Chapter 8

• It seems that I said an insult to him or something that he did not like at all.
• Black Hamilton, the cold and indomitable entrepreneur finally seems to have felt intimidated at my words. As if I had poison or something that made him feel offended, the truth is that I never thought I would live to see the moment when what I said, could emit some reaction.
• He walks away as if infected with some deadly contagious disease. But no, I'm just a virgin, don't be alarmed, Dear Boss.
• "I... I didn't know, Mina. I didn't have to know, forget it. I'm sorry."
• He pulls away and rubs his face as if he were processing the words or if he was reproaching himself internally how he could not have supposed it before.
• But my head gets a huge surprise a little late to process. He apologized to me. "Don't worry, sir... "
• I gulped and as he pointed at the door. Did you just feel like I'm a virgin? Will I risk losing my job this time? Don't I serve you as far as your particular whore?
• "I'll make your coffee." I say. He nods. But he comes up and holds my arm.
• "Wait." He says.
• His touch gets an electric current under my skin. "Yes?"
• "What... Last night's thing." He tries to talk low as if he was releasing a state secret. "Was that the first time you did it?" He caught me.
• I gulped and sat down with some grief. "Y... Yes, sir." I mumble.
• "Oh, for heaven's sake..." He breaths.
• I hope I wasn't wrong.
• "You didn't feel compelled at any time, I didn't force you, did I?" He asks. What if I said yes? True, I did not feel threatened or finished at any time, but my head implicitly begged all the time to keep the job, without considering at that time that the conditions could be repeated. I was also not upset that it was him, he may be an indecipherable person, but he is damned attractive.
• "Mina, I really could, but judging by your age, I thought you...you know. Really, excuse me. I would have figured it out anyway..."
• He's coming. For a moment I think he's gonna kiss me, but he doesn't. I get drunk looking at his mouth and the outline of his beard when he talks without breaking the distance between them. "I offer to be your first."
• Living in vulnerable sectors or exposed to certain dangers, causes one to decide not to leave home too much during adolescence. At least, that was my decision. Keep up with my studies, keep up with the grade grid and get the state benefits to get to college under viable parameters. Dad was a repository in a supermarket, he always worked for the private part as a private employee since his studies were insufficient to think of something better or his contacts were not adequate to get something stable in the public sector.
• His work carried him with great pride and dignity, although what he collected more some state aid, barely enough to cope with the family. Mom also had some jobs that I could do from household chores, so from a young age I had to take care of my little sister or be in the care of a neighbor when it was necessary.
• The thing is, one day dad gave me a hug and said. "See You At Night, Princess, I love you". Even as a teenager he used to say those words to me.
• It was tomorrow, I was about to go to school. He worked about fourteen hours a day in order to get accumulated overtime. But the night was too long. And he never came.
• At midnight a policeman knocked on the door and, looking from the side, I saw mom crying after a few seconds to remain silent after hearing his words: "Mr. Western suffered a traffic accident back home."
• When dad got off public transport, a huge motorbike that got on his side, so he didn't have to wait rammed him right in.
• The driver had no injuries because he was wearing all the protections above his high-end Indian motorcycle that he used in recreational and sports. The rich need millionaire luxuries for their valuable hours of leisure.
• Dad just came back very exhausted from working like every day of his life. And a blow to the curb caused him to lose his life immediately.
• The subject in question is the son of a major prosecutor. He did not have a single wound, he paid a negligible bail for his fortune and only had to deal with some press release that encouraged him to mention something about it. But the news did not matter much because the one who had died was an anonymous citizen of those who no one regrets that he is no longer.
• "Being nobody." Those words have run through me ever since and I struggle to be "something." When they say that a college degree grants this, some reason carries and something does not. I want to be important enough that a son of a bitch doesn't bust me in the street for leisure and doesn't get away with it.
• I want to be trained and cautious so as not to have to work until exhaustion for coins on something that does not fill me at all.
• But it is so difficult, it is practically impossible for a person like me.
• Does having any of that mean being a millionaire's whore? Give in to his morbidity to take my virginity? Why the hell does Black Hamilton want to be"my first"? If I don't, not only will I be a further slag to society, but my sick mother and little sister will be.
• "Tell me when you think it's convenient" I answer, trying to keep the tone cool, "and Sir... I'm ready."
• Maybe not. Maybe it's not.
• But between Black Hamilton doing it or an idiot I know on the street, I'd rather it be a person like him.
• "Damn, Mina. I really appreciate you giving me that honor. I like to know that I can be special to someone. At least for you."
• "Please wait..."
• "What?"