Preordained #ProjectNigeria

1- Queen Of The Night

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Songs- 'Queen of the night by Whitney Houston; 'Sugar' by Eva Alordiah

Nwanyieze's POV~

I have to survive.

This is what I repeat to myself as I stand in front of a popular night joint and prostitute pick-up centre in Ikeja. I am dressed in a short, red body-hugging dress, leaving the tops of my breasts exposed. My figure is outlined for everyone to see.

Lagos nightlife always amazes me. It's like the city never sleeps, never gets tired. Even in times of fuel scarcity rocking Nigeria, Lagos is still booming. Cars move at high speed competing for space with danfo buses, horns blaring. Music fills the air to add to this almost hypnotising cacophony.

"I hope say I fit get up to 50k this night," one of my fellow prostitutes says in pidgin, disrupting the mantra going on in my head. (I hope I can make up to fifty thousand tonight).

Temitope is one of the few people I talk to while on the job awaiting customers. Prostitutes are competitive by nature, often trying to out-glamour each other, and getting jealous when a regular customer decides to change tastes for the night.

Temi is friendly, always throwing jokes and making me laugh. I do not know where she lives and I do not mind; we only see each other on the streets of Ikeja. She is curvy and full, and never fails to make a catch every night.

I sigh wistfully. Prostitution has nothing to do with a person's personality. Circumstances have made us this way.

"Me I wan make pass fifty-k," I reply.

Temi laughs. "Na English job u dey do so?"

Prostitution is the world's oldest trade, and it rakes in more money as well. Everyday, girls are forced into it one way or the other. Some are kidnapped, used as slaves. I've read about those who are deceived into moving to Italy with the hopes of a better life, only to have their papers seized by their 'guardians' and find themselves selling their bodies for years in order to survive.

Italy is far. It also happens in Nigeria here. Stranded girls and even boys being used mercilessly, scarred physically and mentally.

But no one forced you, I tell myself. No one seized your papers and held you hostage. You're here because it's all you can do to survive.

I could have worked as a sales girl, a waitress, a hair dresser... but my needs wouldn't be satisfied, no way.

I am pulled out of my thoughts when a man touches my shoulder. This one is white and middle-aged, probably one of the thousands of expatriates working in oil companies. They usually frequent this area at night.

"Hello, beautiful."

I put on my sexiest smile, half-close my eyes and pout my full, red painted lips. In the semi darkness, I see his smile widen. I know the effect I have on men because I have been trained to do so. I know I am beautiful, with my even, glowing dark skin, slender, curved figure and attitude. Yes, the attitude always drags them in.

The man negotiates a price with me. When we agree on one, I am pleased because it is above my expectations. He even lets me choose a hotel and I tell him about one of the hotels I like on Lagos Island.

Nothing bad about enjoying myself while on the job.

Then I wave goodbye to Temi, who mouths, "Kill am!" to me. With a laugh, I allow my customer to lead me to his car, a sleek black machine.

This is my life.

Author's note: Hey there! How na? I'm glad you took some time out to read this. I hope you enjoy it too. Will be posting more as soon as I can. Prostitution is a very serious matter and shouldn't be taken lightly.
Next update comes tomorrow.