This is the story of a john who erroneously thinks over-the-shelf antibiotics can remedy sexually-transmitted infections or prevent it. As strange as it sounds, this belief is widely-held by a lot of people who surely need more education on healthy living in Nigeria especially.
The walls of this shop used to be snow-white but now it wears a creamy coat whose rate of further depreciation can only be matched by a red-to-rusty brown colour of the burglary-proof iron door which some years ago boasted of a shiny red oxide coat. On the front desk is a woman in her mid-thirties wearing a blue check apron, ridiculously long white gown and a show of sarcastic concern on seeing Izzi approach the shop.
“Ampiclox, ampiclox, give me ampiclox”, yells Izzi a mid-twenties young man whose favorite hangout faces the pharmacy shop.
Few minutes before this, Izzi enters his usual spot where he regularly “eases the tension” and today, he is going to be the client of Queen. Queen is a lady who can’t be more than twenty five years in age, she is very fair in complexion, about five feet nine inches tall, she carries a full-blown bust and a rotund backside to match.
A new face in the house, Izzi approaches.
“Baby what’s up”, Izzi asked as his brain sends some mixed signals to his zippers. “I am fine”, responded Queen in a somewhat lascivious wide smile revealing her tooth gap. They agree to a fee which Izzi found a bit higher than the usual he pays for a “short-time session”. “It’s worth it, after all it’s a new girl on the block. “, he justified to himself and who would argue? Queen has a very charming smile that makes you want to fantasize and put her in the outside world as a well-to-do banking executive or career lady with so many options lying in front of her but then, this is the real world and plans are known not to always work.
After navigating through some shabby rooms, they finally make their way to Queen’s cubicle. Perfumes, skimpy dresses on the wall hanger, a traditional poorly-lit room containing rolls of toilet paper and condoms as well as a noisy bed frame whose noise during congress would make you think you had toads and crickets for spectators.
Good value for money, Queen gives everything. Kissing, fellatio, action! This is paradise, Izzi thought. A girl this beautiful in this kind of place? Kissing him was something unusual due to what has come to be known as “The Ashy Theorem”.
This theorem states that prostitutes don’t kiss their clients because of the importance they attribute to kissing as an emotional act which is reserved for their “boyfriends”. Yes they have boyfriends, turning tricks is just to make money. Their heart surely does not live in their vaginas or something like that.
Fellatio on the other hand carries no such emotional burden as kissing does but it usually attracts a bigger fee and it means the session is longer which invariably means you are paying for the act, the sex and altogether the time spent with only one client.
Legs shivering, orgasm on the way, Queen stops the fellatio on Izzi, reaches for her condom box and tears open a condom. As much as alcohol is not a proven aphrodisiac, it surely had effects on Izzi’s performance tonight.
Feigned moans from the girl, theatrical moves from Izzi and unscripted noise from the squeaking bed and standing fan who seem to be in a harmony of their own provided an orchestra within the confinements of the little room.
Ten minutes on, and all of a sudden the sex suddenly got more pleasurable, indescribable and wholly fascinating. Good things don’t always last much. Izzi ended the show in a loud gasp, a bowing gesture from his tool . “The condom even burst sef”, Queen said. Izzi hurriedly looked down and found out that the last few minutes got more pleasurable because the condom gave way. “What!?”, he pays Queen and storms out, crosses the road and enters the pharmacy.