Not Fair

TW: trafficking, kidnapping

Jane spotted the Orion’s Belt as she raised her double hung window to let the smoke out. She leaned on the window pane and tilted her head to have a better look. She could recognise Meisa, Bellatrix, Betelgeuse at the crown. At its leg was ‘Regal’ or was it ‘Rigel’? 

She couldn’t remember.

She was long past her Kindergarten days as a toddler as well as a teacher.

She had been a preschool teacher for two years fresh after graduating high school, at the local KG where Mr. Victor was the principal.

That was until Mr. Victor got married and his newly wed wife filled up Jane’s post.

“Thank you for your services. However, we need more experience.”, he had said handing Jane her three months’ advance salary.

Jane was never a warrior type.

She didn’t write to Mr. Victor’s boss- the director. She did not want to kick up a row.

Instead, she had bought the best bottle of Glenlivet she could find from that money and forgot – or at least tried to.

But sometimes, when there was no escape or when no one was watching – for few ephemeral moments, she too could summon the courage to do something extraordinary.

Like someone’s ridiculing gurgle, a gust of spring wind came through and soothed Jane’s cheeks, eddied about the window sill and caressed her bare body as she took in the last puff of the fag and threw it out without stubbing – hoping it would punch through whoever’s clothes it was that fluttered in the lawn.

Inside her apartment Mr. Ramsdale was still panting from underneath the duvet.

Jane always gave him a good time.

In return Mr. Ramsdale was equal to the task – passionate in making love to Jane in nights like this where he phoned his thirty-eight year old wife with two kids that he would stay in office, that he could not come home for work and worked on Jane instead.

Mr. Ramsdale had flirted with the idea of moving in with Jane. He had considered getting a divorce too – all during his passionate intimacy with Jane.

But it didn’t matter either way to her. She never looked forward to that kind of a relationship with him. She wasn’t a fool to look through the tainted window and dream such stupid dreams. Experience had taught her otherwise.

‘Marry me!’, he said suddenly.

In the darkness of the room against the fleeting gleam from the window, she couldn’t figure out his facial expressions – he must be joking! – it didn’t matter to her either way as she moved beside him into her bed with a blasé.

Mr. Ramsdale came alive again and started going in for another round.

The next morning Jane woke up when sun rays through her window fell directly on her eyelids and she couldn’t feign sleep any longer. She sat up – still tired from last night’s work.

But something was different.

Usually, when her customers left, they left behind an atrocious mess – the couch, the bed, the table, everything would be turned upside down or stained.

But now, everything was in perfect order – neatly placed in their respective places. Even the alarm clock was meddled with so she could sleep a little longer.

She checked her phone for bank notifications.

Mr. Ramsdale had tipped her an additional 100$. 

With her other customers however, Jane always made them pay upfront before letting them in. But she trusted Mr. Ramsdale – these tips were perhaps reciprocation for that trust? 

She didn’t believe in ‘love’ or ‘Marry me’ anymore - she couldn’t afford living in a fantasy. 

Her plan was simple – to save enough money from her handy payouts to last her through her retirement. She had already invested in a couple of SIPs and in a handsome fixed deposit. When she was no longer wanted by wanton men, she’d move to a new cheaper country where she could find her dignity and see out the rest of her days – leaving no one behind was a bliss. 

She had thought of Bali of Indonesia or Buenos Aires of Argentina; maybe Tashkent had better people? Bangalore perhaps? 

She went into her bathroom and sank into the bathtub. She opened the tap and let the water slowly sink her. 

She remembered how one time she had tried to drown herself in this very tub. Or that time when she had filled up this tub with ice cubes when a drunkard had grabbed her by her hair and thrashed her face into the table giving her a black eye and one less molar. When the water rose up to her nose she re-positioned her head.

But experience only made you smarter. 

She didn’t allow just about anyone with some extra cash in anymore. She also kept her hair shorter. 

Suddenly she heard a thud on her bathroom door. She was startled for a second but re-gathered herself soon-after as she realized that she never got to lock her front door that morning. 

‘Jane, come out.’

It was Ramsdale’s voice – a calm rhetoric unlike the passion he had just a few hours ago. 

“What are you doing here? Go away.”

Jane came out draped in her bathrobe – a customer was always a customer – and she didn’t do free eye service – not even to Ramsdale – not even for an extra 100$ tip. 

“What do you want now?”, Jane said when Ramsdale held out what looked like an expensive dress. 

‘Here, put this on. We’re getting married. I’ve finally signed my divorce papers!’, Ramsdale said – prim from inside his black tuxedo - fresh from his personal tailor.

Jane considered this situation for a moment as she ran her hand through the frilly outer layer of the wedding gown. 

She examined his expressions – “Okay, I’m waiting for when you’re gonna say, ‘it’s a prank’. It’s a bad joke, let me tell you.”

  ‘Only it isn’t. I’m serious this time. We’ll get married and you’ll leave this shit hole!’

Jane was inundated with emotions. She hadn’t had so many confusing thoughts since the time she had those Glenlivet pegs. 

She found herself getting dressed in the expensive wedding dress and putting on cheap makeup. She had some difficulties with the gloves but other than that she was perfect – she looked a perfect bride of ripe age! 

Alongside herself, she had a stout man – stable in society, now single, albeit fifteen years older, promising her a future of comfort! 

She locked the front door of her apartment and got into Ramsdale’s corvette. 

Was she to ever spend another night inside this apartment again? 

Luckily there was no one outside to watch and sully her grandeur with bitter eyes as they drove out. 

They stopped at a red light in traffic when she knew she wasn’t dreaming as Ramsdale looked into her eyes. She recognised the same lustful look that he always had. 

Oddly enough it was comforting to her. It was comforting when he said, ‘Oh, you’re fucking beautiful!’ and fondled her breasts and then slid under her gown to rub on her panties – only to stop further progression when someone started to honk from behind as the light had turned green. 

So they parked their corvette in a quiet neighbourhood down couple blocks and Ramsdale started his ritual – first came the kisses and then the sudden, unapologetic pounding – only this time messing up their prim dresses inside the cramped space of the coupe. 

When Ramsdale blew his load inside her and started panting, Jane got her reprieve and realised that he hadn’t worn any protection. 

But she decided she would let it slide this time for they were getting ‘fucking married’! 

She knew it was all too good to be true – that she was still dreaming from under her duvet – that she never left home that morning. But she did not want to wake up. 

But she woke up alright as her head rocked against the moving vehicle. 

Not a corvette, no! 

Her head felt dizzy and she was cold. She wasn’t wearing the wedding dress anymore. 

She was in her knickers – her panties still soggy.

A yellow light buzzed above her head as she managed to sit up. She was trying to make sense of it all. 

She was inside a freight truck. Three other girls – one particularly young was beside her. All four of them sat there – too tired to cry for help, resigned to what was going to happen. 

She thought to herself as the truck sped in the freeway, “No retirement in Bali for me then! Well, at least I was already in the business.”

She realised she didn’t quite hate Ramsdale.