I went down the steps in the nightie Edward had given me the night before. It felt strange to walk around a house full of men in such a state of undress. I had done what I could with hairbrush and plain water to remedy my appearance, but I still looked well bedded. I was ashamed, already. Benny smiled at my reluctance to leave the safety of his room after I returned from the bathroom. He asked if I was afraid or shy. I whispered that I was both. “Just pretend that you are fully dressed. In your mind envision yourself in whatever makes you feel most confident. Don’t think about it. You’ll get used to it. I promise.” So I found myself at the foot of the stairs in the basement of the night before. There was no one in the first room. Benny strode across the floor wearing only tattered jeans and drug me behind him, pulling me with no effort whatsoever. John was shooting pool with a man I hadn’t yet been introduced to. That’s when I really began to accept my fate. It was a new day. This wasn’t a nightmare. And, I knew damn well, that I’d do anything these three men wanted. I didn’t want to see that sickening smile on John’s face. I didn’t want to be taught a lesson. I was simply fucked. In more ways than one. The newcomer turned immediately and handed the poolstick to Benny. He wiped nervously at his mouth. “How much?” was all he croaked. It hit me like a sledgehammer and the tears welled in my eyes. I bit down hard on my lip though and held them back. I was not supposed to cry in front of John. I ran through my mental list of rules. Keep your mouth shut, obey, loose weight, don’t fail. I added don’t cry in front of John. Benny was shaking his head. I didn’t understand what it meant but I took it as a plea to be good. So I’d be good. I leaned over the card table for the man and although it was extremely painful as dry and unprepared as I was, I got through it. I did cry though, I couldn’t help it. I found being a whore most disagreeable. The very idea of it made me hot with shame. Afterwards, they introduced me to Ricky. One of the runners, and not really a client. I felt foolish and regretted my tears even more.
