In the normal world, where a man chases the woman, the latter has all the time to show all the P accompaniments. But not in our trade along the street; we only got five minutes or less to pitch. A man stops his car, we crowd it. He knows we all have P, and so it’s upon us in those few minutes to show him the delicacies with which we will serve it with. The skimpy dresses are not necessarily to arouse but to show in the least time possible what we posses beyond the obvious. The lewd language to hint at our wilderness and what we are capable of. The mother tongue, to appeal to the roots. And the little jig to focus attention on the hips.
Yet we cannot prevent competition. There will be girls coming to the street every week or so. A girl cannot come from anywhere and start practicing along "our” street. She has to be introduced by another girl; a veteran, and then buy in cash or kind the goodwill of the real guardians of the street'; the watchmen, the area thugs bouncers and so on. One such girl is Chiki. She came to the street about six weeks ago, and in that short period she has done us enough damage. Physically she is not exceptional: she is pretty, with a gorgeous figure just like many others here. However there is something about her that appeals to men. Only numbered men have turned her down. Her trademark style has been when we all other girls crowd a man's car windows she stands at the front, in some funky pose which few men are able to resist. My hubby included.
Let me explain. There are men who come only for particular girls and if the girl is not available dare not touch anyone else. Such a girl will call the man "husband". The other girls will respect the "marriage" so that when the man comes, and the girl is present they back off and let the husband take the "wife" away. Yesterday one of my husbands came. We crowded the windows of his Toyota Camry but when he asked for me and the other girls noted it was my hubby they let go. But Chiki stuck. I was on the driver’s side while she was on the passenger side, smiling at the man, who stared at her seemingly having forgotten my presence. I couldn’t control myself.
"This is my husband .Leave him alone!" I shouted at Chiki.
"Let him pick" she said calmly, smiling even more lasciviously.
I walked to her side and shoved her. Noting signs of a possible confrontation the man zoomed away perhaps never to come back again.
What do you think you were doing? I confronted Chiki after I had looked at the car disappear down the street.
"I was working, same as you” she said.
I slapped her. Then I felt remorseful. The fact of the matter is that neither of us own the men we sleep with. Neither their wives nor their girlfriends. They belong to us all with P.