders as I felt Chloe’s bathrobe meet my flesh.

“Glad to see you, Mark.” she said. I saw a single tear falling from her right eye, resting on her cheek.

Feeling drunk without a drop, I told her we needed to dance. “Nice to be with you, darling.” I added.

She nodded and pulled me to her cabinet of CD’s.

I found one In her collection. We danced this album fully robed. It was the

Cocteau Twins Milk and Kisses album/CD. We sang to one another as we held. As we shared of things never said to others close to us. Our tears had intercourse against our faces while our innocent eyes met.

As the song Seekers Who are Lovers began to play, we undressed each other.

Naked before one another, her and I smiled as we danced to it.


Hours later after talking, laughing, sharing being completely naked, we fell asleep in each others arms as we were brought into this world. We did not have intercourse, sex or any exchange beyond a fond kiss and sincere embrace nude.

Chloe and I became the closest of friends. We often spent naked hours as we talked in her kitchen or watching bad movies in her living room.

Chloe died the following fall of small cell lung cancer. I was with her as much as I could. I was unemployed for the most of it, so I gave her my best.

Her last words: “I’ll be here for you. Somewhere in the night, Don’t be sad, you’re not alone. I will be your shelter. There’s nothing to fear.” And she died before me. And I felt so physically disconnected with everything.

I wanted too rip my teeth out. I wanted to let my hands be run over by a truck. I wanted to cry, but couldn’t. I desired an embrace of Satan to bring her gentle soul back to me. I would have done anything.

Chloe was a whore. A Sinner. A prostitute. A lesser form of being than others.

She was my friend, loyal and true for the time I was blessed to have with her in my life.

She made her way in this life, trading hours for life-support.

In my way of thinking, she is no different than any of us doing the same. I have logged decades of hours as a call center Rep at both ERC (alarm monitoring or Progressive Insurance telling people what they wanted to hear.

Like Chloe telling men they had a huge dick and so forth, I’d tell customers how valued they were to us so we could meet a quota to please our pimps, <my last two years at Progressive MGR’s. I was a whore like Chloe. I didn’t swallow sperm filled latex condoms, yet I let myself be shredded as I stretched the truth like an Olympic gymnast contorting her body to the extreme as I spread white-lies.
I was unemployed for the time I knew her. Knowing her gave me a further ability to sense a life not so different than my own.
Thank you, Chloe.
I miss you.

Mark William Darus. 02252013