The Punishment, Chapters 9 - 18 free porn video

THE PUNISHMENT A man is unjustly accused of rape. His trial ends in a hung jury. To correct this "miscarriage of justice," a coven of witches punishes him by turning him into a girl and raping him multiple times, and then enacts spells forcing him to become a prostitute, while still remaining a man inside. But s/he manages to build a life with dignity and purpose, and eventually with love and happiness. Warning ... Contains limited descriptions of violence and rape. Table of Contents Prologue 1. North Western Texas State College 2. The Date 3. The Charge 4. The Trial 5. The Coven's Punishment 6. To Las Vegas 7. First Trick 8. The Day After 9. Life as an Escort 10. Life as an Escort - First Pregnancy 11. Life as an Escort - The Dance Troup and Sam 12. Life as an Escort - Special Assignments 13. Life as an Escort - The Rescue 14. Life as an escort -- Meeting Danno 15. Life as an Escort - Celia's Detox 16. Life as an Escort - Strange Date 17. Life as an Escort - Meeting Rosemary 18. Life as an Escort - New Apartment 19. Life as an Escort - Date with Hugh Hampton 20. Second Pregnancy, Escaping Las Vegas 21. Reno, Finding Work in the Medical Field 22. Brad, New Friends, and a New Apartment 23. Coping with Spells, Friends Again, and Danno 24. Travel to Thailand, Lily Prepares 25. Spending time with Sam and Family, Meeting Clarisse 26. Big Email from Mitty, Talk with Evelyn 27. Final weeks in Thailand 28. Move to Sam's Place 29. Dealing with the Coven 30. Meeting my Family as Helen 31. Back to Sam's House with Aunt Helen and Mitty 32. Marrying Sam 33. My New Life Epilog This is the second of five sections in The Punishment. The first section of this book described how Elvis became Blossom, a prostitute in Las Vegas. Elvis was a returning veteran of Iraq and Afghanistan. He attended college and went out on a date with an attractive girl. He woke up the next day with limited memories of what happened and was arrested for rape. Unable to come up with bail, he spent three months in jail, before being tried, but not convicted. He was released, only to have a coven of witches abduct and punish him. First, they turn him into a woman and rape her multiple times after enhancing themselves. Then, the witches cast a series of spells that force him/her to become a prostitute and service abusive men. Then a witch seeks to help him by connecting him with an escort agency in Las Vegas, where he is given a trade name of 'Blossom.' The first section finishes up by describing how Blossom gets started as an escort. 9. Life as an Escort The next day was Monday. According to Celia, checks would be available for the previous week's dates at 10. Recognizing it as an opportunity for the girls contracting with AAA to network, Joyce would put out coffee and rolls at 9. She would also put out educational material that we might be interested in, such as notices of assaults on prostitutes, rapes, new venereal disease cases, free clinics, requests for information by the police. She even put out information on things we might be interested in which were not concerned directly with our lifestyle, such as civic events, parks, markets, tours, educational opportunities, informal courses, etc. A lot of the girls showed up Monday morning to talk to their compatriots and see what's going on and compare notes and experiences from the week before. I got up the next morning, took a shower, fixed my hair, and put on some makeup. Then I put on the new underwear and new outfit and new shoes I'd bought yesterday. Celia and I got to the AAA office a little before 9. A half dozen young attractive women were already present. Most of them greeted Celia, and she returned the greetings. She introduced them to me. About half had heard about the auction and recognized me from the video on the website. They asked me what was happening, and I told them I had had the date with the winners on Saturday night. Several asked me for details of the date, which I didn't want to share with just anybody. I took Celia aside and asked what I should tell people. Shelia told me, "You've told them it happened. Beyond that, you don't have to tell them shit if you don't want to. You don't owe them anything." Then Celia spent a few moments telling me which of them I could and couldn't trust, and why. But it sounded like she based most of her assessments on rumors, so I hesitated to take them too seriously. During the following half-hour, several of the other escorts came over and asked how I was getting along with Celia and started to tell me stories. Elvis had always made it a practice not to be involved in backbiting, and I didn't see any reason to change that. So, I would tell them Celia and I were doing fine. I also would say that I didn't want to hear about what anyone thought about anyone else in the group. I would make my judgments. I guess it came off as unfriendly, but I didn't want to be part of any cliques. I would gladly listen to someone tell me about themselves or the meaning of life. I just didn't want to hear people slamming other people. Mr. Mason came in about 9:10. As the morning went along, he greeted most of the girls. I was surprised that he took the liberty to feel a couple of the girls up. But no one said a thing about it. I tried to stay as far away from him as I could. About 9:30, Joyce called me over and, with everybody else listening, told me that the two Japanese men who won the auction had released the money and had given AAA Escort Services all kinds of compliments on sweet and smart I was. Some of the other girls clapped, and I turned red. Then Joyce asked straight out what had happened. By this time, over a dozen people were listening, including Mr. Mason. I told her, "There are a lot of personally embarrassing things that happened, Mrs. Mason. I don't want to talk about it in public." But Joyce was having none of it. She said, "Blossom, we share this sort of information all the time. It helps all the escorts in what we do, and it makes us all safer. So please tell us what you did." So, with a red face, looking resolutely down at my hands, I described the tea service, how I danced for them as a geisha would do, and the nature of the dance, including the very suggestive outfit. I was interrupted frequently with comments of approval and suggestions of what else I might have done. Then I told them about the sexual encounters, at first in very general terms. But Joyce insisted I talk about techniques. I told them about how I had to move to enable him to deflower me, without making it obvious to the older gentlemen that he couldn't do it by himself. Joyce asked, "Was this because you thought he would have a sense of inadequacy if he couldn't enter you by himself?" I said, "Yes. He is Japanese, and Japanese men are all about control and dominance." The Joyce said, "So you did it because you knew the culture of the men." I replied, "Yes." She said, "There are some men who want you to take control. Have you thought about how you would know that?" I said, "No." Then I got suggestions from Joyce and several other of the girls. I mentioned the video Isamu had taken, and Joyce interrupted and said, "Yes, they said that was for personal use only. So, it shouldn't come back to haunt you. If it had been for public use, we would have charged a fee, of which you would have gotten 10%. I asked Joyce if she believed they would keep their word. She said she thought they would. Their business was legitimate, and any connection to porn would cost them money. Frankly, I wasn't convinced, but I couldn't do anything about it. My presentation had taken almost 20 minutes. Then another escort, who had a black eye, shared a 'special' encounter, that is a sexual encounter with a john where he paid $250 extra for the privilege of using abusive language or of applying physical force of a minor nature that did not leave marks. The encounter had not gone as planned in her case. She described what she had done up to the time of the act of violence that caused her black eye. Then Joyce suggested ways she might have avoided the violence, and other escorts suggested some other ways the escort could have avoided violence. However, in the end, Joyce said this guy was out of control, and they would not accept any more work from him. That was a relief. Finally, Joyce distributed the checks. She said the maximum check was around $4500. She didn't mention who that was for. I was a little confused because I remembered I would be getting $8400. But I didn't want to talk about it in public. I would imagine that differences in checks could be a cause for bad feelings and infighting in this business, and I didn't want any part of that. Joyce handed out the checks in sealed envelopes. After that, she asked me to meet her in Mr. Mason's office. I went in, and Mr. Mason was there. Joyce said, "I thought I would explain the amount on your check. I told you the amount was $8200. Actually, it is $200 more. I may have forgotten that it costs an extra $200 for a john to go bareback, and both the auction winners wanted that. You get half of that amount, so your total is $8400. However, there are quite a few deductions. First is a month's rent, or $2000. Now your rent is paid until the first of next month. Second is the $1200 clothing allowance. That is a one-time fee. Third, is the $253 for your airline ticket. Next is the $250 cash advance last week and another $247 I am giving you today. Clark County charges $5000 per year, and the state charges a $50 registration fee. So, the total deductions are $4950. The check is $3200, and I am giving you $247 cash since when you establish a bank account, they hold checks for five days before you can cash them." I was a little ticked that my fees were more than the money I received, but all the deductions seemed accurate. I asked Joyce, "Do you have any recommendations for banks where I can deposit the money?" She said, "There is a credit union that says they welcome all members of the Las Vegas entertainment industry. Don and I bank there. I think they are good. They charge no fees on checking accounts. But don't advertise that the money is from escort fees. That type of money is not welcome, even though escorts are part of the entertainment industry." I asked, "What is the name?" She said, "Las Vegas Entertainment Industry Credit Union, of course." Then Joyce said, "How are you feeling, Blossom?" Are you still sore? Would you be interested in a date this evening? We got a request for you on the web. It's not a special, so just a straight fuck." I cringed inside. But this was who I was now. I said, "Why not?" Then Joyce said, "And we have another date for you tomorrow. It is a special. He has come to us before. He likes to insult and demean the woman he is fucking. But he is not violent. You could opt out of the protection. I think he is safe, just not at all pleasant. So, you would get $650 instead of $550. I said, "OK. I guess so." She looked at me. I'm sure she noticed my lack of enthusiasm. But she continued, "OK, I will get you the particulars by email." Then Joyce said, "Mr. Mason wants to talk to you." She looked troubled but left. I looked over at Mr. Mason. He had always dressed in a suit, and because of that, I hadn't noticed before how big a man he was. When the door was closed, he said, "Blossom, I make it a practice of trying out all of the girls who work for me. I need to know if they are suited for this life. I have not done so with you yet because you needed to maintain your virginity. Rest assured that the other girls have all shown me their wares." I said, "What. I never agreed to that!" He smiled, "Actually, you did. You signed an agreement that you could not refuse an assignment without reason. Well, Joyce has assigned you to me. I am a paying customer, and you can't refuse service. And you will be paid a full $400, just as you would for any other regular assignment." I looked at him. I now recalled that in my contract. I had no way of saying no, either legally or physically. I asked, "What now?" He smiled, "Now you come over and suck my dick, Sweetie." I'm not going to go through a detailed description of what happened that morning. Mr. Mason coached me on how to make him happy along the way, and I did what he said. Most of the coaching was on how to read him and how to act so that he was turned on. It was a learning experience. I also found out that Don liked to apply a little pain during sex. At first, I tried not to react. But he told me he wanted to see my pain. So, I let it out. He spanked me very hard, and I screamed and came. He smiled and said, "So you react to pain during sex by orgasming. I thought that was what was going on during the video. Interesting." I wondered if Joyce put up with the same thing, or if he only did this with young, physically helpless girls who he controlled financially. In the end, he said he was happy. And I was $400 better off. That was something, I guess. But I felt like I was controlled by another person and by events. Would I ever be free again? When I came out of the room, it was clear that the other girls who were still there knew what had happened. There was no sympathy, only acceptance. They had all been there, and they focused on the $400, not on being forced to have sex. After all, we were all volunteer prostitutes. Then I realized that I had thought 'the other girls." More and more, I was identifying as one of the girls. Was that part of the spell? Would Elvis fade away as I became more and more Helen, or 'Blossom?' That was frightening. I had liked who I was as Elvis. I had had interests and good friends. And I had had a family I loved. I didn't want all that to fade away. Only Celia showed some consideration. She asked if she could get me anything? More coffee, a roll, aspirin? She even asked if she could go back to the room and bring me anything, like new underwear. It was nice to have someone care. Joyce wouldn't meet my gaze at first. I realized she was as helpless as the rest of us in her husband's determination to 'assess the wares' as it were. Later Joyce said, 'Look, Blossom, whatever you may feel about having to act like a whore with someone you know, I'm sure he offered you lots of advice. It's not everything you need to know, but it was valuable. So, learn from it. In a way, it was a good experience." I asked, "So was that the date you talked about for today?" Joyce replied, "No. I have sent you the information by email. He is a local and has used AAA Services before. He's a nice guy, always pleasant, and even fun. It's a good assignment." I nodded my head. Celia and I walked back to the motel. Celia had gotten a reasonably good check, so she was happy. She asked, "Did you get the maximum check, Blossom." I shook my head. Celia said, "Damn, I had hoped that for once it wasn't Ally, the small blonde girl. She's so pretty she's a guy magnet. But one of the guys who had been with her told me that Ally was so stuck up she acted like she was doing him a favor fucking them, even though he was paying good money. He said the only way he would ever have anything to do with her again would be if he got the privilege of throttling her." It was clear Celia was pleased with this thought. Then Celia mentioned that Ally had once teased her about being a big girl and starting to age. I usually listened to Celia's line of chatter and didn't know what to think. But I had an opinion in this case and said, "Celia, Ally might be a bitch, but she doesn't deserve to have someone choke her. Nobody does." It was 11 AM. That gave me 6 hours until I was to show up at an assignment. It was at a house in North Las Vegas. Joyce had told me that AAA reimbursed for Uber rides to and from assignments off the strip. So, I could use them for this afternoon. I was to show up between 4:50 and 5:00 PM. Joyce said this was because the guy couldn't get home until then and wanted his date to leave by 7 when his daughter would get home. His wife had been killed in an automobile accident a few years ago, and his daughter had freaked out when he had started dating. So, this was the way he had found to fulfill his need for feminine companionship and sex until his daughter moved out. It sounded pretty messed up to me. I asked Celia if she had ever dated him. She said, "Yes, several times. He is a nice guy, and I was lucky to have him as an assignment." It was clear she was a little miffed; he had not asked for her today. I told her I was sorry, but she said, "Hey, it's all right Blossom. It's hardly your fault. And I guess the last time I saw him I was high and not much fun. I hope I haven't ruined things." She looked like she was about to cry. But then she pulled herself together and said, "He usually doesn't date young- looking women. He said he doesn't want to fuel any attraction to his daughter's friends." I shook my head. It turned out Celia also had a date tonight. It was later though, so she said she had time for a pill. I tried to dissuade her, but Celia was determined to lose herself for a while and would have none of my preaching. She asked me to be sure she was up by 4, took a small red pill, and laid down with her earphones on and drifted off. In a way, I was selfish to preach at her. I had enjoyed her company yesterday and would have enjoyed having someone to talk to today. But, the main reason was that in my heart I knew the drugs were bad for her, that she could make a better life for herself without them. I went out to find a place to eat and to investigate some banking options. I went to the coffee shop in the Smiths Grocery store and got a latte. I called the Las Vegas Entertainment Industry Credit Union and several local banks. I stayed away from the big banks because experiences from when I was still Elvis made me believe they didn't value the interests of small depositors. I compared cost of a checking account, interests, and services, and how what paperwork I needed to get an account and what procedures I needed to go through. I also asked each of them if I needed to show a social security card to get an account, explaining how I had been robbed and hadn't gotten my replacement card yet. One or two of the banks sounded like I would have to jump through a lot of hoops to finally get an account. I crossed them off my list. Of the others, two required me to produce a social security card. I would prefer not to have to do that. The only social security card I had was one the witches had given me in the name of Helen Watson, but it had Elvis's SSAN. I didn't know if the witches had properly substituted Helen for Elvis in all relevant records. I suspected that in the SSAN database, Elvis and Helen had the same SSAN. So, I would like to avoid giving out that SSAN if possible. The Las Vegas Entertainment Industry Credit Union was clearly the best. Accounts costed nothing. Saving account interest was as good as any, and the procedures to get an account were simple and didn't require any SSAN at all. And there was a branch just off the strip about a mile from here. By this time, it was noon. I had only eaten a few snacks at AAA this morning, being otherwise preoccupied. So, I was hungry and decided to stop at a burger place for lunch. I could only eat half a hamburger even though I had been hungry. So I packed the other half up and then walked to the credit union. The weather is variable during the winter in Las Vegas. Yesterday, it had been 75 during the day, and very pleasant. Today it was 90, and I was sweating like a pig by the time I arrived. I went into the credit union and had to wait for someone to open an account. While I was waiting, I got a cup of coffee. When I got back, the woman had started helping the next person. So, I had to wait some more. When I did get to see the woman doing the accounts, everything seemed much more difficult than described on the phone. No, I didn't have a transfer form from another bank. No, I didn't have a letter of reference from my work. No, I didn't have a Nevada Driver's license. I showed the fake ID Joyce had gotten, and the woman said she would have to verify with the Nevada DOT. What the hell? I had never heard of verifying a driver's license with the DOT when it was presented for identification. Finally, I said, "Look, I called ahead and asked about procedures establishing an account and talked to Belinda. She said nothing about all these requirements. Are you saying she doesn't know what she is talking about?" Apparently, Belinda was a high-level bank employee, and suddenly all the absolute requirements became suggestions, and the woman started setting up an account for me. The last step was verification that I worked at an accepted employer in the entertainment industry. I showed her the check for $3347 with AAA Services as the originating agency. She looked on her list and said, almost happily, that AAA Services was not on it. I replied, "That's ridiculous. That check is drawn on this credit union. So, obviously, my employer is a member of this credit union. Look for any agency starting with AAA on your list." She looked, then said loudly, "Is it AAA Escort Services." I said, "Yes." So, she did what she had to do to establish the account. While doing it, she was as uncivil as she could get away with. Before, she had merely looked at me as an inconsequential person. Now that she knew what I was, she looked at me as though I were the scum of the earth. I had to come up with $50 cash to establish the account. I couldn't use the check for $3347 because the bank didn't know it was valid. I asked, "Can't you check AAA's account and verify this check?" She gave me a dirty look and said, "No." So even though I deposited the check, I had to come up with $50 out of my limited cash reserve. And I could not access the money in the check for 5 business days, not counting today. So, I couldn't use any of that money until next Tuesday. Then I asked if I could apply for a credit card and was told that I couldn't because I needed to have at least $2000 in the account to do that. I pointed out that I had just deposited a check for $3347. But she said that check hadn't cleared yet. I asked how long it took for a check drawn on their own credit union to clear. She said, 'five business days." At that point, I threw up my hands. At the end, she asked me if I wanted to order checks. I made her show me the checks and give me the prices, which I wrote down and then told her I would look online to see if I could get a better deal. Yes, it was petty revenge. But it felt great. I never knew what had made her angry at me when I came in. Was it because I didn't sit waiting for her at attention when I first came in? Or was there something about me that reminded her of someone she knew and disliked. Or was it because I was Asian. I didn't know and frankly didn't care. I just knew she was a total bitch. I walked the mile back to the strip and another couple blocks to my motel. By the time I got there, it was 3 PM. I was sweaty, and I hadn't cleaned up the mess that Mr. Mason had deposited in and on me this morning. And my clothes were clammy and stuck to me. Note to self, 'Try to avoid being fucked with my panties on.' So, I put on a shower cap and took a shower and cleaned myself out as best I could. Then it was time to get ready for my date. I rummaged through the clothing I had and decided to wear a nice red dress that had been supplied by AAA in that $1200 clothing package. I did my makeup to make me appear older since I had no indication I should look young. Finally, I put on some jewelry and a little perfume. I felt awkward dressing like this. Elvis was still screaming in my head that he wasn't a woman. He was going to be really unhappy later. Then it was 4 PM, and I woke Celia. Even though we had been friends when she went to sleep, now I was 'you stupid Jap whore.' I was pissed by this time and went and got a cold cup of water and tossed it on her. She jumped out of bed as though she was going to kill me but seeing me standing there waiting made her change her mind. After that, I called and arranged for an Uber pickup ASAP, giving the address of the john as the destination. I went out to the parking area and waited, not wanting to be around Celia. I arrived at the john's house at 4:45. He was already there and let me in. He knew my name, and I knew his, and we greeted each other by name. He offered me some wine. I was happy to accept and even accepted a second glass. We talked about this and that. The john started by asking about me, what my interests were and how I had come to work as an escort in Las Vegas. The spell would not let me answer the latter question truthfully. But over the last few days, I had formulated a lie that covered it. My Aunt was sick, and I was sending the money home. It was more melodramatic than was comfortable but covered the situation. I asked him about what he did and about his family. That released the floodgates. He spent over half an hour telling me how his wife had died and why he was doing this. He described a daughter who had been very close to her mother and was devastated when she had died. And that daughter was also spoiled and self-centered and couldn't abide her father moving on and finding someone else to love. I wanted to say that his daughter would probably accept him finding a new love if he was firm and told her that that was the way it would be. But it was none of my business. My business was to sympathize and make him feel better if I could. It turned out this man had his own issues letting go. He wanted me to call him by his first name, and he called me by his former wife's first name. He had me change to a nightgown she had worn. She must have been as slight as I was because it fit well. Then we made love as I imagine a husband and wife who loved each other would do, tenderly, patiently and with consideration, and knowing what each other liked. The john had told me how he would signal where she would have had an orgasm, and I faked it and told him how wonderful it had been and what a wonderful lover he was. Then he came inside me and asked me how it felt. I told him it was wonderful. Finally, he asked if I thought I would become pregnant this time. As instructed, I told him, "Yes, this was just the right time of my cycle, and I feel something happening down there." All this time, Elvis was screaming inside me, asking what the hell I was doing. This wasn't me. How could I act so much like a woman? But I managed to suppress all the doubts and do what I knew would make this man happy. After we cuddled for a while, he got up and thanked me, and I got up and put my clothes back on. Then he gave me an envelope and asked me if I would be willing to come back sometime. I gave him a smile and a kiss on the cheek and said, "Sure, any time." Then we heard a car in the driveway, and he said, "Shit. My daughter's home." I heard footsteps on the stairs, and the man told me, "Go downstairs and leave by the door there." So, I rushed downstairs, almost tripping in my high heels. I walked quickly out the door and around the house. But as I rounded the corner, I looked up, and two teenage girls were standing there wearing cheerleader outfits and looking at me. Apparently, this was a little game they played. One of them was laughing and told the other, "That's a different whore than last time. God, she looks like a little girl." I turned red and rushed past them and down the street. I walked a couple of blocks to a corner on a boulevard and texted Uber. (How appropriate, standing in the evening at a street corner under the light, waiting.) When I got back to the motel, Celia was gone. I took off my clothing and ran the shower and cleaned off my vagina and tried to clean inside it too. When I was in the Uber car, I texted Joyce that I was done with the assignment and had the payment. Soon, I heard a beep indicating I had a text. I took out my phone and absent-mindedly observed I only had half the minutes left on my prepaid phone. The text was from Joyce. She had another assignment for me if I was free. I texted back I was free. She said, "8:30, Clear Sky Casino, Room 2133, dress in a cheerleader outfit, call him 'Daddy.'" I had to hurry. I changed and took my makeup off and applied more in a younger style. Then I hustled the two blocks to the Casino. Walking in the dark bothered me as it would never have bothered Elvis. But I was in a hurry, and I just prayed and walked. I went up to the room and rang the door, and an older, slightly overweight man opened the door. I asked, "Am I too late, Daddy." He smiled and said, "No, Honey. You're right on time. Sorry for the rush. I won a pot at the Casino and decided to treat myself." I looked around, and it was clear that he shared this room with his wife. That made me nervous. He looked at me and said, "My wife and some friends are at a country-western show until 10:30. Lots of time." So, I made love to him, calling him Daddy. Following Celia's advice, I tested whether he liked me to make explicit comments about him being my Daddy, and he did. So, I continued. It was sort of nauseating, but it was his fantasy. He came quickly. After that, he appeared to want me to leave ASAP. I pulled on my clothes, and he handed me an envelope, saying it had something extra in it for me. I did my walk of shame down the hall and encountered a mature woman going the other way. She gave me a strange look; I assumed because I appeared to be a young girl in a cheer outfit. I didn't know that she was the man's wife, but I was glad to be out of there. The next day I only had one date, a special. The assignment said the man liked to speak abusively while he was having sex. But he never hurt any of the girls they sent out: just verbal abuse and a little roughness. I tried to prepare myself psychologically for that. I was to dress as a trampy teenager. However, I had no idea what that meant, and I texted Joyce, "How does a trampy teenager dress?" She gave me a list of items in the package they had given me that would work, along with some suggestions on makeup. Then she added a comment that I should get my nose septum pierced, which would make this look better. That comment freaked me out. The last thing I wanted to wear was a nose ring. I did my best to dress as a trampy teenager and was at the assigned room at 7 PM. The man opened the door and let me in. As soon as the door closed, his language became abusive. He also grabbed me by the neck and pretended to choke me. It was disconcerting to have his hands around my neck and his face only a few inches away from mine. Elvis wanted to kick him in the balls and run, but I restrained him, barely. His fantasy also involved rape, and he pulled my clothing off and forced me down on the couch. By this time, I was totally freaked out and struggled as much as I could, which wasn't much, given I had the strength of a slender young woman. He brutally held me down and pushed in and out of me without any lubrication. It hurt like hell, but the spell caused me to orgasm. I didn't try to hide it, so the john was aware I was orgasming. That had never happened to him before. It seemed that the idea that he was giving me pleasure royally pissed him off. So, contrary to his promise to Joyce and previous experience with this guy, he started slapping me, hard. Then he started choking me in earnest. Finally, I blacked out. I awoke a few minutes later with the guy holding smelling salts under my nose. Apparently, he realized he was out of control, and he stopped himself, barely. He was terrified that he killed me. I was sure this was not because he was concerned about me, but because he was afraid of serving life in prison. When he saw I was awake, he grabbed me and told me to get dressed and get the hell out. I had the presence of mind to remind him of the payment. He said that he hadn't shot his wad, so he didn't owe me anything. I reminded him that if I didn't get paid, they would send someone more persuasive. Finally, he gave me an envelope with $1500, I reminded him that he didn't use a condom, so it was another $200. He reluctantly gave another $200 to me. All this time he was berating me and calling me names. I left after getting the envelope and making sure I had all my clothing on me. My face stung, and I thought I would have black eyes. And my neck hurt, terribly. But I counted myself lucky to be alive. This date was a lesson for me. First, I hadn't had any protection nearby because of assurances that this john was not dangerous. So, no help was coming. And I did not have my knife at hand. That would never happen again. Second, having an orgasm with a guy wants you to suffer is inadvisable. It can just make him angrier. But I couldn't help it. A spell had been cast on me making me have an orgasm when sex and violence were mixed. So, I would have to figure out how to hide or suppress the physical manifestations of an orgasm. I needed to ask Joyce. I walked home to my motel, sent Joyce a text saying that I finished my assignment and I had the payment. Then I laid down. A few minutes later I got a text from Joyce asking if I was available to another assignment. I texted her back and said "No." Then I got a text from Joyce saying I was scheduled tomorrow to film the remainder of that video I had done for the auction. I should bring the clothes package they gave me and be there at 9. Damn. The next morning, I went in a few minutes early and talked to Joyce about what had happened the night before. She said she was sorry. That guy had never hurt anyone before. I told her what triggered it. She said, "I'm not surprised. It doesn't take much to set one of these sick fucks off." But she didn't have much advice as to how to suppress the physical indications I was having an orgasm. I expected that when they saw my black eyes, they would call the filming off. But Joyce said, "No, there will be a makeup specialist who will be able to hide those. Unless they decide it's sexier to have you look beat up for the video." I shook my head at that. I talked to Mr. Mason before the filming and asked how much he was offering me to do this video. He said they already paid me. Then I asked if the male actor was getting paid upfront for this filming, and he hemmed and hawed and said yes. I told him I wanted the same. Finally, after I threatened to walk out, he agreed to a $1000 payment. They decided to hide the black eyes partly and include words explaining them in the film, where the male actor said he was sorry for hitting me, but if I had obeyed him, it wouldn't have happened. Except for that, the filming was almost entirely of the male lead fucking me. I started off struggling with him, and he slapped me. That was supposed to be very easy, but it rang my bell, and of course, I orgasmed. I felt it coming on and tried not to cry out or shudder. I think I did suppress the cries somewhat, but not completely. The director did notice it and told me "Good, Blossom, Good." Then the male actor threw me down on a couch and tore off my pink baby-doll and forced my legs open and put his cock into me. It was enormous. I'd never seen anything like it. I laid there as he pushed all the way in and out, each time ramming his cock into something inside me that hurt, not terribly, but each time I squealed a little. He pushed in so hard that I could feel his balls slapping against my ass. Finally, he came. And he came a lot. Cum was squeezing out around his cock. Then he pulled out, and the camera moved in. I saw the rough shots, and it showed cum oozing out of me, and then it got closer and showed clearly that I had no hymen now. That was all there was to the shoot. I knew the producer would edit it with the original video to come out with a single porn video. The producer said I could look at it before they put it up for sale. The male actor was sitting there looking extremely pleased with himself. For some reason, that infuriated me. I screamed at him for ripping up my pink baby-doll. Joyce then insisted they either replace it or reimburse me. She and Mr. Mason argued for a bit and decided they would reimburse me. It would be in next Monday's check. Then Joyce asked, "Do you want an assignment today?" I replied, "No, Thank You." Then she said, "OK, I'll try to find someone else. But you have an assignment Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. I'll text you the information." Then I went back to the motel. It was 3 PM. I wanted just to lay down and cry, but Celia was still asleep. So, I lay down and read a new Smithsonian magazine I had bought the other day. I soon fell to sleep. I thought the beating yesterday and the mistreatment during the video today had taken a lot out of me. About 4:30, I heard a knock at the door. All the time I had been here, no one had ever knocked at our door. Celia started cursing at being woken. I got up, flipped on the light, ran my fingers through my hair, and looked out the peephole. I saw someone in a police uniform. Damn. I told Celia there was a cop at the door. She stopped cursing and looked up. Well, there was no way to avoid talking to them. I opened the door. It was officers Trudy and Jesse. I greeted them, and they came in and looked around, trying to figure out what kind of a place this was. I had cleaned it up a lot since I'd come there. Celia's miscellaneous stuff was in a 3x3 box in the corner of the room. And I had laid out the clothing from the shoot neatly on the counter. So, the room looked relatively good, except that we had both been sleeping and it was 4:30 in the afternoon. And I was a mess. I had not taken off my makeup when I had gotten back to the room, and it had smeared badly. Trudy looked at me and asked, "Blossom?" I smiled and said, "Yes. Sorry for my appearance. I got back from work late and just crashed." She looked at me critically, and asked: "Have you been beaten up?" I answered, "I walked into a door. I'm a little clumsy, right Celia?" Celia said, "If you officers are not here to talk to me, I need to use the loo." That implied there was no way she would be drawn into a conversation with two police officers. Trudy said, "What about the bruises on your neck? I've seen women who have been beaten up badly, and they look just like you." I just stood there. It would do me no good to lie anymore. I hoped she would just drop it. I asked if I could get my robe, and she indicated I could. I felt a little better with a robe on, not to mention warmer. When I turned back around and ran my hands through my hair again, Trudy said, "I came by to give you your gun back." Then she held up the manila envelope containing my gun. She said, "It's not connected to any illegal activity anywhere in the country." I said, "Thank You." I wished I'd had it last night, but I doubted it would have done me any good. By the time I realized I was in trouble, the guy had his hands around my neck. Then Trudy said, "Would you be interested in selling it? Our firearms expert has never seen one before and would like it for his collection. He would also like to get any information you might have about where in Iraq it came from and under what circumstances. Maybe, your brother would be willing to talk to him?" I said, "I'll ask him." She continued, "The expert said it had quite a kick. You sure you shoot it before." I replied, "Yes, I have." Trudy asked, "And you had no problem with the kick?" I said, "No, I'm stronger than I look. But I have been thinking of getting one that is a little easier to handle. Maybe a 38. Do you have a recommendation as to where I might get a good woman's revolver?" Judy said, "Yeah, Al's superstore. It's about 5 miles down the road to LA. Their salespeople know what they're talking about." Then she said, "You're quite a mystery, Blossom. I don't think you're a runaway or other sort of troubled juvenile. If you were, you would be antagonistic and guarded. But your ID is fake, so I looked for people with matching descriptions committing crimes in Las Vegas. Nothing. But the police do routinely monitor websites from around town, and when I was running your description, someone noticed it looked like a girl named Blossom whose virginity was being auctioned off. I assume that was you." I looked down at my feet and said, "Yes. But that isn't illegal in Nevada." Trudy said, "No, but I'm concerned because young, na?ve girls and young women like your roommate usually wind up getting hurt in prostitution. You make good money until you're too old to attract johns or until you make a mistake and wind up with some sort of venereal disease, then you have nothing. Look, you seem to have your act together. I think I can help you, Blossom. I know of some job openings coming up, and some apartment openings coming up." I looked at her, and suddenly I was crying. Damn Hormones. She came over and put her arms around me. After a few moments, I said, "I'm all right." She backed off. I continued, "I don't think you can help me. I wish you could get me out of this situation. But you can't. But I promise I'm not going to do anything to take advantage of anybody or hurt anybody. I am stuck here, but all I want is to live long and prosper, legally, to the extent that I can." Trudy smiled at my 'Spockism.' That was encouraging. At least we had something in common, a knowledge of the basics of 'Star Track.' Then Trudy said, "Blossom before I can give that weapon back to you, I need a good ID." I walked over to the desk where I had organized my things and got the Texas ID that the coven of witches had given me. I handed it to Trudy. She looked at it and said, "Akira Helen Watson from Tempah, Texas?" I nodded and said, "Yes, I grew up in Texas and graduated from Tempah High school last year." She laughed, "I thought I heard a drawl there. It's sort of surprising?" I asked, "Why? Because I have Japanese ancestry? I grew up in the US. My father served in the foreign service for 30 years. My brother was in the army and served three tours in the Mideast. I'm as much of an American as you!" Trudy said, "Whoa, Easy. I meant no disrespect. I was just surprised. Sorry." I took a deep breath and got my temper under control. I knew what Trudy had said didn't warrant that outburst of anger. Ever since I'd met that bastard, Hugh, any suggestion that somehow because I was part Japanese, I was not really an American would set me off. I had to keep myself under control. Given the circumstances, I did not want to draw attention to myself. Trudy took a picture of my ID and handed it back to me. Then she handed me the manila envelope containing the gun to me in the manila envelope she had put it in the day I met her. She said, "We'll be back if the ID doesn't check out. You need to get a concealed carry permit, as soon as possible, Blossom. Use your real ID. If we find you with a concealed weapon permit made out to a fictitious ID, we will have to take you in. See you around. After they left, Celia came out and asked what the hell that was all about. She was in her belligerent mode and reamed me out for attracting police and putting her at risk and said she couldn't tolerate that. I replied, "I get that, Celia. How long until I need to find another place? I'll start looking today." Then she backed off and said, "No, Blossom, I didn't mean that. I get along better with you than I have with anybody for a long time. I want you to stay. I guess I was just blowing off steam. I do like you. And you are good for me, trying to get me to live and eat healthily. I don't want you to leave." "OK," I said, "I won't. So, let's stop fighting and get along. Do you have time for dinner?" She said, "If we hurry. Is the Thai place good?" I said, "Yeah." Then we both took about a half-hour doing our makeup, getting our hair in place, and putting on reasonably decent clothes before we were ready to go." While we were eating, I told her about the guy who had beat me up. She said, "I never ran into him. I don't do specials. It's too easy to get hurt. It's not worth it. You should back out of them." I said, "I can't." She asked me why, but I couldn't tell her the truth and didn't feel like lying, so I didn't say anything. She understood. Celia talked about some of the johns she had been with, and we had some laughs. But she had an assignment tonight, so we had to hustle through dinner and leave. I relaxed for a night. I was totally spent, and it was good that I had an evening with a friend, as I supposed Celia was now. My only real friend. Or was Joyce a friend too? She had stood up for me at AAA. But I guess she had other responsibilities. I didn't know. How about the interpreter, Evelyn? Had she been a friend? Maybe. I didn't know a lot about what had gone on in the background in the coven. But in terms of someone I could talk to easily, Celia was it. Elvis had had lots of friends in high school, and many friends in the service. But given the weird circumstances I found myself in now, I wondered if I could persuade any of them that I was Elvis and their friend. Maybe. But once again, I couldn't confide in any of those old friends because of the spells. I needed to look for opportunities to make new friends. I read some more and finally got to sleep. Celia came home with a man at about midnight. I tried to ignore their lovemaking. After about an hour, he left, and she got up and cleaned herself off and went out again. I was worried it was going to be one of those nights. But she didn't come back until 4 AM, and then she was by herself. So, it wasn't too bad. I am going to stop talking about sex with individual johns now except for a few who had a special impact on my life. Most days, I had sex with one or two johns. I learned a lot about what men liked and how to read them. But that didn't mean I could always tell what a man might want in any given circumstance. People are too complicated for that. On average, once a week, I had sex with an abusive john. It was not the major part of my income, but it was necessary for me because of the spell. And I was beaten up more than once, but never enough to leave marks except for one, which I will describe later in detail. That was the rule that AAA had, no marks on the escorts. But that didn't mean no pain. The frequency of once a week was what I had requested from Joyce, because of the spell. But that one-week average did not mean that there weren't sometimes longer intervals between abusive johns. And when that happened, I would get progressively more agitated with time. Once I went 12 days, and by the time it was over, I was a nervous wreck and had difficulty concentrating. To end that string, I deliberately insulted a non-abusive john who I thought might lose his temper, egging him on until he finally slapped me hard while we were having sex. I could see his surprise as I went from total bitch to accommodating whore almost immediately after an extreme orgasm. I hoped that I didn't give this john the idea that all women liked to mistreatment. But, honestly, I had no choice. Generally, I brought home $1500 to $2000 a week after paying for rent and putting money away for taxes and fees. From that, I had to pay utilities and food. Not to mention, I had to provide a statement each month for income tax, which Mrs. Mason did for us, and then pay estimated taxes to the IRS. However, I had always been frugal. I ate out no more than a couple of times a week. I kept the air conditioning at 72. I did not buy a lot of clothes after I had a week's worth of casual outfits and that single bag of work clothes. Although I must admit that the volume of clothing I possessed built up slowly but inexorably. In any case, I usually wound up saving over $1000/week. The first thing I did when the bank allowed me to access what was in my first check from AAA was to get a credit card in the name of Sakura Blossom Miyamoto. Then I could get a VPN and access Elvis's email again without being traced. It had been only two weeks since I had last read the email. But I found a lot of junk mail, which I deleted. I also got two new emails from my sister. She informed me that Aunt Marge was undergoing chemotherapy three times a week but was not tolerating it well, and they were reviewing the therapy and might reduce the number of treatments per week. Assuming she could get through chemo, she would need a few months of radiation therapy. My aunt and sister had taken out a second mortgage and had already used most of the money from the house to pay for treatment. The treatments were eating away at the rest quickly. My sister said she understood why I couldn't come home. But she missed me greatly. And she said Aunt Marge talked about me constantly, worrying about me and missing me. Then my sister said she had dropped most school activities and was working almost 30 hrs./week at the McDonalds in town. She was thinking of quitting school and finding a better paying job. She ended by saying, "Elvis, I know things seem grim now. But I have been praying and think that as long as we keep trying that God will take care of us." When I read that, I cried. What had I ever done to deserve such a wonderful sister? I resolved at that moment to get some money to my family. But how? I looked online and found that law enforcement could trace wired money. It would require a court order, but it was possible. I also found that they could trace a bank draft or money order. So, I send them any money those ways. I also couldn't send a check in a letter. Because that would be communicating with my family, forbidden by one of the spells. But maybe I could send an envelope just filled with cash, no writing, no return address -- just cash. I resolved to try. The next day I had no assignments, I withdrew 20 $100 bills from the credit union and put them in a heavy envelope and addressed it to Marge Cole and Mitsuko Watson, using very precise handwriting, as different from Elvis's as I could make it. Then I took a bus to a small town about 5 miles down the road to Phoenix and went into the post office and sent the letter certified post, no signature required. I felt this was the best way I had of insuring it got to Aunt Marge and my sister securely. I was relieved that the spell did not prevent me from sending cash without a message. I just hoped the money would get there without any problems. A few days later, I got an email from my sister, saying "Elvis, we got $2000 in the mail today. There was no return address. I know it was from you, Elvis. I can smell you on the money. Elvis, thank you so much. I hope you didn't have to do anything illegal to get the money. No, I know you didn't, because that's not you. You're a wonderful, kind, sweet, honest person, and you didn't rape anybody. Aunt Marge said to say she loved you. I love you too. Your Sister, Mitsuko." That made me cry again. I wished I could send her my best wishes, but I couldn't. After that, I tried to send Aunt Marge and my sister $2000 every couple of weeks. I couldn't always send that much, but most of the time I did. I think it helped some. At least my sister stopped talking about dropping out of school. But I knew that they were probably still spending money from the mortgage for my Aunt's treatments and that at some point they would lose the house. Then they would be homeless. I didn't know what I could do about it. A few days after sending money to my Aunt, I got another visit from Officers Trudy and Jesse. This time I introduced Celia as my roommate and friend. I'm sure Trudy read between the lines and realized Celia was another escort. Trudy said that they had verified my identity. She said they had found my pictures in the electronic yearbook from last year for Tempeh High School. They showed me the picture on her cell. It was me, all right. Then Trudy read from the description, that I was all-league in soccer and the third-best scorer in the league. She also read that I was active in Science Club and Math Club and Drama Club and was on the national honor society with a 3.96 GPA. She said, "That's very good, Blossom. You're no dummy." With the implied question, 'So why the hell are you a whore?' Then she said, "You must have pissed off your yearbook editor though. There are no other pictures of you besides your class picture. Is that what happened, Blossom." I smiled and said, "Sort of." Then she said, "They found a picture of your younger sister in the Sophomore Section. She looks a lot like you, Blossom." Then she brought up a picture of Mitsuko on her phone and showed it to me. I sort of teared up but tried not to show it. Trudy was looking at me closely, and I'm sure she noticed. She didn't miss much, damn her. I said, "OK, you know I'm me. I could have told you that. Why are you here?" She said, "Well, I'm on a club soccer team with several other police officers, along with other women in other professions. We have lost a couple of players this year and could use another player. What do you think?" I looked at her and laughed and said, "You're kidding. You go through a lot of trouble to verify my identity, and notice I used to play soccer and decided based on that to ask me if I would like to play soccer on your club team. What's going on Trudy?" I swear Trudy turned red. Then she said, "Well, another reason is to maintain contact with you. I really do see a lot of dangers for you being an escort in Las Vegas and would like to be there to help when you run into trouble, which you will." I thought about it. Trudy seemed like a nice, well-meaning person, so possibly she was only asking me to play soccer to keep an eye on me and try to help if need be. But that seemed pretty thin. I knew that if I did play soccer with this team, sooner or later someone would figure out I was an escort, which would cause Trudy a lot of embarrassment. I doubted if she would normally be willing to risk that just to keep an eye on some kid who might find herself in trouble. I asked, "There's more, isn't there, Trudy? This is somehow about my brother, isn't it?" She looked chagrined and said, "Yes. When we sent inquiries about you, the Collegeville, Texas police intercepted them and contacted us. Your brother's due to be tried a second time for rape, and he has disappeared. You don't know anything about that, do you Blossom?" I would have liked to tell them the truth, knowing full well they wouldn't believe it. But I couldn't. The coven had laid a spell on me that prevented me from telling anyone who I was and why I was doing what I was doing. And I knew I couldn't say a word about what had really happened. So, I lied, "No, I don't have a clue where my brother is." Officer Trudy said, "I would hope you would tell us if your brother contacted you, Blossom. The Collegeville police said he was a very bad guy." For some reason, that really pissed me off. I replied, "No, he's not a bad guy. Did they tell you that my brother spent six years in the US army and had one tour in Iraq and two in Afghanistan as a medic, where he was decorated for bravery and service above and beyond? And that he loved his family and was loved by them, and always did what he could to help them. Assuming he raped that girl, it was totally out of character. I say out of character because he was always respectful of women before that. My brother was well-liked by both men and women friends outside of that one act. My Aunt refuses even to believe it happened; it was so out of character. But my brother believes he did it and told me he doesn't have a clue what happened. He doesn't even remember the incident. But to say that Elvis is a bad guy ignores all the other good things he did." I realized at the end that I was crying, and I totally broke down for a moment. Trudy tried to comfort me, but I just told her to let me alone. Then she said, "I'm sorry, Blossom. I didn't mean to upset you." Then I stupidly screamed at her that I wasn't upset. Trudy waited until I calmed down, and said, "Beyond the mystery of your brother's disappearance, other mysteries are swirling around you and your brother. First, the Collegeville police didn't even know you existed during your brother's first trial. They checked the records after he disappeared and suddenly noticed he had not just one sister, but two. How could that happen? No police department is that incompetent." "Second, you and your brother did exactly the same things in high school. Look, here is your brother's high school statement from six years ago. He was on the soccer team and was all-league his senior year as were you. He was active in Science Club and Math Club and Drama Club and was on the national honor society with a 3.96 GPA, as did you. Except he had lots of pictures in the yearbook showing him in various activities. That seems a phenomenal coincidence. And finally, when they checked with some of your teachers and coordinators of the various activities, none of them could remember you. Then they checked their records, and even the records of the soccer league, and you were listed. So, apparently, they forgot you. But it's unlikely that a soccer coach would forget the top scorer on his team, who was an all-league selection. Can you explain that, Blossom?" I just shook my head no. But I realized that the police, in general, and Trudy, in particular, were going to pursue this as far as they could. What would happen if they came upon some evidence of what had really happened? The coven could and would act to protect their secrecy. And they would not hesitate to hurt innocent people, like me, or Trudy, in the process. I doubted that Trudy had any idea that by pursuing this, she was putting herself in grave danger. Was there anything I could do about the danger? Should I call the interpreter and tell them what happened. Well, I trusted her to use common sense, but not the rest of the coven. Suppose they decided to do a preemptive brain wipe on all the police officers involved? That would not help Trudy. Realistically, all I could do for now was just to hope that the police didn't uncover any evidence of what happened to me. In this case, I guess hope was a strategy. What else could I do? Well, I might convince the interpreter to intervene on my or Trudy's behalf if the coven decided to do something that hurt us. But only if I were aware of what was going on. So, I decided to go along with Trudy and maintain contact with her. I asked, "Do you really want me to play soccer with your team, Trudy?" She replied, "Yes, I really do. I want to be around to help you if you need it." So, I agreed to be on the team, because I wanted to be around to help her if she needed. Damn, what a mess. My first game was Sunday coming up. I asked AAA for a day off that day. I went to the thrift store and found a lot of soccer clothing. I guess girls were growing and turned over soccer clothes frequently. I found a blue team shirt in my size, (Small in Juniors) and some women's athletic shorts and long blue soccer socks and a pair of shin guards in my size. Trudy had advised me to get some tights or yoga pants for protection because the fields were hard. And I decided to wear my pink tennis shoes. I didn't know what kind of shoe would be best on the hard fields, so I decided to play a game before investing in soccer shoes. I showed up an hour early. I was nervous. I had never played soccer in this body. It was a very warm evening, and I was soon sweating as I warmed up. When I was loosened up, I tried a few drills and sprints. I was not nearly as fast as Elvis had been, but I thought I was fast for a woman. And I felt very agile, which was an advantage. I tried a few kicks into a fence, and they were not overpowering, as Elvis's kicks had been in his senior year of high school. But I thought they were OK. Two other women in blue soccer uniforms showed up about 15 minutes after me. They noticed me and came over and asked If I was playing with the Stars. I said, "Yes, I'm a friend of Trudy's. She invited me to play." They looked at me, and one said, "There must be a mistake. This isn't a youth team." I said, "I look young but I'm 19. I played in high school. So, I'll be OK." The two looked at me skeptically but asked if I wanted to warm up with them. The three of us kicked a ball around for another 10 minutes before anyone else showed up. I could keep up with them, at least as far as the ability to kick and trap the ball. As the women on the team started arriving, I noticed that I was by far the lightest woman there, a consequence of the spell that made me light and delicate like April. I was not the shortest girl on the field. There were several women shorter than my 5'6", although most of the players were several inches taller. But all the shorter women were more muscular than I and had more body fat. At 100 lbs. I must have been 25 lbs. lighter than anyone else on the field. That would have to affect what I could do in the game. Elvis had been 5'9" tall, and muscular. It took a very large, determined, skilled man to push him off the ball. Elvis also had good speed and good ball skills, but not great. Most of his success came from competing for the ball in close and then pushing and shoving to get free and using his strong kick to score goals. I realized Blossom could not play the same game. Almost any of the other women on the field could push me away easily. I might be a little better in terms of relative speed than Elvis had been. But overall, I expected not to be as effective as Elvis. I just had to do the best I could. The woman who was coaching the team looked at me skeptically and told me I would not start. There was a girl who had to leave at halftime. Until halftime, I just went in occasionally to give other players a rest. I would have more playing time after that. OK, fair enough. I certainly did not look like I could contribute a lot. But as I sat out the first 15 minutes, I was surprised at how annoyed I was not to be involved; especially after the other team went up 2-0. I guess my competitive instinct was still there. At about 15 minutes, the coach put me and another reserve in, to rest two girls who had tired in the hot conditions. I went in at right defender. That seemed an odd place to put me given my size. But hey, this was a club game, for fun. I didn't argue. Most of the action was on the other side of the field since most of their players were right-footed. I had noticed that no one seemed to want to switch the point of attack while I had watched, so I decided to play in the middle of the field and only go out to the right side if necessary. In the first few minutes, I only had one play on the ball. Their midfielder had kicked a ball into the goal box on my side of the field, and I had chased it down. Our goalkeeper was screaming for me to kick the ball back to her, but I saw several of the opposition players entering the box. The obvious play was to kick the ball back downfield to get it out of danger, so that is what I did. When she had a chance, our keeper came over and raised hell with me, saying that when she called for the ball, I should damn well give it to her. I replied that that would have been risky, given the other team's player in the box. She called me a prissy little bitch and said that I hadn't played enough to disagree with her. Welcome to the team. The ball went back and forth for a few minutes. I had one other play of interest. The other team had a breakaway on the other side and the defender on that side was way out of position. So, I ran down to provide help as fast as I could. I caught up in the goal box and had only an instant to do anything. Our keep was in no-man's land, so I went for a slide-tackle, taking care to keep my legs down, and just managed to kick the ball away. In the process, I scratched up my ass pretty good. If I had missed the ball, it would have been a foul. But I'd contacted the ball, and it was a legal play. I'd seen commentators on British TV describe such plays as risky but brilliant. But the ref was not experienced and called a foul, which led to a penalty kick and another goal for the other team. Our keeper was irate at me, for 'fouling' their player in the penalty area. She told me she would have made the stop, and I didn't need to do anything stupid. But as I ran by later, our coach complimented me on the play. Well, someone appreciated me anyway. Just a few minutes before half, their team had taken control of the ball on their half of the field, and I was playing in the center on their side of the field. Their keep called for their player to send the ball back, and their player shanked the ball across the field. Another of their players lazily moved to the ball intending to pass it back to their keep. Seeing an opportunity and letting Elvis's instincts take control, I sprinted as fast toward the ball as I could. At the last minute, their defender saw me coming and tried to shield the ball, but I kept running and bumped her from behind as hard as I legally could. She was not expecting strong contact and lurched forward and fell on her hands. I had an open path to the ball and collected it and sped toward the goal. Shocked by this turn of events, the other teams' players took a moment to decide what to do, and then about 4 of them turned and started pursuing. But they were too far away to have an impact on the play. It was me and the keeper, who made an intelligent play by charging out to cut down the angle. I intended to juke to the left and quickly come back to my right and use my stronger right foot to pound the ball into the upper corner of the goal. But I was sucking gas by this time from the long sprint. After all, I had not exercised for almost five months, and Blossom had never exercised. So, I juked left clumsily, and pushed the ball right and fell. But I managed to kick the ball with my toe just outside the keeper's reach, and it dribbled slowly and painfully toward the goal, finally crossing over the line just before one of the defenders got to it. It was a goal. It sucked, but it was a goal. The players for the other team, which was the best in the league, fell to berating each other for letting a damn prissy little Barbi Doll score a goal on them. As I was struggling to my feet, completely winded, one of our players came over and picked me up and hugged me and said, "Good goal, Barbi, good goal." That name stuck, and after that my soccer team called me 'Barbi.' I did learn about another big difference between playing as Blossom and playing as Elvis. Someone kicked a ball to me and without thinking I took it on my chest, meaning to have it drop to my feet where I could control it. As it smashed into my tits, I felt in a world of pain and stopped breathing and clutched my breasts. Even though my breasts were small, they were very sensitive to pain. It took me a moment to recover. My teammates looked at me as if I was an idiot. Of course, women didn't intentionally try to stop a ball with their tits. That was stupid. From my point of view, it was not as bad as the time when a guy had missed the ball and kicked Elvis directly in the balls, but it was certainly close. At halftime, the coach decided to move me to right midfield. I took that as a compliment since that meant she wanted me to handle the ball more. At the start of the second half, we lost our center midfielder to injury. That plus the loss of the player who had to leave at halftime meant we just had enough to field a complete side. The other team was a very good team at this level and scored three more goals. But we managed to score two. I was involved in both. In one, I happened on a ball just bouncing around in the goal box and carried it into the goal by hitting it first with my stomach and then with my knee. In the second, I wound up taking a corner kick, and Trudy did an actual header into the goal. We lost the game six goals to three, but the other team had been beating their other opponents up much worse, so we felt good about ourselves. We went out to a local bar for a post-game event. I enjoyed myself. The other players seemed to have gained some respect for me, despite the continuing joke about me being a barbi doll. I had a couple of beers and ordered another, but found I was a lightweight now and couldn't drink the third. Some men in the bar hit on any girl from the team who seemed available. But that wasn't as terrifying as it once would have been, even though it still felt odd. After all, I still considered myself a man, trapped as a woman. I wasn't interested and tried to let the guy down gently, remembering how much it hurt as Elvis to be treated disdainfully by a girl he was trying to talk to. But the guy was persistent, and finally, I had to say I wasn't interested, and I wasn't going to be interested, and I just wanted to be left alone. I had always wondered why a woman who didn't want to spend time with Elvis had to act like such a bitch, but I learned that letting men down gently didn't always work. Sometimes you had to be direct. By the end of the evening, I was feeling no pain. Luckily, Trudy and another police officer drove me home. I stumbled into the room at 11:30 PM. Celia was lying in bed, zonked out. I took a quick shower and put on one of Elvis's shirts which I used as nightgowns and went to bed. Tonight had been special because it was the first time I, as Blossom, had been able to do something I enjoyed just for the fun of it. It meant my life as a woman could have some joy in it. I didn't have to be serious all the time. That was a relief. Up to now, Blossom had focused on just surviving. The next morning, I woke up at 7 AM and got up to go to the gathering at AAA Services, Inc. It took me longer than average to dress and put on makeup because I was very sore. At some point, Celia realized what I was doing and started complaining because I hadn't woken her up. I told her there was time. She needed to get on the ball. But I needed to get going. I would see her there. So, Celia got up and became a whirling dervish as she got ready. The net result was that I was locked out of the bathroom the 15 minutes before I left. So, I just headed for AAA, planning to use the bathroom there. I was still sore. I realized I needed to do something to tone up my body so that I could play soccer without pain. However, I knew the spells would make it useless to do weight-bearing exercises because I couldn't increase muscle mass. So, I figured I would either do some regular aerobic exercise program. Jogging was something I'd done as Elvis. The problem with jogging was that it was Spring and was already very warm, and it would be getting hotter as it got into Summer. I didn't know if I could I jog in Las Vegas in the Summer. I had heard from someone during the Monday morning meetings that women had encountered harassment as they ran in alone the evening on jogging trails near the strip. So I would probably have to run while the sun was out. Nevertheless, I decided to try jogging and see if I could do it. I could always quit and join an exercise class later. I went to a specialty jogging supply store and got some shoes that fit well. I was also talked into a sport's bra and running shorts and a running tank top. I told them my breasts were too small to bounce around much, so an ordinary bra should work. But the lady who was helping said, "Don't you believe it, sweetie. You will be incredibly happy to have a sports bra when you run. I started running the next morning and slowly worked myself up from a few blocks to a few miles a day. After that, I noticed that when I played soccer, I had a lot more energy and endurance. Then I found another escort who ran. We started to run together for safety. Then we could run at more comfortable times and in more locations, and our running became more consistent. However, that only lasted a few months, until it got too hot. But that was OK because after a few months the soccer season ended. They would start up again in fall when it started getting cooler. Then one Monday morning, Joyce told me, "Blossom, remember that Mrs. Betts you met when you accompanied me to the woman's breakfast. She's still interested in having you try out as a showgirl. They have tryouts Wednesday morning if you're interested." I thought, 'That might be a way to stay in shape this summer. What the heck. I'll give it a shot.' The Tuesday before the tryout, I had an assignment that lasted into the early hours. I was tired the next morning and gave some consideration to skipping the tryout. But Elvis had made it a point to follow through on his intentions, and I was still the same person at heart. So, I dragged myself out of bed at 6 and put on a shower cap and took a shower. Then I put on some light makeup and made a cup of coffee and ate a little fruit and cereal and brushed my teeth and was out the door by 7:15. I wanted to get there a little early to give myself some time to talk to people and learn more about what I could expect if I won a spot. It was a good thing I was early. There were about 20 young women already there waiting in line to sign up for tryouts. I noticed that compared to the others, I was very slender and looked very young. I felt envious of the relative strength and the curves the other young women possessed. They could relate to men as nearly physical equals and as a woman, instead of as a pretty little girl. That would be so nice. Wait, what the hell was I thinking. I didn't want to be any kind of girl. I wanted my manhood back. Right? I struck up a conversation with a tall girl, Cheryl, who seemed nervous and wanted to talk. She was also 19 but looked more mature. Cheryl said she had graduated from high school last year and had always wanted to be a showgirl. She had had pictures of chorus lines and dance groups in her room from girlhood and had taken every dance class she could. She had had a boyfriend who also danced, but as time went along, she had become taller than him, which embarrassed him and caused the relationship to break up. I couldn't believe it. A guy would break up with a girl because she was bigger than him. Guys were so strange. Wait, some guys were strange, not me. Then Cheryl asked what I'd liked when I was a young girl. Suddenly, I regretted missing out on being a young girl. I'd missed girls' slumber parties, My Little Pony, all the things that the other girls here had probably loved when they were young. I told her that I liked soccer and baseball and ballet, and I'd loved my classes, particularly math and science and drama. Cheryl laughed and said, "So you were a tomboy. But you look so girly. And I was so girly but am so big I could probably play all those sports, but never wanted to. Then Cheryl asked, "So, did you do OK with the sports?" I replied, "Yeah, I did OK. I played soccer for my high school and was all-league and top scorer for my team as a senior." She said, "Oh, wow. I guess I shouldn't judge just by the way someone looks." I asked how she had done, and she said that she had participated in several groups in modern dance and had won several ballroom dancing contests with her boyfriend until he had bailed on her. She said, "I just hope my size won't keep me out of being able to dance here." I told her, "Cheryl, I hope you get the opportunity., I know you will be great at it." She smiled wanly and said, "Thank you, Blossom. I hope you get the opportunity too." Then she laughed and said, "I could use a friend in the dance troupe." First, the organizers of the tryouts gave everyone an application form with a questionnaire to fill out. It was almost ten pages long. It did have some questions on what we had done in dance. But it had a lot more questions on personal preferences and a lot of situational questions, like, "What would you do if ....?" It took over an hour to fill out, and I was not the last to finish. I wondered why they wanted to know the personal preferences and situational stuff. It didn't seem to be related to dancing. Next the organizers introduced us one by one and allowed us to say who we were. Then they gave each of us a few paragraphs from a story about a woman who meets a man and wants him to ask her out. They asked us to recreate a dialog where we tried to spark interest in the man. One of the older women who was organizing things did the part of the man. Frankly, I thought I would be terrible at this, given that I had never wanted to have a man ask me out before. But I was able to draw on some of my previous experience dating as Elvis and on my drama in high school and gave what I thought was a credible dialog. I saw some of the girls roll their eyes as I spoke, so I was worried. Finally, they had each of us do a short dance. I chose to do the ballet routine I had worked up for the two Japanese Gentlemen. I included the dialog. I had brought my ballet shoes, but other than that I wore the shorts and tee-shirt I had on when I walked here. Because of my running, I was toned up and could extend well and was able to do the whole routine without getting tired. At the end, I was able to hold my single toe stand for 10 seconds before I had to go down to the balls of my feet. The woman who was recording her observations said, "Well Done, Blossom." So, I felt pretty good about my presentation. Cheryl's presentation was spectacular. She did a combination of three dances, modern interpretative, ballroom with a pretend partner, and finally ballet. And what ballet it was, with leaps and twirls that were high and elegant at the same time. I couldn't help but applaud at the end. After everyone had their time in the spotlight, the organizers said they had to confer, and we should contact them later. They left some business cards on the table, so I guess I had to call them to find out. Cheryl and another girl, who looked like she was Hispanic, asked me if I wanted to go to lunch with them. The three of us went to a sandwich shop in the casino where the tryouts took place. The Hispanic girl was named Juanita. Because of something in the way she said it, I asked her if that was a stage name or a real name. She laughed and said, "It's a stage name. My real name is Cindy. How about you? Is Blossom your real name? I laughed and said "No, my name is Helen. It's 'Akira Helen Watson.' Cheryl said, "What is Akira. Japanese?" I said, "Yes, Akira means bright light. And Helen is Greek for bright light. I guess my parents wanted to make sure their point was clear, whatever it was?" Then I asked Cheryl, "Is Cheryl a stage name?" Cheryl said, "It's my real name. I guess I have never felt I needed a stage name to make me stand out. I'm always the tallest girl in any group." Then two other girls who had tried out came in. One looked at us and said, "Lookie who's here. The giantess, the wetback, and the skinny Jap. Well, I'm sure we won't be seeing much of them after today." Cheryl burst into tears at the unprovoked attack. I had known she was sensitive, but she appeared to have a full-blown complex about her size. Juanita started to throw something at them, but I held her hands down and said, "It's not worth it, Juanita. Don't go down to their level. It can only hurt you." So, Juanita only scowled, but if looks could kill, the other two would be dead. One of the two saw what I had done, and came by and said, "Well, holding hands. How sweet. True love." I glared at her and said, "Why don't you and your friend go crawl back into whatever holes you came out of." Not very original, but I was too mad to think of anything better. Then the waitress hurried over and took the other two girls to a table on the other side of the restaurant; I'm sure to avoid problems. For the next few minutes, Juanita and I talked, but it was as though the earth had swallowed Cheryl. I caught her looking around in near panic. I said, "Hey, Cheryl." But she didn't respond. I repeated, "Hey Cheryl." Finally, she looked at me. Then I said, "Don't let that bitch do that to you. It's true. You're tall. You're tall, and you're beautiful, and you're talented. That bitch is a pimple on the ass of humanity. Don't give her the pleasure of ruining your day." Cheryl giggled and said, "You're right, Blossom. What she said is her problem, not mine." I said, "That's a girl. You're strong and confident. Keep your head up." We resumed our lunch and talked some more about the tryouts. I asked Cheryl and Juanita if they knew why all the questions. Cheryl said, "The dance troupe supplies dancers to events, and I think they want to make sure the dancers would be comfortable." I asked, "What kind of events?" Cheryl said, "I don't know. Community events, I suppose." Juanita said, "Actually, all kinds of events. They use the dancers as ambassadors to potential supporters. The dance troupe cannot any longer survive on just payments from casinos. So, they want to be sure the dancers can represent them well." That troubled me a bit. I wondered if I had the free time to represent the troupe at lots of events. After lunch, Cheryl and I and Juanita exchanged phone numbers and wished each other luck. I called Mrs. Betts the next morning, fully expecting her to tell me the dance troupe did not need me. There were so many vastly more talented young woman dancers with beautiful faces and beautiful bodies, why would they need a marginally talented dancer who looked 14 and had measurements 26A-24-32? But Mrs. Betts told me I had been accepted into the program and should be at the studio where we auditioned next Wednesday at 7 AM. What a surprise. In some ways I was ecstatic. It was exciting to have a chance to do something that looked like a lot of fun, and it would keep me in shape for soccer. I worried I would never have time for it, but I had to give it a try. I went over to see Joyce that morning. I usually stayed away except for Monday morning, because Mr. Mason had been badgering me to do another porn flick, and I had decided I didn't want to do anymore. I had been looking at my situation long-term, and I didn't know if I would ever be Elvis again. So, did I want a bunch of porn flicks floating around with my face in them? And just as bad, with Mitsuko's face. After Trudy had shown me that picture of the two of us in last year's Tempah High's yearbook, I realized how much alike we looked. It would be easy for someone to look at that picture and accuse my sister of doing porn. I asked Joyce about being part of the dance troupe, and whether I would be able to do it given my contractual commitment to AAA. She said, "Oh, Blossom. We'll make it work. I want you, and all the girls who work for me to have every opportunity to better themselves. Remember, it was I who introduced you to Mrs. Betts. That was on purpose." That's when I realized what a truly wonderful person Joyce was and went over and hugged her and said "Thanks, Joyce. I appreciate it. I hope you can still give me enough assignments to do as I am doing. Otherwise, it will mean a cut in pay for me." She looked at me and said, "Maybe not. Here's the thing. The troupe supplies entertainers for all sorts of events and people. And the entertainers are in high demand. The entertainer's pay is not particularly high. But it is worth their while for several reasons. First, they are all young women, and it is an exciting lifestyle. Second, they can meet young, wealthy, marriageable men. Quite a few of the entertainers find their true love that way; their rich true love. And Third, although there is no expectation of sex, some of the men want sex from the dancers, and some of the dancers are willing to have sex, provided an appropriate gift is forthcoming. When Mrs. Betts is asked to supply an entertainer to someone who wants sex, she will select an entertainer who she knows is willing to have sex. The gifts are higher than $400 and are given directly to the entertainer. It can be very lucrative." I didn't know what to think. It sounded like this was just another escort service, more sophisticated than AAA. But it didn't seem to include specials, which I needed. I asked Joyce, "I have volunteered to do special assignments for you. I need to continue doing those assignments. Please continue to pass them to me, Joyce?" She smiled and said, "I will continue giving you special assignments until you tell me NO too often. I expect you to ease into this new situation slowly." 10. Life as an Escort - First Pregnancy We were given birth control pills to take free of charge so that we wouldn't avoid bareback assignments. They were on 28-day cards, with 24 days in which we could not get pregnant and four days in which we menstruated. I won't even describe the first time I menstruated. This body naturally has heavy and painful periods, and I just stayed in the motel room and for once was bitchier than Celia. However, no pill is totally effective. And one time early on, I slept in a man's room and then had another assignment that day. I had no more than 30 minutes between assignments, and I forgot my pill. The next time I was due to have my period, I didn't. That would have been my second period, so I was new at this. Instead of being concerned, I was relieved at not having to deal with a period. Then I started getting nauseated in the morning. Celia caught me running to the bathroom and asked me what was going on. I said, "Oh, my stomach has been upset the last few days." She laughed, and asked, "Are you sure you're not pregnant." That comment caused my blood to freeze, and I asked, "How can you tell?" She said, "Get a test kit from any drugstore." I went out and did exactly that the next morning, and by noon I knew I was pregnant. Now what? I didn't think I had to do anything in the next few days, so I just thought about it for a while. How did I feel about being pregnant? Well, I had grown up a boy, so I had never thought about being a mother and didn't know if I wanted to. Nevertheless, I had been raised to consider unborn children as potential human beings and worthy of consideration. My Aunt once told me that if I ever got a girl pregnant, I would damn well do the responsible thing and help her with medical care and help raise the child. Otherwise, my aunt would use every dollar she had to put a contract out on my ass. (Did I tell you that Aunt Marge had some very colorful ways of expressing her opinions?) But that wasn't the situation I in now, so my aunt's opinion didn't provide much guidance. I wasn't Elvis who had gotten a girl pregnant. I was Blossom, the whore who had become pregnant by an essentially anonymous john. What did I owe my child and my child's father? Should I terminate the pregnancy? Or should I bring it to term? That thought gave me pause. 'My child,' this was my child. And it was my responsibility to care for him or her. God, what an awesome thing. I knew the child was probably my problem alone. The john would likely not want to help support it. I was sure he would think he had fulfilled his obligation when he paid for the sex. But I suppose I owed it to the child, if not to the john, to figure out who he was and ask him if he wanted me to have this child. Probably, he wouldn't care one way or the other, as long as he didn't have to support it or acknowledge it. But I could see some circumstances where he might. If he did, he would have to pay me for my time and the medical bills. That was only fair. But the more important question was, did I owe it to the child to carry him or her to term. Then another thought came to me, could I carry a fetus to term? I had a lot going against me. First, because of the spells, I was slenderer than April had been, and could not gain any weight. As one john had pointed out, my hips were not birthing hips. And second, since I had to find an abusive man to have sex with me every week, my lifestyle was hazardous. The fetus likely would be exposed to great danger. So, did I have any real chance to carry a fetus to term? Was it better to terminate the pregnancy and be done with it? Strangely, I rejected that option almost without thought. I wanted this child to live. And I realized that some of the questions I was otherwise asking were prompted by what I wanted. What a messy situation this was, and one I would never have faced if I had stayed Elvis. I decided to talk to Joyce about it, since she understood my lifestyle better than anyone else would. The next morning, I went over to AAA early and caught Joyce as she got in. Unfortunately, her husband was also there. I talked to Joyce about this and that, until Mr. Mason went into his office and shut the door. Then I hurriedly told Joyce what was going on and asked her what she thought I should do. She looked down for a moment, and said, "You know the contract you signed said that if you became pregnant as a result of being an escort, you must get an abortion, paid for by AAA." I was aghast and said, "No. I don't remember that." She said, "Well, the contract does not highlight it. Anyway, don't spread this news around, until you decide what to do." I said, "I won't. But I need to talk to people. I am having a hard time with this." She nodded and told me what other escorts in the same situation had decided. Most had had an abortion. I also talked to Celia. She related some experiences she had observed where other escorts had gotten pregnant, but said she had never been in the same situation. I was still undecided about what I would do when I went to AAA the next Monday morning. After the gathering and after I had gotten my check, I left the room and was about halfway down the hall, when one of the enforcers that AAA used to protect its escorts appeared behind me, and said "Hi, Blossom. I'm here to take you to your appointment." I turned around and asked, "What appointment?" Then he grabbed me and started pulling me along. I tried to struggle, but he put his arm around me, and I felt a prick on my arm and lost consciousness. The next thing I knew, I was in a bed in the same clinic where they had examined me when I first arrived. Both of my arms were handcuffed to the side of the bed. I was still groggy at first, but slowly I woke up. Eventually, the nurse came in, and I demanded to know what was going on. She said, "You just had a suction curettage." I knew what that was from my training as a medic. I burst into tears. I no longer had to worry about deciding whether to keep my baby. They had aborted it. I screamed at the nurse for unprofessional behavior, and I screamed at the doctor when she came in. Finally, I calmed down enough for the doctor to tell me what I needed to do for recovery. Then she handed me some supplies, undid the handcuffs, and scooted me out the door. I remembered from my training as a medic that this was unsafe. I had been under a general anesthetic and should have help to go to a recovery center or my home for that reason alone. But I wound up having to walk. It took forever, and by the time I go there, I was feeling a lot of vaginal pain. When I checked, I found I was spotting, and it had stained my shorts. So, I went in and took a shower and put on a menstrual pad and laid down and cried. Celia told me to shut up, and I told her to go to hell. I just laid in my motel room for the next two days and cried on and off. I had episodes of ferocious cramping and continued spotting, helped somewhat by the medications they gave me. I continued to be furious. I had just about decided to try to carry the fetus to term. And AAA took that decision away from me. It was as though I had no right to decide my own affairs. I had signed a contract, and because of that, I had given up even the right to decide whether my child should be born. I thought about it and decided that if I found myself pregnant again, I would not tell anyone. I would make up my mind by myself, and if I decided to keep the child, I would run away on my own. I would find a way to survive despite the spell and despite my contract with AAA and despite what anyone else in the world might think. But I was no longer pregnant, and I needed to resume living. The most important was finding abusive sex, as required by the spells. I needed to start doing special assignments again. And I needed to start making money again so that I could send it to my aunt and sister. So, I dragged myself out of my funk and talked to Joyce, who told me that she had no idea that the company had planned a forced abortion, although when pressed, she admitted it had happened before. But according to Joyce, "Most of the girls didn't react as you did. They were happy to be free of caring for a child they didn't want." I didn't believe that. They may have said they were happy when they couldn't do anything about it. But what sane woman would be OK with someone else deciding to terminate a fetus she was carrying? I challenged Joyce on this, but she had no answer. Then I thought to myself, 'Whoa, Blossom, how the hell did you become an expert on women and sanity. Remember, you are not really a woman. You are a man.' But somehow, I couldn't quite convince myself I was a man anymore. I felt like a scared, young woman who had had someone else take something from her that she cared about. And I had a pretty good idea who that someone else was. I stormed into Mr. Mason's office and told him what a bastard he was. He looked at me like I was a crazy woman. He said, "Blossom, do you not remember that the contract you signed with AAA allowed me, the CEO, to decide to terminate a pregnancy that came about because of your having contract with AAA?" I said, "No, I don't remember that. I wouldn't have signed that." He pulled out a copy of my contract, and showed me the section, 'AAA will take responsibility for any fetus that should come about from actions governed by this contract and reserves the right to make all decisions regarding such fetus.' I thought and said, "I'm sure that clause is illegal. I can't sign away my child's rights like that." He laughed and said, "It's not a child. It's a fetus. And it doesn't have any rights." I looked at him and said, "Contract or no, I don't believe it is legal for you to exercise the power of life and death over a human being." He laughed again and said, "Well, then sue AAA. But if you do, I guarantee you'll never work on the strip again." That caused me to pause. I knew it meant that I would be blacklisted. No escort income. No dancing. If I stayed in Las Vegas, I would have to work the strip as a common whore to find johns abusive enough to meet the needs of the spell I had laid on me. Damn him. He had me. I had to work for AAA if I wanted to maintain my sanity. But I fully intended to talk to a lawyer and see if I had any enforceable rights. For now, I was helpless. I coldly walked out the door as Mr. Mason laughed. I went back to work. But I was depressed and felt as though I had no soul. I went through the motions, not caring if I made other people happy, and not caring even about myself much. I thought about suicide, and if there hadn't been a spell on me, I might have done it. But I was compelled to live, and slowly I reengaged with the world. However, I never forgot my child. I worked out when he or she would have been born and marked it on my calendar and gave my child a party every year after that. I had always been skeptical that the coven's spells would make me a better person. As Elvis, I had been a rapist under circumstances that I still didn't understand. But I generally acted according to what I believed was right and was proud of my life. Now, as a punishment, I had been changed to Helen and made into a whore. That had improved my understanding of the imperatives that ruled women's lives. But Helen couldn't act according to what she believed was right. That was a cloud that hovered over her, and her soul was sickened doing things she hated. For now, all she could do was survive and be the best person she could be and hope tomorrow she could take more ownership of her life. 11. Life as an Escort - The Dance Troup and Sam It was about six weeks since I had the dance troupe had accepted me. It turned out they had two separate chorus lines, one filled with newer or less talented dancers and one with the best dancers, the B-team and the A- team. Cheryl spent a week on the B team, but with her tall beautiful body and superb dancing skills, she soon was asked to transfer to the A-team. Juanita and I were still on the B-team after six weeks, and it looked like I would be there indefinitely. But that was OK. I loved the dance troupe. I loved the practices and physical exhaustion. All my life as Elvis I had gloried in hard physical labor. For some reason, it gave me a deep sense of satisfaction, particularly when it made me stronger or otherwise better. Dancing in the troupe was certainly hard physical labor. The payoff was continuous improvement in my dancing skills, although never quite enough to reach elite levels. Years ago, I hadn't felt the same happiness with ballet. I don't know why. If I could go back in time, I would have given it much more time and effort. Even the B Team had opportunities to represent the troupe, and Mrs. Betts knew from conversations with Joyce that I was willing to entertain men physically if desired. So, I got almost as many dates from the troupe as I got from AAA. One evening I finished dancing at one of the casinos, and Mrs. Betts brought two people over and introduced them as Roger and Sandra, and as being interested in my entertaining. The two invited me out for a drink. I was a little surprised because they were a married couple. I was starting to think this was the start of something kinky, but they explained that they were attending a convention in town with Sandra's brother, and they would like me to entertain him. I asked why he wasn't there. Sandra did most of the talking. I had the feeling that she made most of the decisions in that marriage, which was fine if they were both happy. She explained, "My brother, Samuel Perkins, is not the sort of man to pay for female entertainment. He is a widower with two daughters and his father-in-law and mother-in-law live in the home and take care of the girls. He is very focused on his family and doesn't get out much. And his mother-in-law tends to discourage relationships, disliking the ideas that Sam might find a woman to replace her daughter. Sam has had almost no feminine companionship since his wife passed away four years ago. I am concerned about his mental health." Sandra continued, "We all arrived early on Wednesday to do some sales calls, but the convention doesn't start until Monday. Sam saw your last dance performance tonight, and you caught his eye. He thought you were very attractive. We want to invite you to spend the weekend with us, ostensibly as a guide and entertainer." Then Sandra smiled and continued, "We will pay the escort fees for you to seduce Sam." I replied, "I have to admit, I have some moral qualms about trying to seduce a man into doing something he doesn't think is proper." She looked at me strangely, and said, "Perhaps we have the wrong information. I understood from your troupe coordinator that you are willing to have sex to entertain men. Is that not correct?" I blushed a deep red and said, "That is correct. But I entertain men who already want the sex I have to offer. To seduce a man is using his sexual urges to get him to do something he does not want to do. I don't think that it's right. I'm sorry. Perhaps you should make this offer to another dancer." I think the idea that a whore would have moral qualms surprised and frustrated Sandra, who impressed me as deep into control. She thought for a moment and said, "No, even if you two don't have sex, it will be good for Sam to spend a few days with a woman who caters to him and listens to what he says and who makes herself available in case he decides he is interested. You can do that, can't you?" I smiled and said, "Yes. Of course." She said, "Good. Somehow, I have a feeling that you and Sam will get along and that he will enjoy himself." Then Sandra went over what we would be doing this weekend. I was to meet the other three at the Harvest Restaurant in the MGM Grand and have dinner and go to a show. Saturday, there was a charitable event in the morning and several receptions in the evening that were part of the convention Sandra and Roger and Sam were attending. We would have some time during the day to look around Las Vegas. And Sunday was free. We would decide what to do at dinner tonight and try to make reservations Saturday. I went back to my room and put on a black dress that ended a few inches above my knees, some nylons, and a pair of 3" heels. The dress wasn't low cut, simply because I had little or no cleavage to show. But my legs were reasonably attractive. I put on medium makeup, including bright red lipstick, along with a neckless, earrings, and a couple of bracelets. I packed a small travel bag with tampons, makeup, cold cream, toothpaste, a casual outfit that I thought would be suitable for the charitable event, a bikini, a set of travel clothes in case we took a drive or walked somewhere, and a nightgown. If Elvis had packed a bag with corresponding outfits, it would have had to be a small suitcase. But Helen could get by with much less because she was smaller, and women's clothing is lighter. I had learned a lot about dressing as a woman and makeup in the last couple of months. Then I put my cellphone into my purse, along with a light revolver I had purchased. The revolver was supposed to be mainly plastic, so it wouldn't trigger metal detectors. This promised to be a safe 'date,' but things could go south on any 'date.' I also had my concealed carry permit in my travel bag. Now all I had to do was get to the MGM Grand where we were having dinner. I thought about calling Uber since I didn't want to deal with walking in high heels. But It was still light outside and not too hot, and I had lots of time, so I changed to the flats that were part of the travel outfit, put my heels in the travel bag, and set off to enjoy a half-hour walk. As I walked, I got a few looks from men passing by. I knew I impressed people as a very young lady, perhaps a teenage girl going to a school party at one of the casinos. However, the makeup and jewelry made me appear older. In any case, I knew I was cute. I thought I would be naturally pretty, since my sister was pretty, and we had a lot of genes in common. But to be sure I was pretty enough to be an escort, one of the spells that the coven had cast on me made me cuter than I might have otherwise been, by selecting the phenotype corresponding with my genotype that was the most attractive possible. I wasn't sure how that worked since attractiveness was such a subjective thing. But I suppose magic could handle it. I knew I was not physically imposing or stunningly beautiful, like my friend Cheryl, or like some of the black dancers in the clubs. But I hoped I gave the appearance of youth and cuteness that some men find irresistible, and in particular that Samuel Perkins would like. The looks I got from men validated that judgment and were welcome at this moment. I arrived at the restaurant 15 minutes early and waited for Sandra, Roger, and Sam. A few minutes later Sandra and Roger walked up, accompanied by a man who must be Sam. I had built a picture of him in my mind from Sandra's comments as being middle-aged and maybe good-looking. But the reality was very different. Sam was tall and dark and very handsome, looking like a young Tom Selleck. He wore slacks and a sports jacket that looked great on him. Sam flashed me a smile and took my small hand in his large hand and said in a smooth, friendly voice, "You must be Blossom. I'm so pleased to meet you." I stopped breathing for a second and almost melted before I was able to get out the words, "Y... Yes, you must be Samuel Perkins. I'm very happy to meet you too." On one level, I was very troubled at my reaction. I still considered myself a man just playing a role thrust upon him unwillingly. And I had not felt any particular pleasure in just being with a man until the last few weeks, although one of the spells forced me to orgasm under certain circumstances with a man. However, I had recently started responding to attractive men, men who were some combination of physically attractive and intelligent and funny and kind. But I had never had a response like this. It appeared obvious that the spell turning me into a woman was working on my mind, and I didn't particularly like it. On another level, I thoroughly enjoyed my response. My heart was beating rapidly, my face flushed, my body tingled, and I could almost feel my vagina forming lubricant. I would have been happy to crawl onto Sam's lap like a little girl. I would have been even happier to have him hug me and hold me. In the end, I managed to avoid standing too close to him, and we just chatted. Then the maitre d brought us to our table. As we selected our meals, the other three talked about their work. I tried to follow along and asked a few questions. But it was hard, and Sam finally suggested they talk about of interest to all of us. I appreciated that. The other three ordered wine. Elvis had never particularly liked wine. I debated whether to be part of the group by ordering wine or whether to be true to myself by ordering a lite beer. I ordered a Coors Light, which raised Sandra's eyebrows for some reason. I also ordered a steak salad. I couldn't eat enough of a full meal to justify the price. After that, we talked until dinner arrived. Sam's history, distilled from a lot of conversation, was as follows. He graduated from high school one year early and finished his physics degree at the University of Nevada at Reno in three years and then finished his Ph.D. in another two, which was very fast. He told me about his thesis. I understood enough about the process and field to ask a few intelligent questions, which I think surprised Sam. Sam met his wife when they were both in graduate school. The fell in love even though she was three years older than him. Upon graduation, they married, and both went to work for his current company, Amalgamated Instruments Unlimited in Carson City, Nevada. Sam had been very successful and developed some innovative instruments that were coming into use in geology and civil engineering. In the meantime, his wife had decided to get pregnant and had had twin daughters. A few years later, tragically, his wife developed metastatic breast cancer that did not respond to treatment. She died within six months of diagnosis. He spent a lot of time talking about his daughters, who seemed to be the center of his life. It was a very sweet and sad story. I told him about myself and my family, being careful to talk about Helen rather than Elvis. I told him how they had urged me to go to college even though they needed the help I could provide by working. I told him how much I loved them. I told them about my father's death from a heart attack and my Aunt's bouts with breast cancer. And I told him how I had been interested in science and medicine and soccer and ballet and drama in high school and how I had graduated with a very good grade point, and how I eventually wanted to be a doctor. Then I lied and said I left college and came here to get a job and send the money home. I hated myself for the lie but couldn't think of a way to tell the truth. We also talked about current events and shows and music. I was a little surprised at how much we agreed. And Sam was surprised that I kept up with events in science and medicine. He was able to answer some questions I had that were not explained well in Scientific American or Astronomy or Discover magazines. After we finished dinner, Sandra announced she was going to the bathroom. Then she sat there looking at me, seeming to be expecting something. Finally, I realized she wanted me to go with her, and said, "Me too, I'll go with you." I had never had a girlhood, and sometimes the response girls expect of each other just didn't click in my mind. As Elvis, I had never understood the tendency of girls to go to the restroom in packs. I still don't completely, but it is partially an opportunity to talk between themselves about what is happening. I know as Elvis it would never have occurred to me to excuse myself to talk to another man in the restroom. The only restroom conversation Elvis remembered were some jokes about the facilities and some comments about sports. Anyway, after Sandra and I got into the bathroom and did what we had to do and freshened up our makeup, she complimented me on the way how I was steering the conversation to topics Sam was interested in and gave me some further background on his daughters so that I could show interest in them. Then she asked how I had known to read up on science to be able to talk about it. I thanked her but said I hadn't made any special effort to read up on anything. I was interested in science and medicine. She was giving me too much credit if she thought I was designing the conversation to make Sam happy. She laughed and said, "Right!" Then Sandra said, "Remember. I want him to feel good. But in the end, I don't want him to be hurt. If you hurt him, you'll regret it." I didn't bother to reply. I had no intention of hurting him. I had no intentions at all. My emotions were in the driver's seat, not my rational self. We went back to the table. Since there was time before the show, the other three ordered deserts and I ordered some coffee. Then the waiter asked how we would like to pay, and I tried to pay for my dinner, but Sam insisted on paying. I finally said, "OK, but I'll pay next time. Agreed?" Sam hemmed and hawed but finally agreed. We got to the show in plenty of time and had a nice time talking about Las Vegas as we waited. They asked me a lot of questions, but I said I'd only been in town for a couple of months and hadn't had a chance to see much. Sam asked where I was from, and Sandra said, "Wait, don't tell me, let me think. Then she said, "Texas, right." I exaggerated my twang and said, "Yes Maam. Straight from Tempah, Texas, 40 minutes north of Dallas." Sandra laughed, but then stopped herself and said, "Sorry, no disrespect intended. But it is so incongruous to hear a Eurasian woman talk that way." I had gotten upset with other people who implied all Texans were barbarians but decided to let it go this time. I said, "Hey, Tempah was a great place to grow up. I had tons of friends and lots to do. The schools were good and explored many ways of looking at the world, and it was easy to find part-time work. There were a few Neanderthals who didn't like Asians and other non-whites, but most of the time it was great." Sandra continued to look skeptical and asked me if there were other Japanese in Tempah. I said, "No Maam." Then she asked, "Didn't you resent that?" I said, "No, I didn't. Look, I enjoyed all my friends, mainly white, but some Hispanics and blacks. The quality that made them friends was not their racial background, but their personality. It wouldn't have been any different if they had been Japanese." Sandra replied, "But didn't you miss Japanese culture?" I said, "Yes. I lived in Japan until I was 11, and there is a great deal of good in that culture, and I did miss out on a lot of it. But if I had grown up in Japan, I would have missed out on American culture. And it also has a lot of good in it, along with some bad." Sandra was starting to sound like a devotee to identity politics, which was so popular among so- called progressives. My father had taught me that all men (and women) are the same under the skin and that integration was good. And I didn't see the attraction of identity politics at all. Sandra guffawed at the idea that American culture had a lot of good, and said, "American culture is an amalgamation of racism and sexism, fueled by political beliefs that oppress the poor, an economic system that destroys the environment and exploits the common man, and religious beliefs that promote hate. And here you are, one of its biggest victims, all but endorsing it." I tried to stay silent, I really did, but I couldn't. I said, "Wait a minute. I acknowledge that American culture has flaws and that American leaders have done some stupid things in the last few years. But our culture can remedy those things, and I think it will. In all, we are a lot better than most other cultures. For example, in terms of racism, all cultures seem to separate people into them and us, and often hate them. In Japan, everyone except the Japanese is considered inferior. I know because my relatives rejected me since I was not pure Japanese. That may seem strange because to you I look Japanese. But to Japanese people, I look Caucasian. After my mother died, I was shipped home to my father in Texas because none of my uncles wanted to raise an American child, whereas in Texas I was accepted by my aunt and by most of the other students. So, don't go on and on to me about how horrible American culture is when I know from experience that it has a lot of good to it. Then Sandra said something about not expecting an ignorant little whore to understand the nuances of culture. I turned red at that. In some ways, I wished I had kept big my mouth shut. On the other hand, I didn't really want to. I thought I was right. I looked at the two men. Roger was looking at me with no expression, and Sam looked bemused. I decided to cut my losses. I regretted I had not had a chance to spend time more time with Sam, but somehow the thought of spending time with people who thought of me as an ignorant whore was intolerable. I got up and took $100 out of my bag and handed it to Sam and said, "That's for dinner." Then I grabbed my purse and started to leave. But Sam blocked the space between the seats and wouldn't move. He said, "Hey, Let's slow down. You can't let a moment of frustration ruin the evening. We've already paid for the tickets to the show. You both have defensible points of view. Just calm down. Sandra, you need to apologize for insulting Blossom. It was totally uncalled for. Blossom, you need to hold your temper and avoid generating hard feelings. You both need to act like adults and interact civilly even though you disagree. My two daughters, age 6, can do it, so can you. Well, Sandra said she was sorry she called me an ignorant whore, although she didn't say I wasn't an ignorant whore, and I said I was sorry for continuing the argument. Elvis had always been reasonably level-headed. I don't know why as Blossom I hadn't used his interpersonal skills to ignore Sandra's idiotic comments and change the subject. I guess I resented the implication that by having white southern friends I was in some strange way a traitor to my race, whatever race that might be. But Sam was right that I wasn't going to change anything by fighting with Sandra tonight. Then we changed the seating arrangement, so Roger was across from me rather than Sandra. If I only interacted with Sam, I was happy. In retrospect, I was puzzled by my behavior. After all, I was a whore. It wasn't my job to debate philosophy. My job was to please men, no matter what jerks they might be. And, not surprisingly, many men I was with were jerks, delivering all sorts of slights to the women they considered immoral even though they might desire them physically. But I understood that and didn't let it bother me. If I wasn't hurt and I got paid, I didn't care what they thought. So why had I flared up at Sandra, who was the one paying me? It would have been much more in line with my role as an escort to ignore her comments. But I realized I had slipped into the role of someone out with friends and wanted my friends to respect me. And that was entirely because I liked Sam so much. I needed to get my head together. These people were not my friends. Sandra was my employer, and Sam was a man I needed to try to please, to make him feel good. That's all they were to me. Clearly, I was not a friend in their minds either. To Sandra, I was a whore, an employee. To Sam, I was a companion, and maybe a piece of ass. And after Sunday I would never see them again. Our moods did lighten up a little as we discussed non-controversial things while waiting for the show to start. The show was a comedy-magic act and was very funny. Sam occasionally whispered comments in my ear about the show, and I whispered some to him, so we wound up sitting very close. By the time the show was over, I felt much better, and Sam and I were getting along well, and I even said a few pleasant words to Sandra and Roger. The crowd from the show spilled out onto the casino floor. Right where we came out, there was a long line for the next show. We made our way through the crowd. There were a couple of young boys in line with their parents who were chasing around as the line advanced, not unusual for young children. Suddenly a large man came running full speed down one of the walkways between slot machines, with a security guard chasing him. The young boy ran out into the walkway headed the other direction, and the man ran over him. The boy fell backward and hit the back of his head on the hard floor. I heard a sick thunk as his head hit and saw his head bounce up from the floor and fall and hit again. I knew from my time as an Army Medic that the boy should not be moved and should be evaluated by a trained emergency doctor or nurse or paramedic as soon as possible. I was a competent paramedic, but I had none of the equipment necessary to check him out. I was horrified when the boy's father picked him up and dusted him off and asked, "How's it going sport. You OK?" The boy nodded. The boy didn't look OK to me. He was pale as a ghost, and his demeanor had changed from animated and aware to lethargic. He could still be OK, but he could easily have a bleed in his brain. At the very least, he probably had a concussion. And he could have broken a vertebra, in which case moving his head could cause paralysis. I rushed up and said, "Sir. Sir. Your son could be hurt. He needs medical attention before you move him." The man looked at me and noted my youthful appearance and said, "Who might you be?" I said, "My name is Blossom, err, Miyamoto. But I have some medical experience. You need to keep your son's neck immobile and call 911. Please. He may have an injury that could kill or paralyze him. It's better to be cautious. It's not worth the risk." I had been keeping my eye on the boy and noticed he seemed to be fighting to stay awake. I continued, "At least let me look at him." The guy said, "You've been watching too many medical shows on TV, Sweetcakes. Leave us alone." Then he turned to his wife and said, "Come on, Liz. The show is starting soon, and we're holding up the line." Liz looked a little concerned, but she picked up the other boy and started to walk away with her husband. What could I do? I concluded that anything I did would be counterproductive. So, I just broke out into tears. Stupid damn hormones, anyway. Then Sam walked up and told the couple, "Look, you should listen to her. She knows what she's talking about even though she's very young." I guess having a tall handsome 30-year old man vouch for me caused Liz to assert herself. She said, "God Damn it, Terry. Stop. We're going to let her look at him. I don't give a damn if we're late to the show." Terry rolled his eyes back and said, "OK, but be quick about it." I pulled myself together and said, "Lay him down on the rug part over here." There was less foot traffic over here, so I had room to work. The guy started to put him down, but I said, "Support his head. He could have a neck injury." That sort of sobered the guy up, and he was gentler. I was bound and determined at that moment that the boy would not be moved again until trained medical personal looked at him. I would have fought Terry to keep him from moving the boy. I got down on my knees and felt my skirt hike up to about a foot above the knee. But I didn't care. By this time, the boy was almost unconscious. I screamed to Sam asking him to bring me my purse. I pulled a penlight out of it and held the boy's right eye open and moved the light in and out of his field of vision. The iris appeared to be responding properly. Then I repeated in the left eye. I didn't see his iris move at all. I called Liz over and asked her if he had ever had any problems with his left eye not responding to light. She didn't know what I was talking about. I asked her if any doctor had told her he had an Addie's Pupil. She said no. Damn it. Then I looked at her and said calmly, "Liz, you have to call 911. I think he's bleeding internally." By this time Liz was thoroughly frightened, and she pulled out her phone and dialed without checking with her husband. I knew we only had a few minutes before there could be irreparable damage. The only productive thing I could do in the meantime was to check for a neck injury. I palpated the boy's neck from the side and found no indication of a problem. That would have to be verified with X rays but thank God his neck showed no obvious signs of injury. Liz told me the medics were on the way. I could only sit there, with my knees immobilizing the boy's head, hoping he would be OK. I suppressed the urge to cry. I knew that if I fell apart, Liz might fall apart too. Then I heard the ambulance in the distance. Thank God. A security guard was nearby watching us, and I screamed at him to get someone to direct the ambulance to the door nearby and to do crowd control so that the medics could get to us easily. A few minutes later, the medics rushed into the casino. The guard directed them to us. They asked who the patient was. Someone pointed to the boy, and they rushed over and asked what had happened. I described the incident, including seeing his head bounce. I also told them the tests I had been able to do. I was Elvis again, and I used the terminology I had learned as an Army Medic. Then the guy thanked me and took over. I got up and walked over to Sam, and he put his arms around me, and I cried. My part in this drama was over, and I could only pray that the boy would be OK. I momentarily flashed back to Afghanistan, when Elvis had had a man with a head injury come into the medic's tent joking about it being a just a scratch. Elvis had then watched him slowly lose consciousness and drift away because we couldn't get him to a neurologist in time. Elvis had cried that night, just as now Blossom cried. I hoped the outcome would be better. Sam said, "Come with us, Blossom. I'll buy you a drink. You deserve it." So, I went with him and Sandra and Roger to a bar in the casino and ordered a small margarita. The waiter carded me before serving. The four of us sat in a booth. Sandra was right across from me and asked: "How did you know what to do, Blossom?" The spell wouldn't let me tell her the truth, so I lied and said I had volunteered in the emergency room at the Tempah hospital, and the staff there had taught me what they could. She didn't seem to buy it totally, but I guess she couldn't think of any alternatives. I also said that I hoped to get a college degree someday and then a medical degree. The idea that an escort would have such aspirations seemed to surprise her. After a while, I told them I needed to get back to my room. Sam asked how far it was, and I said a couple of miles, but I could call Uber. Then Sam invited me to sleep in his room, right upstairs. He promised I would be safe. In truth, I didn't want to go back to my room and sleep alone. After tonight's events, I would rather sleep with someone. Someone like Sam. I accepted his invitation, and in a few minutes, I was taking the elevator upstairs with Sam to his room. Sam's room was very nice with a kitchenette and a sort of living area and a bedroom. Sam offered me the bedroom and said he would sleep on the couch. I said I preferred the couch if he didn't mind. He let me get ready first. I was a little embarrassed because the nightgown I had packed was that pink translucent baby doll in which the bottom had a slit from naval to crotch. But there was an extra robe in the bathroom, and I used that. Sam had put one of the bedroom pillows and an extra blanket on the couch. I sat down and read from the Kindle app on my tablet, while Sam got ready for bed. Then he came out and sat in a chair across from the couch, and we talked for a few minutes. I caught him looking at me closely, and I asked, "What's the matter? I thought I got all the spinach out of my teeth." He laughed and said, "No, I was just thinking how pretty you are, Blossom, even without any makeup or bling." I blushed and thanked him. Then I said, "You showed a leap of faith when you told that kid's father I knew what I was doing. But I appreciate it." He said, "Well, you showed all the signs of knowing what you were doing. I couldn't think of any good reason you were concerned except that there was a good reason." I laughed and replied, "I really hope the little boy is OK. I'm worried about him. Unfortunately, there's no way of finding out. The hospital wouldn't tell me. I'm not family." He nodded. Then he said, "I admired how you fought so hard to get the parents to do the right thing. It was clear that you care." I thanked him. Then he changed the subject, and asked, "So, did Sandra hire you to seduce me?" I said, "My, that was a blunt question. She tried. I told her no." Then he said, "And I assume the reason she thought you would be willing to try was because you, a ..., have done things like that before." I blushed, and said softly, "yes." Then he said, "and that is why when you and she got into a dispute, she called you a whore." I repeated, "Yes." Then he said, "So, why did you tell Sandra no when she wanted you to seduce me." I said, "I don't feel comfortable trying to use my sexual allures, such as they are, to get a man to do something he doesn't want to do. I believe in people being able to do what they want to do as long as it's legal and moral." Then he said, "Hmm, OK, one more question. And I'm sure it's a question anyone who comes to know you would have. You are a very pretty girl. You are a talented dancer, and you seem to have a lot of other talents in science and medicine, and probably other areas. Why do you find it necessary to be a, ..., a" I interrupted him, "an escort?" He smiled and said, "Yes, an escort." The spells would not allow me to tell him the main reason. But there was something else I could tell him. I said, "My aunt raised my sister and me like we were her own children. She taught us what was right, and she gave us guidance and love every day. My sister and I love her like she was our birth mother. Well, my aunt has cancer and no health insurance. I have been sending her as much money as I can. And I can make much more money as an escort than in any other job." Sam nodded. Then Sam said he needed to get to sleep and came over to me. I stood up, and he kissed me on the forehead. Then, I stood on my tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek. I told him I had enjoyed his company tonight. Then he left, and I laid back down and resumed reading the kindle app. I had a hard time sleeping, waking up frequently, and not being able to get back to sleep easily. About 2, Sam came out of the bedroom to go to the bathroom and noticed my light on. After using the bathroom, he came in and sat back down in the chair. He said "Hi Blossom. You having trouble sleeping too?" I said, "Yes. I guess I'm still keyed up from all that happened tonight." Then he asked, "What are you reading?" I said, "One of the follow-ons to 'Old Man's War.'" He said, "Really? I like those Scalzi novels too." I decided to sit up, so we were facing each other, although that revealed my pink baby doll. When I did that, Sam came over and sat on the couch behind me. I noticed that little Sam was at full attention. He said, "By the way, I wanted to mention that your allures were, well, very alluring." I replied, "Really, you must like micro-titties." He kissed my neck and said, "They are not micro-titties. They are mini-titties. And they are beautifully shaped and very lovely." Then he slid his hands under my arms and cupped my breast and kissed my neck again. It felt wonderful. I leaned my head back and turned toward him as much as I could, and he leaned around me and gave me a deep kiss. After that, I turned around and pulled my legs up on the couch and faced him, and he grasped my baby doll top at the neckline and asked, "May I." I put my hands up, and he pulled the top off. Then I did the same with his PJ top. He was slender but had a lot of muscle on his shoulders and arms. I ran my hands over his chest and then kissed him again. I knew my role after being an escort for several months, but even more, I wanted to touch and hold Sam. Then he caressed my leg and slid his hand to my hips. Finally, he pushed the outer leg down to rest on the floor and reached in and caressed my pussy. He found a good balance between tenderness and decisiveness and made me feel very good. Then he said, "Let's go to bed." I kissed him and told him I needed to stop in the bathroom for a moment. I went into the bathroom and quickly did my business. Then I brushed my teeth. Sam had had minty breath so he must have done the same thing. Then I took the opportunity to put some lubricant in but found that I had lots of natural lubricant. I went out to the bedroom, intending to do everything I could to make Sam happy. I walked over to the bed, and he was looking at me and smiling and said my boobs were moving around very seductively. I guess I had gotten so used to them that I didn't notice. He reached out and pulled me close, kissed me and then laid me down and kissed my breasts, and sucked them. It was very stimulating. Then he moved down and discovered the slit in my bottoms and looked at me. I shrugged, and he laughed. Sam pulled my bottoms off and kissed my vagina and then stuck his tongue in. Normally I don't encourage men to go down on me because it tends to cause infections, but he was very good at it. It was worth the risk, and, hey, he had brushed his teeth, right. That caused my pelvis to fill with new sensations. We both sat up, and I got down on the floor and took the end of his hard penis in my mouth and looked up at him. The sight of a woman sucking his penis and looking up adoringly was a turn on for many men, and Sam was no different. After a few moments, he moved and pulled me back onto the bed lying beside him. He kissed me and then said, "You ready, Blossom." I nodded, and he gently put the tip of his penis inside me, where it rubbed my clitoris. It felt wonderful. Then he slowly pushed a little into me, withdrew, and pushed deeper, and repeated several times until his penis was completely lubricated. I was so aroused that I pushed too. When he was all the way in, I felt his penis hit something within me, but he was so gentle that it didn't hurt. I looked up and saw him looking in my eyes. I leaned my head up and kissed him full on the lips and found his tongue and sucked it. I had never felt so close to anyone before. Then he started thrusting gently, keeping his position, so he stimulated my clitoris as he did so. In a couple of minutes, I felt a sensation from within overwhelm me. I screamed and spasmed in pleasure. After a few moments, the stimulation was too intense, and I pulled back a little, which he took as a signal to slow down and then stop. I laid there for a moment breathing in and out heavily, and just enjoyed being close to him and feeling his big hand on my ass. That had been the first time I had orgasmed with a man just from sex. I had not expected it, but now I realized what I had been missing. One of the spells forced me to orgasm from being abused while having sex. But that was a pale imitation of the real deal, orgasm from just having sex with a man, a wonderful man that I respected greatly, and was developing other feelings for, maybe love. Wait, did I think 'love.' That was not possible. I was just going through the motions, forced to do so by the spells that had been cast on me, right. So why was I feeling so good when I was with Sam? I would have to think about that later. But for now, I just wanted to enjoy the moment. So, I tilted my head up and kissed Sam again and said, "Thank You, Sam. That was wonderful." Sam replied, "You're welcome, Blossom. It was truly my pleasure. Tell me when you want to start again. Do you want to change positions?" I loved that he was so considerate. I said, "Maybe so. Why don't we roll over with me on top?" He rolled on his back, easily holding me to him as he did so. Then he asked, "Is that OK?" I nodded, and he gently resumed thrusting. After a few moments, he said, "Would it be OK if you sat up." I said, "Sure," and brought my knees up beside him and sat up. That felt good because he was so deep inside me. Then he put his hands on the side of my hips and held me up and started thrusting more quickly. He asked if it was OK, and I said yes. He kept up for several minutes; his eyes fixed on my breasts, which were bouncing up and down with every thrust. Finally, I heard him grunting and knew he was coming. I felt his cum inside me, and that sent me into another orgasm, not quite so overwhelming as the first, but still very nice. I bent down and laid my head on his chest, and we stayed like that for several minutes. Then I looked up and gave him a deep kiss, and he said, "Thank You, Blossom. That was great. I love you." I didn't quite know what to say to that, so I ignored it, assuming he was the sort of man who always said that to girls he bedded. After a while of being close, I got up and went into the bathroom and cleaned up. I got a clean towel and brought it out and laid it on the bed so neither of us would feel the wet spot. Then I cuddled back up with him. He said, "I love you, Blossom." I did not want to throw any cold water on that, so I just said, "Love you too, Sam." In the early morning, I felt Sam behind me with his hands on my breasts, kissing my neck. His erection had returned, and I could feel it against my buttocks. It was nice in a way. It was obvious that he was interested in sex again. I turned a little and said "Sam, are you awake. Sam!" He awoke with a start, and said, "Oh, Blossom. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." I told him, "It's all right Sam. I want you to be happy. What do you want me to do?" He had me lay on my back and raise my legs while he entered me from below. He used his upper hand to feel my breasts and my tummy and then my pussy, while he thrust in and out of me. He finished quickly, and then held me and whispered into my ear how much he loved me and respected me and how pretty I was and how smart I was and how he respected what I had done to help that boy. He told me what a turn-on it was to be with someone like me. No-one had ever whispered sweet nothings like that into my ear before. As meaningless as they were, I enjoyed them. The alarm sounded at 7. We wound up taking a shower together and scrubbing each other's backs. I think Sam wanted to make love again, but we had to meet Roger and Sandra for breakfast at 8. When she saw us, Sandra raised one eyebrow and looked at me. I shrugged my shoulders, and she smiled. At breakfast, we talked about the activities of the day. At 10, convention volunteers would be renovating a house owned by a local nonprofit whose goal was to increase housing for low-income families. And indeed, the low- income family who would get this home would be contributing sweat equity. That sounded kind of cool to me, so I was eager to participate. Then later in the day, there was the reception to which Sandra had wanted me to accompany Sam. But there was a 6-hour break between the two. Sandra and Roger said they were going to swim and sunbathe during that time. I told Sam, "I must admit that six hours of lying around sunbathing is not something I would really enjoy. I guess I get bored easily. But I will do that if you want." Sam smiled and said, "I bet you look great in a bikini." I laughed and said, "Yeah, right." Then Sam asked me, "I was thinking of going to the Arizona State Museum of History. Are you interested in coming?" I replied, "Sure, sounds like fun." Sandra made a remark about, "A glamorized story of white men stealing land from the native Americans and destroying the environment." Now was a good time to shut my mouth and say nothing. But I couldn't, God help me. So, I replied, "Sure. Some white settlers did cheat and mistreat the Indians. But many settlers risked their lives to establish a new way of life, which is a story worth telling. Settlement of America by Europeans isn't all about destruction and mistreatment." Sandra sneered, and I caught myself and shut up. The volunteer project was great. The project leader was a local contractor, an older man, about 50, with long white hair. He assigned Sandra and Roger and Sam projects and said to me, "Just hang on a few minutes, Missy, and we'll find something for you to do, and started to walk away." What! My father had gone out of his way to teach Elvis about home and car maintenance, and I had worked for a contractor for a summer. Damn it; I could help with this project even if I wasn't as strong as Elvis had been. I stepped in front of the project leader to keep him from walking away and folded my slender arms just below my mini-boobs and said, "Hey, my father taught me a lot of carpentry and painting, and I worked one summer as an assistant for a contractor helping the workers with wiring and plumbing. I want to help, not just stand around and maybe carry little things to other people who are working. I know you have other projects to do, and I would like to be assigned one of them." The project leader seemed surprised. Sam, bless his heart, told him, "She really is much more capable than she looks. Give her a project. She'll do fine." The project leader smiled and said, "You said you know something about wiring. Well, we need someone to run wire in a couple of bedrooms. Think you can handle it?" I said, "I know I can." He said, "OK, there's the wire and here's a stripper and wire cutters and a hammer and some wire staples and a drill. The rooms are at the end of the hall." He showed me and pointed to some wires that came through the wall and said, "There are the incoming wires. Run one wire to the switch box, one from there to the fixture, and another wire to the nearest outlet box and then around the base to the other outlet boxes. We don't have the switches and outlets yet, so just strip the last five inches of the sheath and strip the last inch of plastic off the wires. You sure you can handle that?" I said no problem. And Elvis would have been able to handle it no problem. But I learned I was a lot weaker than Elvis. The incoming wire was in an outlet box next to a bathroom. I decided to run the wire from the outlet box around to the switch box, through another outlet box. I needed to drill some holes in the studs, but I couldn't use just one hand on the drill to make the holes, it required two hands and pushing from another stud with my legs. It was a warm morning, and by the time I had holes in the first segment, I was sweating like mad. Then I laid the wire out and tried to cut at the proper distance. But try as I might I couldn't cut all three wires in the sheath, even using both hands. I finally used the nose of the cutters to cut one wire at a time. Thankfully, cutting the sheath and stripping the plastic off the wire was not a problem. Then I pulled the sheathed wires from one outlet box to the other. As Elvis, I could have done this easily, but Helen had to pull one through one stud at a time. The final challenge was grabbing the wire as it entered the outlet box and pulling it forward, so it was sticking out of the front. My hands were small enough to get a hold of it, but not strong enough to bend the wires out and pull at right angles to the knockout. I finally managed by bending and pulling one wire at a time. What a pain. I worked my way around and then started with the wire from the switch box up to the lightbox. When I got on the ladder, I had even less leverage and struggled to drill the holes and pull the wire through. I also had to pound in wire staples. I remembered Elvis driving them with a couple of hammer strokes, but Helen needed ten or more for each staple. It took me over twice as long as it should to pull the wire for the first room, and then I started on the second. I didn't quite finish it before we completed our shift. The project leader came in an inspected my work and said, "Not bad. Not bad. You have almost finished, and everything is neat and tidy, and the wire is going where it should. Good show. You know, I gave you a hard job to see if you could do what you said. You want to finish or call it a day?" I said I would finish. I worked for a while more until Sam said we were ready to leave. I told him I had a little more to do, and he pitched in to help. With him doing the heavy work, we finished quickly. I was so tired I could hardly move, and sweat was pouring down my face. My arms and hands were filthy, and I had managed to tear the back of the t-shirt I was wearing and, somehow, I had gotten a cut on a leg that had dried blood coming down from it. We got out to the car Roger had rented, and Sandra saw me and broke out in laughter when I crawled into the back seat. She asked, "What have you been doing, Blossom?" I said, "Pulling wire." She said, "You look a fright. The sweet, sexy little Blossom I met yesterday is no more." Like I cared. Roger said, "Pulling wire? I heard another guy turn that job down. When you gave the project leader a bad time, he must have decided to get back at you the worst job he could." I responded, "I didn't give him a bad time. I just asked for a real job. Wiring is no fun, but it's something that has to be done. It's a lot better than being given gopher jobs to keep the 'little girl' out of the way. I'm not here to waste my time." Sandra rolled her eyes. Sam, as always, tried to keep everyone happy and said, "Blossom did a good job and accomplished a lot, as did we all. Let's quit sniping at each other and get back to the casino and get cleaned up." Then he pulled me over to him, so we sat close and said. "Besides, I think Blossom is cute like this." It was my turn to roll my eyes. Roger drove back to the Casino and dropped Sandra and me and Sam at the front and drove to the parking lot to drop off the car. Sam and I went up to his room. Sam wanted us to take a shower together and scrub each other's back. With Sam's help, I cleaned up and washed my hair and dried it. I was naked and exposed, and I saw him looking at me and saw he had a hard-on. I said, "Do you still want to go to the museum, Sam. Or do you want to stay here and make love." He said, "Both. Let's get going. We can make love tonight. But I can enjoy the view as long as it's there." Then he pulled me close and kissed me and caressed me, all over. I knew allowing such familiarities was what an escort did. But above that, I enjoyed his attention, just because he was such a sweet guy, not to mention handsome. I gently caressed his penis and waited for him to make a final decision. Finally, he kissed me, took my hand off, and said, "Let's get going." I put on a yellow sundress and flats so that I could walk comfortably. Apparently, Sam thought the sundress was pretty enough to reconsider his decision, but after another bout of kissing and hugging, he finally ushered me from the room. We called Uber to get us there. I found the museum was part of a park that had exhibits on the natural history of the desert. I asked Sam if he would like to look at the natural exhibits, but he said he wanted to spend his time in the museum. So, I went to the exhibits by myself and found it had an admission fee. That was OK. It was well worth it. The exhibits were excellent, and there were employees around to answer questions. I particularly enjoyed a butterfly display, which was an enclosed area where they raised butterflies. For a fee, people could enter and see the butterflies in their habitat. I went in and walked around and read the signs. In the process, several butterflies landed on me and stayed. One landed on my forehead. Of course, they had a photographer inside, and he took a picture of me with the butterfly. When I saw it, I couldn't resist and bought the print along with a small thumb drive with jpegs for a couple of other prints. I wished Sam had been there to see it. Then I went back to the museum and found Sam. He said he wished we had stopped for something to eat, and I told him there was a small caf? in the natural area. So, we went to that and had lunch. I showed Sam the picture, and he said it was very cute. For some reason, I was pleased Sam thought I was cute. Then we went back to the museum and stayed until it closed at 6. We called Uber and got back to the casino at 6:30 and then scrambled to get dressed for the reception at 7. I stuck close to Sam at the reception. Sam was very well respected, and there was a constant stream of people who made a point of talking to him. I talked to a lot of them while they were waiting for him to be free. Many of them seemed eager to tell me what they did. I had a hard time with technical discussions because I knew little about the business. So I tried to steer conversations to other things. One woman asked how I knew Sam. I just said I was a friend of the family who happened to be in Las Vegas and I was taking the opportunity of Sam being here to spend some time with him. The reception was over at 9. Sam and some friends, including Roger and Sandra, went out to dinner. In truth, I was stuffed just eating a few of the snacks at the reception and didn't want anymore to drink. The reception had been no host, and I had had a light beer. But I didn't have a key to anywhere in the hotel and my motel was a couple of miles away and I didn't feel like walking in the dark. So, I went to dinner. I had a little salad, and Sandra talked me into a margarita, and then another. I didn't finish the last, telling Sandra that I was too light to drink the same amount as her. When we finally left the restaurant, it was 11 and I was very unsteady. When Sam and I got back to the room, we laid down together in the bed, but both fell to sleep before we could do anything. It was very nice to sleep in Sam's arms. Sam woke up in the early morning and pulled me close to him and kissed me all over my face. It was a wonderful way to wake up. Sam was a wonderful lover and went slowly enough and talked to me enough, so I caught up with him. He brought me to orgasm, and held me close as I did, and then he took his pleasure, and afterward spent some more time telling me sweet nothings, about how much he enjoyed his day with me and how he respected the work I had done at the house and how happy he was that we enjoyed the same things. It was a wonderful way to fall back to sleep, although I forgot to 'clean up,' so I wound up laying on the wet spot. The alarm going off at 6 AM jarred me awake. We had to be in front of the casino at 7 to be picked up by the tour. Friday, I had mentioned that there was a tour to Death Valley that I would love to go on someday. Sam had seized on the idea for something to do Sunday. Roger and Sandra had not been enthusiastic. They decided to shop and look around in town. So, Sam called around and was lucky enough to score two seats on Sunday's tour. Fortunately, I didn't have to do much to be ready for the tour. I put on a shower cap and took a shower. Then I put on the casual outfit I had worn the first day and put on different earrings and some light makeup. Sam got ready and then took a minute to call housekeeping and request clean linens, bless him. We were in front of the Casino at 6:50. It was a small bus, 20 or so people, and only ? full. The driver stopped at Micky D's so we could buy breakfast if we wanted. Then we headed toward Death Valley, making periodic stops at areas of interest, mainly areas with distinct desert flora. Sam showed an ability to talk to anyone and everyone. By the time we were an hour out he knew everyone's name and occupation and interests. I was much shyer, but being with Sam, I managed to have conversations with almost everyone. The driver was also a talker, and he and Sam struck up a friendship. He was an interesting guy, with odd but positive interests. He knew an amazing amount about Area 51 and managed to make the idea of aliens visiting Nevada sound almost believable. Death valley itself was fascinating. One of the things that stuck with me was that the Native Americans who lived there considered it a benign environment and were able to live comfortably, and greatly resented that the white settlers had named it Death Valley. I had brought my camera and got many pictures and even talked Sam into being in one or two, and in one picture with me. I didn't know why I wanted a picture with him, but I did. Several women asked how I was related to Sam. I said our families were friends and I worked in Las Vegas and was taking the opportunity to spend some time with Sam since he was here for a convention. Sam didn't help sell that story, occasionally putting his hand around my waist. One woman noticed Sam's reluctance to be in a picture with me and decided I wasn't telling the truth about our relationship. But she told me unobtrusively, "He's a very attractive man sweetie. I don't blame you for taking a roll in the hay with him. Enjoy." I just laughed. The picture of Sam and I together was at the official thermometer, which said 114 degrees that day. The ranger said it could easily get up to 135 in the summer. I also bought a souvenir hat in Death Valley, and on the way home we stopped at a roadside gift shop, and I got a little Area 51 plaque. It was the best day I had had since I had become a woman. We got back to the casino at 7 in the evening. Sam ordered from room service. After we cleaned up, we drank some wine and ate some hors d' oeuvres. We weren't very tired, and both of us knew this would be our last night together, so we both wanted to make love one last time. Sam was a wonderful lover, as always, and we both orgasmed. Then we went to sleep in each other's arms. Sam woke me up early in the morning for 'seconds.' He was gentle and passionate and sweet. I knew I would miss this. Sam spent a little time after each lovemaking session telling me he loved me, and how pretty I was and how compassionate and strong and smart I was and how it made him feel good to be with someone like me. I remembered how Elvis felt after making love, so I knew how tired a man was and, therefore, how rare it was for a man to want to talk after sex. I appreciated Sam being willing to say nice things to me at these moments. But I doubted he really meant them. I suspected it was just a habit he had formed when he'd been with his wife; a result of his innate kindness and generosity. It was a good habit, but not necessarily meaningful, just sweet nothings. On the other hand, Sam and I did seem to have a lot in common, and I had shown him the compassionate side of myself that first night, and I had shown myself to be determined and to be knowledgeable about a lot of things. So maybe Sam did mean some of the things he said. But he knew I was an escort, and he was a top-level scientist. How could he be impressed by me? So, the sweet nothings probably mean nothing. I was just a temporary bed partner, a whore. Someone to satisfy his sexual urges, which had been unsatisfied for years. Sam would forget me as soon as I was gone. That thought depressed me. I didn't want him to forget me. I certainly would not forget him. If I didn't know better, I would think I was falling in love. But that wasn't possible. I was a man inside. I woke up at 6:30 AM, but Sam was already gone. He left me a note, saying thanks for the great weekend and that I should let myself out and lock the door behind me. The note was cold and terse, with no expression of emotion. There was a $100 bill below it with a sticky note that said this was for me above and beyond any gift that Sandra might give me. I took a shower, and then cleaned up the room thoroughly, so it was presentable in case Sam had friends with him when he came back from the convention. As I was doing that, Sandra called and said there was an envelope for me at the concierge desk. Then she said, "Goodbye," without any further comment. I was tempted to make myself some coffee and relax for a while. But without Sam there, the room was cold and depressing, and I needed to get to AAA for the Monday morning gathering. I dressed in the casual clothing I had worn yesterday, packed my stuff, and walked out, locking the door behind me. I stopped at the concierge, and they gave me the envelope from Sandra. It had $1500 cash in it, which was a lot, especially considering that I would have done it for nothing. 12. Life as an Escort - Special Assignments By far the most difficult thing I had to deal with while I was an escort was my need to have abusive sex every week, or at most, two weeks. I have already written about my near-death experience with my first special assignment, where the john beat the hell out of me. He supposedly only talked abusively but got ticked off when I orgasmed, triggered by the spell controlling my reaction to abusive sex. After that, I was terrified of special assignments. I refused the next one offered. But a week later, the spell controlling my need for abusive sex kicked in. It's hard to convey how strong the need for abusive sex was and how miserable I was after a week without any. Then on day 12 after the last abusive sex, Joyce offered me another special assignment, and I accepted even without asking any details about the john. But Joyce insisted I listen, so I could anticipate what I was getting into and perhaps protect myself better. This guy was not only verbally abusive, but he felt the need to hurt women. Joyce had agreed he could twist my arm up behind my back and slap me lightly a couple of times. But could do nothing that would show the next day. And he agreed that I could have a guard down the hall and wear my panic button. I also planned to have my revolver in my purse. The outfit I would be wearing would have no place to hide my knife. I was terrified as I prepared for the 'date.' But I anticipated it also. I believed I had been a rapist when I was a man. So, I felt I deserved punishment. And abusive sex was a form of punishment. Furthermore, I knew that this punishment would result in orgasm and release from the agitation that came when I did not have abusive sex for over a week. When I walked into the room, the john was sitting on the bed. He looked at me and said, "God, a fucking Chink." I would have liked to have become offended and told him of the Chinese Americans I knew who had fought in Afghanistan and Iraq. But I knew that this offensive racial epithet was just the beginning of what I would hear tonight. The john had specified my clothing, and I was wearing very high heels, a low-cut pink top, and a black miniskirt that barely came below my ass. Underneath, I was wearing the feminine pink panties with the slit from navel to crotch. I wore no bra. I walked over to him slowly and deliberately (which is the only way I could walk with these damn heels). I smiled and put my hand out and said, "Hi, I'm Blossom. What's your name?" He sneered and said, "Blossom, a perfect name for a whore." Then he grabbed me and pulled me to him and sat me on his lap. Looking down at him, he had not looked particularly big, but now he looked enormous. His hand easily encircled my arm, and I knew I was physically helpless against him. My purse was at the entryway, where I couldn't get to it easily, and he could easily prevent me from reaching for the panic button in my hair. He unbuttoned my top, and I held my hands up to make it easy to take off. He looked at me and said, "God, you're just a fucking kid." Then he asked with some concern, "Are you sure you're 19?" I put my hands on his shoulders and said, "Yes, of course. The agency wouldn't employ anyone underage." He pushed my hands away. Apparently, with this john, my role wasn't to worship him, it was to remain passive and let him have total control. Then he groped my breasts. He said, "Flat as a fucking board. You're pathetic." I turned red. But I didn't really know why I was embarrassed. After all, I didn't care whether I men found me attractive, did I?" The john got up and flipped me onto the bed. Then he took off his shirt and pants and sat back down and grabbed my hair and pulled my head, so my mouth was near his lap. He reached back and pulled my arm behind me and put some pressure on it. It hurt like hell. I cried out in pain. He said, "Suck my dick, whore." I could see he was hard. I used my other hand to pull his penis out of his fly. Then I tongued his penis, and finally, put my lips around it. My mouth is small, and I couldn't get a lot of it in, even though his dick wasn't all that big. He groaned in pleasure, and then told me, "Suck harder, whore." I tried but could only get it a little deeper in my mouth. At that point, the john let go of the hand behind my back and slapped me painfully on the ass. I cried out in pain, but the combination of giving oral sex and the pain triggered the spells and drove me to orgasm. I could feel the agitation that had been building the last few days evaporate. I managed to hide my orgasm by twisting around as though I was trying to get a better angle. So far, so good. Now all I had to do was live through this awful experience. Then the john pulled my head off his dick, and up to his face. He kissed me and stuffed his tongue in my mouth and pulled me to him. Then he reached under my skirt and pulled down my panties. He told me that I was a total whore to be wearing those fuck-me panties. Mentally, I agreed with him. Now he had unfettered access to my pussy and ass and stuffed his finger into one and then the other. He was rough, only trying to get as good a feel as he could and not intending to give pleasure in any way. Then he pushed me away, and I thought he would force me into the position he wanted to fuck, but instead, he got up and slapped me. I reeled back. That was not the light slap Joyce had talked about. He did it again and called me a bitch and a whore and a cunt, and some other things I can't remember. The john then pulled me to him backwards and put his forearm around my neck and squeezed. I couldn't breathe and slowly started to lose consciousness. Finally, he let go, and pulled down his underwear, and put his arm around my neck again, and pulled me to the edge of the bed, so I was almost falling off. Then he made me sit on my haunches and pushed his cock into me from behind and fucked me, with his forearm still around my neck occasionally pulling back and strangling me. It seemed like it went on forever, but finally, he came. I thought it was over, but he pulled out of me and jammed something into my ass and squeezed. It must have been some lubricant. Then he positioned himself behind me again and pushed his penis into my ass. I had not had anal since the day of the mass rape. It hurt like hell, and that triggered another orgasm. My asshole twitched, but he didn't feel it. He fucked my ass for a long time. After he finally came, he pulled out and gave me a very hard slap on my buttocks. I squealed and fell on my stomach on the bed and tried not to cry. The john then said, "Get up and get the hell out of here, you stupid cunt." I got up and painfully slid off the bed and started to put my panties on. He said, "I said, get the hell out of here, now." Then he grabbed my arm and marched me over to the door, and threw me out into the hallway, all but naked. He went back into the room and gathered up my stuff and threw it out too. I checked to ensure everything was there, panties, top, purse. How had he managed not to notice the weight of the gun in my purse? Last, he went back into the room and got an envelope and brought it out and handed it to me, and said loudly, "Here's the money I agreed to pay you for that fuck, you whore." I frantically put my panties and top back on, before anyone in the other rooms came out to look. Then I picked up the envelope, opened it and checked the amount, and put it in the purse and walked painfully down the hallway with my legs separated to minimize the pain in my ass. When I got to where my protector was waiting, he noticed the flushed appearance where the john had slapped me and the way I walked and the places where tears had smeared my makeup and asked, "You OK?" I answered, "I'm just ducky. Let's get the hell out of here." He escorted me back to my motel room and told me Joyce had reminded me to bring the money in the morning. I used cold cream to take off my makeup and took a shower to get as clean as I could, although I doubted I would ever feel clean again. Then I laid down and tried to sleep but couldn't. By most measures, tonight had been a success. I had orgasmed twice and gotten rid of the agitation due to the spell. The john had paid me the right amount. And I was alive, which for a while I did not expect. But it had been such a degrading experience that it caused a different kind of agitation. I knew I would have another 29? years of this sort of experience, being forced to fuck sick assholes like that john tonight. The thought nearly nauseated me. I must have drifted off sometimes because I woke up in the morning to use the bathroom. I checked the mirror and saw no marks on my face from the slaps, although my face was sore, and my neck was sore, and my arm was sore, not to mention my anus. But I guess the guy had not technically violated his agreement not to do anything that left marks. I had some breakfast and went into AAA and gave the cash payment to Joyce. Then I told her the story of what happened. She said, "I'm sorry, Blossom. But at least he kept the letter of his agreement." I nodded. She said, "You know, your slenderness and feminine mannerisms and your name and the fact that you are mixed race will tend to bring out the worst in abusive men. They are bullies at heart and prefer weakness in women. Maybe you should not do any more specials." That was not an option for me, and I said, "No. I need the money. I can handle it." The first two experiences with special assignments were typical, with a lot of differences in details. But the terror and the pain were always the same. I needed to have abusive sex every week. So, I took all the specials that came along, only opting out if I was sick or hurt. However, that was not enough to get me abusive sex every week. Special assignments came along sporadically, sometimes several times in a week and once or twice not happening for a couple of weeks. However, I found a way to deal with it. I found that if I could persuade a regular john to spank me during sex, that would be enough to 'count' as abusive sex and give me the release I needed. But the trick was figuring out which ones would do it. Some guys absolutely would not hurt a woman. I suppose I should have found it encouraging that such men existed even among patrons of prostitutes. But it was discouraging when I needed abusive sex. I learned to spot the symptoms of men who would hurt me if I asked, being unconcerned for others and emotionally distant. That didn't mean that every man who was uncommunicative fit into that category. Many men used being uncommunicative as a defense for their insecurities. The indications of truly not caring for other people were subtle, but I thought I learned to see them. So, if I were in a situation where I needed abusive sex and was with a man who I thought would be happy and willing to include a little abuse in the sex, I would start by hinting at it, saying I enjoyed being spanked when having sex. If that didn't work, I would directly ask him. Most that I asked were willing to give me what I needed. I did find some men who seemed inclined to hurt women but would not do so. I believe this was because of a fear of entrapment into doing something that could lead to blackmail or criminal prosecution. I did feel guilty at letting the men who I thought were inclined to hurt women that some women, e.g., me, liked to be hurt. I hoped they didn't become abusers because of me. As time went along this crazy life almost became routine, and I became a part of this community of escorts, johns, abusive johns, and escort protectors and managers on the one hand, and of a second community of dancers some of whom engaged in escort activities with men they met as dancers. On the edges of both communities was a third community of police officers and other public officials who tried to enforce some rules of law and consideration for other people. In some ways, I became a part of that community too. Officer Trudy came to me several times and asked me questions about what was going on in the escort community. Generally, I was happy to provide the information, except that I protective of fellow escorts and friends. At first, Trudy offered me money for the information, but I refused it. I had been brought up to believe that police officers were trying to protect the community and that people should cooperate in those efforts. 13. Life as an Escort - The Rescue Trudy and I became pretty good friends. At first, she thought I was a very young, naive girl who had somehow acquired ID that AAA accepted and allowed me to work as an escort. Then she checked and found I was of legal age. When she invited me to play on her soccer team and found I could play fairly well, she decided I was more than a helpless young girl. But something else happened soon after I arrived in Las Vegas that I think solidified her opinion that I was a worthwhile person. One day about a month and a half after I arrived in Las Vegas, Joyce moved AAA's Monday Morning gathering to Wednesday afternoon Because of a conflicting meeting on Monday that Mr. and Mrs. Mason had with some bigwig at the city. Celia and I were walking to AAA when we heard some girl screaming her head off. We spotted a guy dragging a very young girl between buildings away from the strip. At first, I just stood there and watched because I thought someone, one of the many men hanging around the strip, would stop them. But apparently, all those men decided to let someone else handle it. So, I ran after the man and the girl as fast as I could. Celia screamed at me to stop, that I would get myself killed. At the time, I was playing soccer, so I was in fair shape. I caught up with them easily. But the guy looked at me contemptuously and brandished a very large knife. Then he started dragging the girl away again. As soon as he turned, I rushed up and whacked him with my purse. My purse had a gun in it, and it was heavy enough to hurt. The guy staggered, and I hit him again. But my second swing was weaker than my first because I had less space to wind up. By the time I swung again the guy was ready and easily grabbed the purse out of my hand and threw it well away and then pushed the girl on the ground and grabbed me and turned me around and used his forearm to start choking me. That was a mistake on his part. He should have just broken my neck or used his knife. I was glad he wasn't very smart. He continued long enough that I lost consciousness. I woke up laying on my face on the ground with someone, who I later learned was a medic, telling me not to move. It turned out Celia had picked up a brick from the ground and come up behind the guy as he was chocking me and clocked him. He released me and turned toward Celia and she hit him again, full in the face. At that point, he went down. I think every time he seemed like he might get up, she hit him again. Good for her. And unlike me, Celia was a big girl with enough strength to pack a wallop. A few minutes later the police showed up, none other than officers Trudy and Jesse. Jesse called 911 and Trudy secured the scene. After cuffing Celia and the man who had been dragging the teenage girl away, Trudy got some statements. Celia and the teenage girl and several other witnesses gave the same statement, while the guy denied everything. Meanwhile, the medics arrived and started treating me for strangulation. The found that my neck was OK. But it hurt like hel. My throat was very sore, and I still sporadically gasped for breath. However, after laying there for a more few moments I decided it was time to get up. That's when Trudy recognized me. She said, "Blossom? Are you OK? How are you involved in this?" I told her, "I was walking by with my friend when I saw this guy dragging a young girl away and her screaming. Nobody else seemed inclined to get involved. I thought I had to do something to prevent her from being hurt. I couldn't just let this asshole drag the kid off. Anything could have happened to her?" She looked at me skeptically, "Blossom, you could easily have been killed or dragged off yourself. Did you have your gun with you? Why didn't you use that?" I turned red and said, "I forgot about it until I wacked the guy with my purse. But I couldn't have used it anyway. Too much chance of hurting the girl or other people on the street." Turdy looked at me and shook her head and said, "Blossom, you were incredibly lucky. If another woman hadn't seen a brick on the street and hit him with it, you would have been dead, and the girl would have been dragged away anyway. What were you thinking?" I said, "I know I'm skinny and weak, Trudy. But I can't just stand there and do nothing. That's not who I am." Then I started crying. I think it was because of Trudy's insinuation that I was useless and should act like it, and the tension of seeing some guy try to drag a young girl away and then having the guy strangle me half to death. For a few moments, I couldn't stop crying. Trudy said, "Oh, Blossom, I'm sorry. I know you couldn't just stand there. I know that's not who you are. Just take it easy, OK." Then she put her arm around my shoulder and said. Come on, let's find a spot for you to sit. She brought me over to the police car, and I sat in the back seat. Celia was already there, with her hands behind her in cuffs. I looked at her, and she had been crying too. She was a big girl, but she was not very courageous, despite her occasional bluster. I asked, "Trudy, why is she handcuffed? She was just walking with me. Can you take them off?" Trudy said, "Standard procedure is to leave the cuffs on until the investigation is over but based on your comments I guess she's no threat to Jesse or me." I said, "I'm sure she isn't." So, Trudy removed Celia's handcuffs. Then Celia reached over and hugged me and started berating me too, saying I had almost gotten myself and her killed, and I should never do that again. I asked, "How did I almost get you killed, Celia. She said, "I found a brick and hit him with it, several times. God, I was so afraid. But you're my best friend. I had to do something." Then she started crying again, which got me going again. The man in me, Elvis, thought it was stupid and useless for us two women to be sitting there crying. But Blossom didn't care. The event had been incredibly emotional, with both Celia and I stepping well outside our comfort zones and doing things we felt we had to do and then Celia calling me her best friend. Crying just seemed like an appropriate way to act. But after a few minutes, we decided it was time to get out and move on with what we had been doing. But we couldn't. Trudy had closed the car doors and turned on the air conditioning, which I appreciated. But this was a police car, and there were no handles for us to let ourselves out. We were trapped. Outside the police car was chaos. Trudy and Jesse were trying to get statements from witnesses and maintain a clear area around the scene. A siren on the medic's truck was going off periodically. The medics were treating the guy who Celia and I had hit, apparently of head and facial wounds. I hoped the wounds were serious and painful but looking at him they didn't appear to be. The young girl he had been dragging off was standing between a man and woman, crying, and occasionally pointing at the perp and Celia and me. Things quieted down slowly. But eventually Trudy got her final statement, the medics finished and hauled the guy into the ambulance, cuffed to the stretcher, Trudy got in with them, and the ambulance sped off. The man and woman, apparently the kid's parents, took the kid away. Then Jesse got in the car and drove off with Celia and me in the back seat. What the hell? I pounded my fist on the plexiglass between the front and back seat, trying to ask what was going on, but Jesse just gave me a dirty look and ignored me. Celia told me to stop. She smiled and said, "Don't piss off the police, Honey. Things get much worse if you do. That's something every whore knows." When we arrived at the police station, Jesse got out and went into the precinct and came out with a male officer. He opened the back door on my side and grabbed me and pulled my arm up behind me and gripped my two smaller fingers and pulled them back. I'd had this done to me before, when Elvis had been abducted from the park in Collegeville, and it hurt just as much this time. The officer marched me into the station and put me immediately into a small room with only limited visibility out of a small hole, and then ignored me. Celia wound up in a large cell with other prisoners. I guess she was right, don't piss off the police. About three hours later, Trudy came into the cell and said, "I'm sorry, Blossom. I didn't intend for this to happen. I meant to take you and your friend's statements and let you both go. But I didn't communicate that to Jesse. I apologize." I said, "OK, can we go now." Trudy said, "Unfortunately, that guy you two tackled has decided to be an asshole and press charges for assault. So, we can't just let you go." I looked at her and shook my head. She continued, "Don't worry. Nothing will come of it. You will have a bail hearing tomorrow morning, and with my report, the court will release you on your own recognizance. Then when you come up for trial, my report will result in a quick not guilty verdict. I know it's a farce, but the guy is pleading innocent, and therefore we must take him seriously. We warned him that if we get pissed off, it will go much worse for him. But he didn't care. After all, he is probably going away for a very long time." I said, "What do you mean a long time." Trudy said, "We think he is the rapist that has been preying on young girls on the strip for years. We have witnesses from past abductions and rapes that we will ask to ID him, and we have some DNA samples for comparison. If he is identified, which we fully expect, he may never be free again. Even the charge of kidnapping for what he did today carries significant prison time. So, I guess it is worth his while making your lives miserable while he can. After all, you and your friend caused his capture." I took a deep breath and finally said, "OK, how about getting me out of this cell. I've been sitting on a hard bench for 3 hours with no view outside of a 4 x 4 area. Is there somewhere else I can be for the rest of the day?" Trudy responded, "According to the records you were belligerent. That's why they put you in here. Will you behave yourself if we move you to the holding cell?" I said, "I wasn't belligerent. I only pounded on the plastic to get Jesse's attention, so I could ask why she was taking me to the station. It'll be good if I can get out of solitary. But even if I stay in solitary, it wouldn't make sense for me to cause trouble." Trudy had me transferred to the common holding cell, where I spent the rest of the evening and part of the next morning. Somewhere during that time, charges of simple assault were filed against me and I was taken out of the cell and requested to sign an acknowledgment. Other than that, I spent most of my time talking to other prisoners. All the prisoners were women. Most of them were charged with prostitution. One or two were here for serious traffic violations. And a couple of homeless women and girls charged with trespassing. A few of the prostitutes seemed to know Celia, and she and they did a lot of catching up. The thing that surprised me most about these women was their normalcy. Most of them seemed like perfectly nice people. A few seemed agitated. Celia told me they were addicts going into withdrawal. She told me that most prostitutes were supporting a drug habit. Not all, however. Some prostitutes were women with children who didn't have good job skills and couldn't earn enough with conventional work to support their children. I thought it was awful that a woman would want to behave responsibly and take care of her kids, but would have to be a prostitute to do it. Then Celia said, "I will probably be in withdrawal in a few hours. Would you help me then, Blossom?" I replied, "Sure, what can I do?" She replied, "Keep me from doing anything stupid, like getting in arguments or fights, ramming my head into the bars, that sort of thing. And particularly tomorrow morning, make sure I plead innocent and don't piss off the judge or guards. Then get me home, so I can take one of the pills I have stored there." I said, "OK, I'll do what I can, Celia." Celia was right. She became more and more agitated as the afternoon and evening proceeded. They fed us at 6, and I made sure Celia ate. But then Celia went to a corner and just tuned the world out. I tried to check on her periodically and stay close. I thought I would be hungry when dinner arrived, but the food was terrible, dry, tasteless, and overcooked. So, I put my meal aside. A very large woman asked if she could have it, and I said sure. She wolfed it down, but then said, "Look, you need to know how to do things in here. You could have traded me that food for something else you needed, like protection for you and your friend." I replied, "Why would I need protection. No one seems dangerous in here." She said, "Maybe not. Prostitutes and traffic violators tend not to be too troublesome. But it is daytime, and there are a lot of guards around. Things could be different at night." I replied, "I see what you mean. I hope that gratitude for the extra food I gave you would cause you to give me a hand if anyone bothers my friend or me at night." She said, "I think it would." After dinner, I hung close to Celia. As the evening went along, it was clear she was not going to sleep. She was not the only one. There were a couple of other addicted inmates in withdrawal. I tried to talk to Celia and keep her thinking. I told her, again and again, it was just a matter of time before she would be able to do something about her withdrawal. To divert her attention, I asked about her life and her family and what she had done in the past. She cooperated and answered my questions. But she was getting more and more agitated. Finally, I hugged her and called her my friend and told her I needed her to be OK. She did the best she could to control herself. Then I got her up and held her up as best I could and walked her around the cell. Finally, at about 5 AM, she fell asleep. I fell asleep too but was woken at 6:30 AM by screaming. No not Celia, another inmate in withdrawal. But that woke Celia up again and we resumed trying to get through it. She couldn't eat at breakfast, so I didn't eat either. Finally, at 9 AM, they started bringing inmates in for their pleas. But we weren't called until 10:30. By this time, Celia could barely walk. I almost carried her into the court, and we finally got to see a public defender. He told us to plead guilty, even after I told him what had happened. He said that was the best way for this to be over, and he was sure we wouldn't serve any time. I screamed at him that we were innocent. I wasn't going to plead guilty to a felony. That was nuts. I insisted on pleading innocent and insisted that Celia wanted to plead innocent too. At that, the public defender declined to represent us. I suppose it was a waste of his time. When our time came before the judge, I almost carried Celia to our seats. Then the judge asked for our plea. I pleaded innocent, and when he called Celia's name, I said she pleads innocent too. At first, the judge was going to refuse that plea since I had given it for Celia, and she obviously was not thinking well. But at least the prosecutor had something on the ball and called Trudy to testify. Trudy testified as to what had happened yesterday and recommended the judge accept our Innocent pleas and release us on our own recognizance. Trudy testified that we both lived and worked in Las Vegas and were not frequently offenders, so she said the police felt confident we would be available for trial. Also, she noted that we had done something heroic yesterday, saving a teenage girl from rape or worse and that we deserved some consideration. The judge and prosecutor agreed and finally set us free. With Trudy's help, I got Celia out to the parking lot and called Uber. But none of the Uber drivers were willing to pick up a ride at the courthouse. At Trudy's suggestion, we called a cab. They could not refuse a fare, and eventually, a cab showed up. It cost almost $50 for a two-mile ride to our motel. But the driver was a nice guy and helped me get Celia into the motel room. I gave him a $20 tip for that. Once we were in the room, Celia went to her stash of pills and was about to take several. I asked how many she usually took at a time, and she said one, so I took the extras from her. She swallowed the one with a glass of water. Then I helped her undress and got her to use the bathroom. Finally, I got her into bed. After Celia was taken care of, I cleaned my makeup from the day before. Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw big bruises on my neck and realized how close I had come to dying. That's why I had a bad sore throat. Maybe Trudy had been right, and I should have pulled out my gun and tried to deal with the situation like that. With that charming thought, I took a shower and brushed my teeth. I should have done something with my hair, but I didn't have the energy. I plugged in my phone to charge and went to bed myself. Two hours later, my phone started ringing. I tried ignoring it for four rings and letting it go to voicemail, but the damn thing started ringing again after a couple of minutes. Finally, I got up and walked over to the charging area and picked it up. I answered a generic, "Yes." A male voice answered, "This is Dylan Benson of the Las Vegas Times." I replied politely as Aunt Marge had always taught, "What can I do for you, Dylan?" He said, "I'm doing a story on an attempted abduction of a teenage girl near the strip yesterday. I understand you were involved. I'd like to ask you a few questions." I replied, "Look, Dylan, I'm not sure I want to be in the newspaper." He said, "Blossom, I have enough information for a story already. But if I can get more information, it will be better, more accurate, with more sympathy for the people who rescued the girl, e.g., you and your friend, ..." He sounded like he was checking notes, then continued, "Celia." I realized that if this story were going to be in the paper, it would be better to be accurate. I said, "OK, Dylan. I'll answer some questions." Dylan asked, "I understand that you heard the girl screaming and gave chase. Is that right?" I replied, "Yes, that's right." Dylan asked again, "Why did you do that, Blossom?" I said, "Well, no one else on the street seemed willing to get involved. I'm not going just to stand around and let a kid be dragged away to be raped or worse without trying to help. Give me a break!" Dylan asked, "I understand you were badly hurt when the abductor turned on you." I said, "Yes, he almost throttled me. I guess I'm not much of a heroine." Dylan, "I think you're a heroine. After all the abductor is now in custody, and the teenage girl is safe because of what you did. That's pretty heroic." Then he continued, "What happened after he choked you?" I replied, "I passed out, so I didn't see what happened. The witnesses said my friend, Celia, whacked the abductor several times with a brick she picked up on the street. She's the heroine who stopped this guy from having his way with a teenage girl." He said, "Did she say why she got involved?" I replied, "She said she did it because I was her best friend. I'm incredibly grateful that she feels that way." Then there was a pause, before Dylan asked, "Witnesses say you were taken away in a patrol car after the incident. What happened after that?" I said, "Well, the abductor, who is presumed innocent until proven guilty, swore out a complaint against Celia and me for assault. We were kept in a cell overnight until we could enter our pleas this morning. Then they let us go." Next Dylan asked, "Do you know why the abductor bothered to bring a charge?" I replied, "Because he's an asshole. He's willing to piss off the prosecutor to get even with us. And you can quote me on that." Dylan laughed and said, "We probably won't." Then he asked, "So, you were throttled, and then arrested and charged with assault because of being willing to get involved. I guess no good deed goes unpunished. Would you do it again, Blossom, knowing what you would suffer?" I said, "Damn straight. My parents didn't raise me to let some innocent kid be hurt without trying to help. But if I had to do it again, I would try to be a little smarter about it." Dylan thought for a moment, and asked, "Can you tell me a little more about yourself, Blossom?" I replied, "No. I don't want to talk about myself." Dylan then said, "I know you and your friend are prostitutes, Blossom. That will be the essence of the story. That two ladies of the night, despised by conventional society, risked their lives to rescue a young girl." That shook me. Prostitute? Lady of the Night? Despised by conventional society. I guess that was me now. But I still had value and morals. That's what Dylan's story would say, which was good. Was there something I could include that would make it better? I said, "Dylan, it might be embarrassing to my family for me to give you any more personal information. But let me say, I know many prostitutes. Most are a little bit screwed up, just like I am. But most of us are pretty decent people, prostituting ourselves because we are trapped by drugs or trapped by a pimp or even because it is the only way we can take care of our kids. I know a lot of prostitutes who would go out of their way to help an innocent kid. By the way, the conventional sort of people who were there at the abduction yesterday didn't go out of their ways to help that girl. Interpret that as you will." Dylan asked, "Can I quote you on that?" I said, "Sure." Then he asked, "So, which are you, trapped by drugs, trapped by a pimp, or supporting children?" I replied, "None of the above. And that's all I'm going to say." Dylan laughed and said, "Well, I will keep digging. But I appreciate what you have given me. Thanks." I replied, "You're welcome, Dylan. You have a good day." I was a little troubled about the idea of being in the newspaper and being identified as a prostitute, but there was nothing to do for it now. I was so tired that I fell back to sleep easily. But an hour later, I got another call. I really needed to turn the ringer volume off on my phone. I replied, "Hello." Another male voice asked, "Is this Blossom Miyamoto?" I replied, "Yes." He said, "I'm the Reverend Edward Fletcher. I just wanted to thank you for rescuing my daughter from being abducted and raped yesterday." I replied, "Thank you. I didn't do it alone. My friend Celia was the one who incapacitated him so that he couldn't hurt anyone." HE said, "We will want to thank her too. But my daughter said you were the first one to help. She also said you were hurt. Are you all right?" I said, "Yes, thank you." He continued, "We would normally never allow our daughter to spend time in Las Vegas. It is a sinful place. But she begged to be allowed to visit with her cousin, and we allowed it. We will never allow it again. All this is by way of explanation as to why we are thanking a Chinese prostitute for saving our daughter's life." I wasn't sure why he felt a need to explain that to me. It vaguely offended me. I said, "Let me correct you. I'm not a Chinese prostitute. The name Miyamoto is a Japanese surname, not Chinese. Not that that matters too much. Both the Chinese and Japanese are heirs to proud cultures, and the descendants of Chinese and Japanese in America have contributed a lot to this country. But I'm not a Japanese prostitute either. My father was an American diplomat while my mother was Japanese. If you saw me, you might think I was Japanese. But to a Japanese, I would look American. I'm mixed race, not Japanese. Furthermore, I'm an American citizen, raised in America. So, if you must put me in a category, I'm an American prostitute, as American as you." I continued, "I do agree with you; however that Vegas is no place for a teenage girl unless she is supervised appropriately. However, it is a grand spectacle and worth seeing at least once in a person's life." After that, the Reverend would have to be incredibly dense not to recognize that he had offended me in his prior statement. Apparently, he was that dense. He didn't seem to hear any of the points I made about race and supervision. He said, "We will be praying for you that you realize the sinfulness of your lifestyle and find your way to God." At this point, all I wanted was for this phone call to end. I said "Well, I can use all the good prayers I can get. Thank You." But instead of saying goodbye, the Reverend said, "Our daughter, Amy, wants to thank you too." A young girl's voice came on and said, "Thank you for saving me?" Her statement sounded rehearsed. But I took it in the spirit I think was intended and replied, "You're welcome, sweetheart. I hope you're OK now." That seemed to surprise her, and she said, "Yes, I am. You were hurt too. It looked like he choked you. Are you OK?" I said, "Yes, I'm fine. My throat is sore. But that will heal." Then she said, "Please forgive my father's comments. He's a little old fashioned, but he means well." I laughed and said, "I will, sweetheart. And next time you are in Vegas, never go anywhere alone. If you are in a group, you are safe." She said, "OK, Thanks again. My father wants to talk to you." I waited for a moment, apparently while the daughter handed the phone to her father. Then the Reverend said, "My wife and I would like to invite you to our church some Sunday to thank you in person." 'Oh my God,' I thought to myself, 'I'm sure the entire congregation would pray with me to see the error of my sinful ways and seek God. I will schedule that visit right after voluntary dental surgery I didn't need.' But these people did call me to thank me, even though I was a Chinese prostitute. That was a nice gesture, so I wanted to be pleasant. I asked, "Hmm, where is your church?" It turned out it was in a town in northeast Nevada not too far from Reno, called Sparks. I told them I didn't have a car and couldn't get there easily. The Reverend said he would be happy to get me. This offer sounded scarier all the time. Finally, I agreed to think about it and maybe come up in the summer, an agreement I never intended to keep. Then, we said our goodbyes and I went back to sleep. About an hour later, there was yet another call. Damn it. This time I vowed I would turn the ringer off as soon as the call was over. It was Don Mason, CEO of AAA, as he liked to call himself. He said, "You and Celia didn't show for the weekly meeting yesterday. Is everything OK?" I had to think about how to answer. I could well imagine that if I hinted there would be publicity regarding AAA, he would be pissed. I said, "On the way down to the offices, Celia and I stopped an abduction. We wound up in jail, and just got out this morning." Don asked, "In jail. For prostitution?" I said, "No, the would-be abductor charged us with assault, to get even. What an asshole." Don asked, "Why didn't you call me right away?" I was still tired, and snippy, and I answered, "Because I was in jail. Duh. They took away my cell phone." Don said, "Somehow they figured out who you were." Then he laughed and continued, "I think someone in the newspaper office must have seen your picture on the website. So, they called this morning and asked for you." I said, "You didn't give them my phone number, did you?" He said, "Well, yes. I thought it had something to do with business. If you had bothered to call and tell me what was happening and asked me not to give out your number, I wouldn't have." I said, "Well, for future reference, don't give my number out. Take their number and send me email." Don replied, "Sure. I think we could get some good free advertising out of this. I'd like you and Celia to come into the office, and we can brainstorm the idea." I said, "Don, our clients want anonymity. Anything you gained in being known and attracting more clients you might loose in clients leaving to avoid publicity." He said, "That's why we need to brainstorm. So, what do you think? Can you two be in here in a half-hour? Neither of you has an assignment until tonight." I said, "Tonight?" He said, "Yes, it's Thursday. So, you have a date tonight at 7. But you have time to come in and talk." Damn, I thought it was still Wednesday. Now I remembered it was Thursday and I had a date tonight. It was some sort of party for a kid who graduated from some damn private school. I was supposed to jump out of a fake cake and be all over him. Who the hell would give their kid a party like that? I replied, "Look, Don, Yesterday I was choked until I passed out. I've got a huge bruise on my neck. Then I spent the night in a police cell, not sleeping in order to be able to protect myself and Celia. I desperately need to sleep, and I feel like hell right now. I can come in tomorrow morning if you want. But not now. And can I get out of that date?" Don said, "No, it's too late. Joyce has already told you when and where. They choose you because you are small and agile. You must be there. I think you and Celia are going to the same party. She has to be there too. She missed a date last night. Cost us big-time. It's up to you to make sure she knows." Damn. I wasn't going to mention Celia being incoherent right now because of pills. I figured AAA knew about the pills. They didn't care whether their escorts were junkies, as long as they were coherent junkies and could entertain clients. Still, there was no reason for me to highlight her problems. But if she and I had a date tonight at 7, I would need to try to wake her about 5. Don tried again, "It would be better to talk today before the newspaper article comes out." I said, "God Damnit. You knew that one of the guys you gave my number to was a reporter? What other information did you give him?" Don replied, "Not much, just your age, ethnicity, height, weight. I verified that you and Celia were escorts, which he already knew. And I gave him your real name, which he agreed not to reveal." I counted to three and said, "Don, news flash, reporters don't always fulfill their agreements. Please don't tell anyone anything about me, ever. OK?" Don said, "OK, OK, so you and Celia will be here tomorrow morning at 9 and we'll talk." Defeated, I said OK and hung up. Before I could forget, I turned the ringer volume on my phone off, set the alarm for 4:30 and laid back down in my bed. This time I didn't get back to sleep easily. I hadn't realized how much I liked to be anonymous, or as anonymous as I could be when there was a picture of me half-naked on an escort service website. But a newspaper article with my picture in it was far worse. Would I have to start wearing sunglasses to avoid being recognized in public? Then a funny thought came to me. Would small children want the autograph of the prostitute heroine? Somehow, I doubted it. After about a half-hour of tossing and turning, I went back to sleep until my alarm rang. 14. Life as an Escort - Meeting Danno At 4:30, I forced myself to get up, used the bathroom, and started to work on my hair. I brushed it out and started working with the curling iron. At 5, I went and shook Celia. She cursed me and turned away back to sleep. I hoped she would start to rouse herself, because at 5:30 I would have to be much more insistent. Then I went back to my hair. By 5:30, I was almost done. I still needed to put in some sticks and ribbons. It was the hairdo that the beautician had shown me that was good for a young Asian girl, with a few European touches thrown in. I went and shook Celia and stepped back out of the way. She went to push me, but couldn't feel me, so she opened her eyes and cursed. I said, "Hey, Celia. I'm sorry to wake you, but it's Thursday. You have a date." Celia cursed again. But, uncharacteristically, she asked, "You all right, Blossom?" I said, "Sure. I'm just ducky." She looked at my obvious bruises, and said, "Those look like they hurt. Are you still going on your date? I hope so. I don't think I could jump out of a damn cake tonight." I laughed at the thought of Celia, all 5' 10 1/2" and 145 pounds of her, jumping out of a cake in the high heels she favored. I said, "Yeah. I'm going. But I need to put makeup on this bruise." She said, "I'm sorry, Blossom." She got up and used the bathroom and then took a shower. I moved my hairdo operation out to the mirror in the kitchen. By 6 PM, I'd finished my hair. Then I put some foundation on my face and heavy foundation on my neck. I added some light coloring, some mascara, and some lipstick, and a dash of perfume and looked in the mirror. I looked and smelled like a sweet, young girl. I didn't feel like it. I felt jaded and world-weary. But I decided to put on a smile. When I did that, I was surprised that often I felt much better. Then I started dressing. I hadn't asked Joyce whether I should be modest, in which case I would wear a Kimono or perhaps the cheerleader outfit, or risqu? for which I had a nearly see-through translucent dress. I called Joyce, and she told me that I should wear the cheerleader outfit. I also put on a sexy bra, which held my tiny breasts easily, and a pair of those nearly transparent panties with an appropriately sewn slit from naval to crotch. I was ready. A moment later, Celia came out. She had dressed in a younger fashion, and her figure looked great. Despite her concerns, I knew many young men went for the sexy MILF look that Celia wore so well. I called Uber, and we were at the party site a few minutes early. It was on the top floor of the Lucky Dragon Casino hotel, nearby where I had visited the two Japanese gentlemen. It was a full four-bedroom suite with a large living room and a large kitchen. I could see Casino employees preparing a meal. In the living room, I saw a large, cardboard fake cake. I had seen it at other places on the strip and assumed this party had rented it. An older woman greeted us and introduced herself as Mrs. Sununu, an event planner. She called loudly, "All whores over here." Three other women came over, including a small, beautiful blond dressed in a cheerleader outfit holding a glass of wine. I recognized her as Ally. Mrs. Sununu introduced everybody. I learned that Ally and I would be jumping out of the cake. Mrs. Sununu told Celia and two others that they would start out by serving, but should make themselves available for anyone who wanted them after dinner was over. She also asked if we all had condoms in our pockets. I always carried some these days. She said that If anyone got pregnant, it was their own damn fault. Then she told us to keep track of who we fucked and tell her at the end of the evening so we could get paid. After that, she told the others to go and talk to the cook, so they knew how to serve. She kept me and Ally there and told us she didn't expect us to fuck anyone other than the twins who this party was for, but we would be paid extra if we had sex more than once. I just shook my head. This was bizarre. Mrs. Sununu told Ally that she was for Alfonso and me that I was for Daniel or Danno. My sole job for the night was to make him happy, and I was expected to do whatever he wanted. I asked Mrs. Sununu what this party was for, and learned that these two boys were fraternal half brothers and had attended high school at an exclusive prep school outside Las Vegas. The seniors were being let out early in April, and these two young men were getting some gifts. Each got a car and a trip to Europe, plus other gifts. I think I was one of Danno's other gifts. Crazy. She told us to get into the cake at 7:20 before anyone came so that they wouldn't see us. This was a surprise party. Then she gave both of us a little radio so she could communicate with us and tell us when to jump out. She would also tell us how to find our 'Dates' after were out of the cake. We were to jump up, wave to everyone while we figured out who was who, and then jump down and climb onto our dates' laps. At 7:20, we climbed into the cake. A few minutes later, we heard guests start to come in. There were some cracks between sections, so we could see a little. Ally and I chatted quietly. I asked her where she came from, and she said she graduated from high school in Omaha last year and came to Vegas to become a showgirl. She said her grades had been miserable, so Vegas was her only option. Once she was here, she didn't dance well enough. So, she wound up with AAA. It wasn't so bad. She hoped somehow to meet Mr. Right in Vegas. She asked me the same thing, and I said I graduated last year and went to college for a few months and then left and came to Vegas. She asked me why, and I told her I was sending money home, so my sister and aunt could stay in the home they owned, that my aunt had been ill and medical bills were eating up everything they had. Then she asked if they knew how I was earning money. I replied, "Are you kidding. If they knew, they would never accept it." She nodded. Then Ally said she had been a cheerleader in high school and asked if I was too. I said no, I was too busy with class and soccer and drama. After a while, my legs started to cramp, and I was hoping that our grand exit would be soon. Finally, Mrs. Sununu's voice sounded in my ear, "It will be just a few minutes, girls. Ally, Alfonso is wearing black jeans and a red shirt with a fancy grey sports jacket. He will be on your left when you jump out. Blossom, Danno is on your right and is earing a denim shirt and blue jeans. Be ready." Then we heard someone announce the boy's graduation, their grades, and their accomplishments. Alfonso had done very well, with a 3.4 GPA and lots of athletic success as a starter on the football team, all city quarterback, and a starter on the basketball team. To my mind, Danno had done better. He had a 4.0 GPA, and started on the soccer team, and got several other academic and leadership awards. Finally, we heard their father announce their cars, their trip to Europe, and one other great gift that he would have loved to have when he was their age. Then Mrs. Sununu said, "Now's your time, girls." We pushed the hatch on the top of the cake up and stood up. Mrs. Sununu had given us pom poms, and we waved them and picked out our 'men.' Alfonso was a big kid and ruggedly handsome and was laughing and clapping. Ally jumped out of the cake and ran over and planted her ass in his lap and draped herself all over him. He pulled her to him and stuck his tongue between her lips and his hand between her legs and rubbed her. I could see she was embarrassed that he had done this in public view, but that was what we were paid to do, I guess. Danno was smaller, and very good looking, with curly black hair. He was not clapping and looked sort of embarrassed. I jumped out of the cake and went over and looked into Danno's eyes and put my hands on his shoulders and said, "Hi Handsome." He smiled a little and gave me a chaste hug and directed me to sit down beside him, which I did with my arm around his back. Well, I was happy he treated me a little more respectfully than Alfonso had treated Ally, but hoped Danno wasn't disappointed with me. Then I thought to myself, 'What are you thinking? What do you care what he thinks of you, as long as you get paid?' But for some reason I wanted him to think I was attractive. The next hour was a study in contrasts between the brothers. Alfonso was big and bold and outgoing and loved to talk about himself and what he was going to do now that he was out of high school. He already had an athletic scholarship to Arizona State and seemed to think he was certain to start at quarterback for four years and then be drafted into the NFL. I wasn't so sure. There's a lot of difference between competition in high school and college football. Meanwhile, Danno sat and talked to friends and relatives that came by. He talked about what he was going to do. It interested me that he said he was thinking of skipping college for now and going into the military to do his part in the middle east. But he also wanted to attend college. There he was undecided, torn between mathematics and law, the latter of which would be more useful to the family. He continued to treat me respectfully, even though I stayed close to him. A couple of times I went to the kitchen and got food or drinks for him and his friends. I did this mainly because otherwise I just sat there while the conversation swirled around me. The courtesy and respect that Danno showed me were not necessarily shown by all his friends and family, although most weren't directly disrespectful. However, Danno's mother was very disrespectful. She commented, "Aren't the whores we got beautiful, Danno? Alfonso's is gorgeous, but even Blossom is very pretty for an Asian. Blossom, take off that cheerleader outfit and show everybody your body." I flushed, but before I could do or say anything, Danno objected and told his mother that that was disrespectful to women, to which his mother said that not all women deserved respect. But what happened to me was nothing compared to Ally. Several times I looked over at her and Alfonso had grabbed her around the chest and was feeling one breast, usually while he was talking to a friend. She looked extremely embarrassed. Escorts can't be too sensitive, because their job is sex. But their job isn't being groped in public, in a crowded room. What the hell was Alfonso thinking anyway? I know his family was embarrassed too. Even his mother finally told him quietly, "Alfonso, why don't you take the whore to your room?" Alfonso got up and grabbed Ally's hand and pulled her into his bedroom. It seemed to me he allowed Ally no dignity at all. I sat with Danno for a few more minutes. Then he whispered in my ear, "Why don't you go use the bathroom and then go into my room. I will follow you soon." I nodded and got up and walked to the bathroom. I really did need to visit the bathroom and did my business and then fixed my lipstick and slipped quietly into the room that was Danno's. I took off my cheerleader outfit and crawled into the bed and waited. Danno came in a few minutes later and saw me in bed and laid himself on top of the covers. He looked at me, and I crawled over and kissed him. He returned my kiss, and then told me, "Look, Blossom, I apologize for the way my mother talked to you. And you don't have to fuck me to be paid. If you want, I will say we did it." I said, "Danno, I really like you." He looked at me and said, "How can you? You don't know me at all." I said, "I've seen enough to know I like you. You're kind, and nice, and smart, and fun." He said, somewhat bitterly, "But not as fun as Alfonso I bet." I drew back in surprise at his comment. Was he really worried that I wished I was with Alfonso, who I had come to hate in just a few moments?" I said, "Are you serious, Danno?" He said, "Yes. Alfonso is the older brother. He's big and strong, and he will someday inherit the family business. He's a real stud and will someday be an NFL quarterback. I am not only the second son; I am not even technically in the line of succession. I'm a bastard. My father insisted on adopting me and taking me away from my birth mother, just in case something happened to Alfonso. But make no mistake, Alfonso is number 1." I said, "I'm sorry, Danno. I'm sorry you away from your mother. Were you and she close?" He nodded and said, "Yes. I miss her so much. She was such a sweetheart. I call her occasionally, but it's not the same as being with her. I would run away and go back to her, but I'm afraid of what my father would do." Then I swear, he started to cry. I held his head until he stopped. We laid together for a while, and he apologized for crying. I asked him what position he had played in soccer, and he told me of his triumphs. He had loved soccer because playing it was within reach for a boy with moderate size. He had been the top scorer in the league this year and had been offered a scholarship at Arizona State. But he didn't want to go there, because he didn't want to attend the same school as his brother. I told him that I had played soccer in high school, too and had been fairly successful. I was the top scorer for my school and was all-league as a senior. He said, "I'm surprised. I would have thought you were a dancer, maybe a ballerina. I said, "Oh, I did ballet too, and also drama, and I liked math and science." I asked him why he was thinking about the military. He said he just thought he owed it to the country. I remember feeling the same way as Elvis. But I said, "You should do college first. Then you could be an officer. The army needs officers like you." He was surprised and said, "You really think so, Blossom?" I nodded. That surprised him, and he said, "Blossom, you're a woman of many talents and surprising depths. It's been great talking to you." During our conversation, I thought about what it would be like to try to make a life with a man like Danno. I thought we could be happy together. I could help him in college. I wondered if he would like to have children. I would be happy to give him a baby, or two. Then I thought to myself, 'what the hell are you thinking, you idiot. You're a man, not a woman. You're Naozumi Elvis Watson.' But the thoughts wouldn't go away. Unfortunately, the idea was not practical because I knew that his family would never allow him to have a relationship with a whore. I had figured out that they were the mob. I was nothing to them and if Danno tried to have a relationship with me they might do anything. Finally, Danno said, "Let's get going, Blossom. We've been here long enough to slip out and say we made love." I could have done that, slipped away and taken the money and ran. But I found I didn't want to. I stopped him from leaving and kissed him and crawled out from under the covers and got as close as I could. I could feel he was hard, and I undid his belt and zipper and caressed his hard penis. After a few moments, he put his arms around me and asked me if I was sure. I smiled at him and said yes. So, he put his hands on my ass and kissed my neck. I guess I winced when Danno kissed the area where the abductor had choked me yesterday. He asked what was wrong. I made some excuse, but he was too smart and turned the light on and looked closely and saw the bruise. He said, "My God, what happened Blossom." I related the story, and he just shook his head. He smiled and said, "You know my mother gave Ally to Alfonso because she wanted him to have the best. But the jokes on her. You're quite a woman, Blossom." Then we started making love. Danno mentioned that it was too bad he had to use a rubber. I told him that it would be OK if we didn't. I was on the pill. So, he went in bareback. Danno was as sweet and considerate making love as he had been in every other way. He whispered to me, "Is there anything you're really like, Blossom. Anything I could do to make you feel good?" A thought came to me, and I said, "Yes, would you spank me while we're making love?" He replied, "What. No. I don't want to hurt you, Blossom." I said, "Thank You. But it is something that I need, something that would make me feel very good." So, while we were making love, he swatted me. Not hard but whipping his fingers, so it stung. The sudden pain caused me to orgasm and cry out. He stopped while I cramped up and writhed in pleasure. He asked, "Do you always orgasm when spanked?" I laughed and said, "Yes, if I am making love." Then he said, "Is that common with women?" I said, "I don't think so. I've never talked to another woman who did that. I think I'm a freak." Danno said, "Oh, Blossom. I think you're sweet and loving." Then we commenced making love again. Just as I heard him grunting, starting to cum, I felt him swat me in the ass again. It sent me over the edge, and I cried out, and my vagina cramped on his penis while I writhed in pleasure. Apparently, that sent him over the edge, and he came inside me and cried out too. Then we held each other for another half hour, occasionally speaking to each other of love and happiness. After Danno and I spent a while more enjoying each other's company, he told me to use the bathroom and then come back and tell him when I finished. I dressed and went out to the bathroom and then returned and told Danno the coast was clear. Then I went out to the kitchen and had a glass of wine and waited for Danno. Ally was also in the kitchen drinking wine. I could tell she had been crying. I told her I was sorry, and she said she was OK and came over and stood close to me. Then Danno came out and kissed me and hugged me and thanked me and told me how much he had enjoyed my company. The party was winding down. I had seen Celia and the other AAA girls go into rooms with men, and Celia seemed happy. So, I surmised she had fucked several men and earned a good deal of money. I called Uber, and Celia and I and a couple of other girls left to meet the car in the parking area. He took us all to our various residences, ending with Celia's and my motel. As soon as we got back, Celia took another pill and went to sleep. I felt good enough to do entire my nighttime routine, including a sleep braid. Then I went right to sleep. We had to be in AAA at 9 in the morning. Celia and I managed to get up and be into AAA by 9 as requested. But Joyce was there alone. Don had decided it was not a good idea, after all, to try to get free advertising from Celia and I stopping the abduction. So, he slept in. It would have been nice if he had left a text. AAA would just respond to any inquiries with "AAA is proud that two of its escorts were able to prevent the abduction and rape of a young innocent girl. We employ only moral, compassionate women and are sure all of our escorts would have reacted the same way." I was happy with this outcome. Celia and I were able to give Joyce a fuller description of what had happened two days before. She did tell us she thought we were both wonderful people. That meant a lot to us. We were also able to describe what had happened at the 'party' last night. Joyce agreed it was crazy but told us that she had heard of Mob families doing similar things in the past. She asked if they treated us well. Celia said yeah, great. She had served three of them, which she thought was worth $1200 to her. Joyce said, "yes, after they pay us." I told Joyce about Danno and said he treated me very kindly and respectfully. But I told Joyce how badly Alfonso had treated Ally, so she ended the evening in tears. And I told her that the mother had called us out as whores, and suggested I disrobe in public. Joyce replied that Ally and I needed to toughen up. Respect was not guaranteed in this business. I said, "Yes, but I wonder if Alfonso mistreated Ally during sex." Joyce said good treatment was not guaranteed either. But if he was going to mistreat an escort during sex, Joyce should know so she could make it a special assignment and only assign an escort who was willing, which Ally was not. Joyce said she would ask Ally. However, the mob was the main investor behind AAA. So I doubted anything substantial would happen. Joyce also agreed that I should keep things on a professional level with Danno if he called me up again. These families were just too deadly to cross by having a romance with one of their sons. 15. Life as an Escort - Celia Detoxes Joyce gave Celia and me our checks from last week, which we had not been able to pick up at Wednesday's meeting. She also told Celia there would be no fine for missing her 'date' on Wednesday evening since we were unavoidably detained in jail. And she once again said we should be proud of ourselves for Wednesday's actions. Celia seemed very happy with the praise and just beamed. I guess pride is hard to come by for us escorts. Celia and I walked over to Sunny Sky's Casino and had brunch. We were hungry. I hadn't eaten anything since Wednesday morning, and it was now Friday. And Celia had had a little food Wednesday dinner at the jail, but nothing since then. As we were eating, the waitress asked if we were the two prostitutes who had captured the South Strip Rapist. What? How did you know about that? She brought over a copy of today's Las Vegas Times with our pictures on the front page. I had expected it. But I didn't like being identified as a prostitute in public. Until people forgot about today's news, it took away the cloak of anonymity that made what I was doing tolerable. Celia wanted to emphasize the positive. The article portrayed her as a heroine, and she reveled in it. She owned up to who we were and answered questions from the restaurant staff and other guests willingly, even enthusiastically. So, while I glowered and worried and ate in silence, Celia was animated and happy. After a while, I decided that I was happy that Celia was happy. So, I lightened up a little and enjoyed the rest of the meal. At about 4 pm I got a call from Trudy. She said she was on her way to our apartment and wanted to talk to us. When she got there, once again she expressed her appreciation of what we had done, on behalf of the Las Vegas Police. Then she brought us up to date on the investigation into the South Strip Rapist. Two victims of the rapist had identified him as their assailant in a lineup of images. They expected DNA tests to come in early next week. But even without them, they could hold the guy just on the attempted abduction based on Celia and my and the victim's statements. She said it was likely he would never be free again. Celia surprised me at how animated and interested she was. This was the girl who in the month I'd been here, spend virtually all her time high or on a date or asleep. Celia knew a lot about police procedure and asked questions that didn't occur to me. I looked at her quizzically, and she shrugged her shoulders and said, "What? My father was a cop. I used to watch detective shows. Lots of them." Then Trudy looked at the bruises on my neck and said, "Blossom, we would like you to come down to the station and file assault charges too. That would be another charge on the list and would make it even less likely he would get out on bail." She explained that the accused rapist was gainfully employed and had an apartment and a nice pickup truck, and his parents lived in a little town about 50 miles east of Las Vegas. So, some crazy judge might decide he had a stake in the community and award him bail, which he might be able to raise with help from his parents. It was her opinion that he would disappear before coming to trial if released on bail. Trudy also told us that there was a reward out for the South Strip Rapist and that in her opinion we should get it. But we had to apply. Trudy said we should come into the station and fill out the application. It would make payment of the reward faster after the suspect was convicted. I said, "OK, but I can't do it tonight. I have a ... er, I have plans." Trudy said, "How about next Monday afternoon." I said, "I would like you to be there when I go in, Trudy? Last time I went to the station, I wound up staying overnight in detention. I don't want to do that again. Can you be there next Monday afternoon?" Trudy said she could, so it was agreed we would go in next Monday afternoon at 1. The Trudy turned to Celia and said, "Celia. Something else I have been authorized to offer you is free treatment in the county detox facility. It's not a pleasant process, but in the end, you would be able to function without drugs. And we could put on your record that the police sponsored you because you had been of invaluable help in a case. The staff would treat you better, although some of the other inmates might automatically assume that you were a snitch. Your choice. But this treatment is a way of making a start on a new life if you want that." I expected Celia to refuse out of hand. I had encouraged her to detox before, and that's how she reacted. Instead, Celia asked, "So, Trudy, if I were to detox, and change my profession, do you think I could ever become a cop?" I could tell Trudy was surprised. I certainly was. Trudy said she didn't know. A minor misdemeanor record didn't disqualify someone from the police academy. Trudy asked if Celia had ever been arrested. Celia admitted that one time she had been picked up in one of the casinos for prostitution and had plead guilty on the advice of the Public Defender in exchange for no jail time. Trudy said, "You should have fought it. You probably would have won. Now it's on your record." Then Trudy asked, "How about drug possession?" Celia shook her head and said, "No, I have been very careful." Trudy asked, "Would you give us your sources?" Celia said, "I'll have to think about that." Trudy said, "I know you consider them your friends, Celia. But they aren't your friends. They are peddling poison for profit. That's not very friendly." Celia wasn't ready to commit and said, "Maybe, I'll talk to you about it Monday." Then Celia asked me, "Blossom, would you help me if I detoxed." I asked, "What kind of help would you need?" She said, "I don't know. I've never done it before. But I think I would want someone to visit. Otherwise, I would be alone. And maybe talk some sense into my head if I start going wrong." Trudy jumped in, "Detox is very hard, Blossom. It really helps to have friendship and support." So, I said, "Yea, Sure. I'd like you to start dealing with your addiction, Celia. You're too good a person to be high so much." Celia said, "OK, I think I would be interested. Can we talk about it on Monday, Trudy?" Then, believe it or not, Trudy came over and hugged Celia and said, "You're doing the right thing, Celia. You'll see." Then Celia broke down and cried, and I went over and hugged her, and Trudy hugged both of us. I didn't remember any cop using this technique for dealing with offenders when I had been Elvis and was in jail in Collegeville. The next Monday, we visited the police station and filed charges for assault against the South Strip Rapist and filled out the claim forms for the reward. Trudy and Celia talked about detox for an hour, and finally, Celia signed up and would start the following Sunday. I was surprised at how motivated she was. She even tried to stop cold turkey on Tuesday, but it was clear that she needed some treatment and support. The next Sunday, Trudy came and picked us up and drove us to the treatment facility. It was miles off the strip, and I knew I would need to use Uber to get there. Trudy stayed and watched Celia sign in, and then said she had to leave. Looking at Celia, I thought she needed me there for a while longer. So, I told Trudy I would get a ride home with Uber. I stayed with Celia and basically just talked. She talked about things we had never talked about before. She told me about her hopes and dreams, her parents' divorce, a brother who died in an auto accident, and her ultimate rejection by her mother who had been born again. I suppose all of us have similar stories. Life only goes smoothly for a few people. But it was tragic, because Celia had too much going for her, to throw it away over anger, and then over drugs. I stayed until they made me go and as I was leaving, I told Celia I would come and visit every day, maybe not in the evening, but every day. Celia understood, and she assured me she would be happy to see me whenever. At the end, impulsively, I hugged her, and she hugged me back with tears in her eyes. She told me not to worry; she was going to make it. I kept my promise. I think I averaged 2 hours a day there, usually in the morning or afternoon. Celia did well in treatment. They gave her methadone to suppress symptoms of withdrawal, and she said they had therapy almost 4 hours daily and she spent another six hours just cleaning. Her therapist wanted to interview friends and family of the residents, so I scheduled a two-hour interview the next Friday. Celia's therapist, Mary, questioned me closely about whether I was on drugs, whether I supported Celia getting off drugs, and whether I would help her rearrange her schedule, so it was easier for her. I said I wasn't on drugs, and I would do what I could to help Celia stay drug-free. Then Mary asked, "Tell me about your and Celia's relationship." I said, "Celia and I are good friends, and we share an apartment." Mary then asked, "How long have you known each other?" I responded, "Just a couple of months." She asked, "How did you meet?" I didn't know what Celia had told her but frankly didn't want to talk about us being escorts. However, I reflected that it would be best to be straight with the therapist. She seemed sincere so she should know as much as possible to help Celia. I finally said, "Celia and I are both escorts. We live in an apartment provided by our employer. That's how we met." Mary said, "Escorts? What kind of escorting do you do?" I said, "We're both call girls." When she still looked puzzled, I said, "We're whores." "Oh," Mary said. She couldn't have been shocked. As a therapist at a detox center, I'm sure she's run across prostitutes trying to get off drugs before. But I doubt if there were many. A lot of prostitutes use drugs to deal with the stresses and emotions of the profession, and a lot turn to prostitution to support a drug habit. Not many of them want to detox until they got out of the business. But if you were on drugs, it was hard to get a job, which was a prerequisite to getting out of the business. Catch 22. Mary said, "I am a little surprised. Celia did not tell me, and she seems so confident, I did not guess she was a working girl. Are you sure you should have told me?" I said, "No, but Celia didn't warn me not to. And I think it's important for you to know." Mary looked at me and said, "That explains a lot. Celia hasn't told me about her day to day life. She hinted that it is why she has turned to drugs. She has said she wants to change her life. How about you? Would you like to do something other than prostitution?" I replied, "Oh, God yes. This life is so bizarre. And I have so few close relationships. And some of the men I have to be with are scary. I know that someday one of them will hurt me badly. There is nothing I would rather do than stop being a prostitute." Mary said, "Well, then what's stopping you? You're young and healthy and well-spoken and pretty. You don't have children or a drug habit to support. You could find other work easily." I responded, "Well, first, as an escort, I'm under contract to the Mob. I can't just tell them to take their contract and stuff it, as much as I'd like to. Then, I have an aunt who is undergoing chemotherapy but doesn't have insurance. I am sending money to her and my sister. So, it is not as easy as you might think. Maybe in a few years, things will be different." Of course, I didn't tell her I had a spell placed on me that made me crave sex with men, especially abusive sex. I doubted she would believe me anyway. Mary nodded and then asked, "Are Celia and you in a lesbian relationship?" I gasped in surprise and said, "No, not that there's anything wrong with a lesbian relationship. But I don't think either of us is inclined that way." Mary said, "The reason I asked is that you two seem so close and always seem to be hugging." I replied, "Well, I am trying to show concern and support, so I make a point of giving her hugs." Mary looked at me suspiciously. She said, "Celia describes you almost like you were a Goddess. But she also denies that you are in a lesbian relationship. I agree that there is nothing wrong with a lesbian relationship. But we need to know so we can be clear about the nature of the support she has." Then Mary questioned me about my background. I answered everything I could, but as an experienced interviewer, she soon figured out that I was holding things back. So, she kept digging. I finally told her, "Look, there are some things that I can't tell you. I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you everything you want to know." In the end, I hoped that overall she would conclude I was supportive and would help Celia. Mary then asked, "Has Celia said anything about doing something else?" I replied, "Yes. I heard her ask a police officer if she would qualify to be a policewoman after getting off drugs." Mary smiled, "Oh, that would be interesting. I think she would be good at it. But, unfortunately, I doubt if any police department would hire an ex-hooker." I said, "I know she was so proud when we stopped that abduction. I think she would like to be in a profession where she was respected." Mary thought about it and said, "Oh, now I know where I saw you two before, in the newspaper. Congratulations. That was a brave deed. With that in her background, Celia might get hired by a police force." Then Mary said, "Well, thank you for coming in for the interview. I have a much clearer idea what is going on with Celia now. She has a long row to hoe, but I feel she has a good chance of succeeding. And I hope that whatever is making you do something you don't want to do; it resolves itself too." With Celia out for two weeks and a couple of other girls sick, AAA gave me a 'Date' almost every night, sometimes two. Several nights in, I went to a routine Date (not a special). I expected an easy evening and hoped I would be able to persuade the john to spank me as I serviced him. I hadn't had abusive sex for a week and was starting to get edgy. I knocked on the door to a casino hotel room, and the door opened. I stepped in and saw Danno. My emotions surprised me. It was so wonderful to see him. I walked over and stood close to him. He put his arms around me and said, "Blossom. I've missed you. Are you happy to see me, Babe?" I nodded and tilted my head up, and he kissed me. Then, God help me; I started crying and hugged him close. Of course, we made love. He was as wonderful as a week ago, kind, gentle, and doing what he needed to do to make me feel good. I tried to use all the skills I had learned in the last couple of months to make him feel good too. As he was going in and out of me, he asked if I wanted him to spank me again. I nodded, so he spanked me again, several times. I orgasmed each time, the last time as he was ejaculating inside me. God, it felt so good. After we finished, we laid together and just enjoyed each other's presence. Then Danno said he loved me. That terrified me. There were so many ways that was wrong, and dangerous. First, I felt I might love him in return. But I was still Elvis to some extent, and I wasn't supposed to love a guy. Of course, I shouldn't be opening my legs and letting a guy fuck me either. But that was just external. Love was internal. It scared me that I could think of loving a guy. Second, Danno was too young for me. I looked like I was 14, and officially I was 19, but I was really 26. I had spent six years at war and a little time in college, and then I had apparently raped a girl and spent four months in jail. Now I was a prostitute and did things I would never have done voluntarily. I felt old. I didn't think I could go back to experiencing life as a 19-year-old, which I would have to do in a serious relationship with Danno. But most important, Danno's mob family would never put up with him being in love with a prostitute. That would bring shame to the family, and they would almost certainly act to prevent it. At the party, Danno's stepmom had already made clear what she thought whores were not respectable people worthy of consideration, that they only existed for the pleasure of the men in her family. If Danno loved me, a prostitute, that would embarrass the family. They would probably kill me. They might show compassion and just have me beaten up and sold on the white slave market, or the half-white slave market. I wasn't ready for either. And the mob might even decide to get rid of Danno. After all, he wasn't the heir, just the backup heir. They didn't really need him. He looked at me and said, "You look worried, Blossom." I said, "Oh, Danno. I love you too, but we can't be together." Then he said, "Why not, Blossom?' I said, "Because your family's a bunch of crazy-ass killers, and if they knew you were romantically involved with a prostitute, they would put a contract on me, and they might kill you too." Then Danno said, "I've thought of that, Blossom. I've decided to walk away from the family. I don't want to be involved in the family business. The money's not worth it to me. We could get married in Vegas and then move somewhere else. I've always wanted to live in Los Angeles. What do you think, Blossom? Maybe I'll try to find my mother again. Dad swears they haven't hurt her, just paid her off and threatened her so she would disappear and not contact my sister or me." God, that sounded so good to me. To have Danno as my husband and to be with him every night and to have a normal life. Just thinking about it made me want to cry. But I knew it couldn't be. I said, "Danno, you know that wouldn't work. And it would endanger your sister. Your family will only let you and your sister go if they decide it's the right thing to do. Your path to freedom is to go to college and do something that isn't useful to your family but can't harm your family. Maybe be a veterinarian, or an economist or a French professor. Meanwhile, convince them that you would never talk about the family with anyone. Then they would let you go, and you could do what you want to do, maybe find your mother. Your sister should do the same if she wants to be free." He nodded and said, "I know. But I'd give it a try if you wanted." I held him close, and we made love again. Then I put my clothes on, and he handed me an envelope with the cost of the Date. I didn't look at it. He said, "Can I have another date, Blossom?" I told him, "It would be dangerous, Danno. Your family could accept your scheduling one date with me. You might just be horny and like my blow jobs. But a second date and it starts to seem like a romantic relationship. Please don't." Then I left. I felt like an animal who had chewed off its leg to escape a trap. I went back to the motel and cried some more. The next afternoon, I got a call from Ally, the escort who had jumped out of the cake with me. She said she would like to get together and talk about that experience. I wasn't enthusiastic, but she sounded sort of lost and confused. We scheduled to have coffee at the casual restaurant in the Sunny Sky's Casino. If Elvis had had the opportunity to have coffee with a woman as beautiful as Ally, he'd have been out of this world, but also very concerned that he makes a good impression. Thinking back to those days, he seemed hopelessly na?ve. He had nothing to offer a woman like Ally, except love and happiness. And a woman that beautiful would never settle for just that. All Blossom thought about this get-together was that she would have to cut her sleep short on a Saturday morning. Clearly, my mind had changed, as well as my body and was continuing to change. I got there right on time, but Ally was already there. She was dressed in casual elegance and oozed sex appeal. I was dressed more casually and looked like someone's little sister. And I might add I was comfortable with that appearance. I had no desire to have a lot of guys lusting after me. Then the unbidden thought came forward, "Except Danno." As soon as I thought it, I suppressed it. It couldn't happen. Ally greeted me like an old friend, even though we had rarely talked before the Date last Thursday night. But I guess we were friends in a way. We both had the same risky and despised profession and had both dated a MOB boy. We chatted casually for a few minutes. Honestly, Ally looked worried. After our coffee drinks came, I asked her, "Ally, why did you want to talk?" She said, "I was hoping to learn some of your secrets, Blossom." That worried me. I replied, "What secrets are those, Ally?" Ally said, "Well, you remember the party we were at last Thursday night? Of course, you do. Anyway, we both jumped out of the cake, wearing almost the same outfits. And we both ran over to our guys and sat close to them. But after that, everything was different. I mean, my guy, Alfonso, pawed me and almost pulled my clothes down right there in the room. When we went to the bedroom, he treated me even worse. He pinched my nipples, pinched my ass, slapped me around, and forced himself on me. The last thing he did was anal. He was big, and I had no lubricant. It hurt like hell. I mean he didn't need to do that sort of violent stuff. I was going to let him do what he wanted. Do you think I was wrong to expect a little consideration?" I said quietly, "No, Ally, you aren't wrong to expect consideration." She was on a roll now. She continued, "and her mother called me out as a whore right there in front of everybody and told him to take me to the room and fuck me, and he pulled me along like an animal. And later he told me to go with one of his friends and let him fuck me. I mean, I'd have done that too. I am an escort. But it galled me for him to tell me in public to go with some guy and fuck him." I nodded and said, "I saw that Ally. I'm sorry." Then she continued, "But it was different for you. You went and just smiled at your guy and said something and then just sat down, and he gave you respect, talking to you. I mean, he showed affection, but he didn't treat you badly. Then when he took you to his room, he let you go there unobtrusively, and then followed you in. And when you came out, you had a big grin. Like you'd enjoyed the experience. Did you enjoy it, Blossom?" I nodded and said, "Yes, I did enjoy being with him." Then she said, "so here's the question, what did you do to get him to act that way?" I said, "Oh, Ally. It's nothing I did. The difference is that your guy, Alfonso, is an asshole, a sociopath. Danno's a nice guy, a very nice guy. If Mrs. Sununu had assigned you to Danno, you'd have been treated respectfully, and I'd have been treated abusively. You're innocent, Ally. It just happened." She said, "So, it was just the luck of the draw?" I said, "Yeah, basically." Ally asked, "What do you mean basically?" I said, "Well, the guys' mother thought you were much more beautiful than I., And you're white. So, she had you assigned to the older son. You should know that Danno is not her child. Her husband said he wanted Danno and his sister to live with them. The mother had no choice in that. But she greatly favors her son, Alfonso. Because she considered me less desirable, she had me assigned to the younger son." Ally asked, "So you're saying it would be better if I were less beautiful?" I said, "As things lay, yes. But, it could have been that the older son was the nice guy, and the younger was a sociopath. In which case you would have come out better than I. Ally, there's no simple solution. It was truly bad luck that put you with Alfonso. In most cases, your beauty serves you well. All women know it is better to be pretty. But in this case, it didn't. Just the luck of the draw." Ally continued, "I also wanted to see you because it is well known that you accept, even seek out, special assignments." I said, "And you don't?" She said, "No, never. The idea of dealing with an abusive man terrifies me. I don't know how to do it. I was going to ask for your advice. Alfonso has been calling me and wants a date. That terrifies me." Oh, damn. Now I could see why she wanted to talk. I said, "Have you talked to Joyce?" Ally answered, "Yes, she was the one who referred me to you. If it was anyone else but Alfonso, she would have one of the goons persuade him to leave me alone. But she told me that Alfonso's father is the primary investor in AAA." I replied, "Damn. What a mess. So, does Alfonso know where you live? Wait, if he leans on Don, he will know where you live. You need to move as soon as possible and tell no one where you move. You can stay with me for a week until Celia gets out of detox." Ally looked at me in terror as though the thought of Alfonso showing up on her doorstep never occurred to her before. She said, "Do you think that is necessary?" I replied, "Do you want to find out by having Alfonso knock on your apartment door?" She shook her head and said, "No." I said, "Can you go home for a while and stay with your family or maybe with a friend? That might be a little dangerous for them, but I don't think Alfonso will pursue you out of Las Vegas. There's only so much effort he will put into finding a whore to get his rocks off, even one as pretty as you." She looked down and shook her head. And then burst into tears. She said, "I'm not a whore. I'm an escort." I didn't know what to say. The definition of a whore is to exchange sex for money. That's what she and I did. But I didn't want to debate definitions. So, I said, "I think Alfonso considers you a whore. That is why he treats you like he does." She composed herself and nodded. I said, "I think you have three options. You can accept Alfonso's overtures and become his girlfriend until he gets tired of you. With a man such as Alfonso, there is the danger he will lose his temper and hurt you. But most likely you will be with him until college starts. Then he will cut you loose, and you'll never hear from him again. Fairly safe, but not totally. And I have seen how much you dislike the way he treats you. Another option is to try to continue as you are, don't return his calls, move to another apartment, and hope he gives up. He might. He will be going on a European tour soon. But you refusing his overtures might piss him off and make him more determined. A final option is to leave Las Vegas. She said, "But what would I do if I left Las Vegas?" I said, "You could be an escort somewhere else. You could take another name, just for safety. Or you could find another job, establish a better life, meet someone you cared for, and get married and have a family. That would be very safe." Ally said, "My mother raised me to be beautiful. As a child, I went from beauty contest to modeling agency. I always earned money with my looks. I have no other skills." I asked, "Do you have a high school degree?" She said, "Yes, but my grades weren't good. I just barely passed a lot of classes. My dad used to call me 'his daughter the Bimbo.'" I sympathized with her. Her father was an asshole. He should have been encouraging her to develop her abilities, not criticizing her and destroying her confidence. But it wasn't too late, and Ally did have one major advantage over most other girls. I said, "Believe me, Ally. A girl with your looks would get job offers. They wouldn't necessarily be good jobs, but they would keep you alive until you developed other capabilities and got a better job. You don't need to live down to your father's opinions of your capabilities. You have a lot to offer beyond just being beautiful." She flashed me a wane smile. Then I asked her, "Do you have a gun?" She looked blank and asked, "A gun?" I said, "Yes, a pistol. To protect yourself. I mean, we do a lot of walking from casino to casino at odd hours. I would assume you have some means to protect yourself just in case something happens." She shook her head. She said she didn't believe in violence. I took a deep breath and said, "Non-violence is fine Ally, in most, circumstances. But there are times when we are amidst people who want to hurt us. We escorts in particular since we around men who are often unstable must be able to react. Ally just looked at me. Finally, I said, "I recommend you get a pistol designed for a woman and learn how to use it. It might keep you alive if Alfonso gets pissed off at you." Ally looked skeptical and asked, "Do you carry a gun?" I said, "Yes I do." Then I lifted my purse in such a fashion that the weight of the pistol sagged. Ally gasped. She said, "I don't think I could ever shoot anyone." I said, "Look, even if you have a gun, the odds are overwhelming that there will never be circumstances where you should use it. But there may come a time when it saves your life. As for not shooting anyone, what if that person is going to rape or kill you or someone you love? In such circumstances, I would pull the trigger in a heartbeat." "OK," I said, "I have told you what I think. You can decide I'm full of shit, and not act on any of it if you want. It's up to you." Ally looked at me and sipped her drink and thought for a minute. She said, "I suppose it would be prudent to move to your place for a week, just in case. Is that still OK?" I said sure, but don't tell anyone, especially AAA, and don't forward your mail and don't give your neighbor a way to get a hold of you in an emergency, other than your phone, which is not traceable. Just disappear from your old place." She asked when. I said, "Now's a good time." We finished our drinks, and took an Uber to her apartment, which was much higher-end than mine, and far enough away that she must use Uber for almost everything. She had finished the apartment very tastefully. She got two huge suitcases and took an hour filling them with clothes, jewelry, toiletries, and numerous things that I could not identify, and I thought I had learned a lot about feminine items. I told her I had much less space to put things than her apartment, but she just said, "Well, if necessary, I will live out of these suitcases." We called Uber and got a ride back to my motel. She looked at it and said, "You weren't kidding, were you?" I said no. Then she said, "Maybe I should just rent someplace new." I replied, "Come on Ally. It's just for a few days, and it's safer for you to be living with someone. At the end of the week, we can decide what the next step is." We jointly hauled Ally's stuff up to Celia and my room. Then we took Celia's stuff and put it aside carefully and replaced it with Ally's stuff. In the process, Ally spread out as much as possible. I suddenly found myself and my stuff confined to a small area in my own apartment. But it was only for a week. That afternoon I planned to visit Celia and asked Ally if she wanted to go along. I told her that Celia would love to have another visitor. It took a little arm twisting, but I got Ally to go. I can't say it was a totally successful visit, but it was something different for Celia. I told Celia what was going on, and she said that was OK as long as she (Celia) had a place to stay when she got out next Sunday. When I got home, I got myself ready for a date. It was a special. I wore a Brownies uniform under a light dress and fixed my hair Japanese little- girl style. I put my knife in my boots and my pistol in my purse and called the security guy to coordinate. It turns out he could not be on- site since he was committed to something else. That was worrisome. Ally watched all this with some amazement and asked a lot of questions. As I was leaving, she said she didn't think the extra money was worth it. I silently agreed with her, but I thought it was worth the release abusive sex gave me from the spells. The date itself went fine, even though the guy was a jerk, like all special clients. But I did not need the security, and I did get the release I sought. When I got back to the motel at about 10, Ally was asleep. So, I didn't try to make dinner. I just cleaned myself up, took off my makeup, and went to bed. But Ally woke up with nightmares. I got up with her and fixed myself a cup of coffee while she had some soymilk. She told me, "Alfonso called again, and demanded a date. And this time he threatened me if she didn't comply." Who would have thought a stud like Alfonso would not have a date on a Saturday night? But I thought he had probably managed to piss off every girl he knew so they would have nothing to do with him. But Ally was a whore that he paid for sex, so she somehow ought to be willing to be with him no matter how obnoxious he acted. What an asshole. Ally had a hard time getting back to sleep, and did some sort of yoga, with some Tibetan chants. I couldn't go to sleep until she went to sleep. Then Ally asked if she could sleep with me. She was very nervous. I said OK. I understood her mood. But the beds were small, and I was awake half the night. I woke up at 9, much later than usual. I had another visit with Celia at 10, and then an early date, another special. For some reason, specials tended to be more common on the weekends. Maybe a lot of these guys who used special dates to satisfy their abusive urges had day jobs during the week. This special date was much scarier than yesterday's. I had called my bodyguard to ensure security, but again he had mixed duties tonight and couldn't be on-site. When I arrived, the guy grabbed my arm and pulled me into the bedroom violently, and my shoulder was hurt. Then he grabbed my hair and forced me down on the bed, pulled off my clothes, and fucked me while he called me names. During sex, he slapped me several times on the face. It was low on the face, so I didn't think I would get black eyes, but my cheeks and chin were red and slightly swollen. I gave some thought to activating my alarm, but security was 20 minutes away. I also thought about pulling my knife out of my boots, but that was something I would want to do only in an absolute emergency. I was too likely to lose any battle I had with one of these guys. Besides, something about him seemed to indicate that he still had control. Anyway, it all worked out; the guy finished with me without hurting me too much, and then paid me as expected. I walked back to the motel and arrived a little before 8. Ally was not back from her date yet. That was good. I needed some time to get myself together and rethink my life strategy before dealing with her. I flipped on the TV and channel surfed until I found some soccer on ESPNU. I got a light beer out of the refrigerator and poured some into a glass and sat down to unwind. As time went along, I calmed down and put things in perspective. I don't think I had been in any real danger, although I had some minor bumps and bruises. And I had had an orgasm when he slapped me, so I had a week until I needed more abuse. And he had paid me without any hassle. He had even given me an extra $200 and apologized for hurting me. The soccer game was exciting, and I watching it I briefly escaped the reality of being an escort. I could almost have been Elvis again, with no concerns beyond passing some college classes. Ally came in about 9:30. She changed clothes and sat down with me and asked, "What is this, Blossom?" I said, "MSL Soccer, Portland vs. Seattle. It's a good game. They're both playing well. Almost as good as premier league." She went and got herself a glass of wine and asked if I wanted some. I held up my glass and said I still had some beer. She came out and sat down and watched with me for a minute. Just then, the Seattle goalie made a spectacular save, and I clapped. She asked what had happened, and I explained it. She looked at me and laughed and said, "Oh Blossom. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you grew up a boy and only just now got a sex change." I looked at her and she giggled. What she thought was a joke, was really an insightful comment. I took a swallow of beer and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and said, "Hey, I thought I had this chick thing down pretty good. What gave me away?" She giggled again. Then she said, "Seriously, Blossom, sometimes you seem so ..., so forceful." I looked at her quizzically. Then I said, "Ally, lots of girls and women are forceful. That's not an exclusively masculine trait. And lots of girls and women like sports and prefer beer, women who are married and making a home and caring for children and living very feminine lives." Then Ally said, "And those science and economics magazines you keep in the bathroom." She made a face at that, then continued, "Most people who read them are men." I said, "Ally, I know you've heard of Marie Pasteur. But many women have contributed to science. Have you heard of Emmy Noether? She was a mathematician who couldn't even get a job because she was a woman. But she developed a mathematical theorem that is integral to modern physics. If you look at the history of math and science, whenever women were allowed to contribute, they made significant contributions. Being interested in math and science is not exclusively for men." I was about to expound some more but decided against it. I had made my point. I don't know why it was so important to me to defend women's capabilities in these things I admired. After all, I wasn't a woman, I was a man inside, right. On the other hand, my Aunt had raised me to realize that women were as capable as men. And I hated to have a friend think she would be less feminine if she asserted herself. Ally was looking at me strangely. It was an awkward moment, so I changed the subject and said, "How was your date tonight, Ally?" She looked at me and said, "OK, nothing special. The guy was nice enough and gave me a $50 tip. But he wanted a blow job before sex, Yiech. And she made a face that looked like she was gagging. I laughed. I didn't particularly like to give blow jobs either, particularly if the guy wanted to force his cock way down my throat or ejaculate into my mouth. But it was part of the job. Some men just loved them. Then she looked at me, and said, "I noticed some marks on your face, Blossom, and your eyes look like they're getting black. Were you hit?" Damn it. I was hoping I wouldn't have black eyes. I nodded in reply. Her question brought back the horror of the evening, and I couldn't help starting to cry. She put down her glass and hugged me until I got myself under control. I said, "I guess I'm not very forceful right now." We sat there without talking for a few minutes. The soccer game ended, and Ally found a light comedy. Not something heavy and supercritical of all ideas except the comedian's, but just an old musical about people falling in love and creating positive, caring lives for themselves. I needed that right now. Ally and I got up the next morning and walked to AAA. We delivered the money we had collected this weekend and picked up our checks for the previous week. Joyce saw us come in together and raised her eyebrow quizzically. But I ignored her. The less I talked about Ally staying with me, the safer we would both be. I had put makeup on my eyes, but several of the other escorts noticed and expressed concern. Joyce asked me when that had happened, and I told her last night. She said that they would cut that guy off unless he gave assurances that nothing like that would happen again. Neither Ally nor I had a date today. So, Ally wanted to go shopping and have lunch together, but I had a Monday routine of taking my check to the bank and getting cash out and putting it in the mail. So, she decided to accompany me. She seemed happy for the company. Of course, I had to tell her what was going on, that I was sending money home to my aunt who raised me and to my sister, and the story of my aunt being in the midst of cancer therapy, with no insurance or job. She looked at me with respect. She asked why I sent cash. The spells wouldn't let me tell her the whole truth. So, I said I did it to hide that I was sending earnings from prostitution, which my aunt wouldn't accept. The story didn't hold water when you looked at it closely, but it was the best I could do. Then we went to a vegan restaurant for lunch. I had thought I ate healthy, only a little lean meat, plenty of fruits and veggies, calcium from non-fat cheese and milk, etc., etc. But Ally told me how wrong I was, and what I had to do to eat healthily and morally. Frankly, her reasoning didn't seem to hold water, any more than the reasoning of the only other vegan I knew, my Aunt's daughter, Linda. I asked if any scientific studies supported a vegan diet. Ally didn't know of any and furthermore didn't think it was important. She just knew she was better off eating vegan; she felt it in her soul. I suppose that was a fine reason for her to eat however she wanted. But I thought the diet was bullshit and saw no reason to change my way of eating. But I could put up with eating vegan one day to be polite. However, to me it was tasteless, and the texture was unpleasant. She asked me, "After eating vegan, don't you just love it." I smiled and said, "Maybe I could get used to it after a while." Then we went shopping. I must admit that Ally was a world-class shopper. She could look at endless aisles of women's clothing and see one outfit that would be perfect for her to wear to some occasion for which she currently had nothing to wear or only a few things to wear. It was a talent I envied but doubted I would ever have. Ally was also on the lookout for things for me to wear that, as she put it, 'would help my immature figure.' In other words, make me look as though I had more than A-cup breasts, or hips that might allow me to have children someday. She found several items which I must admit were an improvement over what I currently had, and I bought one lovely dress that I could wear out to a nice dinner and look like a 'lady.' Unfortunately, Ally never learned to look at price tags and several of the items that she suggested cost several hundred dollars. I couldn't see spending that much. Not when I was trying to accumulate money for Aunt Marge and Mitsuko. When done, we stopped and had a glass of wine before we went back to the motel. I caught Ally looking at me. She told me that I should have some small rings in my ears, rather than what I currently had, which looked so young. And that I should get my hair dyed a lighter brown to accentuate my coloring. I had learned that being beautiful required work. But Ally took it to a whole new level. I was determined to learn everything she wanted to teach me. While we were sitting there, Ally got a phone call. After a few moments, it became apparent it was Joyce from AAA assigning her a date for tonight. She hung up and verified that impression. She said her the john had picked her picture off the web site and the john had asked for her specifically. I had been thinking of myself as cute, i.e., attractive to a group of men who liked young looking girls or Asian girls. But being around Ally, I was starting to think of myself as an ugly duckling, a niche product in a way, not generally desired. And it was starting to bother me. I didn't know why. I knew I could make a living and help my Aunt as I was. That should be enough for Elvis, who thought of himself as a temporary girl. After all, being a beauty was not doing Ally that much good. But being an ugly duckling did bother me. Suddenly, I would like men to consider me beautiful. I wasn't blind to the fact that I was changing, becoming more feminine. I couldn't do anything about it, but I did wonder where it was leading. 16. Life as an Escort - Strange Date Then my phone rang. It was Joyce at AAA, saying, "I have a date for you tonight. But the guy seemed a little odd, so maybe you don't want it." I asked, "Odd, how?" She said, "He said he wanted to fuck a heroine." That was odd. But it made me curious, and I asked, "This isn't a special, is it?" She said, "No, just a regular. The guy doesn't seem to be violent. He just seems a little odd." I said, "OK, I'll take the date." Ally heard, and I told her about it. She said, "Oh, that sounds exciting, Blossom. Maybe he wants you to pretend to rescue him. You'll have to tell me all about it later. You have all the excitement." I thought, 'Sometimes too much excitement.' We finished our drinks and went to visit Celia, so we could rush back to get ready for our dates. Celia was feeling much better as time went along, and we had a nice conversation. I told her about my date this afternoon, and she also said she was also interested in how it came out. Ally floated the idea of the three of us renting a larger apartment. All three of us could save money and have a better place to live. Celia told her maybe, but she would have to see the apartment before we rented it. I was a little concerned myself. I had little experience living with other women and wondered if I could keep faking it while living with two (other) women. On the other hand, I liked both Ally and Celia. If they were both enthusiastic, I would go with it. My date was at 7:30 in a room on the fifth floor of the Sunny Skys Casino. As requested, I showed up in a nice dress and low heels. The man greeted me at the door and introduced himself as nicely as could be. He seemed to want to talk, so I sat on the couch next to him, and he told me all about himself. He owned a small construction company and had built it up over the years to where he was now making a nice living for himself and his wife and three children, at the cost of working a lot of hours. Just before leaving for this conference in Las Vegas, he had found out that his wife of 25 years had been sleeping with a neighbor. He was infuriated and in a fit of anger called her a wanton whore and a betrayer of the marriage and said he would throw her out in the streets and take their three children. She, in turn, told him that he was a pathetic lover and she needed a real man. She said he was always working and never had time for her or the kids, and when he was home, he was so tired that he was asleep most of the time. In this case, I mainly had sympathy for the man. I had very little tolerance for treachery, either by a husband or a wife. If your relationship isn't working, fight to change it. If that doesn't work, then divorce is OK. But don't sneak around and betray your partner while they are still doing what they may think is their best. The wife said she would divorce him and would have the kids and the house and would take half of everything else he owned or made. He found out she had already started that and had withdrawn $90,000 of the $100,000 in their money market account. He managed to get out the remaining $10000 and took it as cash on the trip. He had had a conversation with a friend last night, and under the influence of his friend's advice and a good deal of liquor, he decided how to punish his wife for her betrayal. He was going to hire a prostitute, fuck her on camera, and send pictures to his wife along with a note that he had used one thousand dollars to hire a prostitute and given her a nine-thousand- dollar tip, so she (his wife) would never get any of that $10000. Then he was going to tell her that at last, he had fucked a women worth having, a woman who had risked her life to save someone else, instead of whining about every little thing like you (his wife) does. To say I was reluctant to play the part he wanted was a vast understatement. I said, "Are you sure you can't find a way to repair your relationship? I know trust would be hard to rebuild if she cheated on you while you were working. But maybe. After all, you must have been in love once. And even if you can't rebuild your relationship, you have children. If you carry out a scorched earth battle with your wife, what will your children think of you, especially if it means you can't give them the support they need, in high school, college, or establishing a home after marriage or children? In other words, does your hate for your wife outweigh your love for your family." He said, "You know, I'm not even sure the kids are mine. I think she's been fucking other guys for years." I replied, "I can see how that would hurt if it were true. But it doesn't sound like you know. And even if it is true, your children are innocent. They had no choice in their parentage. I assume you have cared for them and loved them up to now. Haven't you implicitly told them you would give them the support they need? Are you now so angry now that you would break that promise?" He replied, "But I can't let that bitch make a fool of me." I asked, "Why not? Is your male ego so important that you would cut off the family you love to sooth it? And more practically, the pain of your family suffering will hurt more than the embarrassment of being cuckolded over the long run. I believe that over time, the love of a family is the most important thing of all. I would give my eye teeth to be with my family, but I can't. Don't do this. It's bad, and it will backfire on you." He looked at me and asked, "Don't you want the $10,000?" I replied, "Not at the cost of seeing a man destroy everything he holds dear." He nodded. I think he was already in doubt about the wisdom of his actions. For some reason, he decided to test his ideas on me, a whore with a conscience. He asked, "What do you think I should do?" I replied, "Attend the conference as you normally would. Then go home and apologize for losing control of yourself and see if you can patch up your relationship at least to the extent that you can move forward on divorce without forgetting your children. I'm not saying you shouldn't hurt. How could you not? But I think minimizing the hurt for your family will ultimately minimize the hurt for you." He nodded and said, "I think I agree. Can I call you? And talk about this." I said, "I'm not allowed to give out my personal number. But the agency will pass messages." As I was going, he laughed and said, "I thought I was dialing an escort service. I must have misdialed a marriage counselor. Thank You. You are a heroine." I left the shortest and least lucrative date ever. But I felt OK about it. Since April's rape, I had at the back of my mind a feeling that I was an evil person, a rapist who for some reason, had terrorized a young woman I had cared for. It felt good to know I could behave morally, that I wasn't completely evil, that I was still basically the Elvis who was a nice kid with friends and family who loved him. I went back to the motel and changed into jeans and a top and flipped on the tube and found a Monday night football game. I got a light beer out and poured a glass and sat and watched. I was a little hungry. I had leftover vegan food in the refrigerator, but I couldn't persuade myself I wanted to eat it. So, I just poured some fruit and cereal and milk into a bowl and relaxed. I found myself focusing on a few of the players who had been blessed with Adonis-like physiques and cute faces and thinking very unladylike thoughts about them. Ally came in at 10, and looked at me and laughed and said, "My roommate, the disguised boy." I lifted my glass as a salute and said, "I have more. Would you like a beer?" She said, "Um. No!" She went and got a glass of wine and sat down with me and asked, "What sport is that?" I replied, "I'm sure you know this is football. Large sexy men beating each other into submission while they try to get a ball over the goal line. I'm drooling over the cutest ones." She laughed and said, "Well at least it's not totally pointless. There's hope for you yet." 17. Life as an Escort - Meeting Rosemary The rest of the week was routine except some more fallout from that date a couple of weeks ago where I met Danno and Ally met Alfonso. On Wednesday morning, we went over to Ally's apartment to pick up some things she had forgotten and found that the apartment had been broken into and trashed. This triggered an episode of panic on Ally's part and solidified our opinion that she had to get a new place to live. We reorganized things and put some things Ally needed aside. She would move the rest to a storage unit. Then Ally went to the front office and said she wanted to terminate the lease as soon as possible. The next morning, Don Mason called Ally's cell from AAA and tried to convince her to go out on a date with Alfonso. He said Alfonso was threatening to demand his investment back from AAA, which would ruin Joyce and Dan. They were paying good interest on the investment but didn't have the money to pay it off now. Ally called Joyce later that afternoon, and after verifying that Dan was not in, asked Joyce what she thought. Joyce recommended that no way should Ally have anything to do with Alfonso. He was an unstable psychopath. That just intensified Ally's panic. Friday morning, I went out to get some groceries, and as usual, stopped to get a latte at the local Starbucks. As I was leaving, a girl who looked about 17 walked up to me and showed a weapon and forced me into a car and drove about 20 miles out of the city into a desert area. She was dark- haired, about 5' 8", and pretty, but she also looked athletic. No way would I be a match for her in a fair fight. She drove from Las Vegas onto a narrow road into the desert one-handed, with the other hand holding the pistol. It scared the hell out of me. She had barely missed several collisions. During one near-collision, I had put my hand into my purse and gripped my own weapon. But I didn't want to shoot since she was driving. It was a Mexican standoff, although she didn't know it yet. She parked in an unoccupied parking lot in the middle of nowhere, and looked over at me and said, "I don't know what the hell Danno sees in you. You're pretty, but not that pretty, and you've got no tits." I thought to myself, 'OK, this stupidity is about Danno. God, that date where I met Danno and Ally met Alfonso is the gift that keeps on giving. So, who is this? A former girlfriend? A hit-woman? No, it couldn't be a hit-woman because this is too amateurish. A hit-women would've shot me some evening on the street, and I'd have never known it was coming. Much safer.' I asked, "Who are you?" She said, "Someone who loves Danno and doesn't want to see the family put him down because he's in love with some whore. So, you're going to disappear." Strange, I had the same desire for Danno's continued existence, but I didn't think I needed to die instead. I still didn't know who this was. I asked again, "Who are you?" This time she answered, "I'm Rosemary, Danno's sister." That was useful information. Now I knew why she was talking to me and hadn't merely tried to shoot me without any comments. She was basically a decent person. She didn't want to kill anyone. But she felt she had to. So, she was working her courage up. And she thought she was giving me an explanation why I had to die, which she thought was the only fair thing to do. I asked her, "So is this your father's idea, or your foster mother's." She gasped, and looked at me angrily and said, "My mother knows how things work in our family. If Danno embarrasses the family, he dies. She didn't want that to happen." I knew Rosemary was right that the family might kill to avoid embarrassment, although I doubted his foster mother cared if they killed Danno. My guess was that the foster mother had talked Rosemary into doing this to reduce Danno and Rosemary's influence on their father. If Rosemary succeeded, she had done something illegal the mother could hold over her. If not, Rosemary was out of the way. However it turned out, the episode might reflect badly on Danno. Did the foster mother know about Danno and my romance? Probably she only knew about the second date and suspected. And I would make sure there was not a third date. If the family knew Danno and my dates were full of love and passion, they would have to do something about it. That wasn't OK." I didn't doubt Danno's foster mother would feel enmity for Danno and Rosemary. After all, she and Danno's father had been married for years, and she had given birth to two daughters and finally a son. Then, suddenly her husband acknowledges two children from another marriage and brings them to live in her home. She couldn't be happy about that. So, driving a wedge between her husband and Danno and Rosemary might be something she wanted to do. But there was another possibility, that Danno had told people in his family that he loved me. That would make his foster mother realize that he might embarrass the family. I asked Rosemary, "So how did you even know about me? I've never met you." She said, "I saw you at the party. And Danno told me he cared about you. He tells me everything. He and I are friends. He's the only friend I have." I said, "I can believe that. The rest of your family are a bunch of screwed up crazy-ass killers." She gasped. She loved her father, and apparently, he had convinced her that the family was some sort of romantic entity, them against the world. I was deliberately challenging that concept because I had to get her off her script. Her script was that she would talk to me compassionately and tell me why I had to die, and then reluctantly she would shoot me because there was no other way to save her brother. And she was already more than halfway through her script. I had to interrupt it; otherwise she would soon start shooting, and then I would shoot back and one or both of us would die. Rosemary had turned toward me with her right shoulder against the upright seat cushion. That would make it hard for her to aim her gun reliably. And I intended to push back in my seat to make it even harder for her to hit me in the event of a shootout. I was turned the other way and my right hand, which held my weapon, was not propped against anything. That gave me an advantage. On the other hand, Rosemary had a much larger caliber weapon, so she only had to hit me once. I guessed that if there was a shootout, I had a 30% chance of living. That wasn't good enough. I had my purse on my lap and shifted it a bit. For the first time, Rosemary became aware my hand was in my purse. She laughed and said, "God that is so pathetic. Trying to convince me you have a gun in your purse. Look at you, a tiny weak little girl. I bet the most lethal thing you have in your purse is a tube of lipstick, and even if you had a weapon, I bet you couldn't squeeze the trigger." I said, "You would lose that bet, Rosemary. And you're betting your life. Want to think it over?" Before she could talk herself into risking everything out of love for her brother, I said. "Look, Rosemary, I'm aware of the dangers Danno would be in if he decided to love a prostitute. So, I told him we couldn't be together. He's not going to embarrass his father, and he's not going to die. The only way he can lose is for you to be killed or prosecuted for murder. In that case, he will lose you, his best friend. Your foster mother knows this. She is screwing with your head and trying to get you to do something stupid. Don't let her. Live! Live for the friendship you have with your brother. Don't force this into a shootout that you and I could both lose. For the first time, I saw fear and uncertainty on her face. She glanced at the purse on my lap. I remained still, looking for the slightest indication that she was going to shoot, planning to push back in my seat to minimize my silhouette and fire back, but hoping I wouldn't have to. Finally, she said, "OK, OK, you've convinced me. I'm putting down my gun. And she did. I told her, "You've made the right decision, Rosemary. As long as they know Danno and I won't do something stupid to embarrass your father, you and he are safe. Me too." She looked at me and asked, "Do you really have a gun in there? I pulled it out of the purse and said, "Yes." She shook her head and said, "Why are you carrying a gun, and how do you know how to use the threat of it so well. Are you a hitwoman for some other family? If so, my family better treat you well." I said, "I can't tell you, Rosemary." I suppose that seemed threatening in context, although I didn't mean it to. There was a spell on me that wouldn't allow me to tell her. Then she laughed and said, "I'm going to have fun telling Danno that he is messing with a dangerous woman, that his Japanese princess can take care of herself and might be an assassin." I must have looked stricken. She said, "Oh, don't worry. That will make you more attractive to him, not less. He loves unusual girls with mysteries in their past." Then she said, "By the way, I suspect that you could have gotten the drop on me and shot me several times with only a little risk. Thanks for not doing that." I didn't know what to say. But this was an opportunity to get some information on Alfonso. So, I changed the subject and said, "Rosemary, Alfonso has been harassing an escort friend of mine at AAA. What can you tell me about him?" She thought, and said, "Is that the small blonde that was with him at the party? She was perfectly gorgeous. I envied her so much. It's sad. It seems she is wasting all that beauty being a prostitute." I replied, "Yes, I agree. But she was raised going from beauty contest to modeling agency. Then she came to Vegas hoping to be a showgirl but couldn't dance well enough. Her father had convinced her that she was a bimbo, so she wound up an escort. It is sad." Then she said, "That's exactly the kind of girl Alfonso likes. Someone beautiful, but without any self-confidence, so he can treat her like shit, and she won't complain. Alfonso is an asshole. He grabbed me and tried to force himself into my pants the first week I came here. I'm his half- sister, for God's sake. We have the same father. But that didn't matter to Alfonso. I screamed Danno came and hit him in the head with a racquet, and I told Alfonso's mother. At first, she didn't believe me, but Alfonso didn't even try to hide what he had done. That was too much even for her. She told Dad, and he beat the hell out of Alfonso. I don't think Alfonso would cross Dad on that anymore, but I'm sure Alfonso would like to get back at Danno and me. But Danno has taken a lot of courses in martial arts, and is able to protect us." Then she took a breath and temporarily stopped talking. It was strange. She hadn't said much when she was thinking about killing me, which I guess makes sense. But now she talked nonstop about intimate things. I somehow felt that we would be friends if we were just two girls in school. But I also knew she was trapped in a family of killers and would-be killers, just like Danno was. Even worse, she seemed to be starting to accept some of their arguments as to why it was all right. Sooner or later her or Danno's luck would run out, and they would be killed or would be talked into doing something illegal and would get caught and go to jail. Or Rosemary would be married off to another killer. I said, "Rosemary, you need to get out of that family. It's a snake pit' it has more intrigue than a Turkish harem. You and Danno don't belong. Both of you are kind, loving people. Your foster mother has already almost talked you into being a killer. I advised Danno to go to a college far away and get a degree that can't possibly benefit the family. You should do the same thing. Then find someone you love and get married, so the family can't use you to cement an alliance with another Mob family. Only then would you be free." Rosemary giggled at my mention of a Turkish harem but looked serious and nodded and said she would think about that. Then I said, "Rosemary, can you think of any way to dissuade Alfonso from harassing my friend?" She said, "The only man Alfonso fears is my father, and he couldn't care less whether Alfonso is harassing a whore. Hell, Dad wouldn't care if Alfonso killed a whore as long as he didn't get caught. So, I can't think of any way right off. But Alfonso will probably forget as time goes along and he gets involved in other things. So, if your friend can hang in there for a few months, she will be safe. But she must stay away from him in the meantime. He's unpredictable." 18. Life as an Escort - New Apartment The rest of the week was routine. That weekend Ally and I looked for good apartments. I called Trudy because she had mentioned she had some source of information about apartment openings. She asked how far we would be willing to live off the strip. After asking Ally, I said, "a mile is the limit. And we would prefer a secure apartment, with an external locked door." Trudy said she would call a couple of people. A few minutes later she called back and said a three-bedroom was available that was a little over a mile to the strip and was secure. I told her, "Geez, Trudy. That was amazing. Thanks." Ally and I took an Uber to look at it, and it was beautiful. And it was on bus lines to town and to the strip so we wouldn't be totally dependent on Uber. It cost $3300/month, $150 per month less than the motel for Celia and I. And it was much nicer than our motel room, with a full kitchen and living room and a bedroom for each of us. Of course, it was not a nice as Ally's current apartment, but she said she had been feeling lonely and it would be worth it to have roommates she liked. The catch was that this apartment was so good that it was certain to be taken this weekend, probably today. Ally decided we had to have it and put the first and last on her credit card, saying we could pay her back. That was a risk because Celia wouldn't have a chance to see the apartment before we took it, but there was no alternative if we wanted to be sure to get it. Ally elected to move in the same day, which she did while I visited Celia Saturday afternoon. I told Celia what was going on, and she said, "So if I don't like it, I don't have to move, right." I said, "Right. We will still have our old room, but Ally has leased the new place. If you like it, we will move as soon as possible. If not, you or both of us can stay in the old room. I think you will like it. It's very nice and very safe, and you will actually save money." Celia seemed happy with that. But she did not think too much about it. She was going to leave the detox center the next day, and she had other things on her mind. The next day Celia was released after lunch. I arrived via Uber at 1 PM to accompany her back home. Celia was animated and happier than I had ever seen her. She was brimming over with ideas and plans. She was going to take courses and after that, find a wonderful new career and life in some field of law enforcement. Then she was going to meet a decent man and find a real relationship and have children. She was going to re-establish her relationship with her father and show him she was a good person. I loved it. This was the person I had barely known. The drugs and the need to find them had suppressed this part of Celia. Now it was free to come out. But I knew it wouldn't be as easy as she thought. All of us have disappointments, days when things don't go right, unanticipated tragedies, minor and major. I knew druggies in my former life, and these disappointments provide a rationale for the drugs to come back and provide comfort, in exchange for a renewal of addiction. Celia would have to struggle with that for years. All I could do was be her friend and help her when I could. I had hinted that we could look at the new apartment on the way home. I was surprised when Celia agreed. That itself was an indication that she was different. The old Celia would have insisted on being at home and would have slept until she had to get up. After looking at the new place, Celia agreed that it was nice and was happy to have her own bedroom, but she stated the obvious, "You know it's going to be a pain in the ass to get to the strip, which we have to do most days." I agreed but said another advantage was that all three of us would be safer living together. She nodded and said, "Well, I'm willing to give it a try." That was another breakthrough, a willingness to face change. I emailed Joyce and told her we would be vacating the motel at the end of the month, but I didn't tell her where I would be staying. All three of us, Ally, I, and Celia had agreed to told nobody where we lived or even that we were living together. The incident with Alfonso had frightened us, and we were determined not to let anyone connected in any way with the Escort business know where we lived.