Tired and heavily disappointed with the rotten turn out of my search, I walked to the bus stop in the scorching heat. I could feel the sweat trickling down my armpits.

I didn't wait long before a bus pulled up. I got in and walked to the back seat, by-passing other vacant seats. I found myself seated next to an attractive young lady. She looked not more than twenty-five, and wore a provokingly short skirt that revealed a pair of almost perfect legs.

I gazed at her, pretending to be looking out through the window. If she noticed I was looking at her then she was a good actress for she didn't any indifference to my ogling. She sat staring in space as though to recapture a phasing memory of some distant place or other. I then cleared my throat and played the usual tricky-dick stuff. 'Excuse me Ms, do you have a name?' She turned to look at me, appraising me for a long minute. I tried on my charmer’s smile, hoping to win her approval.

'Sharon,' she said, none committal.

'Nigel--Nigel Jones,' I said, extending my hand, hoping she doesn't bite it. She took it with a firm grip. I smiled at this and kept nodding my head like a pendulum that had defiled its law of motion.

Shortly, the bus slowed down and stopped at the Jakarta bus stop. She stood up, handbag in hand, and was about to disembark when I panicked. 'Ah, do you give out your mobile number to strangers?' Without a word, she got a pen from her bag and scribbled in my palm. Then I watched her lustfully as she strolled down the aisle, and out of the bus. I looked at the number and smiled.

I had been on my way back from one of my many fruitless job-searching rounds; this moment marked a turning point from a miserable life of endless job searching, and false hopes, to a simple and contented one, where what I could become did not matter, all that mattered was to live life as it came, to the fullest.

My meeting with Sharon reminded me, I was growing old. I was 26, and had no woman in my life to call a companion. All my energies and efforts of youth had been devoted to studying for my high school exams, Business Economics and Commerce diploma, and chasing the most desired--a good job, that had since annoyingly proved difficult to find.

Ben, a cousin with whom I lived, was a lieutenant in the army. I waited anxiously for him to return from work that afternoon. I wanted to use his mobile phone. Unable to afford my own, he allowed me to use his now and again especially if it had to do with my job search. But on this particular occasion I wanted to talk to a woman, to make a date.

I paced restlessly in the living room. I switched the television on, but failed to concentrate. I turned it off and switched on the music system. This also didn't sort out the emotions I felt. I left the living room and went to my room and buried my head under a pillow. I lay thinking about Sharon. It was amazing how many things I thought about when we had only spoken once.

I woke up at 7pm. I could hear some noise in the living room. Ben had returned, so I went to see him about using his mobile.

He was watching television with Sally. He was lying on the couch, his feet resting on her laps. He had had numerous girl friends come and go, but had retained Sally like a relic.

''Where have you been, young man?'' He usually addressed me as ''youngman'', to my utmost irritation.

''Sleeping. May I use your phone?''

''This is rather an awkward hour to call someone for a job query,'' He said, handing me the piece.

‘‘It’s not about that,'' I grabbed the phone.

''We haven't quarreled, have we?'' I heard Sally say as I reached the door on my way out of the living room.

''Oh sorry I'm just preoccupied, how do you do?'' In a hurry to talk to Sharon, I had forgotten to greet her.

''Fine you seem happy,'' She was right about that. I was exited like a fifteen year old who had just lost his virginity.

Alone in my room, I dialed Sharon's number. The line connected on the third ring. ''Hi, ah--I'm the guy you gave your number on the bus--Nigel.''

‘‘Hi, of course.''

''I called to ask if I could take you out this weekend--Saturday perhaps.''

''Okay with me, what time?''

''3pm.''

''Deal then, 141 Brentwood drive is my place.'' And she hung up.

I collapsed onto the bed and sighed in relief. A while later I took the handset back to Ben. I found him making to retire for bed, with Sally tugging at his shorts as he turned off the television set.

I later learnt that Sally was an insatiably sexy woman.

That night, my sleep was as erratic as rainfall in the Sahara. I stayed awake most of the night thinking about Sharon. Did she like me? I tried to recreate her image in my mind. One forty one Brentwood drive, her voice still echoed in my ears.

The night seemed longer than eternity. When dawn finally broke, I got out of the house and stood on the stairs. I enjoyed the feel of the morning breeze lightly beating my face as I took in a lungful of that therapeutic morning air. I felt a rush of energy run through my body.

I went back in the house, got my towel and went into the bathroom. I undressed and then caught a glimpse of my naked body in the full-length mirror. I made faces in the mirror, wondering what it meant to be handsome. It had never occurred to me as necessary.

My thoughts inexplicably traveled to Ben and Sally who were still in bed together. I found I was getting an erection. I fondled my dick, wondering if it was the right size. I had read in a women’s magazine that refuted claims that penis size did not matter. A normal cork, they wrote, must be at least 13.5 cm when erect. I resolved to measure mine, but never got round to doing it. I heard a door open somewhere in the house. I took a quick bath, lest someone wanted to use the bathroom. When I came out it was so quiet, save for the sound of my own footfalls. I was pondering who had woken up for I had certainly heard the door squeak open.

With a suddenness that almost made me jump, Sally emerged from the toilet, she wore a petticoat, and it was so transparent it sent my blood racing wild. At twenty-eight her breasts where still jutted like those of an eighteen year old. I had been under the impression that she propped them up in a silicon bra, but I had been wrong; they were pure, firm flesh. Her long hair hung loose, making her look like a notoriously seductive Chinese woman.

I was disconcerted, but I didn't show it.

''Morning Sally,'' I said, heads turning as we walked past each other.

''Morning,'' she said, smiling.

''Sally!'' I called turning and walking to her. She stopped in her tracks. ''You have beautiful boobs.'' I took a risk and fingered the left one, pressing the nipple between thumb and forefinger. We stared into each other's eyes, as if possessed. Then she ran her forefinger down my chest to my navel.

''Better go to your room, Nigel,'' she said in a lion tamer's tone, and walked away, disappearing into Ben’s room. I stared after her, and my cock went limp again, scared sick of the consequences.

Once in my room, all reasoning returned. What the hell had entered me? Sally was Ben's woman. What if she told Ben what had just happened in the corridor? I knew the answer to that. Ben would kick me out of his house.

She could not tell him for she enjoyed it too, I told myself without actually believing it.

A while later I heard the gate creak open. It was Mrs. Jackson, the char. She usually came by 8a.m in the morning, and left at noon, during which time she would have cleaned the house, did the laundry, and cooked. A hard-working woman she was. Mrs. Jackson had four children. For some unknown reason, her husband had fled, leaving the family alone. She made ends meet by complementing her job as a char with knitting jerseys and shawls, a practice she loved wholeheartedly.

We got along so well with Mrs. Jackson. I confided in her. She knew I was desperate for a job, and when I complained about not getting one, no matter how hard I tried she would console me. Keep praying, she would say.

But I never prayed at all.

I made out of the house to meet her, contemplating to tell her what had happened that morning. I changed my mind and decided not. She was too religious to understand such matters.

''How are you today Mrs. Jackson?''

“Good. How are you?” she replied, in her usual high spirits. “It’s not like you to wake up this early, what’s the occasion?” she asked.

“Nothing in particular’, I said avoiding mentioning the reason for my lack of sleep.

“Nigel!” Ben bellowed from the house.

I was now certain Sally had told him about the mishap. He stood by the CD rack, awaiting my entry.

“Where is my Trace Chapman CD?”

I signed in relief. “Remember that whore you brought in that night?” He put a finger on his lips to hush me when he heard Sally coming. “She took it – said you underpaid her for her services.” I added.

“Bloody whore!” he cursed.

To suit my new life style, I decided to renew friendships with Gary, a high school buddy that had achieved nothing in life but a stomach that could hold up enough liquor to fill up two gallons. Gary had a good head to contain the effects of the hardest reefer. He also prided a libido strong enough to satisfy a whole nunnery. Gary and I were two different people. I was the guy the old school would have considered ‘serious with life’, where as Gary was a worthless youth that would grow into a useless old drunk. But with the state of the economy at that time, I discovered the likes of Gary were just as useless as me when it came to employment. Qualified or not, we all ended up the same – unemployed. And I discovered people like Gary actually lived a much happier life. I went to see him that Friday afternoon.

I found him drinking Baccarat, a South African distilled rum.

‘Hey, how have you been, man!’ he seemed happy to see me.

‘Not bad – not bad at all’, I said, sitting in an armchair.

‘Join me’, he offered me a drink.

‘Thanks. A drink will do just fine’. I had never drunk liquor and had no idea how to handle it. But my new life style, I figured, required me to drink. I took a sip.

‘Ah, I see you’ve started drinking now, Mr. Jones! Gary exploded in surprise. His offer was intended to taunt me as he usually did. I took a long swig, to hit back.

‘So how is Sean?’ I asked.

‘He’s cool. Doing them girls like cigarettes, as usual.

Should be coming back from work soon,’ he said, glancing at his watch. Sean was Gary’s elder brother; he had attended university and studied Computer studies, and had got himself a job at some engineering company. It was said that job opportunities were highly available in the field of computers, but not all of us were cut for the field.

‘Got yourself a steady girlfriend yet?’ I teased.

‘You know I am not a steady-girlfriend kind of guy. I’m all for one-night stands and hookers. Them bitches are easier to handle, no nagging. You pay a buck, enjoy yourself and you are on your merry way home – no strings attached. Just like that.”

We chatted on. Gary talked about the last hooker he had met one night when he and Sean had gone night-crawling.

He could only recall her first name, Lean.

‘I had a blast of a night with that chick’, he bragged.

‘How was it?’ I asked, curiously.

‘Man, whores are better lovers than Madonnas, I wouldn’t be surprised if a pastor tied the knot with one. That chick sent me down! Imagine my whore length jamming into her mouth, oh man! What a sensation. I had never felt anything like it before.’ He drank from his glass and reclined in the couch. “How about you Mr. Career Man, got yourself a babe, or must I take it you are still in the waiting hall?’ he said patronizingly.

Ignored him and swore to showcase Sharon to him. Hoping my plans worked out fine.

The alcohol had begun to take effect. I felt slightly light, and wasn’t sure if my legs would support me if I stood.

When I looked through the window, it was getting dark, a good excuse to flee from more liquor.

I said my goodbyes and hit the road, staggering now and again.

Over dinner that night I asked Ben for some pocket money. As usual he didn’t part away with his money without whining about the bills he had to settle. I retired for bed, looking forward to my date with Sharon. Thanks to the liquor I had taken at Gary’s, I slept soundly.