The only time the isolation of this hotel room is broken is when i hear a faint knock at the door, and its the 3rd time i’ve heard it this week, shortly after i arrive back from the office. Its always accompanied by the sound of a cute, chinese female voice speaking in broken english, she must know i’m foreign, maybe the receptionist told her. She’s put a card with a photo of herself everytime when i’ve ignored her, and i’ve read them.
She wants to offer her services as a ‘masseuse’, she’s a sex worker i’ve heard so much about from acquaintances. ‘who am i to deny this woman a living’ is how i’ve come to feel and think in denial, i know the implications and the risk, but i want her. I listen as her footsteps move further and further down the narrow corridor everyday, i get a trickle of sweat thinking about getting intimate with this woman i know nothing of besides the knock of her fingers onto my hotel door, and a voice that is so quietly screaming for me to fuck her in my thoughts. i feel hot under the collar of this suit and tie and i need her intimacy. i walk over to the door and collect the calling card she’s left, i can smell her perfume on it. I become overcome with excitement as i pick up my mobile phone and call her.