Shireen looked into his blue eyes from her expressive ones. They looked like limpid pools of water, reflecting everything that came to her mind. Presently, they expressed satisfaction and subtly enquired about the same from him. She had slept with umpteen number of customers but this one was special. He somehow gave her respect. Didn’t treat her like a whore, like all others. True, that was her livelihood but still, wasn’t she human too? Or did they expect that a wad of notes ensured that the female there would somehow become a robot, cater to all whims and random fantasies, but not expect any pleasure in return, never decline any “order” however disgusting it may be? This man, somehow, made her forget her loneliness. He genuinely felt compassion *and* passion for her. She didn’t like giving a blow job and after noticing her hesitating, he never forced her for it. He had no idea, how much respect he had earned in Shireen’s eyes, just by not forcing her for something she didn’t want to do. If only her entire life had been like that. Her own. Her thought process was interrupted.. “I love you”, he whispered. Shireen could hardly believe her ears. It sounded like a symphony. “Me??”, she asked. “You do?”, the doubt was expressed with an underline. Almost instantly, she was afraid he would change his mind, although she loved him too. But she had spoken too soon. Suddenly she felt him hitting her. She felt sorry for having expressed her disbelief for something she could only have been thankful for. And then he was no longer there. It was amma, jolting her awake. A customer was waiting. Her “services” were required. He wanted the “moghul” routine, which involved dressing up like a “daasi” and feeding the “emperor” some grapes, coquettishly teasing him with the fruit, seducing him all the while. And the guy who had just claimed love for her? It had all been a dream. As always, she had been using the power of dreams to get what she desired.