The Emotional Prostitute: A Woman’S Game with Destiny

By Purple Nisha

The Emotional Prostitute is the story of Patricia. She is a middle age woman who has undergone one failure after another in her personal relationships. Her emotional quest always ends up in frustration, anger and bitterness. Finally, she accepted that her destiny is to live her life alone. She was settled with that, until before she came to Dubai and met Fareed. In her attempt to change the course of destiny, she gambled in another relationship with the man hoping to win the game. But Fareed offered nothing but lies and she was cheated one last time. Instead of accepting her defeat, Patricia cried out for a payback. Wael came to her rescue, helped her recover from the grief and planned the revenge she craves for. Death completely satisfied her thirst for vengeance but compassion drained out of her heart.
Wael fell in love with her and begged for a chance to prove that love. He tried his best to open up Patricia's heart. But when love became a passionate lie and sex has been a lustful expression of deceit, nothing survives in the playground of the liars and cheats. Patricias insurmountable fear prevailed and she was forever scared to take another chance.
For a woman of self acquired power and determination, being cheated is a bitter pill to take. Patricia managed to come through the ordeal. You will pity and cry for her pains. You will envy her strength and will be awed by her courage. In the end, you will hate her pride and stubbornness.
"The Emotional Prostitute" is a story of love, hate, passion, sex, defeat and triumph. It is Patricia's story, but it is anybody's story. It could be your story...or mine. Find out where you are!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Aug 31, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462849321

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Copyright © 2011 by Purple Nisha.

ISBN:          Softcover                                 978-1-4628-9424-6

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4628-4932-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

AMIR MAHMOUD

CHRIS

RICKY

CHARLES

SANDRO

RAMON

MOHAMMED FAREED

WAEL AHMED

UNMASKED

MAKING PEACE WITH DESTINY

TOMORROW NEVER COMES…

To Ana Sylvia, Ronnie James, Ana Regina and Maxine Althea for the

love and inspiration

To Ahmed Kimo for the Fantasies in Denial of Truth

To Mon for the Truth in the Absence of Fantasies

In loving memory of my parents, Sergio & Marina Ortiz

In Memoriam… Mohammed (R.I.P)

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

Heartfelt gratitude to the following people without whose efforts, ideas, inspirations, contributions, prayers and support (financial and otherwise) this book will not be made possible:

My very special friends Ana Marie Annie Casas, Usama Abdelmonem Mohamed, Ivy Asuzano and Ahmed Kimo; my sister Rowena and my Family; my mentor, editor and critique—Rose Cabalin Dionson; my business partners Jack Miller and Eric Cassidy; my web developer Jerry Julian; likewise thanks to Rowena & Jonathan Liwanag, Justin & Jedan, Roxanne Tandoc, Krish Khatri, Khushboo Valicha, Mega Mashkor, Florence & Russel Maya, Ahmed Helmy, Abrahaman Younes, Huda Albatat, Marie Joy Gutierrez, Mylene Garcia, Sylvia Dequito, Mylene Bernal, Sheila Guevarra, Marie Ann & Bob Singh, Jelyn & Francis Forton, Rebecca Enriquez, Cathalie Sioson, Badette Garcia Manabat, Tom Posadas, Kat Sunio, Roma Gracia Toledo, Florie Tugonon, Raquel Macam, Kuya Frank, Papa Andoy & Mitch, Vince & Macy, Gramacia, Mr. Khaled Abdollah Al Arshi & Niranjan Morakawa of Al Bastaki Studio.

Thank you for your faith.

Purple Nisha

AMIR MAHMOUD

They were the most gentle pair of hands that ever rubbed my back. Smooth feathery strokes ran down my spine to my butt, then to my legs, and to my feet. The mildness of the hands touching my body seems like a heavenly cradle of soft clouds. Then the hands were gone. Followed was the warm and moist lips in hurried breath slowly crawling my skin. I closed my eyes. I want to feel the sensation completely. I turned to lie on my back and there was Amir smiling. His hand started to caress my hair, then he touched my neck, my shoulders as he lowered down to kiss my lips, gently at first then let loose his fiery desire in the next minute. Slowly his moist lips moved down, reached my breast and sucked it. I burned with desire. My soul danced wildly and I screamed in silence.

Miss Trisha? Ma’am?

I opened my eyes and a confused looking Amir now stands close beside me waiting. I realize that I dozed off. I dreamed.

I’m sorry, but I heard you were saying something… the frowning Amir asked.

Oh God. Have I been talking in my sleep? If I were, what the fuck did I say? I certainly hope I was not screaming like I’m having an orgasm. Holy Shit!

I was saying something like what? I must be talking in my sleep. What did I say? I asked Amir to make sure of what I did while wildly dreaming.

You were gabbling. I can’t understand. Is there anything else you need?

N-No… nothing Amir. You can go back to the car. I will call you if there’s anything else I need.

I thank God. I swear I will be totally screwed had Amir understood one word I incoherently spoken while having that fucking dream. Come on, I should remain awake in a public place. Those dreams should come in the privacy of my bedroom. An open beach is not the right place for a private wild fantasy.

I came here early enough to watch the sunrise. It was six o’clock in the morning. The beach was still deserted at this hour. I can see only one or two joggers beating the rise of the early morning sun. Rising sun is a sight to behold. It is what I came here for. I want to see how the dawn breaks before my eyes. For me, it is like a handshake to a morning that gives a feeling of hope springing with the new day. Hope for what? As I blankly stared at the sea of sand where the waves kiss ashore, the question feeds an empty answer back. I have no idea what was still there to hope for. My life was empty for the last half century. I tried over and over to recreate my story until my energy was close to exhaustion. I gave up. I now agree that destiny is a predetermined course of events beyond human power and control. It was beyond my control. The game with Destiny is over. I accepted my defeat. I can’t fight the Fates or beat them either. I must make peace with them and welcome failure with grace.

Amir nicely set me up in my favorite spot at the beach nearby Jumeirah Beach Residence where I am staying. The big sun blocker umbrella covered the bench where I comfortably read my book. Beside me is a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and some fruits. With the headset on listening to my favorite music, I travelled across another world in trance. That is why I easily dozed off and dreamed. I appreciate how Amir did all those pampering, but fantasizing about him never cross my mind by choice. It was a product of my filthy subconscious.

I flipped the pages of the book I was holding. I cannot even remember where I stop reading. I was so busy in the past few days that I hardly have the luck doing my favorite pastime. Now that I grabbed few hours out of my tight schedule, my mind drifted somewhere that nothing gets the chance to sink inside my head.

My preoccupation was not exactly about my work. My chaotic and unstable personal life of which I was struggling to keep in control had been. It is all about the bastard Fareed. Our original plan to only scare him has gone wayward. Now, the issues were blown out of proportion. I ended up going public and filing a court case against him to reveal my truth and gain sympathy in the right venue. Staging my sweet revenge by dragging Fareed to public humiliation hooked me up. There was no turning back. It has been a month since I saw him last in Muraqqabat Police Station where I initially filed my complaint. I can still remember his provocative arrogance, and a smile full of sarcasm. Fareed, the towering figure dressed in his best suit, initially tried to control the tempo of the investigation with his loud voice. He denied the accusations without the wink of an eye. He professed innocence with no hint of a doubt, but when I showed the police my evidence, blood drained out in his face. Fear was suddenly written all over it.

We were called for a possible out of court settlement for which Fareed was not in the position to do at that time. He requested for a chance to clear his finances and then he will offer his most able terms of compromise afterwards. We agreed on it, but the police asked Fareed to leave his original passport in their custody to give the assurance that he will not evade prosecution by running out of the country. He reluctantly did, but he has no choice or the police will instantly keep him in jail.

Fareed is an actor all his life, and he is remarkably good at it. Cheating is his business. As a cheap liar lawyer boasting to know UAE law, he always gets away with his cheating. He is a professional con artist. He even admits it with pride; but as he heard defeat silently knocking at his door, he tried his darn best to remain looking like the uncompromising hero. He wanted to fight for his honor.

Honor? It was a shame that the man does not even understand the meaning of the word. Lying to everyone, cheating everybody or using anybody in every possible way and at every opportunity is not honorable. Dragging him to court is how I wanted to expose the bastard, and he cannot believe that I will do that. Not me. Among his bitches, he expected me the least to go against him or do him any harm. That until the time he saw me in the police station with my lawyer, signing my sworn statement of complaint, he believed on two things and two things only. He believed that I was incredibly stupid and still crazy in love with him. I proved him wrong. Now he hates me. I saw rage in his eyes as we leave the police station, and my heart jumped with joy. I score a victory in the first round of bout. He hated me.

In the next meeting before the police investigators, Fareed will be required to lay down his offer. I told my lawyer to accept any terms of his compromise. After all, if he failed to honor it, the case will instantly be filed in court. Agreeing on his terms will make him feel that I still have sympathy and can be swayed back. I do not want to push him immediately on the wall. It will not be exciting. I want to play around with his mind for some time, give him false hopes and some air to breathe on, and then I cut it out. That was more like it. It will rather be fun.

If the case goes all the way to the court, Wael believes that the decision will be fast and swift considering that this is a money issue involving quarter of a million dirham. I have the evidence to keep the bastard in jail for years unless he pays the amount he cheated on me. I am sure that he will not pay because he’s not capable to. Everybody knows that he was financially broke for the longest time. He cheated women and even men to keep his head above the waters. He sells himself for money, and it is why he lost his honor and dignity. The bastard has become a bitch that whored around. From where is he going to get the money to pay me is none of my concern. Either he pays or goes to jail, I don’t care. All I care is to smear Fareed’s already tattered and tainted image of himself.

I closed my eyes and started to scour over the rusting emotional cobwebs inside my seemingly unresponsive heart. I am "dead. I feel no mercy. I want to crush down the bastard to his knees. There is certainly no greater pleasure than seeing him pay the price of his cold blooded murder of me. Fareed turned me emotionally paralyzed. Although I had professionally done switching off" my feelings like an overused laptop when needed, Fareed did me the worst. He sliced a cut in my bruised and battered pride. For that, I will not forgive him. I will fuck his life to the end and give him a taste of hell.

Coming to terms with Destiny was unacceptable. If I was born human with a fate of a money machine, I refused to accept that before. I tried to spend my life gambling on some unsecured emotional venture and awfully lost. When I took my one last chance with Fareed, I hope to change the course of history. The result was equally devastating. He did not make my heart whole. He shattered it into more pieces. He did not bring me to life but killed me a million times more. Fareed honed my craft where I now proudly claim on the record what I had become… an "emotional prostitute" at its best.

I saw Amir running towards me. I can’t help but to admire the young and athletic features of the guy. Amir Mahmoud is a Palestinian by origin. According to Jack, he was already in his early thirties, but Amir admitted to me that he just had his 29th birthday. He is well built and quite well endowed. He keeps himself fit by working out, eating right and having a clean living. He never smokes. I will not deny that he was sexually attractive, but he was almost my son. If by chance, there was anything greater than the physical admiration, then I should keep it within the boundaries of reason. Amir, who is at the prime time of his life, excites my curiosity. My mind wondered how many young and nibble girls had he fucked or how good he was in bed. I asked the question to myself if he is a professional cheat like Fareed. I hope he is not. I hope Amir is not a fucking guy who sleeps with everyone everywhere. I hope he is not a stupid donkey with an overused and dirty, little dick like Fareed. I hope he keeps enough gentleness and respect in himself.

Ms. Trisha, I am sorry if I answered your mobile. I saw that Mr. Wael was calling, and it maybe important, but he dropped the line. Amir said as he handed me my phone. I got it from him and I call Wael back.

Where are you? Why was your driver answering your mobile? Wael seemed to be fuming mad.

I’m at the beach. I left the mobile charging in the car. I am sorry.

Wael Ahmed is my business partner and friend. He is Fareed’s best friend before we joined forces and turned against him. The downfall of the bastard was designed by God. If he can fool some people all the time, or fools all people some time; he certainly cannot fool all people all the time. His friends became tired of his cheating. They realized his selfish intentions and his relationship with them began to spoil. It was also the time that my relationship with him dwindled down dramatically. Fighting against Wael was his greatest mistake. Wael was his best friend for the past twenty years. He helps him all throughout his life either in Egypt or Dubai. The cause of their fall out was never known to me anymore, but Wael and I became well-meaning friends. Unified by the common goal of teaching Fareed a lesson, he kept me company during those painful moments of my anger and hate. He stood thereby waiting for me to shed a teardrop and his chance to offer a shoulder to cry on, but I disappointed him. I showed him my incomparable strength all throughout those times of my supposed miserable depression. He was awed. Unknown to him was my ability to repress my emotions and feelings as I retreated back to my comfort zone—money.

Fareed challenged my battered ego. Treating me like an old piece of shit and throwing me out was another way to keep me alive with an ambition to regain my dignity. I got back into the money race and came up with bright ideas that score high on the monetary board. The online accounting business was born in the midst of adversity. I shared it with Wael and his friend Hussein. Being an accountant himself, he found the business idea innovative, and he supported it. It was how we began the business that is now picking up slowly.

So what’s up? I asked to calm Wael down.

Did you check the site? We have new members.

I know. There are 18 additional registrants yesterday. We are near to our 100th client. This is pretty cool.

You should be on top of it.

I am on top of it, my friend. What do you think am doing?

I don’t know. You’re on the beach with your driver, perhaps?

I brushed off the idea that Wael was jealous no matter how much it sounds like. First, he was fuming mad when Amir answered my phone. Now he was accusing me of having fun with him. I was neither angry nor scared but rather amused. Wael knows I was working my hard ass, and was on top of everything. The site was my baby. It was my whole damn fucking idea. If I need to die to make it a success, I am willing to do it. Wael knows that.

I cannot blame him. The level of our friendship might have reached that certain point of protection and concern. It is undoubtedly in the DNA of men to be protective of women close to them, whether a member of their family, loved ones and friends. I don’t think Wael has exceptional feelings for me to consider jealousy. In respect of his tradition, I believe that he only wanted me to restrict or limit myself on some moral issues he cares about.

Some time ago, in one of our drinking sessions, I shared with Wael some of my bitchy thoughts about having one hot young man to be my toy boy. I told him that I maybe a perfect money machine, but I remained human. I have my biological needs like all people. I need a body to keep warm my cold nights. I need hugs and kisses from a man. I need to get laid. I need sex. Wael, being an Arab man having a different concept about women, sex and relationships, argued with me. He considered the idea a total state of insanity. He assured me that I will never get the chance to do such a disgrace as long as we are friends. I remembered how I laugh at him then, but I was not drunk to see the gravity of the threat in his eyes.

Wael and I have a long argument on getting my own driving license since the day I have the car. He even volunteered to arrange it for me. He wanted me to be independent of anybody to tag along anywhere I go. I usually find a million and one reason for not taking the driving lesson and the test because I don’t want to drive. I fancy to be treated like a princess with a driver and bodyguard. If that is the only occasion I can be a lady, please grant it to me.

Having Amir was a decision I made without Wael’s prior approval and advice. He was not aware of how the Amir arrangement came up to be. I felt that this matter doesn’t fall within the parameters of a business relationship. It is not necessary to inform him. My personal life is something I allow nobody to be in control again, even for those who are closer to me. Wael, being clueless about everything might have concluded that I am in relationship with Amir for that bitchy purpose I once shared with him.

For the record, Amir’s loyalty was not for me. It was for Jack, who is my long-time friend and another business partner. He is currently in Spain. Amir was Jack’s protégée; driver, bodyguard and personal assistant during his one month stay here to negotiate some business. Jack finally got the chance to recover his losses with a lucky deal that happened in Dubai. He made good all his promises to me as he goes big time. He paid the annual rental of the two-bedroom hall apartment at JBR, where I am presently staying now, and he gave me a Toyota Rav 4 for my own personal use. He has a villa in the same area where Amir is now staying. Since Jack is out of the country negotiating some business elsewhere in the world, he loaned Amir to me until he comes back after three months. Jack said that another business operation will be in full swing when he returns. I will work for him full time, and he will take Amir back in his service. Between such times, I was supposed to take the driving lesson and acquire a driving license; but yes, I was cheating Jack. I do not want to take my chance. If he will take Amir back, I’ll take another driver.

I kept all of my arrangement with Jack from Wael. I don’t want to rock the boat. We were gliding quite steady with the accounting website, and knowing my other plans will surely make him apprehensive. I know how his mind works. He comes from a relatively traditional family. Although educated in the computer age, he remains careful in taking a risk in an online business adventure. He will not understand how multi-tasking is done on the net. He will not believe me that maintaining internet business with 3-4 sites running at the same time is normal. I never told him either that I started running my online shopping site and working on my social networking site. He will be crazy, but he will be more crazy in learning about my plans to work for Jack in the future.

Wael was not aware how much I missed this little pleasure of reading. I will not trade this one hour reading my book in silence at the beach for something else. I have been working hard lately. I divide my time between the three sites that I am developing and juggling my hours after work between them. The past two months were nightmares that I hardly had a decent sleep. To top it all, I had five straight brainstorming session nights with Jack last week before he left for Europe. I want to scream at Wael when he starts to question my priorities, but I promised not to rock the boat. This is my choice, and I’ve no right to complain. Who cares if I need rest or if I want to sleep? Who cares if I have no time for my little pleasures? This is the way I want it to be.

I found myself in mastery of compartmentalizing my life by choice. I have not given up working with the company where I currently hold the position of a financial controller. I am working on my business at night; yet I still have time to plan with Jack. On the personal side, each and every important person in my life now, like Wael and my kids are receiving their share of my equally undivided attention when they need it. The war I started with Fareed was another story, but all my concerns were packed neatly in my brain. This gave me the confidence of being a certified multi-tasking bitch. I made sure that nothing and not any one of them crossed the boundary lines I set for each other. Admittedly, being too preoccupied with many things left me with no space and time for myself, but this was how my life has to go. I am an efficient mechanical flesh and money machine.

I never meant to fantasize about Amir. I was dreaming. In reality, my body might be burning with uncontrollable desire, aching to be in the safe hug of his strong arms and rock hard body, but there is enough control to maintain reason. Reason is telling me that it is dirty, but yes, I feel I want to reserve my right to be dirty at every once in a while. Allow me…

Allow me to relive my dreams. The painful and hungry years passed by too quickly. If I am to live till the age of one hundred, halfway my life was spent in frustrating attempts to love and desperate longing to be loved. As chances became fewer and slimmer, the dreams have gone obscene and dirty. However, reason defines a specific moral standard that no painful or hungry years of desperation can justify. There are virtues of self-respect, self-control and prudence to consider. I liberate myself from some rules and laws, but I maintain a set of restrictive values of which I am not willing to compromise anytime.

CHRIS

The turn of events was amazing. The once draggy, dull and equally frustrating developments in my life one year before shoot up like a blazing bullet in roughly five months. It was surprising how everything fall into place, and I never did one thing wrong. My plans happened without mishaps or delay.

I received the documents my daughter Ana sent which I need in applying for the trade license. My own business license is what I wanted for a long time. I was working on this for the last two years. My dream is coming through finally. Ana will be a partner, and she will take an investor’s visa. Thereafter, she will request visa for her Maxine, her brother James and sister Regina. I cannot wait till my family gets here. I want them here, and I need them here with me to complete my support system. I prepared for their coming. The 2-bedroom hall which Jack paid for me to stay will be enough for all of us. Jack knew that I want to take all my children along with me in Dubai, and he gave me his unconditional support. He arranged for all my needs besides the flat. He gave me the car, the money and Amir.

I take care of the rest of my other concerns, while Wael stands by for some. Although I feel blessed that I finally find some people worth my trust, I’m still skeptical. Trust remained to be a precious commodity that I simply cannot give to anybody completely.

My kids are facing legal issues that may affect their travel documents. It was because of the stupid decisions I made in the past. In a way, I know that money can compensate for all these mistakes. Everything has a price but, I damn hope I can still make it all up to my children for shitting on their lives by being such a stupid bitch.

How come?

How come that in all these times I never come up with the right decision in my entire life. As an "emotional prostitute", am I expected to take anything, lose everything or risk it all for whatever emotional gain I helplessly hope for?

It all began with Chris, who opened my mind to the idea of love.

May passion for intelligent and respectable men hooked me up for Chris. I was a fifteen-year old idealistic, brainy but part emotional girl in my junior high school. Chris was the respectable mayor of the sleepy town where I hailed. He was a certified bachelor at the age of forty two. Considering the age gap in between us, what we had was a clear case of a stupid puppy love. It is what every girl of my age has to go through at some point.

I personally got the chance to meet Chris and somehow interacted with him because I belong to the top of the class. The local government organized a week-long event and called on student representatives from all schools. We temporarily run the town for a week. Being an officer of the ruling student body, I was one of the top choices. We stayed in the town hall doing the job as council members having mock council sessions, visiting constituents, and acting like real community leaders. For a girl of my age, it was such an enriching experience.

I knew that I was not pretty. My unruly dry hair almost covered my pimpled face as the wind blows. In wearing thick glasses to correct my eyesight deficiency, I was close to looking like a nerd. I lack grace, perceived to be overly intellectual, and a certified member of the expendable social geeks. Boys do not take notice of me or have any interest to get my attention. It was alright with me because I didn’t want them to notice me either. I was neither interested in them at all. I hang around with boys most of the time, not as object of their attention, but clearly as one of them. Being the class president, these boys easily follow my orders. To me, they were stupid enough to be taken advantage of all the time. It was then that I almost believe myself to be a lesbian.

In truth, it was a defense mechanism. When nobody invited you to dance in the prom or asked you out for a date, your feminine value goes down the drain helplessly. I was not a girlfriend material. I accepted my fate that high school will pass without the experience of having a boyfriend, being kissed, or having sex. Boyfriend and sex were only day dreams. In reality, not one boy even wooed me, so I completely took the ideas away from my mind. There was no point in dreaming.

Instead, I buried my head in my studies hanging in the library all the time reading books and doing my homework. Slowly, I began to be a paranoiac anti-social keeping only few trusted friends. Thereon, I created my own world of make believe.

Getting Chris to be a part of my hopeless dreams was easy. After the week-long stay in the town hall and getting love struck with him, I captured him easily inside my world. Suddenly, colors were paint all over the imaginary walls of my created illusion. I started to thread the thin lines in between reality and self-deception. I became too engrossed with my fantasies until I easily cross the boundary lines without distinction.

On the brighter side, this attitude got me some positive academic results. I began to be obsessed catching Chris attention by fighting my way up to be number one. It paid off. I graduated second in my class, which I struggled from the last place in the dean’s list. Should I feel proud of myself? In a little