Love Story Of A Call Girl

Love Story Of A Call Girl,

One last glance at him, one last glance at the penthouse suite, and then I was a minuscule creature below the grand marble arch entrance of the penthouse suite; the residence of the wealthy in the suburbs.

Then I took a few steps further to the boulevard ahead of me. I dared not turn back for I might just change my mind and run back to his suite; knocking like crazy on his door, begging him to let me in.

The breeze became more volatile the further I left the boulevard. I walked towards the coastline. Sand made its way into my ballet flats, causing my skin to feel its rough friction against my flats, but I was too determined to be distracted by it.

Then I walked towards the rising tide. I saw waves; its crests subtle and light in movement.

Now, at the edge of land and sea, the sun had yet to shine and the moon yet to fade away.

I felt that I was here; I knew I was here; I could feel my joy and my sorrow; everything and nothing flashed before me. I brushed the flapping shawl away from my c.h.e.s.t and touched the icy cold moonstone at my neck.

I felt the weight of the world in a tiny moonstone; a stone which had been with me throughout my life, dangling in front of me like a sacred pendant.

Gazing at the stone, I knew I could no longer keep it. That time had passed. I wanted to move on, and the stone reminded me of all that was; the pain, the joy, the sorrow.