So That's How It's Done!

I never knew: how do you get a hooker when you're in town on business? Now I know. If you're a short, stocky, well-heeled middle-aged businessman, visiting the former colony on business and staying at the most expensive hotel in town, you have your lawyer do it. He's a local guy after all, knows the terrain. He'll find the best. Clean, that's the ticket.

This lawyer seems especially well-suited to the job. He's expensively dressed, his shining bald head reflects the lights in the ceiling. He has a thin goatee; his voice is loud. Before anyone in the party arrives he talks loudly on the cell phone, apparently intent on convincing the person on the other end through sheer volume that this man, this lawyer, this master of the universe is well connected, powerful; the pillars of the halls of justice quake as he passes. He gives his client, when he arrives, an effusive yet masculine greeting, ushers him to the table. They make small talk until the women arrive.

Five minutes later, two tall women, one with very dark skin and the other with a lighter, velvety brown complexion, sweep in on a dense cloud of perfume. They are lovely, even though everything,tasteful enough, is still just a little bit overdone: long hair (straight, shiny black; curly dark blonde), makeup, clothing. The pants are tight; the blouses are loose.

The lawyer looks around, snaps his fingers and says to the forty-something headwaiter, "Boy! Oh, boy! Why don't you come and take these lovely ladies' orders?" Charming. Really. The first woman, the leader, orders something. Our friend the lawyer again, playing his part to hilt: "Oh come, sweetie, why don't you order champagne?" The second woman does so; the first leans over to the waiter and, shyly, says "Would you please cancel my order? I think I will have the champagne after all."

The next stage in this little drama, playing out less than ten feet from my own table, is to establish bona fides: the conversation moves on to places we have all traveled, how much more we like Germany than England, Lisbon nice this time of year, so forth. They do the whole tour in a few condensed minutes. I think the unspoken message is, from the men: We're pretty rich and important, men of the world really, and so we're expecting, if not actually entitled to, something special tonight." From the women: "You see, we fit in here. We are special. You've done well to pay so much. Show us a little respect; keep up appearances. We're on a double date and in a little while we'll go upstairs." 

They are not, of course, equals in this transaction; the parties know this, too. This has been going this way pretty much since our ancestors left the African savannah and fanned out across the globe. The roles are clear enough.

My beef isn't with the women in this little drama. They're just trying to make it, I suspect, in a very hard place. If you haven't gone to school, aren't connected, there are many fewer choices here.

It's the men. Especially it's that lawyer. I mean "Boy"? What rock has this reptile been living under all these years?

Comments

[Heather]

PS: As always, your writing style is brilliant. :)

[Heather]

I am blown away by how some people live. It really makes me wonder how they got to that place (what I'd consider such a very, very low place) in life. And, yes, I'm referring to the men as well. Despicable.