My Name is Lola

 

 

 

My name is Lola

 

My name is Lola, Rosemarie, Candy, Baby-cakes, Lolita....Stacey.

I'm sixteen, twenty five, forty-one.

I'm single. I'm divorced with two small children. I had a miss-carriage when in my mid teens.

 

I work alone. I work for Greg, for Bob, for Nick.

 

'Faded Rose' some of the younger girls call me. Others worry I will impact on their territory because of my youthful beauty.

 

I continue at this 'job' because I must...for my young ones, for myself, to pay for this lowdown crap of apartment I live in...for food...for me.

 

I encompass all of those ladies who have no choice. It is survival at its worst. Some are in it for the 'fun'...they don't know any other way of life, because they cannot, and have not known.

 

Life on The Main is mean. Don't ever imagine otherwise. I get scrapes, bruises, and the occasional trip to the walk-in clinic, but it's all in the 'game'. Oh, yes, the 'game'.

 

Sometimes, I almost feel I'm truly being loved, but I well know it's a lie. I close my eyes and dream. I imagine being someplace exotic, and being loved by a lover who lasts more than the allotted time given, which is more often than not...an hour. In that short period of time I'm somewhere far away...maybe at a resort in the Cayman Islands.

 

But reality strikes sharply when the john gets off, and leaves the money on the stinking bed in this smelly room.

 

Rarely, as I mentioned before, I end up shattered with black eyes, bruised sides, and nothing to report back to my 'agent'...who further abuses me for not meeting his quota.

 

At home I take a long bath to scrub away the days filth which clings to my flesh like sticky cobwebs. If only I could fly away far enough from here to places like Never-land, Valhalla, Shangri la...or even to the eternal blissful void of Nirvana.

 

Once in my bed, near daybreak, I pray for a better day tomorrow...or even by some chance ... a miracle.

 

 

 

 

 

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Publication Date: 04-12-2016

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