Home of the potted Palm tree

The main thing to remember about the oldest profession on Earth was that it has nothing to do with sex. Absolutely nothing. Martin, a Chinese Australian had been involved with gangs for years. Criminal syndicates that transported drugs around the country. It was a difficult job. He visited the ‘Home of the potted palm tree’ to see Lila the closest he had ever had to a girlfriend who worked there six days a week. She had been paying off a small unit in Potts Point and had almost paid it off. Martin had long hair and a goatee. He always wore an oversized casual suit jacket with slightly flared suit pants. Daryl was on his way in as well and spotted Martin. Daryl was afraid of Martin. He had heard he was a part time hit man. Martin knew Daryl was afraid of him and normally glared at Daryl when he saw him. Especially when entering the home of the potted palm which really was the only time they saw each other. Daryl knew not to go near Lila at all costs. Even though you paid for sex you were really paying for love. It was like a bizarre marriage. A triangular marriage full of rivalry and jealousy. All of the ‘guests’ had made their connections and had their favourites. A girl who went by the name Midnight, real name Nicola had met three guests today. She was easily bored but found a lot of time to read. She had been studying classical literature at Sydney university and found her way to the potted palm through a friend who had mentioned a way to pay for her course and tutoring. She had a soft spot for the drug ice but thought she had it under control. In a way she did. Though at times she found herself reading William Burrough’s for days on end and then scratching words into old doorways on William street like ‘primary couture’ and ‘auto default’ thinking she had just changed the world forever. She didn’t really have any favourite guests. Though Daryl was on his way in. All of the girls were led out and Daryl looked across the room looking quite serious. He chose Midnight and they shuffled off to her room. There was thumping in the other rooms. The hallway was dark. Midnight came to her room and led Daryl in. She was bored to tears but started her routine. Her blouse dropped to the floor as though a gust of wind had taken it. Daryl in the most unromantic way possible ripped his clothing off. There they she thought, two naked animals in a room. In a room of the ‘Home of the potted Palm tree’. Daryl was known as a brothel crawler. He worked as a welder. Midnight went through the motions. She thought about a few new books she had bought recently. Reality was quite boring. Though fantasy. Fantasy was something else altogether.

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