"She knew she was not in the escort service for the money. She had tried to figure out, again and again, what was she in it for? She had failed to find an answer every time. As she sipped her coffee, she tried one more time.
Was it her way of getting back at the man who had been ignoring her emotions and her desires for years? Or, was it her way of assuring herself that, close to thirty-six, she still had it in her to turn a man into an animal blinded by lust, ready to tear her apart? She needed that assurance even after the hours she spent at the gym, and in spite of the compliments that she regularly received from friends on her immaculately maintained shape.
Or, was it her search? Her search for warmth, her search for words of love which these men faked in moments of ecstasy, her search for his smell that had not filled her senses for years now. The smell that she keeps looking for in their after-shave colognes, their deodorants, in their breath, or in their bare sweat-slicked bodies as they play with hers. The smell that keeps eluding her.
Oindrila could not find an answer.