chapter1.2

 Once I was ready for mass, I took a taxi, one of the rare pleasures I allowed myself. I loved going to Sandton because of the Apollos; they came in all types: white, black, mixed-race, all wealthier than the next, driving beautiful cars, dressed in fine clothes. Sometimes, it pained me to see them accompanied by beautiful women, well-dressed, well-coiffed, with manicured nails, made-up faces, false eyelashes, and all the allure that made them more beautiful than the next. But this never diminished my pleasure of admiring these fine specimens and their pretty buttocks.

-Johannesburg, please, to Christ The King Catholic Church. I said to the driver as I took my seat in the taxi ordered via the app, dressed in my pale yellow dress, my sandals, and with my little handbag in hand. My long kinky hair was pulled up into a tight bun, highlighting my small face, my cheekbones, my large black eyes, and my tiny reddish mouth. I admired the city passing by, my head turned towards the window, my right hand under my chin, as if to support my head, which apparently weighed nothing at all. I watched the scenery pass by, the dilapidated buildings gradually transforming as we moved through the city streets into well-built structures with nearly perfect architecture. I could already glimpse the handsome men with their well-sculpted callipygian charms, probably shaped by gym sessions, striding up and down the city streets, likely on their Sunday jogs. A huge smile immediately spread across my face, and I was already licking my lips, thinking about all the men I would ogle on my way back from church. I don't know if I could qualify as a pyrophile, but I certainly enjoyed watching the attractive behinds of men in their jogging pants, jeans, or tuxedo trousers.The taxi pulled up at the church entrance. I paid my fare and got out, checking the time on my smartphone, which I put on silent. I realized I was thirty minutes early and decided to sit on a public bench right next to the church, about a meter away. Directly across from me was a gym, and judging by the quality of the building, I deduced that a workout session in this gym would cost five, maybe even ten times my monthly salary.

. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw a big black car with tinted windows park right in front of the building’s exterior parking lot. When the rear passenger door opened, my heart skipped a beat no, I think it literally dropped into my stomach. A handsome man stepped out, dressed in an immaculate white cotton tracksuit and a white t-shirt. He was surely around 1.95 meters tall, maybe even two. He was so tall that one might think he could touch the sky if he raised his hand. He had hair as black as ebony, luxurious and shiny. From where I was, I couldn't clearly see his hairstyle, but it looked impeccable. He opened the trunk of his vehicle and pulled out a bag that he handed to a man I assumed to be his chauffeur, impeccably dressed in a black suit with broad muscles. The driver immediately headed towards the club entrance after a slight nod. And the "Apollon" like french people use to say leaned against his vehicle, and in a calculated motion, brought his hand to his lips before moving it away and tilting his head towards the sky to exhale a cloud of smoke. I froze, watching him, mesmerized by his slow, deliberate gestures, by his posture, exuding an aura of danger, power, and strength.

I was probably exaggerating, but this man had captured more than just my attention; I would even say my entire being. On his third puff, he turned his head towards me, as if he had felt the weight of my gaze. Embarrassed, I turned my head in the other direction and quickly closed my mouth, with an unpleasant dry sensation in my throat. How long had I kept my mouth open while watching him? I immediately wiped the corners of my lips, fearing I had drooled. Had he really felt my gaze on him? I glanced back at him, he had now turned his head towards me, still smoking his cigarette. From where I stood, I couldn’t make out his facial features or tell if he was actually looking at me or just admiring the scenery to his right. Perhaps he hadn't even noticed my presence. But I only had eyes for him. I admired his milky skin, which left no doubt that he rarely saw the sun. Every gesture he made seemed so controlled. I can't describe how long I watched him, but the alarm on my phone signaled that it was time for me to go and praise God, and thank Him for allowing me to meet this Apollon. With him alone, I had already fulfilled my monthly quota for admiring nature’s masterpieces. On the way back, I wandered through the city streets, and the other men I saw seemed dull compared to Apollo. Unfortunately, after the mass, I didn't see his car anymore. I was quite disappointed. During the entire Eucharist, my thoughts were entirely focused on him; I wasn't paying attention. I even regretted not staying outside to watch him until he left, it would have been the same, as I was only physically present in the church. All my thoughts were turned towards him as if he had absorbed my mind, my soul, and my body with each drag of his cigarette. I continued wandering the streets of Sandton until my stomach growled with hunger. I went to a supermarket to grab a snack, and as the sun began to set, I took a taxi back to reality, from which I had escaped my reality. My week started, and routine set in: the secretarial job in the morning and the Green in the evening. Since it was the end of the month, I was really overwhelmed, especially at the secretarial job, where typing and photocopying had ramped up, probably due to year-end reports from the surrounding businesses. Although exhausting for me, it was very profitable for Anthony, the owner. He had a smile plastered on his face all week. Every time a new client walked up the steps to the secretarial office, he greeted them with a big smile and set deadlines, completely ignoring my sighs of discontent over the ridiculously short amount of time he left me to finish the pile of work accumulating on my desk. I was entitled to no breaks, and even the little time I had to freshen up at home between finishing at the secretarial job and heading to the Green, I no longer had. So, I would arrive at the Green without having refreshed my face. The Green was even worse. People came to blow their meager salaries at this club just for the pleasure of drinking alcohol amidst the noise, watching young women walk around in skimpy outfits. The work was even more demanding; I didn’t have a moment to myself, constantly moving between tables, either with my notepad to take orders or with a tray to serve customers. Unlike Ane, who, thanks to her generous curves, got offered beers that she converted into cash, not to mention the multiple tips slipped into her bra. She knew how to flirt; she was comfortable in her own skin. I think her highly developed and super active sexuality gave her real confidence, allowing her to strut royally between the tables, letting herself be touched and sometimes even accepting one-night propositions from some VIP clients, which multiplied her earnings. I’m almost certain that her salary is just a tiny portion of what the Green brings her monthly. Unlike me, who earns very little, I’m not comfortable in my work outfit, so I don’t let myself get groped. I’m more focused on trying to get touched as little as possible while remaining polite because at the slightest complaint from a customer, the boss’s punishment was severe, potentially even leading to a halving of the monthly salary. Although the customers didn’t like me much, it was hard for them to find grounds for complaint against me, and besides, my appearance didn’t appeal to their tastes, so I don’t think my attitude bothered them all that much.