What do you think about my prose. Please only constructive criticism.

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What do you think about my prose. Please only constructive criticism. Anonymous Fri May 27 10:03:20 2022 No.20430145 [Reply] [Original]

I met her on a sunny afternoon. It was humid outside, hence my most important desire was to quelch my thirst, which I was planning on doing so. The streets were empty – or at least seemed so-. I felt like the only one outside, walking alone, beneath the scorching sun.

After a few minutes- wandering through the maze of the inner-city roads, I finally found my destination. I rang the doorbell, but before she buzzed me in, an old lady opened the door, letting me in. I reached the second floor, filled with adrenaline and teenage angst, I hesitated before her apartment door, but before I mustered the courage to knock on the door, the girl opened it, unveiling her face with its awkward smile. I greeted her, and hesitantly entered the place she was staying. A nice apartment, with closed curtains, brimming with a girly aroma, I would never take out of my mind. My eyes glaze over the girl, barely over eighteen, with an innocent face and a youthful body. She was wearing plain clothes, a black blouse, grey shorts, while her sandals unveiled her perfectly pedicured feet.

She led me to the bedroom. The room was well-kept, with a hand towel folded on a bed’s corner.
“Do you want me to pay you first?” I asked gracelessly.
She nodded affirmatively. I opened my usually empty wallet and gave her a few hundred euros. She placed the money on the bedside table. I looked at her, at for some seconds I found myself pondering how life would have been, if our circumstances were different.

She pointed at the towel and told me whether I would like to take a shower. Her English wasn’t great, but I found it quite charming. My gaze was glued on her hazel eyes, while my heart was losing a bit every time our eyes crossed.

Without responding I took the towel and moved to take a shower. The bathroom was clean, with the washing machine working next to the toilet. While I was showering, getting rid of the summer sweat, I wondered how many men had showered on the same place, mere minutes before the act.

I dried myself slowly, removing the water from my clean shaved chest. I opened the bathroom door, wearing only my underwear and my sneakers. I reached the bedroom, where the girl was waiting for me. She had already removed her blouse, wearing now only her bra and her underpants, and I was standing there silently, just gazing at her young body.
“What’s your name?” I asked, while the blood started flooding at my genitalia.
“Joana” she replied nonchalantly, with her cute accent, while removing her bra.
Joana, my sweet Joana, so many years have passed, but you are still, my sweet Joana.

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/lit/ - Literature