by Cas Sigers
“No. He’s just funny about people in his space. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s cool.”
The server returned with her to-go plate. Basra kissed Grayson on the cheek. “Are you going to stay here and eat?” she asked.
“I sure am. Who knows, I might find me another date. Lonely, cute guy in a nice restaurant, all by himself, eating all alone ...”
“Stop making me feel bad.”
“I’m joking. Call me tonight when you get in.”
“I will.”
Basra hailed a cab and scarfed down her food on the way to Brooklyn. She needed to stop by the house and grab a few overnight essentials. She was hoping she wouldn’t have to spend the evening with this Adam person, but she wanted to be prepared. With a slight scowl stretched across her face, she walked back through her lobby to grab another cab. Meeting someone new normally unnerved her, but she was so annoyed that Hollis had ruined her evening, her nervousness had been replaced by irritation. She gave the cabbie the Upper East Side address, and twenty minutes later, Basra was walking through another lobby with an even bigger grimace.
“Is there a restroom down here?” she asked the concierge.
“Are you here to see one of our residents?”
“Yes, I’m going to 1004. My name is ... Dove,” she answered.
The concierge picked up the phone to call.
“Is there a restroom down here?” Basra repeated with frustration.
He pointed by the elevators, and she turned to walk.
“Could you wait one minute?” said the concierge, halting her movement. Basra was angered by his rude temperament. She rolled her eyes, turned back, and waited until he’d confirmed her visit.
“He’s expecting a Basra—”
“That’s me.”
The concierge asked for identification and finally released her to pass through. By the time Basra had made it to the restroom, her anger had boiled to rage. She had to pace the black-and-white tile floors to calm down. She called Hollis, who surprisingly answered.
“I’m here. Who is this guy again?”
“His name is Adam. He’s a financial bigwig. Does business here but lives out west. He was referred by one of my oldest.”
“Fine, how much am I making? I need five grand.”
“Well, well. Someone has gotten quite demanding.”
“I know Lucia gets that a night, and I’m more exotic than she is. That’s what I really need to make.”
“You got it,” Hollis said.
Basra paused, surprised at how easy that was. I should have asked for more, she thought. Hollis had a strict policy and the girls weren’t allowed to discuss money with the clients. They weren’t even allowed to ask how much the agency retained from each date. But Basra had decided that if she was going to be used, she would get as much out of it as possible. The business was numbing her, and she could feel it. But she no longer cared. She wanted her money and she wanted to get back to Grayson, and at the time, that was all that mattered.
The door was partially cracked and so Basra walked into the one-bedroom, simply decorated apartment. It looked like a picture in a catalogue complete with fake fruit on the coffee table. Adam came from the bedroom wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He was in his late forties and slightly resembled Brett Favre, without the handsome ruggedness. His eyes were small and shifty and as Basra made eye contact, her nervousness set in.
“I’m Dove,” she said, extending her hand.
“Adam. Have a seat.”
She sat in the chair farthest away from the bedroom door, and gazed out of the window.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Somalia.”
“I’ve had some business dealings in several parts of Africa. Never been to Somalia, though. How long have you been here?”
“About a year and a half.” Basra appreciated him trying to make small talk, but she didn’t want to chat. She wanted to know what he was expecting, so that she could deliver and then leave. It’d have been great if he only wanted company, but she assumed that wasn’t the case since they met at his place and he wasn’t dressed for a night out.
“So, how long have you worked with the agency?”
“Six months. I was introduced through my roommate, well, my ex-roommate.”
“You in school?”
“I was, now I’m just saving money. I will go back in the fall.”
“Would you like a drink?” Adam asked.
“Wine would be nice, red.”
Adam poured her a glass of merlot and flipped on the television. Basra continued to sit and sip her wine, and as the minutes passed, the awkwardness grew. Finally, Adam made his move.
“Why don’t we go into the bedroom?”
Finally, Basra thought. But then, suddenly, she felt sick. Her breath shortened, and her stomach cramped. She forced herself to think pleasant thoughts: images of her meeting Grayson for the first time, the way he constantly pushed his black-framed glasses into place. Then she thought of her sister and how happy she’d be at FIT. The thoughts led her to a happy place, and before she realized it, she was lying in bed with Adam.
“I just need another glass of wine,” she said, lifting up.
He jumped from the bed and returned with her glass and the bottle. Basra quickly drank, removed her shirt, and turned to him.
“I promise this won’t be as weird once we get to know each other,” he commented.
She smiled and replied, “I’m sure,”
Adam wrapped his hand around her neck and kissed her. The lip lock took her by surprise. She didn’t think he’d want to do something as passionate and intimate. Her body stiffened.
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered while laying her body down. Her body refused to cooperate, but Adam didn’t care about her unwillingness. He vigorously mashed his hips into hers. He tossed her lean body back and forth and his actions grew in intensity. Basra played along. She was no longer able to produce happy thoughts. All of her concentration was spent on holding back the tears. Eventually, she gave in to the natural emotion and buried her head in the down pillow and let the cotton soak up the moisture on her face. The tears fell, but Adam had no idea. He was too busy asking a barrage of stupid questions.
“Am I the best? Is this what you want?” kept ringing in her ear but before she could reply, he spouted more questions. “You want to tease me. Can I punish you?” Basra snickered slightly and tried hard to remove all emotional connection from the act. When she concentrated on other places and events, her mind physically left the shell of her body, that was being strewn about the bed. Although, his questioning continued, she remained silent. It wasn’t until he grabbed her shoulders and slapped her across the face did her mind fall back into room 1004. The stinging on her skin caused a brash reaction.
“What the hell is wrong with you!” she yelled, lifting her body.
Immediately Adam caved. He pulled away from her and whimpered. “I’m so sorry. I don’t deserve you. Please punish me.”
Basra sat up and looked at him as he knelt by the edge of the bed.
“Punish me,” he reiterated.
With confusion, Basra nervously looked around the room.
“Would you like to slap me back?” he asked.
Basra nodded slowly, feeling as though she were being pranked.
Adam, still on his knees, turned his face to the side and waited. Basra slowly moved toward the edge of the bed and softly slapped Adam.
“Don’t you ever hit me again,” she said softly with caution.
He bowed his head and apologized. Basra sat on the bed and looked at him. She didn’t know what to do. Was it over? Could she leave?
Finally, Adam spoke again. “May I please kiss you?” he asked.
“No,” Basra said loudly. She had no idea she was playing along with his fantasy. She simply abhorred the thought of kissing him again.
“If I let you beat me, may I kiss you then?”
Again, Basra lo
oked around the room. This was very weird and she had no idea how to respond. But she figured she’d go for it. If he wanted to be beaten, she was more than happy. She took the liberty to slap him again, this time with more momentum. He seemed to enjoy it. Basra grabbed her shirt from the bed and stood over him. She covered the front of her body with her shirt and placed her foot against his chest.
“Look at me,” she demanded.
He looked up.
“You don’t deserve to kiss me. I should just beat you for asking.”
“I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me,” he said.
Basra held back the chuckles, and got more into character.
“Who do you think I am? I’m not playing with you.” She took her foot and pushed him onto the floor. She got on top of his chest and dug her somewhat pointy knees into his ribcage.
“I will cut off your air.”
“Are you going to choke me?” he asked.
Basra’s eyes lit up. She was about to release all of her frustration and was more than glad to choke the shit out of him. She wrapped her hands around his throat and clinched tight.
“Is this what you want? I will punish you until you stop breathing,”
He seemed to enjoy it. The tighter she gripped, the more he smiled. She took her right hand and lapped it over her left and began to wring his neck back and forth. He coughed violently and turned red. Basra jumped up.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” she said with fear.
Adam regained his breath and rolled over into the fetal position. Basra stood back and hoped she hadn’t taken the act too far. He got enough wind to speak.
“I’m fine.”
He rolled back over and stared at her. He grinned like a devious cat burglar with stolen treasure. “You’re going to be perfect.”
Adam rose and sat on the bed. He pointed for Basra to join him.
“I like Dove,” he said before leaning over for another kiss.
This time, she covered his mouth to prevent their lips from touching. He grinned, pushed her down, and politely asked for another round of intercourse. Basra desperately wanted to deny him, but she knew this was part of the deal. She obliged; however, this time she was just as rough as he. She called him vile names and took pleasure in slapping his face and digging her teeth into his skin as often as possible. Two hours later she was heading back to Brooklyn. Her emotions were rapidly jumping between degradation and exhilaration. As soon as she stepped in her place, she pulled out her phone to call Lucia. But she saw the missed call from Grayson. Though she wanted nothing more than to talk to him, she knew the first part of the conversation would be an absolute lie. He was going to ask about the fake photo shoot and her imaginary photographer friend. Everything about Grayson made her feel warm and mushy. Yet, as much as she liked him, she knew she needed to end things. She wasn’t in a place to start a relationship and she knew it was where they were heading. Their connection was an undeniable force that grew with every minute they shared.
“I have to end it,” she said aloud. “But first, I have to call Lucia.”
Basra was able to reach Lucia and she couldn’t wait to spill the beans about Adam.
Lucia laughed fiercely as Basra told her about the night. “Don’t you love it!” she yelped. “I have three or four guys like that, and I work out all of my frustration on them.”
“Isn’t it weird though?” Basra asked.
“I don’t judge. It’s the way they cope. He probably has a high-stress job, something with a lot of power.”
“He does something in finances.”
“Well, if you see him again, get in some licks for me. I’m for real, beat his ass.”
Basra burst into laughter.
“So are you still going to see the guy who comes into town once a week from Philly? He’s one of Sloan’s clients. She had another girl on him, but now she needs someone else. You want to do it?”
“All he wants is dinner?” she asked.
“Yep. Sloan said he’s a little weird, one of those loners with no friends.”
“How did he get his money?”
“Inheritance, I think,” replied Lucia.
“Why don’t you do it?” questioned Basra.
“I’m not giving up my Friday nights for fifteen hundred.”
“It’s not all night, right? It’s just dinner.”
“No, but I travel on the weekends. I think this would be perfect for you.”
“Yeah, it could be. It’s six grand a month. He comes every Friday?”
“So far. And Sloan pays out on the next day. She just needs your account information.”
“Okay, cool. I’ll do it this Friday and see how I feel.”
“Great. She’ll call you.”
“All right. Gotta go. I’ll call you later.” They disconnected.
Basra stripped and poured her bathwater. She filled the tub with fragrant bubbles and stepped in. Before sitting down, she stepped out, tiptoed to her room, and retrieved the Quran from her bottom drawer. She rushed back into the water and let it cover her skin, which suddenly felt filthy. It had been a while since Basra had opened her Quran. When she wanted to reference any religious material, she’d look through her Bible, but for some reason this night she wanted to read the Quran. She flipped through the pages looking for a section her mother used to read to her and her sister. Upon finding “Al Nisa,” she read softly.
“But those who disobey Allah and His Messenger and transgress His limits will be admitted to a fire, to abide therein: and they shall have a humiliating punishment. If any of your women are guilty of lewdness, take the evidence of four (reliable) witnesses from amongst you against them; and if they testify, confine them to houses until death do claim them, or Allah ordain for them some (other) way.”
Basra closed the book, placed it to the side, closed her eyes, and exhaled. The remorse sank deep into her skin and she immediately took her loofah and began scrubbing her arms. She moved down her arms to her stomach, and legs. She rubbed so hard that her skin turned a soft red. Basra began to sob.
“I’m not a bad person,” she whimpered. “I’m not a bad person.” Basra closed her eyes and rested her head on the edge of the tub. All the years of discipline and studying vengefully returned. She remembered at age twelve getting lashed for coming home stating that she had a boyfriend. Virginity was strongly preached in her home, and growing up, she knew nothing else. She and her sister were encouraged not to look men in the eyes and definitely not be flirtatious in anyway. It wasn’t until she was twenty that she realized how attractive her neighbor, Dalmar, was. They were close friends but she spent years not looking him directly in the eyes. Once she did, the attraction was instant and at twenty, he took her virginity. At the time, she was enamored with him and they spoke about becoming married. She couldn’t imagine being with any other man, and she wasn’t until she came to America. Even then, it felt odd. But Americans were so comfortable with their sexuality that it seemed wrong for holding it to such sacred standards. So when she began dating a guy introduced by her cousin, it was assumed they’d have a sexual relationship. They dated for a few months and then things fell apart. She didn’t remember who stopped calling whom, but one day they just stopped communication. After that, she had a quick fling with a waiter who was a dead ringer for Lenny Kravitz. That ended after a month, because Basra decided to buckle down and concentrate on school, and he was too much of a party animal. There were no more men until Lawson. Somehow she’d managed to go from chaste to wanton in a couple of years. Basra pondered her libidinous journey and it literally upset her stomach. She stepped from the tub, dried off, and took her Quran into the bedroom. She tossed on a long T-shirt and crawled into bed. She opened the book once again and continued to read.
“Allah accepts the repentance of those who do evil in ignorance and repent soon afterwards; to them will Allah turn in mercy; for Allah is full of knowledge and wisdom.”
She slid underneath the covers and whispered
to the Most High. “You know my heart. Do my intentions make up for my actions?” Basra was very still as she waited for an answer. Her tranquility gave way to sleepiness and Basra drifted off.
Chapter 9
Basra didn’t get going until ten the next morning. However, when she woke she felt more peace than she did the night before. Her first clear thought was Grayson. She could see his quirky smile and eagerly wanted to talk with him. Therefore, she ignored every impulse that said to just leave him alone, and instead grabbed her cell. Lucky for her, he didn’t answer, and she hung up as the voice mail connected. However, while grabbing some veggies to juice, she decided to call again and leave a message. This time she didn’t have the chance, for he answered on the second ring.
“Did you get my message?” he asked immediately.
“No, I didn’t check. What did you say?”
“It’s not important now. How was last night?” he asked.
“It was okay. I did what I was supposed to do and then came home.”
Fortunately, he moved from that conversation on to their pending date. “So tonight, before I start, do you have any last-minute forgotten-about plans that might surface?”
“If so I won’t remember them until tonight,” kidded Basra.
“Okay, well I’m working right now.”
“Working? Where?”
“I prep food for this restaurant. My hours are six to eleven A.M.”
“Okay, well, call me when you get off.”
“I will,” he replied.
Basra spent most of her day housekeeping and washing clothes. That afternoon, she remembered that she still had those Traveler’s Cheques, and so she went to the bank to get some savings or investment options. Currently, she only had a checking, a basic savings, and the money market Hollis set up. But Basra wanted to be smart about her money and wanted to learn as much as possible about investing. She spent a few hours in the city and though the time quickly passed, Basra caught herself constantly checking the time and waiting for Grayson’s call. She returned home, worked, and just when she was about to call him, his number popped onto her phone.
“It’s about time,” she answered.