Stephanie had done this countless times. Every evening before 10 p.m., she stood in front of her bedroom mirror, double-checking whether her short dress of choice accentuated her curves the way she liked. Or the way her regular clients liked it.
She adjusted her lace front wig, added a layer of setting spray that kept her face glowing all night, and she was good to go. Her cab driver was a minute out, and she couldn’t afford to be late for her regular rendezvous with Chris.
She had met Chris at one of these high-end parties in Kileleshwa on a random Friday night. You know the posh Nairobi estates with multiple heavily guarded gates. This was not her typical playground. Stephanie preferred the streets. She knew every stretch of Nairobi CBD and its environs, and which corner turned good money after midnight.
But somehow Chris had talked her into a second meeting, that became a fifth, and now they met almost every week. Tonight, she had promised herself that she would only see him for a few hours and then she would leave after midnight to go back to her regular spot.
She had a target in mind, and the money that she made from Chris wasn’t going to cut it. Over the past month, she had decided to use her income to invest in the stock market. She had a few stock options, but a deep dive into the financial markets had revealed that she could be making more if she grew her portfolio strategically. So, she went to work.
The cab dropped her in front of an apartment in Westlands. Chris always rotated the meet-up spots every week, which she didn’t mind. After all, she had nothing to hide. This was her bread and butter.
Inside, the house was magnificent as ever. High ceilings, polished marble floors, expansive rooms, and abstract art pieces hung on the wall. The more they met, the more she picked up inspiration for her house decor. She never felt intimidated by such spaces; the money she made afforded her a good life.
“Looking pretty as ever,” a voice interrupted Stephanie’s thoughts. She was peering into a weird drawing in the hallway.
“Hey, Chris. You know how I roll,” Stephanie answered with a teasing smile as she walked towards him for a hug.
“And you smell nice too,” Chris said, admiring the pretty woman standing in front of him, not hiding his lust for her body. “Let’s sit in the living room,” he continued.
That was confusing for Stephanie. Every time they met, they skipped this dance. There was no need to pretend that this was a typical meet-up with a friend. They would exchange pleasantries and have sex, either in the bedroom or any other room that Chris preferred that night. But she walked to the living room nevertheless and sat at the corner of the L-shaped couch.
She didn’t waste any time. “So, what’s on your mind?”
“Relax. Let me get you a drink first. Red wine or whiskey?”
“I’ll take a glass of red, thanks.”
“Good choice,” Chris responded with a smile.
As Chris poured their drinks, Stephanie studied him. What did this man want? This break of character was costing her time and money. She could be out there making rounds in the city that felt like home.
She sipped her wine slowly and waited.
“I thought maybe today we could take things differently. You know, like…talk,” Chris said as he sat down next to her.
“Hmm. Talk?” Stephanie’s brow furrowed. She was growing impatient. “Talk about what?”
“Not to make this weird, I know how it looks. But tonight, let’s skip the sex. I’ll pay you the usual rate, but I just want to talk.”
Unsure of what to say, Stephanie just nodded and quietly said, “Okay.”
Having worked as a sex worker for years now, she knew how dangerous this could get. She had heard stories from the friends she made along the way about things escalating quickly if you failed to do what the client wanted. She was somehow lucky not to have experienced this.
Sure, her first two years on the street were rough, but she had a way to talk to people, so nothing threatening happened.
Sitting here with Chris was not scary. Yet. So, she listened. Chris went on about his day and how he had lost the biggest deal of his life. He was scared that his successful startup was going under after all the funding rounds he had gone through the previous year. And at the tail end of his big speech, he mentioned something about his wife threatening to leave him because of his affairs.
Stephanie zoned in and out of the conversation. As much as she empathized with him, she couldn’t help; this was beyond her forte. Yes, she had met clients who wanted to talk, but Chris was never one of them. She had found a way to compartmentalize each encounter, and right now she was losing that battle.
“Sorry, I know this is a lot to dump on you, but I wanted to just tell someone before my head explodes,” Chris finally said, exhaling.
“It’s all good. I hope you figure out things with the company. I know it’s not all lost; you are a smart guy,” Stephanie replied with a reassuring smile. Deep down, she hoped that her simple reply was enough. She needed to get out of here.
Chris just nodded and sipped his whisky. Ten minutes passed with none of them speaking, and Stephanie couldn’t hold it in anymore; this was becoming weird.
“So…I have to go,” she said quietly.
“I know. There’s an envelope on that small table with the cash. I don’t have any M-Pesa on me.”
She picked the white envelope, called a cab, and was on her way out in about ten minutes, back to familiar streets where she surprisingly felt safer than ever.
It was now almost 1 a.m. Her tête-à-tête with Chris had taken longer than she expected. But she still had time before daybreak.
Her choice of spot today was in Kilimani. As much as she liked the middle of the city, she had discovered and heard from the other girls about a new crop of clients who drove around the residential areas and paid top dollar for her services. So, she rotated her nights across the city.
What she loved about such posh areas, away from the craziness of it all, was that clients were more respectful. They would approach you with their big cars, roll down a window, and beckon you without making you feel like your job was worthless.
It didn’t take long for her first client to roll up. A well-dressed guy with a beaten-down Nissan X-Trail. The typical married man. She never liked to judge her clients from how they dressed or what they drove, but it helped to play mind games as they drove around to a hotel or Airbnb. It kept her mind busy.
Like with most guys, the sex didn’t last long. Mr. X-Trail didn’t negotiate; he just wanted a round of sex, didn’t utter more than five sentences, and off he was gone, probably to get a few hours of sleep before he could drop his kids off at school in the morning or attend a strategy meeting.
Her second client of the night, or should I say, third, wanted more. He negotiated for about ten minutes, and when they got to the Airbnb, he started outlining a set of rules that irked Stephanie.
“I’m not using condoms,” he said with his slurred speech. Stephanie could smell the alcohol from the word go, but she was used to handling men like this.
“That’s not happening,” Stephanie replied, trying to control her anger.
“Listen here, small girl. I’m paying, so just get on the bed and stop arguing with me.”
She wanted to offer a rebuttal about her not being the “small girl,” but it didn’t matter anyway. “Here’s what we are going to do. I will get on the bed, but we are using condoms,” she said sternly as she displayed a pack of condoms she just retrieved from her bag.
She didn’t want to antagonize this man, but she had learned over the years to stand up for herself. This was a job like any other, and she wanted respect.
It didn’t take long for the man to realize that Stephanie would not be cowed, so he started unbuckling his belt. For someone who was talking big, it only took him a few minutes for the whole encounter to end, to Stephanie’s relief. She wasn’t a fan of situations she couldn’t control.
Once she was back to her corner on the road, she realized there were more girls than usual, which meant competition. She could hold her own; she was beautiful, curvy, slightly taller than most girls at 5’6, and her dimpled smile drove men crazy. But in this jungle, you also needed wits and quick decision-making.
Before she could order a cab and move to a better location, a black Jeep slowed down and stopped next to her and some two girls. A burly man sat in the driver’s seat, smiling at her. “Hey beautiful,” he shouted.
Stephanie didn’t wait for the other girls to walk to the car. If she played her cards right, this could be her last call of the night. It was now almost 3 a.m.
“Hey handsome,” she said, walking to the passenger side of the car. They had a brief chat, and within a few minutes Stephanie was in the car, being driven to another location. But this time around, the guy suggested they stop at a club popular for its extended opening hours and parties that went into the morning.
“I can only be available until 5,” she said quickly. As much as she enjoyed her night ruling the streets, she had a golden rule about when she went home.
“No problem, sweetheart. You can call me Dez,” her new client replied.
As they alighted the car at the club’s parking lot, Stephanie quickly noticed the guy had a bulge at the back of his trousers. Was that a gun? She wondered. As if reading her mind, Dez quietly said, “Don’t worry about this; it’s just for protection.” He removed the gun and threw it in the glove compartment.
Stephanie didn’t react or display any fear on her face. When she started working the streets at 19, she knew what she had signed up for; the crazy and the ugly. And when the money had started coming in, she knew that she wasn’t looking back anytime soon. She felt powerful, having the courage to go out every night and meet different men.
And now as she walked arm in arm with Dez, she knew she needed an escape plan. And fast. The club was full like it was still midnight. Revelers danced around tables as the DJ switched between genres. Compared to the cold nights that characterized most of Stephanie’s nights, the air here was warm, maybe even too hot from all the crowding.
Twenty minutes in, the drinks were flowing, and she was dancing with Dez, who had joined a table with some friends. Everything was okay until one of the guys at their table, who had introduced himself as Mark, started shouting at this tall guy, wearing a white cap and a puffy jacket.
She could now hear the loud argument over the loud music. “Are you trying to hit on my girlfriend?” Mark asked.
“You are delusional; I haven’t talked to your girl. In fact, she looks like she wants to go home with me,” the other guy replied with a smirk.
In the blink of an eye, blows were flying between the two guys. Before their friends could join, the bouncers were already separating the two and pulling them towards the door to leave. And the entire friend group followed, including Stephanie and Dez. She knew this was her opportunity to disappear.
Outside in the parking lot, things escalated quickly. The two groups were still shouting and daring each other to a fight. That didn’t last long because what Dez and his group of friends didn’t know was that their tall arch-rival was a police officer. And that he had called his colleagues who were waiting outside.
“So, you are the guys fighting strangers. Show me your IDs,” one of the men approaching said to the group.
You could see the panic in everyone’s eyes, especially from the Dez camp.
“Mine is in the car; let me get it,” Mark said.
“Mine too,” Dez muttered as he let go of Stephanie’s hand.
“No one is going anywhere. I need IDs,” the tall guy who was fighting in the club said. He was now holding handcuffs. “Otherwise, I will arrest all of you right now; you can explain all this in front of a judge on Monday.”
And that’s when she heard the sound of someone’s feet running. Dez had darted between the cars and Mark had followed, leaving her and two of their friends standing there.
“Madam, what about you? Where’s your ID and why are you hanging out with these thugs?” The tall police officer from the club directed the question at her.
“I have it,” she replied as she opened her purse.
The officer looked at it and gave her a second look as if confirming that it was the same person.
“And why do you look familiar?”
“I’m not sure we’ve met before,” Stephanie said, eyeing the officer closely. She was familiar with their scare tactics after being involved in her fair share of arrests. This wasn’t new.
“I think I have arrested you at that popular Kilimani corner where you girls work,” the officer replied, now laughing. The other two police officers joined in.
Stephanie chuckled. She wasn’t going to act scared in front of these bullies. “So are you arresting me today and on what charges?”
“It depends. Do you have any information you would like to share?”
“Not really. I was just in here having fun; I don’t know these guys.”
The police officer stretched out his hand to give her back her ID, then held it back as Stephanie reached out. “Consider this your warning, although I know we will meet on the streets.” He was now clearly attempting to rattle her.
“Looking forward, officer.”
She took her ID and retrieved her phone from her purse to call a cab, as she walked away from the group of police officers who were now handcuffing Dez’s friends who had not managed to run away.
She needed to get home. It was almost 5:30 a.m. Time to wake up her son, who needed to be in school by 7:30 a.m.
Read more about the Author Ruth Mugwe
