The Escort and the Ghost

The Escort and the Ghost
A knock at his door. She was an hour late. The man knew he couldn’t turn back. He had to do this, even so, he was conflicted and overwhelmed.

The man looked close to twenty as everyone he met made sure to tell him, he was, in fact, thirty five. He was trapped. Within himself was a sad kid, closer to sixteen than anything, and for that he hated himself. He gazed at the world adults inhabited and felt he didn’t fit at all.

He had been alone almost all of his life. No friends. No connections. It was only recently that he had finally been with a woman and it hadn’t lasted long. One week to be exact. He paid her to introduce him to intimacy and had only so much money. He had never kissed before, never held anyone’s hand, touched, held or been held by someone else until her. He had gotten far but still felt withdrawn within himself.

He was frightened of the world and frightened of people. What they thought of him. What they might think of him. He likened himself to a ghost, floating through the world. Ethereal and seen only out of the corner of others eyes. They could never catch a full glimpse. Partially because he wouldn’t let them. He couldn’t let them. Intimacy was his greatest desire and his greatest fear.

He was in Thailand. The land of smiles. A country known by the western world for its beaches, temples, food, martial arts, and of course, it’s sex industry. He came to this place to try and gain some foothold into the world he had never known. To make his body corporeal.

He had made his choice. He opened the door and the woman entered his room with a smile. She apologized for being late and blamed the traffic. Still not able to trust he wondered if that was just a lie. Still, she had a warm smile and seemed like she would treat him with at least kindness. She sat on the bed of the cramped cheap hotel room he had rented. He stood there smiling not knowing what to do, and, needing to fill the silence of the room and himself he said, “I’m shy.”

“Why shy?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I just am.”

He sat on the bed and they turned to each other. Neither making the first move. His shyness was contagious. The woman didn’t look like the pictures he had seen. He always worked out his body due to his fear of the judgements of others. She spoke about how light his skin was compared to hers and how skinny he was compared to how fat she was. She wasn’t incorrect. She had a pretty face, but her body was sagging, bulgy, and had lost its youth before its time. They sat on the bed facing each other. Looking, waiting, but not saying much. The man was paralyzed. The feeling of awkwardness would occasionally release itself by way of a few giggles from the both of them. Each waiting for the other to finally do something. The woman eventually relented and moved in for a kiss.

She stood up and took her clothes off. Wanting to put her at ease he told her she was beautiful. He worried he wasn’t convincing. She laid back on the bed and they continued to kiss one another. He went to kiss her body but she didn’t respond. Was he stupid for attempting to make love to an escort? He wondered to himself. Did she think he was stupid?

She told him to take off his clothes and turn onto his back so she could go down on him. He complied and watched as she began.

Like Pinocchio he wanted to be real. “Was he even there? Was he somewhere inside of himself,” he thought. Was he doomed to spend his life on a quest to achieve what others came to so naturally? He couldn’t feel pleasure. Her mouth was like warm air. He couldn’t feel her. He thought his body must hate him for the years he forced it to be alone and uncared for.

Occasionally she would stop and ask “ready?” he would sheepishly reply, “no.” And there on it went. They switched positions. Him inside her. Her on top of him. Them laying side by side while she grabbed and tugged hoping to find the solution to this strange problem that now presented itself to her.

His mind drifted away and what it found was a void. And as his mind left them her mind drifted closer. What had this young man been through? Where did he go? At this point they had given up attempting to connect himself to himself. They laid in the dingy hotel room holding one another. Her head resting on his chest. His hand holding hers. Their fingers interlaced.

“What happened you?” She asked.

He had no words.