It's About Her!

She is not your dirt.

"I understand you know who I am, so can we start doing for what you have called me?" She asked, crossing her knees one atop the other and shifting her weight to her hands behind her to angle her body and provide support.

He didn't respond, but his lips twitched in a half-smile and hummed in an unusual tune as he looked up at the ceiling. She followed his gaze to the ceiling. There was nothing. She brought her eyes back to him and shivered at the intensity of his look. His gaze was dark on her, so dark that she could almost see her reflection in them. He held her gaze for a moment, then let his eyes roam deliberately over her body. Zoya could read appreciation for her in them. She knew she has a perfect curve, but they made her feel nothing good about them. She was nothing more than a vagina for the guys she encountered; they paid to use her, and after they were done, they abandoned her for another man to continue the cycle. They didn't just use her body; with every thrust, a part of her soul was taken away. She no longer felt human; she was a product that others used to satisfy their selfish and nasty fantasies before discarding her like dirt.

Zoya again found his gaze on her. There was something familiar about them, especially the way they were staring at her. She watched him moving his hands to his pocket without breaking eye contact with her and soon a packet of cigarettes appeared in her sight. He took one from it and placed it between his lips, then lit it with a lighter. He dragged on the cigarette, held the smoke in his lungs for a while and then exhaled. In his action, she saw the passionate behaviour commonly exhibited by chain smokers.

Zoya reminded herself to stop studying him. The more she tries to let others get into her skin, the higher will be the chances of her getting attached to them. 

She muttered, "Just another client," she chanted, averting his fiery gaze on her. The sooner he starts, the sooner they will finish and the sooner she could return to her rightful place. She wished to just get it done!

"Can't very well get far with all those clothes on." Finally, she muttered and his lips twitched up in a half-smile.

"Where do you want me?" She loosened her legs and flattened her feet on the icy floor.

"There." He extends his hand and offers her a cigarette.

"No, thanks." Zoya felt his unfocused gaze on her body. She's grown accustomed to these types of stares on her over the years; all they want is to take her to a dark corner, strip her, and fuck her.

"What brings you here?" He asks, his face expressionless.

"You called me, you know better," she stated

"No, I don't. So tell me," he said, confusing her further.

The answer to his question was simple, she was here so he could use her body and take pleasure from her but to know is one thing and to speak it out was another. In response, she lowered her gaze.

"Interesting," Zoya's gaze was drawn to him by his uninvited nasty remarks, but she remained mute. Aditya sees the fire in her eyes and smiles. He slowly exhales smoke from his lungs and steps closer to her with an unwavering gaze. Her witty response made him laugh. He enjoyed the silence that came with the question, feeling a sick sense of pleasure at the time.

"If you are done proving yourself the saint between us, can we start our business here? I have to return to-."

"Business?" he cracked "More like, trying to avoid the question, are we?" The amusement in his voice felt like a dagger to her soul. He exhaled the smoke.

"I believe you have not paid me for playing quiz here."

She didn't like the fact that he was getting her exactly where he wanted. He was about to say something to her, but his phone rang first.