The Arab Season by Alisa Ahlam

Author:Alisa Ahlam [Ahlam, Alisa]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: ISILINO
Published: 2011-10-25T16:00:00+00:00

Asif had left the apartment ten minutes earlier, but Zuleka remained snuggled in her duvet, thinking about what she had done. All the while he was there she kept telling herself she hadn’t prostituted herself. He liked her. He’d fancied her. That’s all it was. He didn’t think of her as a whore. He didn’t!

She had tried to dress it up, but the reality of it being a transaction reared its head when he’d told her he would not want any rent for two months and her arrears were now clear. On top of that he’d left a wad of notes on her coffee table.

She had wanted to protest, not wanting to taint what had happened, not wanting to let in her guilt and her shame. When he left, she picked up the money. Counting how much it was, she felt a load lifting from her.

She clasped the notes to her chest. It wasn’t bad, she wasn’t bad, she repeated in her head. Anyways, what choice did she have? And it’s not like anybody was ever going to find out. Her rent worry had gone – dissolved, just like that. All of a sudden, she wished she could perform the same vanishing act on her other bills.

A plan was growing in her mind. She refused to listen to the small part of her that protested at her own thoughts; she was tired of always being strapped for cash, tired of drowning in a sea of red letters otherwise known as past due bills or of being afraid to open her bank statement.

Taking the pizza out of the oven and tearing off a good slice she sat down at the table. With the glass of wine now an appetiser not a mind duller she sank her teeth into the squishy, delicious tomato and cheese and quashed the part of her that told her she couldn’t sell her body and spoke back to her dissenting conscience.

She wanted no more aggressive phone calls. She wanted to have money to lavish on clothes, jewellery and to get her life back on track.

When she finished her pizza, she walked over to her wardrobe she dropped the tissue wrapped tablets into the bin. Her body shuddered at what she had nearly done. Banishing the feelings she opened her wardrobe. If this was going to work she needed to look knockout.

Her eyes scanned the designer outfits. Her blood pounded the adrenaline around her body. A short slinky red dress and six inch black Loubotin heels won her vote. She showered and taking her time to get everything right, she applied her makeup and straightened her hair. A dash of Channel No 5 on her neck and the insides of her wrists put the finishing touches to the stunning young woman who looked out at her from the mirror. She looked like class, and she was. Men paid well for class. Perfect...

Ladies and Gentleman... She’s back!

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