I entered Paris center at exactly 10 minutes past 10pm. There was no need to go anywhere else except the Marcadet area where the young girls normally stood. As i expected, they were all over the place. New recruits had apparently arrived from the poor black continent.
I stood a considerable distance and watched as they moved up and down with their tight leggings and skimpy short skirts, looking for customers to take them home.
After feasting my eyes enough, i made my first move.
Her name was Christiana but preferred to be called Christy. As expected, she was from the same state where most of them came from.
By mere looking at her, one could easily find out she was new in the game.
“How are you beautiful girl?” I asked with a smile. I doubted she saw my smile since i had asked her to come under a small decorative tree planted alongside the road to protect the tarmac from the sun.
“I am fine. You sound like a Nigerian” she said.
“Yes, I am a Nigerian” I said.
She hissed and was about to go when i held her hand.
“What is wrong with being Nigerian?” I asked.
“My Madam warned me never to go with a Nigerian” She said.
“Did she tell you the reason?”
“She said that one Nigerian Man came to Paris in the past and took some girls away and that those girls never returned. Maybe he used them for rituals” she said.
“Christy listen, that’s not true. There is nothing like Rituals in Europe. By the way, i live in Paris here but i just need a beautiful girl to spend the night with me in a nice hotel here. I will pay well” I said.
“Hmm, i can’t follow you alone, she warned me never to follow a Nigerian. I don’t want to offend my Madam abeg” She said.
“Alright, call someone else, let three of us go then, i will still pay two of you” I said.
“Are you going to sleep with two of us?” She asked.
“I am not even interested in Sleeping with anybody but if i feel like doing that, then we can do it. Its not a new thing” I said.
“Let me call my friend, she came with me from Spain last week” Christy said and left.
Apparently, the Madams of Paris had alerted their new recruits to avoid Nigerians by all means. The big hawk who stole their girls was from Nigeria and they decided to find another solution to the problem.
So, those bitches told their girls that i was a ritualist?
Convincing the new girls was going to be very interesting then.
While standing there waiting for Christy to return, i scanned every angle like a radar. I wasn’t sure who Christy was going to call and what she was going to tell them. She was apparently scared and there was no amount of words from me that would convince her to follow me alone.
I saw them coming up towards me. Christy was leading the charge. Some other five, six or even seven girls were following her at a quick pace.
Did i tell this little rat that i was the king of Swaziland?
I didn’t wait to find out what they were coming to do as i took off through the narrow street on the left side of The place where i was standing.
A quick look at my back revealed all of them running towards me too.
Good a thing i was with a pair of sports shoes which allowed me to sprint like Blessing Okagbare.
“Stop there, stop” I heard behind my back but i wasn’t interested in doing what they said.
We ran down the street for about 100 meters before i diverted left again.
I tried hard to maintain the distance between us but they didn’t relent. They kept coming at me until we all busted out on another major road.
Taxi drivers were standing there but i was sure that by the time i opened a car door, enter it, close it, sit down and tell the driver to move, the bitches would have swooped all over the cab driver. As a result, i continued running down the road until a Police Siren car drove fast past us and stopped in front of me.
I was already tired of running; therefore i stopped and raised my two hands up.
At the same time, the girls stopped and scattered in all directions.
“Bonsour” The female French police said.
I nodded and started breathing hard like someone who just finished 200 meters in Olympic race.
I didn’t know much French to communicate with her and i knew it would be disastrous to answer her in English since i was with French resident permit.
After breathing hard to my satisfaction, i initiated the conversation between me and the Police.
Another Police car had stopped at the back of the first one and the occupants had also converged around me as if i was Osama Bin Laden.
“Do you speak English?” I asked the tall slim one standing beside me.
“Yes, i speak English. Can we have your Passport please” I said.
I ignored him and continued with my question.
“I told them that prostitution is not good and that they should go and find a better job, because of that, they started chasing after me” I said.
Every Police officer there started laughing while the tall one continued demanding for my passport.
“Here” I said as i handed him my passport and resident permit.
After checking it out, he gave them back to me and said i should not do that again.
“That is the job of the Police and the interior ministry, not your job. Stop going there again” He said.
The cops who came with the second car were already returning to their vehicle while the tall one was still giving me advice on where to go and what not to say.
Their hope of getting promoted for arresting the bad guy had been a waste and above all, the bad guy had genuine resident permit; not even from another country but from their own France.
As soon as they left, i continued walking on the direction i was running towards. Those bitches could have been hiding somewhere waiting to pounce on me.
There was no need going to Marcadet again. There was another area in La Defense where the Nigerian prostitutes also worked. That was where i was going.
“Take me to La Defense” I said to the black taxi driver who had stopped to pick me up.
I was determined to leave Paris with at least one teenager.