Locked in Stilettos

by Lovely Jobhel O. Medina

Blue, green, purple, and red illuminate the massive suite. Maria could hear the booming bass as she tramped into the room. Hips swaying on a criss-cross walk, slow and steady, she bends on a pole.

Whistles and clamor resume the beat with the masses drinking their bitter drinks in drips. Diamonds of various dimensions outshine all the bling as money flap its wings in the air. Maria didn't want this, but it will never work her way.

"Wait till you see the shame in your child's eye!" said her mother beside his father with disgust in their eyes when she returned home.

"I'm home," whispers Maria, or am I? she thought.

"Where did your brain go? You are wasting your life! I am tired of being your mother!" her mother rants while his father doesn't even care anymore.

I was lost, abused, found, and betrayed. Must I be condemned for my job when no one looks at me the same way and as if I wasn't the victim?

"I wasn't wh*ring around, mom! I am only doing my job (slap) ... " she bit her tongue and winced. Nothing is new; Maria was long numb in pain.

All I did was dance and be Aphrodite. Who am I kidding? No one believes me. With that, she grabbed her money-showered stiletto and secured it for the next book on Friday night.