Next day was his birthday. He woke up to a clear timetable, no varsity lectures to be attended. A stroke of luck. Messages popped up on his cell: happy birthday texts from a few friends and one from cousin Nelly, promising to come over with a cake after her night shift at The Taste restaurant. Edward scrolled down on SMS’s. No message from Ashanti. 

He quickly sent a text to Nelly, telling her to come with Ashanti. He hoped this doesn’t reveal anything about his crush. But there were too many times he’d pulled similar acts like these. The signs were there and Nelly wasn’t stupid. What’s left was for her to ask him how long has been feeling this way. Maybe Edward could use her help to finally win Ashanti, they are friends after all. Maybe there are things Nelly knows which could makeit all easy for Edward. 

He checked all the other messages in bed. There was one from his parents, both wishing him a happy 23rd birthday as well and they’d transferred him some money as a gift.

“Go ahead and spoil yourself. And it’s been a while since you came to visit, we kinder miss you. Have a lovely day.” The last sentences of the message. Edward brought up a smile. There had been a ping of notification from the bank for the money’s arrival to his account. He began to look around the room.

What is it that he always wanted? Something he could buy for himself now? When you don’t have money a million things you need cloud your head, but once the money is here…

Unlike Nelly, who relied on a part-time job as a waitress, Edward received a monthly allowance from mom and dad, so the things he needed were always bought. With this birthday gift money, which was a lot more than what they usually gave him, he knew he had to get himself something new and different; what he always wanted. What he always wanted was Ashanti however, he saw no need to waste money on taking her out on another date that’ll lead to nowhere. Only lead to her being fed. 

He looked the room some more. The bedroom really need to be tidied up. His eyes came across the porno magazine laying near a white basket filled with laundry. He had been thirteen years old when he played around with the ball on the yard. The ball hit the front window. When his father, Zondi, saw the crack he snapped. “It was a mistake I didn’t…” 

Zondi didn’t want to hear it. He confiscated the ball but young Edward made it his mission to get the ball back. When he was certain that the master bedroom is empty, he sneaked in and searched the wardrobe for the ball. Among his father’s clothes and things, he found something which made him forget about the ball; the magazine: Playboy. Since then 

nothing has been the same for Edward. 

Looking at the similar magazine now beside his white basket, he now knew what he wanted.

<<< • >>>

The building didn’t look like a brothel at all, but since it was of flats in the busiest side of Hill brow, Edward was sure he’d come to the right place. What does a whorehouse look like anyways? Even the women don’t have labels written prostitutes attached to them. 

Often their revealing clothes is what reveals the vocation. You’d find a smartly dressed woman looking like an executive for a major company, only to find out that her office is the bedroom and her workplace is between the sheets. You’d find out the hard way because you’ve just slept with her so you have no choice but to pay. Or else her pimp will deal with you. After you are both done in the bed you start to hear her talk about prices. 

You didn’t get her to bed because of your charm, she simply allowed you to touch her because she’s working. If she’d known that your pockets were empty she wouldn’t have bothered to even look at you. 

Edward had been directed to this particular flat by a short man with a brown moustache outside the building. A man who knows everything about this place, saw Edward walking around confused, asked him what he wanted, looked at him for seconds and took a guess, chuckled when Edward confirmed his guess. “You go for anything? Got a preference? You’ve come to the right place by the way,” said the man. 

“Who are you?” Edward asked. 

“You want some fun or what? It don’t matter who I am. What matters is that you got the right money. I can set you up real quick. What you want? Some big ass, skinny…”

“Big ass. Yes, big ass.”

The man had chuckled again and directed him to room 417 “you’ll find what you want.”

Big ass, wider hips just like Ashanti, thought Edward. After stepping out of the elevator he searched until he found the room door marked 417. He raised his knuckle to knock but she opened the door before he touched it. She must have been notified of his arrival.

She pulled the door wider for him to enter. She had a big ass with wider hips but she was darker than Ashanti and much shorter; her forehead pointed at Edward’s neck. 

He got inside the room. Everything looked feminine. Almost everything was purple and pink: the coverlet and the pillows, the curtains and carpet as well as the chest of drawer. It looked like a room which belonged to a nine-year-old girl. He sucked in the air of fruity fragrance, a strawberry perfume, perhaps? Smelled like it. 

“Hi, my name is Edward,” he said, the lisp brought saliva to his lower lip he didn’t hesitate for a second to wipe it. 

“I don’t care,” the woman said. She had short blonde hair and a tattoo of a rosary chain around her neck. Her upper lip was bigger than the lower one, but she still looked cute and she had an Asian look because of her small eyes. She pushed him, his ass fell on the bed behind. She positioned herself on his laps without saying a word. His legs were still shaking. 

Edward didn’t know what to do. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and swallowed.

She was really on top of his laps. A real breathing woman. He would only be in such positions through imaginations. Now here she was; a real thing, not supplied by his mind’s design and thought, a real fucking woman who looked like the ones on that Playboy magazine, the ones he slept with on his day-dreams. 

“God,” he found it hard to breathe as he took off his glasses. 

The woman unwrapped the gown and pulled it away from herself. She was wearing nothing. 

“God,” Edward said again in a low tone. Large pieced nipples pointed at his sweaty face. 

She touched him on the cheek, “relax,” her voice as light and warm as the feel of her hand on his cheek. “Your first time?” She asked. 

He couldn’t find his voice nor the words, so he simply nodded. He felt like his underwear was going to tear by his erection. This was real, a warm naked woman on top of him!

The woman’s mouth curled up in a smile of relief. This will be like free money, she thought. She had no further time to wait so she proceeded to pull off his pants.

Later, the grape flavored condom was filled with his mess. It only lasted as short as his thing. To the woman, it felt as though there was no sex at all. Free money. And the other great thing about virgin customers is that you could charge them a double price they’d think is normal. But this one, she made him pay triple the price without him realizing. 

Edward put his clothes on and left with a big smile after paying. Gone was his virginity.

It was so good. So, this is what it feels like? The only downside was that it wasn’t Ashanti, but nonetheless…it was so good. Something told him to pay the woman extra for such a kind service but she had already excused him out of the room before he could take out his wallet again. Best birthday ever.

Tell us: what is the weirdest birthday gift they’ve/you’ve ever bought yourself?