2. Luxury Homes

March 2013

I stood under a Trembesi tree in a Chinese cemetery. For decades this place has been a gathering place for women who used to sell themselves. A month ago, I had a special customer. A wealthy businessman. Usually the male driver would pick me up and drop me off to see his boss at his house or a star hotel.

Sari who had been sitting on one of the headstones walked up to me. Apparently, he hadn't got a single call. Since then, I haven't heard the song Manusia Bodoh that became the ringtone of his phone.

"Quiet, yes. Even though I have diligently uploaded sexy photos in FP, lo."

"Maybe people are poor again."

"For days only get pulses from boys on social media."

"How?"

"Chat sex and phone sex."

" Disgraceful. Haha."

Sari grinning.

Our conversation had to end because the black luxury sedan stopped right in front of me. My customer's driver has arrived. Before leaving, I gave a piece of money with a picture of Soekarno-Hatta to Sari. As a form of solidarity as a fellow night worker. He is quiet booking, at least the money can connect his life tomorrow. After all, it was Sari who had introduced me to this very fast money-making job.

"Come on, Miss. You've been waiting for you ever since. I was a bit long because I had to stand in line at the pom first," said the driver, who was wearing a white shirt and black pants. Every day he looks like that. Maybe it's Mr. Hendrik's work rules that require him to wear the same colored clothes from day to day.

"Yes, Sir," I replied as I entered the car.

I wasn't a member of Mr. Hendrik's family or an important guest in the mansion so the driver didn't open the car door. Such treatment is only for the great people, not the brothers who eat money from the house like me.

The car was going quite fast, but it didn't feel the shock. That must be because of the driver who is already an expert and a good vehicle engine. I've seen on the internet the price of cars like this ranges from eight hundred million to two billion more. Want to sew until the swelling of the legs of this vehicle will never be bought by me.

"May I ask you, Miss Cantil?" the driver opened the conversation.

"Yes. Why? Don't call that, Sir. Cantil aja. So it's not familiar to be called that." It's been a few days since I wanted to say that, but forgot.

"Ok. You've been working like this for a long time, Til?"

"Not yet. Since the divorce from my husband a few months ago."

"Oh. Have you ever been married, have you?"

"Yes."

"How can you know Mr. Hendrik?"

"I'm a bitch, he's a guy who likes to buy. Of course we met."

Through the rearview mirror I saw the nosed driver nodding. From his face, this man's age didn't seem like much. Probably about twenty-seven years.

"I'm sorry I want it again. You see, I'm an easy person to want to know." The driver named Marzuki chuckled.

"Ask me, I'm not your boss. Even if your question hurts my heart, you won't be fired either."

"You can. He he he. Why did you decide on this job? I'm sorry my question is so presumptuous."

"For the cost of divorce I sell sewing machines and obras machines. Those are the tools I used to find money. I thought that was the important thing I could get out of the snare of that savage man. But after that I found my own money, while there was an old mother and my ten-year-old son. I can't keep quiet and let the debt in the stalls grow.

"At that time I met Sari, a school friend who is now more prosperous. My intention is to owe money to pay the debt in the stall. Uh, he even nawarin me work like him. Instead of hunger, I went along. Even now."

"If your ex-husband knew what? Isn't that ashamed of you?"

"My ex-husband went back to Ngawi. Uh, no, no, I heard he's back to my village and home there. But, I don't know either. I'm not a teacher. No one in my village knows. The journey by motorcycle taxi from the village to the mangkal place is about two hours. It's far away, isn't it?"

Marzuki nodded again.

"Mas, that's that Mr. Hendrik doesn't have a wife, does he? How come every time I go there I don't see it?"

"Have. His wife is gray-eyed. It was about a hundred and seventy centimetres high. His skin is white. Bleed Indonesia-Netherlands."

"She is Beautiful? How come I've never seen?"

"It's beautiful. He doesn't want to see you."

Marzuki's reply made me reflect. Is there a woman silent to see her husband bringing women to the night? So curious I asked marzuki Marzuki's reply made me reflect. Is there a woman silent to see her husband bringing women to the night? So curious I asked marzuki.

"I don't know about that, Til. Rich people have a different way of thinking like us. It's like we're crawling on the ground, they've been able to split the sky," he replied. The man seemed reluctant to discuss his employer's issues.

"If his wife is beautiful, why is she still outside?" I'm just getting curious.

"Again, I don't know, Til. For me the important thing is work, nurut at the boss's orders, continue to be paid. It doesn't matter what their family matters are. My advice is that you too. Don't get any further involved in their home affairs."

It was also true what Marzuki said. Rich people have a way of thinking that is difficult for little people like me to understand. If I could understand the mindset of those people, I would be as rich as they were.

Without realizing it we had reached the courtyard of the three-story stately house. All this time I had only gone to one room, namely Mr. Hendrik's room behind a large staircase. The second and third floors I haven't touched at all. Maybe his wife was there. From now on I have to be more vigilant.

I passed foot on the dark floored veranda, while Marzuki took the car we had been riding in to the underground parking lot. I don't know yet what the underground parking lot is like, the other day I heard a story about that place from Marzuki.

It wasn't until I pressed the bell that the door opened. A waitress in white and in black asked me to come in. Even though it's been a month back and forth to this house, I don't know the name of the maid yet. Ah, that's what I'll ask you later. Now the important thing is that I have to go to the room near the living room.

The rules are before I meet Mr. Hendrik in his room, I have to change clothes first in that room. His clothes have also been prepared in a glass cabinet that is two years long. This time I chose a low-breasted black knit dress. Kusemprot perfume that has also been prepared, then walked gracefully to Mr. Hendrik's room. The house was completely deserted. Who would have thought he had a wife who also lived there.

Arriving at the door of the tall man's room I knocked on the door. Without waiting for an answer I came in. Mr. Hendrik wouldn't mind that. One month with him I began to get to know the character of the man.

"Have you arrived?" he greeted him as he got up from bed. Today the mature-skinned man wears dark blue pajamas.

He walked over, I put a smile on my face. It's getting closer, my heart is pounding. The fragrance burst into my sense of smell even though our bodies were still a few steps away. If he wasn't a handsome man, this job would feel disgusting to me.

***