“Ahmad,” Devan said in a familiar, much-hated voice, on his way to the employee lounge.
“Don’t you have something to do?” He was passing by on his way to the break-room. He
glanced out the glassed wall, spying the girl on the bench. A lewd smile spread across his face,
and Ahmad wondered if Devan had ever been her client.
“Oh, of course, sorry. I just…”Ahmad mumbled.
Devan glanced at the tea cup in Ahmad’s hand. “We can talk about your new assignment now, if
you like.”
“No, no,” Ahmad blurted and set the tea cup on the window ledge. “I’ve got a pile of copy
editing, and I need to take care of it, but I needed to stretch my legs. . . .” His voice trailed off.
Devan smirked but didn’t press the matter, letting Ahmad hurry back to his desk.
Ahmad sat back down and tried to forget about the hooker. He kept glancing at his watch until
his shift finally ended in the late evening and he could go to the garden.
The hooker was still there, or maybe she was back from being somewhere else. Ahmad stood a
few steps away and studied her a moment, then sat down on the bench next to her, the way he
had seen other men do. She gave him a fleeting glance and went back to reading. She looked
young , perhaps in her mid-twenties.
“Hello,” he said. “I hear you’re available for an hour or two...”
She looked up from her papers. “You hear correctly," she said in a melodious voice, her eyes
boring into him. Her silver earrings shimmered and jingled like sweet bells, when she turned her
head. A swathe of mahogany hair fell down to her waist and framed a wistful face dominated by
soulful, liquid brown eyes. Unlike most hookers, she wore no heavy makeup, only deep red
lipstick. Somehow it seemed unnecessary.
“Tell me what you have in mind,” she asked.
Ahmad shifted under her gaze. He had no idea how to answer that question. “What’s your
name?”
“For you, it's Reshma.”
“Oh, okay... I’m Ahmad.”
“Nice to meet you, Ahmad.” There was a touch of whimsy to her voice.
“Uh, um...Reshma... I’m curious what you find in these papers.”
Reshma glanced at him with inscrutable eyes and handed them over. “I’m only giving them to
you because you look like a poet.”
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