Mr. Patel bought his first concubine in high school. He was not good looking. He did not attract the multitudes of white girls who passed him in the hallways daily. Mr. Patel was lonely. He fell in love with the first concubine, beautiful porcelain skin and green eyes. Long brown hair. She was the ideal of a white girl.
This girl has no name in this story. For the sake of reference, she will be called First. First is a renowned concubine. She takes her job very seriously. One week, she spends time with one man. Next week, another. It's a process, an art, a study. Mr. Patel begged her to be his concubine. First is very beautiful and graceful. But either way, she has always been and will be a concubine. She accepts, but it's not as if she could say no.
First had no interest in Mr. Patel. She belonged to someone else. She passes time like idiotic butterflies flying with no place to go. Mr. Patel realizes that she is not his. He reluctantly sells her off. But her ghost remains passively around him. The sweet scent of green eyes and porcelain skin. Who could forget?
Mr. Patel buys a brown girl. This is relatively shocking, since he has always bought pretty little white concubines. But the brown girl is extremely beautiful. She is not a concubine, and I will not refer to her as one. She is a beautiful princess, a priestess, a young girl of great potential. Then why does she accept this sordid position? Why does she stain her clothes to fill the gap? She closes her eyes and lets herself seep into him.
Blood and bones mean nothing to Mr. Patel. He aches for soul and spirit. He yearns for flesh and the meat, the chewy texture, the soft bitten heart. He sinks teeth, here and there, a big great moan. And the beautiful girl acquiesces.
Mr. Patel eventually buys the brown girl permanently. It's a shame though. The girl is already dead, been bitten too many times and the seeping blood has already been sacrificed. The tender heart that used to skip a beat for him remains like a museum exhibit. It's lifeless but fascinating.
Mr. Patel tells the beautiful girl to sit here, yes right there. Sit here all day and wait for me to come home. Take your clothes off when I come. That's all you may do. She was number one in her class, she remembers. She wanted to be a teacher or a lawyer. Or a great businesswoman. But why does she sit here? She stares at the couch in front of her, the simple patterns. Her ghost sits in front of her, staring around the place in horror. First's ghost is here too. She is laughing very, very loudly. She is mocking the brown girl. Stupid girl! Don't you know the rules!
Days pass and the routine is embedded in their lives. Mr. Patel works hard during the day making a grand fortune. Tired and demanding a reward, he comes home like a war hero. Takes his undressed wife and pretends she is his spoil of war. Sleeps like a baby, curled up in fear. His wife goes outside and becomes a ghost, forever.
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