He slides his hands around my waist and touches my belly. Not so quickly, I say to myself before he goes any lower. I bend down to pick up the soap.
He gets out to dry himself and leaves me with a few minutes of heaven with warm water and fresh-smelling soap. I slide the soap all over my body, blowing bubbles when I can, a silly grin that only I can enjoy on my face. The water falls on me with pleasure. I tingle with cleanliness.
“Are you coming? I’m waiting,” he says after a while.
They don’t like you to know their names, in case you bump into them in the street. Most times they don’t even nod or say hi, they walk past as if they don’t know you.
“Come now, I’ve got things to do,” he says in a serious grown-up voice.
I turn off the taps and shake off the water still clinging to me. He slides the door open and hands me a towel. A fresh-smelling light blue towel. I sigh with pleasure as I dry myself. His eyes follow my every move.
“Come now, we must get on with it,” he says a little anxiously and grabs the towel. I walk behind him as we both walk naked towards the bedroom. Morning light pours in through fancy curtains with slits. Above his bed there is a framed poster of a young boy taking a piss. There’s a dreamy look in his eyes as he looks towards us while pissing. I look around the neat room with awe while his piel begins to grow.
“Lie down,” he says and lays me beside him. Then he starts playing with me. I have to concentrate hard to get excited. I think of Toni Braxton and Mary J Blige. They usually do the trick for me.
We use a lot of baby oil. I close my eyes while he moans a lot.
“Tell me when you’re going to come,” he says politely, strangely.
“I can come any time. I was waiting for you.”
“In that case let’s come.”
He stands over me while I lie down and we both masturbate. After a while his eyes roll into their whites and I feel warm drops across my chest and face. He hands me a towel to dry myself.
With a wallet in his hand we go to the kitchen.
“You did good,” he says and hands me a twenty-rand note. Peanuts. I’ve earned fifty bucks from a single trick. But I know not to get greedy. He could become a regular. I get dressed quickly and let myself out. Just before going out the door to the flats another white man looks at me with come-to-bed eyes. A lot younger than the other guy. I decide to follow him. He stays on the first floor.
“Don’t worry about that,” he says as I start to undo my shirt. “You don’t have to take off your clothes. I just want to be sucked off. Don’t worry, I won’t come in your mouth.”
It doesn’t take long before I make him come on his bare chest. He pays me forty bucks and sees me out of the flat.
3
I need a new pair of shoes, I say to myself as I count the money. Joyce is not working, she only works nights. I decide to go to her small flat which she shares with another auntie. At the door she is only too happy to see me.
“Dankie vir die kos, Antie, ek was baie honger. Where’s Auntie Bertha?”
“She went home for a few days. You know how she gets homesick. Cape Town can be so lonely,” she says, walking around in her lazy flip-flops.
“Anyway, I’ve got some money and I thought maybe you could put it into my bank.”
Joyce understands banks and how they work. Me, I have forgotten even how to hold a pen, so how can I go to the bank myself? Grown-ups ask many questions there. You must remember when you were born and exactly how old you are. You must have an address and it must be one that doesn’t keep changing. Like you must stay in the same spot for say maybe five years and when you move you must tell the bank. They must know everything about your movements. Like how many homes you have and whom must they call when you want to do something with your money. If you ask me they are a bit like gangsters, they want to know everything so that you cannot run away from them. And you must have an ID and a job that pays you regularly. And every time you put in money they make money for you by lending out your money. They are very clever people who work at banks. That’s what Joyce says. She says she ordered a banking place for me at First National Bank and that all my money is going to be safe there. Every time I make money I give her some and she puts it away for me in the safe. It’s my plan to do something with it one day. I’m not sure what I can do with it or how much I have saved but I have a feeling that it will come in handy one day.
Today I give her twenty bucks and keep the rest. What I like about Joyce is that she never asks me how I make my money. In fact, unlike most grown-ups she doesn’t ask too many questions. She’s only too happy to be sitting at the window sewing or doing something with her hands. Sometimes I just sit there with her and we say nothing to each other for hours. It’s so peaceful.
Sometimes, when she’s not feeling like an auntie, she lets me smoke a cigarette with her but that doesn’t happen often. She never beats me but jeez she can get very angry with me, especially when my clothes are dirty. When I have enough money, because food always comes first, I buy soap and wash my clothes at a public toilet. I wash them one at a time. T-shirt first and when it has dried I wash my socks and when they’ve dried I wash my pants but I wear them wet till they dry in the sun from all the walking I do.
Joyce pours me a cup of tea. I sit on the floor beside her and we listen to her wireless. On the news Pagad is on the loose again. Another policeman was shot dead in his home.
“You know, Zu-zu, these Pagad mense they say they are God’s people but they preach the devil’s work.”
“Yes, Auntie.”
“You must stay away from them, you hear, Zu-zu.”
“Yes, Auntie.”
“And the gangsters. If I ever hear that you are a member of a gang you can forget about Auntie ever giving you food or banking your money. Do you hear me?”
“Me, Auntie, I’m not like them. I’m not a moegoe.”
“You must promise me this, Zu-zu. Say you’ll never be a member,” she says and looks at me with a schoolteacher’s serious eyes.
“I promise, Auntie.”
“No, you mustn’t promise. Say it. I want to hear you say it.”
“I promise not to be a member, Auntie.”
“That’s good, Zu-zu, that’s good.”
We sit in silence for a while and listen to the rest of the news. After a while I tell Auntie that I must be on my way.
I go to Green Point where Allen works as a pimp. I find him standing under a large blue-gum tree talking to one of his white girls. They are arguing about something. I stand back because I know Allen’s temper. He’s killed someone before and I saw the whole thing happen. Knowing him has actually helped me a lot on the streets. I can’t say that we are friends. But if I’m ever in trouble I just have to say that I know Allen and I’m usually left alone.
“Why must I fucking work today?” she yells at him, her pupils like saucers. Stupid woman, she’s high.
“Because I told you so, bitch. Who the fuck do you think you are? Don’t pull this shit on me just because you’ve just had your rock.”
“I don’t see why I have to work today. I haven’t had a day off in two weeks, Allen. What about my pussy?”
“Fuck you,” he punches her and she falls flat on her face in the street. A car drives near her and hoots at Allen. “You and your pussy, fuck you. You’re full of shit.” He goes on and grabs her by the hair.
That’s the problem with the white bitches. I find that they never know when to shut up and here the ouens don’t give them a chance. They are heavy-handed. They just whack. And if that doesn’t do it, they naai and then they fuck them up even more.