Alisa Roft - He is real

Well, actually, he is a good doctor, in terms of attitude to his professional activities. He has helped lots of mentally ill people for many years of his practice. Although I actually was not a mental patient.

The doctor prescribed antidepressants and tranquilizers (the latter, according to him, were supposed to block hearing voices), at first I was not even going to take them. But Alex thoughtfully insisted on treatment. And my “invisible friend” strangely supported him.

I could not realize the moment when the world lost its colors, and the days got filled with the routine of life slowly dragging on one by one. My “invisible friend” was not present in them and sometimes it seemed that he had never existed at all.

Dani and I went up to the twenty-seventh and last floor of a recently built hotel in Herzliya. The door to the room was opened by a man of about forty, of medium height and build. Immediately my attention was attracted by his dilated pupils, his eyes quickly flapping with eyelashes, and the way he was gurning gnashing his teeth when they got onto each other. All of these suggested a large amount of cocaine taken by him. Under the influence of the drug, clients often lose track of time and money, and this was good for me tonight, as at many previous nights.

The driver came in with me, received the hourly payment from the client in cash and several hundred shekels extra for him personally and left, leaving us alone with the customer. The hotel room was spacious, with a great design, two separate bedrooms, a balcony and a large kitchen area. Through the huge, polished hall windows, the view of the city was fascinating with thousands of lights.

The client sat on the sofa, opened the drawer of the table and took out a fat wad of money. He laid it on the tabletop, as if it were in the order of things, and glanced at me, trying to concentrate his gaze, intoxicated with drugs, for a second.

Having learned to hide real emotions long ago, “Anna the charming” went to the bathroom with a calm look in order to change clothes, well, or to be more precise, to get undressed.

“Have you figured out how to lure all the money out of him?” A familiar voice spoke in the spacious bathroom – low and gruff voice, but despite this, it was so warm and soft, which sometimes whispered all sorts of nonsense to me before going to bed. It was he – my “invisible friend.”

And how did he come back? Well, everything’s easy, I wanted him to come back, I was missing him madly, he was an integral part of my life, therefore, even in a semi-conscious state, I couldn‘t imagine life without him. Being under the influence of psychotropic drugs, I understood really little, but the only thing that brought me back to life was echoes of joyful moments associated with my “invisible friend.” Memories made their way through the brain, clouded by medication, getting brighter until I was completely seized by them.

After quitting the pills, the familiar world began to acquire its former meaning. Day after day, it was manifesting itself with new power, in the long-forgotten voices of birds, the noise of sea waves, the wind blowing that made my hair sway and tickle my shoulders, in the beauty of the shining stars, in the freshness of the morning air, as if penetrating into every cell of my body. Feelings and emotions were returning. The delight of freshly baked buns, the pleasant weight of a stuffed stomach after eating a large piece of the most delicious chocolate cake. I got to love chocolate cake again, hot, with the bitter taste and aroma of coffee beans. It all fit together with small grooves back into a three-dimensional picture of the understanding of a real person living a full life. Everything fell right into place. And then I wanted to run away, no matter where, just to get away from the feeling of being lost, and with full confidence that I would not stay in a hopeless situation with my “invisible friend”, I did it immediately.

Of course, I nursed a grievance against him. After all, it was he who pushed me to taking pills, thereby breaking our connection. He made me live the wrong life, not the life I wanted. He refused from our friendship. And did not even explain the real motives of his act.

– Could you float a couple of ideas? Do you know how to get the whole wad, to the last shekel? – I put the bag on the sink and took off my dress.

“You know it yourself.”

– I will not have sex with him. This is one of the principles, there is a line which I won’t ever cross, the first time will be followed by the second, after the second the third – and that’s it, you can label me as a prostitute. – Hanging a dress on the door of the shower cabin, I pulled the open toe heels on a high transparent platform out of the bag and changed my shoes.

“Actually, I did not even hint at this. Do what you are good at. In any case, I will notice something, he is a strange and closed type, and moreover he smells excellent powder that thoroughly turns the brain off, there might remain only disco lights in his head. Distract him so that he would not touch cocaine for at least half an hour.”

– I have no strength for all these games today. I can’t get into the characters. I can’t pretend being a “naive idiot” who fell in love with him at first sight, and admires his invented virtues. The main thing will always be what is between his legs. Or to pretend to be a poor orphan with a one-year-old baby. Well, or what else do we have in stock?

“Listen, you don’t have to do it anymore. What is the problem to quit everything? We were going to move to Thailand or the Maldives, to buy a house by the sea, to live an unhurried pace and not to steam my beam. I would teach you how to play poker. We would certainly not be low in pocket. What are you waiting for?”

– I don’t fully understand it myself. – I said with sadness, looking at the mirror reflection of my slim naked body. I worked thoroughly at its curves. Jogging along the coast, if not after waking up, then before going to bed, when it was the weekend, had already become a habit. I straightened my hair, spreading out long blond wavy strands, my eyes were tired, but still radiated cold arrogance. And in general, by the age of twenty-four, my face got a clearer shape. As if a sculptor has sharpened its lines, creating proportional angles, sharpening my cheekbones and chin. My expressive eyes, emphasized by a dark pencil, in the eyeliner under the lower eyelids looked so bright green and shiny that customers kept asking if they were not the lenses.

– And what should I do with all this? – I slightly smiled at my reflection, a corner of my lip rose, a dimple appeared on my cheek, and, not waiting for the answer, I added affirmatively: – We’ll continue making money.

Wearing expensive black lace lingerie, kept for special occasions, I went out to the client in the hall, he was waiting for me, sitting on a white leather sofa and had already managed to take off his T-shirt, exposing his chest, which was overgrown with dark curls. The desired wad of money (just a trophy, no strings attached) was still on the table. “Anna the charming” came up to the “cash holder” and, smiling seductively, began to move in the dance, trying to bewitch him with her touches. She was dancing, gradually making her dance more and more immodest.

The client, in turn, was periodically pulling out a bill for a bill from the wad, and stuffed them under the openwork fabric of my panties, sometimes throwing notes into the air. They were falling on me, gently sliding over my body and barely audible fell to the floor. At the moment, when customers give good tips, you begin to experience temporary joy and love your work, forgetting about fatigue. At the same time, it seems that the hour allotted for us expires very quickly, although everything goes at a single flat pace, and on a habit that has been worked out to automatism.