I was “different” I told myself. Of course, every prostitute I’ve ever spoken to in my life to date has told me they felt the same way when they were in active sex work. To convince myself I was “doing this for the money”, and “not like the other girls” - I had set up this warehouse and changed my rate structure with the people I was now employing there because I had set a personal goal to have laid aside $1,000,000 in cash as my nest egg so I could then retire to do something else.
What that “something else” was, I had no idea yet. I told myself I’d figure that out when the time arrived. Now I was doing all of my work out of the warehouse, and all my phones were installed in the Wilshire Boulevard office and forwarded to me in the valley, I didn’t see the need to keep a two-bedroom apartment anymore. I had to move anyway now the manager knew what we had been operating out of it and had asked us to leave. The fact I had found a bug wire hanging outside my kitchen window just confirmed it was time to ditch that apartment.
I knew Van Nuys police could only get a search warrant for Van Nuys, not the Wilshire office, and vice versa – so I felt like my new phone set-up gave me some sense of protection from the cops also. While I felt like this adult theater idea was legal, so I’d bypass being accused of any prostitution or pimping laws with it, I still didn’t want to worry about being shook down by the cops for protection money. I wanted to stay away from cops of any kind, for any reason, even for protection, any way I could. To me, a crooked cop was no protection. It was still a fox in the chicken coop meaning I’d be on the menu. My overhead had become pretty insane now I had the lease on the warehouse and the office, along with the 2 phone bills for a business phone (not cheap in those days), my monthly contract with Tele check I was using to verify ID’s and process business charges/checks, the laundry service, accountant fees, and even the deductions I was now paying out for FICO and taxes so I could be as “legal” as possible. The ads alone I was running were costing me a pretty penny monthly in all the adult newspapers and magazines. Not including all the car payments I was now making.
My MGB was a fun car, but it was very difficult to drive a clutch in LA traffic without coming home at night with a sore ass from all that shifting. I found a town car was much easier to drive all over southern California without tiring myself. My mother of course was not the kind who celebrated in her daughter’s success. She was a true borderline, meaning if I bought myself something, she had to have me give her something better first. If I bought myself a condo, I’d better buy her a house. If I DARED to ever do anything that was viewed as “better” than her share or cut of something – she’d trash it.
So, to keep her placated, she had to have a bigger, better car once I got myself another car. Then my grandmother had an accident where she had wound up flying off the freeway and landing in a tree. That meant she needed a new car also. My driver slash live sex show performer slash bodyguard also had to have a car to drive when lucrative outcalls were scheduled.
This meant I now had four car payments, four insurance premiums to cover, along with all the maintenance costs. I kept the MGB for a while because I didn’t like the idea of driving a car on calls that was the same as I drove on my personal time for fear someone would recognize me by my car. I told myself I needed to economize somewhere so I could start saving some of this money I was making.
Which wasn’t really that easy to do once I also paid 3 for my nails done every two weeks, both hands and feet (I never knew when I’d get a foot fetish call, so I needed my feet in top condition), my make-up for all these different persona’s I had, lingerie, clothing, shoes, and my hair. By the time I had my hair colored, permed and cut – I was spending at least $300 a month on my hair alone.
Then came the waxing every part of my body practically, skin lotions and scrubs (with every part of your body on display – you can’t afford to have anything ashy or flaky). Let’s not forget my gym membership either. Just to keep my appearance where I felt it needed to be, I was averaging at least $2000 a month in early 1980’s money. I don’t even remember how much my drycleaning bills were, but they were also at least a couple of hundred dollars monthly. I couldn’t take the risk of having a maid in to clean anything for fear what they’re see, so I used to bring in a submissive once a week who liked to dress up in female lingerie and have me verbally degrade him while he did all my house cleaning. Plus, he paid me for the privilege, so I felt like I came ahead on that expense a bit every month. I tried to “trade” for as much as possible, so I didn’t have to shell out cash unless absolutely necessary. Tina taught me how to get all my gasoline paid for by blowing gas station owners. I could usually get most of my clothing by trading sexual favors with store owners and designers. Electronics of any kind were easy to get by going downtown and finding a store owned by some Saudi, Persian or Hispanic male. That’s how I got my big screen TV that retailed for $3000 otherwise, and my VCR machines and TV for the bedrooms in the warehouse. Plus my phone, and now this beeper I had for emergencies in case my mom needed to reach me. She’d never get through to me on the office phones as 4 they would ring continually night and day from horny johns calling. I also got my furs and jewelry by making “trades”, so I tried to economize where I could. I really didn’t want to wind up like Tina who would tell me how many years she was making $10,000 a week – but didn’t have a penny to her name nor own anything when she died. Again, I was “different”. Determined to be anyway I thought. The one place I figured I could economize a bit was on rent for my personal apartment. I really only went back to my place to basically just sleep, take a shower and get ready for work, so I found myself this cute little studio apartment off Lankershim I liked. That put me kind of in the middle between Sam, and any of the clubs I would sometimes go to down in Hollywood. I rented this place because the area was so rough, and the apartment was so small, I managed to get the owner to let me rent it without showing any ID. This allowed me to put it in a fake name, so I felt it was safe from anyone trying to find out where I laid my head on the nights I wasn’t staying over at Sam’s apartment. My mom had rented this mailbox in Downey, California where she had all of her “official” mail sent so no one would know where she lived. I had to go over there once a month anyway to pick up her mail, so I rented a box there for myself. What I started doing was taking half of the cash I’d get on calls and I’d go to the nearest mailbox and post them to this box. Then I left them there. This was my “emergency stash” that no one would know about, but if I needed it really bad, I could still drive there in about an hour to go get it I felt if I really needed to. Cocaine really started becoming pretty mainstream by the early 80’s. Within our first week of operating at full steam I had the girls coming to me with envelopes or vials of cocaine they’d received instead of cash for 5 their tips. I agreed to buy it off them at half the cash value. A gram of cocaine went for $100 then, so I’d give them $50 cash for a gram. Now when it was just a quarter or so once in a while, I used to give it to Sam. That used to light him up like a party favor and we’d have a fun night. Sam always smoked his joints and drank his Courvoisier. I never saw him buy any cocaine, but when I’d bring him over a quarter or a half as a treat, his eyes would light up and he’d snort it. He kept bugging me to do some with him, but I never saw the point of any alcohol or drugs – in the beginning anyway. I’d seen what alcohol did to my family, and in both of my grandmother’s bars growing up so the last thing I was going to do was drink any type of alcohol. After what I’d seen freebase do to Tony, I wasn’t interested in smoking cocaine. I didn’t like the idea of eating, so pot was off the table. I worked too hard to get that weight off, and to keep it off to risk getting the “munchies” everyone seemed to get from pot. So, I would just watch Sam enjoy himself with what was his minor recreational use during the early years of our relationship. He was over 50 by this time, so I felt like he certainly knew how to handle his use. In the beginning of our time together, I never really saw him drink more than one glass, smoke more than one joint, or snort more than a line or two anyway. After a few months though, I started getting so many customers giving us cocaine instead of cash, I figured I needed to find myself a dealer who would be interested in taking it off my hands. Not like I could give it to Rock anymore and Sam really didn’t use more than a gram a week really back in the early stages of everything. I asked one of the girls if she knew anyone who might be interested in buying the coke off me, and she referred me to Larry. 6 Larry was a nice Jewish boy who bartended at a club in North Hollywood she used to frequent regularly, so she told me I could trust him. Larry agreed to buy my coke inventory off me and gave me some lessons in how to judge quality, weight, etc. so I didn’t take a vial of baby laxative by mistake. Considering some guys would even try to palm off counterfeit money, fake drugs wasn’t beyond them when they wanted to get laid. Larry bartended at this club on Lankershim also, so I could swing by his club on my way home so that was convenient. Anything to try and make money was on my agenda back then, or so I thought anyway. Larry also let me know if I ever wanted to supply the girls, or the johns, with coke, he’d be happy to give me wholesale rates on some. I wasn’t ready to go that far yet as to mix drugs in with what I was doing. Weldon had always taught me if I kept drugs out of my business, the cops would pretty much leave me alone. I’d go over to see Peter usually on a Sunday as business was generally dead then because of all the married men home with their wives. I’d go over the data with him I was gathering on the girls, the johns, and also on the business. He’d give me my charts for the next week that gave me a minute-by-minute breakdown of the planetary positions off his program. I had to get this from him because he had this huge dot matrix printer that was needed to print out this kind of data. I used the data to be able to tell when business was going to be slamming, or dead. Also, to tell me “danger” times for violence and/or the cops so I also knew when to close up shop for a little while, or even the day. I also collected a lot of data from the other madams on times of arrests, bad calls, violent clients, as well as certain sexual preferences. This helped me develop a real fix on what the “patterns” were behind these events astrologically. 7 Peter would give me some astrology lessons for the week, and I’d also see how he was progressing with his programming. There was no software available then on any type of DOS computer (which is all home computers had then as operating systems) to calculate astrology charts, so Peter was working on developing one for siderial astrology, which is a system he preferred to use. We’d talk astrology, he’d show me his progress on his stock market program, sometimes we’d meet with some other astrologers to talk shop. Then I’d take my printouts for the week and go on home. Each time I went to visit him, I’d try and talk him into seeing my mother again. He wasn’t the least bit interested, but I knew if I didn’t at least try my mom would have a fit. Can’t say I blame him either. It was clear mom wanted more of a relationship out of Peter than he was interested in then. Astrology seemed to be his only wife. Of course, mom would want to know if he was seeing any other woman, what was he up to, and I’d have to give her the blow by blow when I’d get back home about the visit. Mom sure knew how to carry a torch for men who couldn’t give a shit about her. It was a couple of weeks into the warehouse/theater operation opening when I got a call from Jeri again. She sounded scared to death and asked me, “Do you have my money yet?” She had to repeat herself a few times because I had no idea what she was talking about. I didn’t owe her any money, nor was I holding any for her. After the third time she said this, I realized she was play acting like I had her money. She had that “tone” people get when someone is standing over them listening, so I knew there must be a pimp with her. The question was her way of convincing the pimp I had money so she could get him to let her come to me. I realized this was serious gauging by the fear in her voice. 8 “Yeah, I got all $10,000, but I’m not giving it to anyone but you” taking her cue and picking up the game. I said $10,000 to make it so juicy of a prize whoever was holding her captive would be forced to bring her to me to get at this money. “No, I’m sending Dante to come get it. We’re back together.” So now I knew she was with Dante. “Oh hell no, that man will pocket the money and claim I didn’t pay you, so I’m not giving it to anyone but you so I know we’re even” I countered. After a few back and forths, Dante realized the only way he was going to get his hands on this “money” was to bring her to me. She finally told me she’d be over in about 30 minutes. That meant I only had about 20 minutes to try and get her admirer over to me to stage a rescue. Thankfully Hank was in town. As a marijuana farmer, he would only “come off the mountain” after harvest time. Then when it was time to re-plant, he’d disappear for another six months again. I was lucky he was in town when I called. He told me he’d be there in 15 minutes flat so we could prepare for her and Dante’s arrival. The nice thing about the warehouse is that this industrial district at night was pitch black other than the light I had over our front door. There was a driveway right next to us that was so dark at night you literally couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. This allowed him to wait there for Dante to bring Jeri to me to “pick up her money”. When she arrived with him at the warehouse door, I could tell right away he’d broken her nose this time. I stuck out my hand and let Dante know he wasn’t going to be allowed inside with Jeri. “I have to go over her accounting with her Dante, and you know the rules – no men allowed in my property.” I used my best Clint Eastwood tone, so he’d hopefully be intimidated enough to not push his way inside to stick with her. He saw 9 Corky though, and that made him step back. Funny how men are more scared of a pit bull than they are of guns sometimes. That dog earned himself a steak bone at that moment, because I think he would have followed Jeri in otherwise. Thankfully, he nodded and said, “I’ll be waiting in the car.” He glared at her as if to tell her if she knew what was good for her, she’d better not be long. I yanked her inside, and then barred the door shut. I had reinforced the warehouse’s front door with bullet proof glass and iron bars, so I knew he’d never be able to get past it to get inside once I locked us in. Hank had been waiting in the shadows to hear me click the door locked before stepping out into the light to let Dante know this had been an ambush. I drug Jeri up the stairs and set her on the sofa. Then I ran out to the ledge where I could peer out from the plants I had up there to see what was going on downstairs. Hank had pulled his gun out and Dante had his out. Once again, they were squaring off at each other, and I had no idea if this was going to be shoot out at OK Corral or not. The police station was just one block away, so I figured I’d better let Dante know this in case he thought about shooting first at Hank. I yelled over the ledge, “Hey Dante, see that building at the end of the street? That’s the Van Nuys police station, which means they can be here before you can reach the freeway. So, if I were you, I’d leave – now – peacefully.” I wanted Dante to take his eyes off me for just a second is why I yelled. That gave Hank the opportunity he needed to knock Dante’s gun out of his hands. I saw Dante hold up both his hands in surrender and then back towards his car. This meant he was going to leave peacefully, thank God. Hank didn’t move a muscle until 10 Dante was off our street. I threw the keys down to him so he could let himself in. Hank offered to take Jeri with him up to the mountains to hide her away from Dante, but she insisted she wanted to stay with me for a while. I told her the “I have your money ploy” was a good idea to get away from Dante to me, where she knew I’d rescue her again, but I told her one of these days she might not be so lucky as to be able to survive another one of his attacks. There was no point pressing charges. The cops weren’t the least bit interested in prosecuting a pimp for beating up on one of his whores. Their attitude then was any hooker deserved to die because she was “asking for it” by being a prostitute. This attitude was painfully evident the way they never would investigate a prostitute murder like they would if a housewife got murdered. I’d never even heard of one rape conviction against a prostitute, whether by a pimp or a john didn’t matter. Ask yourself, when’s the last time you saw a search party organized for a missing prostitute if I’m exaggerating? The Hillside Strangler cousins knew this fact all too well. They would kidnap young girls either coming home from school or walking to the store. Girls that probably were virgins, certainly not prostitutes. These two cousins would then take this girl to a hotel room where they would beat, rape and torture her for a time. Then they’d play this game where they’d leave her “alone”, only the minute she’d try to run out of the room to escape they’d pounce on her, drag her back in the room, and start it all over again. This was to train her to be so afraid they were behind that door they could leave her alone for a time without her running off. Then they started bringing tricks to the 11 room and they’d work her as a prostitute until word hit the streets there was a “new pro in the game”. Once they had this poor girl branded on the streets as a “prostitute”, they’d simply walk away. They knew once she had that brand, no cop would listen to a word she said, and they would escape scot free. Now this was in the early stages before they started escalating into straight up murdering of their victims. Which if the cops had listened to what any of the so called “prostitutes” were telling them YEARS before they murdered their first victim, maybe they would have been taken off the streets while they were still pimps and rapists instead of serial killers who worked together on these poor girls. So, Jeri knew there was no point going to the cops over Dante’s violence towards her as they’d just say “she was asking for it” by working as a prostitute. Funny how they never thought “housewives were asking for it” or “cashiers were asking for it”, but “prostitutes knew the game” so the officials attitude gave guys like Dante, and the Hillside Strangler cousins carte blanche. They knew who to target to take out their insanity on, that would allow them to avoid any jail time or even being arrested really. Later on, I was to see these kinds of guys weren’t the only ones who felt they could do anything to a certain “type” of woman, and it was somehow okay with law enforcement. Society really. But for now, I told Jeri she could have Hank watch over her that night at the warehouse. I was so upset by this rescue I wanted to go spend the night with Sam. Besides, I knew Dante didn’t know where Sam lived, so I’d be able to sleep easy that night. Hank walked me to my car in the driveway on the other side where I would keep my car locked up behind a gate. This 12 hopefully blocked my car from the street view so no one really knew what kind of car I was driving around town. That’s why whenever I’d leave in my car, I’d always don a hat with my hair up inside of it so hopefully I wouldn’t be recognized either. This was to try and not get myself robbed leaving the warehouse at night by the “brothel bandits” that loved knocking off massage parlors and other brothels because they knew we couldn’t call the police. You can’t “steal” criminal money in the eyes of the law, so even if we tried to report a theft, not like the police would care. We were “fair game” on many levels to predators, and our law enforcement is what allowed them to feel this way towards us. I went over to spend the night with Sam falsely thinking the fireworks were over with Jeri and Dante. Jeri did stay with me for a few days at the warehouse. We had beds there, a kitchen, TV, a shower, etc., so I didn’t see why she couldn’t just stay there until she healed up. There wasn’t any room at my studio apartment for her, and I certainly wasn’t going to introduce her, or any other woman for that matter, to Sam. I noted this happened under a Mercury retrograde, so I knew this wasn’t over, but I didn’t know how this was going to play out specifically. Jeri wasn’t happy about us working around her, while she was out of commission. But I couldn’t allow her to work with a broken nose. The customers would think I had probably broken it. It was a bad image. I guess she was unhappy about me not letting her work. I don’t really know why she disappeared again after about a week’s time. I just know I came in to open up shop, and she was gone. This time it was Dante who called me. “I’m done with that worthless bitch, and rather than kill her, I’ve decided to sell her. This way at least I’ll make some 13 money off this bitch one last time.” He snarled at me. I could hear Jeri crying and pleading with him in the background. I thought he meant he was going to sell her to another pimp, so I said, “You know she’s not worth anything to anyone in her condition. Not the way you’ve damaged your property.” I was communicating with him in a language I knew he’d understand. “Oh no, I’m not going to let some other pimp inherit my headache with this bitch. There’s another kind of buyer in town who will give me $25,000 for this bitch, and none of us will ever see her again – certainly not you dyke bitch!” Dante always seemed to think I protected Jeri because I was a lesbian in love with her. I guess he had no concept I didn’t think any living thing, human or animal, should be treated the way he was treating Jeri. I guess he could only understand it by telling himself I was a lesbian as to why I was protecting her from him. “What on earth are you talking about?” I screamed into the phone. He hung up on me. I felt like I didn’t have any choice but to call the police because now I was fearing for her life. I knew where his apartment was, and maybe I’d get arrested for this – but I had to do something. I called the LAPD and told them everything, including his address and that I was afraid he was going to kill her this time. “Stop wasting our time with this bullshit. If you call us back again drunk, I’ll have you arrested!” was all the cop said before disconnecting the call on me. I called back again and got the same cop. “I’m not drunk and I’m serious – now I’m afraid for her life so what are you going to do about it?” I demanded. “Nothing. We’re quite familiar with Dante. He’s a known pimp around Hollywood, and if she went with him 14 knowing his history, then she wants to be there. She’s over 18 and it’s not our job to protect women who get turned on by being beat up.” Click. He hung up on me again. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Had someone put LSD in my soda? I mean was this cop actually saying this guy was such a known pimp for violence, that any woman with him “asked for it” and therefore they weren’t going to do anything? I called back again. “Look, I know she doesn’t want to be there. I heard her screaming for help. I don’t care whether he’s a pimp or she’s a prostitute – this guy is violent and he’d probably killing her right now, so if you don’t go over there and help her, I’ll hold you personally responsible for her death.” I thought being more demanding might get some kind of help over to her. I knew a police car could get to their Hollywood apartment before I could. “Look lady, we don’t waste police resources on criminals. Now if you want to get all pushy on us, why don’t you tell me how you know this girl?” It was clear the cop was going to deflect the whole situation now by turning on me. I could tell he had no intention of sending anyone to help her, and I was on my own to think of something. A few minutes later, Jeri called me. She was crying and pleads with me, “Dante’s going to get the car, so I only have a minute before he’s back to get me. He said he’s found someone who will pay him $25,000 for me to take me overseas somewhere. I don’t know what that means exactly, but it doesn’t sound like I’d ever make it back alive to the states. All I know is he’s taking me the airport. See if you can find a way to stop him before he can do whatever he has in mind for me.” 15 I called Hank and asked him if I could pick him up. I knew what kind of car Dante drove, and I could drive between Hollywood and the airport blindfolded. I couldn’t risk he didn’t know the roads right now with me thinking maybe I could intercept Dante’s car. I needed someone armed, who wasn’t afraid to shoot. I had guns, but I didn’t have time to go get them, and with my contact lens, I couldn’t risk me hitting the broad side of a barn with my near sightedness. Luckily, the distance between Hollywood and Van Nuys wasn’t more than a few minutes if you knew the right streets to take like I did. This was before LA traffic was bad no matter what street you chose. Sure enough, I was able to actually intercept Dante as he was going down Highland towards the airport. I was happy I remembered Dante didn’t like to drive the freeway, and so he always drove the streets only to get anywhere. He saw Hank and I pull up beside his car, so he turned to get away from us into an alley. I didn’t see Jeri in the car however. Luckily, he didn’t know the alley he chose went into a dead end, so soon I was able to pull in behind him, so he had nowhere to go. He knew Hank would kill him this time, so he just took off running on foot. I was confused until I could hear Jeri screaming from the trunk. He’d thrown her in there so she wouldn’t escape by jumping out of the car evidently. Thankfully he’d run off but left the keys in the ignition, so we were able to pull her out of the the trunk without having to pry her out of there. We couldn’t risk taking her to the warehouse, so I took her back to my apartment on Lankershim. No one knew where that place was, and since it wasn’t even in my name, I wasn’t worried he’d find us there either. I wasn’t too happy about Hank knowing where I lived now, but he’d certainly proven his loyalty, so I guess it was okay. There was only one bed, so I asked him to 16 stay with her and I told them I’d go stay with Sam for the night. Before I left though, I had to know what Dante was talking about. She told me, “I know that pimps sell their women to each other all the time. Dante said he wanted to ‘fix me so he’d never have to see my face again’ by selling me to some guy who told him he’d pay him $25,000 for me to sell me overseas somewhere. He was supposed to meet him at the airport to make the deal. That’s all I know about it.” I hadn’t heard of anything like this before, but Dante sounded dead serious, so I didn’t think he was making this up. If someone was buying women for $25,000 to take them out of America, not only did I not understand how they could get her out of the country involuntarily for something like this, but I needed to find out. For all I knew, Dante might try and throw me in the trunk next and sell my ass for $25,000 – so I knew I needed to look into what this was about further once things calmed down a bit more. Right now, I knew Dante would be out for blood. That meant everyone needed to stay away from the warehouse for a few days until I could figure out how to not be looking over my shoulder for him again. I knew about the whole Asian thing, and it didn’t sound like that either. This was a common “white slavery” racket I knew was common back then. In this racket, there would usually be a talent scout or agency who would offer a girl a job as a model, dancer, singer, actress, or something as an entertainer or in the arts overseas somewhere like China, Thailand, Japan, or somewhere overseas. They’d convince the woman this was a real “break” for them and have them get their passport so they could fly them over to this country where the job supposedly was going to be. 17 Then once they landed in this foreign country, usually one where they didn’t speak the native language, and also had never been before so they had no idea where they were, or knew anyone else in that country – they’d take their passport away from them so they couldn’t get back to the states. Once they got their passport away from them, they would have no idea where they were, they couldn’t speak the language, had no money for even cab fare, and without change to make a long distance call home from a pay phone, and without knowing a soul over there to help them or run to for help – then they’d put them in some kind of strip club or brothel and turn them out into prostitution and/or porn. They’d convince them they’d let them have their passport to go back home once they worked off their “contract” for whatever amount they set. Women who have had this done to them and made it back would say the local cops were usually part of it and would refuse to help them, and the American embassies would refuse to help them also. If they made it to an embassy without a passport, there was no proof to their story, so they would refuse to help them get back home. Some of the ones who made it back told tales of some who were murdered to keep them silent, or even sold for black market organs if they made too much trouble. The only word I knew for this kind of then back then was “white slavery”. You have to remember we only had the Mann Act of 1910, which made it illegal to traffic Chinese women in America, or to transport minors over state lines for sex and/or prostitution. It was not on the books yet for it to be illegal to traffic adult American women overseas yet. The only laws we had then were pimping and pandering. Pimping was basically defined as “depriving income from the earnings of a prostitute” and pandering was the “promotion of prostitution to 18 entice someone to enter illegal prostitution”. Which you also couldn’t prove someone was “pimping” then without first proving you were the prostitute, which made you the criminal according to US laws. Which is honestly what I think Bruce Lee was trying to start a dialogue about in the opening first ten minutes of his last film, “Enter the Dragon”. In the introduction in the film as to why he’s being sent over to this island, the film makes a point of showing an American, even blond, woman as who is being sold overseas. Further in the film, when he’s down in the basement, it’s a blond American woman again who is being held captive – with the Asian women involved in their captivity. I can’t help but think he was trying to talk about this to Americans had he lived three more weeks for the film to open. Especially when I know that martial artists of that time were very aware of sex trafficking of American women, and even of the “island” spoken of with Jeff Epstein’s case after talking to Frank Dux. He has spoken openly about seeing sex trafficking when he would go to this island for their martial arts tournaments that were very real as shown in the film about him, “Blood Spot” starting Jean Claude Van Dam. But in all the tales I’d heard of “white slavery”, I’d never heard of anyone buying an American woman outright for something like $25,000 cash. Maybe Dante was making it up just to scare her. Maybe not. With what I’d been seeing cocaine doing to men lately though, maybe this was some new threat on the horizon I needed to check out to see if it was something that could affect me even. Jeri told me all she knew was this buyer said the women had to be white, pretty, and someone who had no family to “ask questions” once they were gone. That sure sounded like Jeri. 19 She’d been in prostitution a lot longer than I had been, and also in more clubs and worked on the streets, and she told me she’d never heard of anything like this buyer either. I asked her if she thought this was a real thing. She replied, “I heard Dante call the guy right before he went to pull the car up to the apartment. He said he was ‘on his way’ so yeah – I think this was a real thing.” If this was some new kind of predator in town, then I needed to find out more about it and quick before someone did disappear. Since I had to shut the warehouse down for a few days anyway, I figured this would give me some time to see what this was all about. For now, the adrenalin rush I’d just had with Jeri had been so strong, my whole body was sore from all of my muscles shaking and spasming. I left Jeri with Hank at my apartment, and went over to seek some sense of safety and comfort with Sam. I told him the story, and he insisted I needed to try a joint to “try and calm myself”. I know Sam was trying to be nurturing and helpful. I was resisting the idea, so he drew me a bubble bath. Then he told me if I would just try to take a few hits off his joint so I could see how it would relax me, he’d give me a massage in the bath. Maybe I did need to try to learn how to relax. I let him draw me the bath and give me a massage. I even smoked a few puffs of his joint to see if maybe it would help calm my nerves. Maybe he’d shut up about it also I thought if I went ahead and tried it like he was always after me to do. I was such a lightweight. One drink and one or two puffs off a joint – and all I do is go to sleep. Sam seemed pretty unhappy pot hadn’t been something I had taken to like a duck to water.
I wasn’t interested in relaxing though. I feel like I’m surrounded by predators, and now a new one has entered the jungle. To me, relaxing in a jungle full of predators means you’re the next prey. I’ve got too many people to protect to wind up as someone’s dinner. I guess that’s another reason why things like marijuana, booze, or any other type of downer never appealed to me as a drug of choice. I clearly was an adrenalin junkie, or at least something that would keep me up and alert.
Never crossed my mind to get the hell out of the jungle. You see, I’m “different” than the Jeri’s in this game. So different, I’m convinced I can outsmart all these predators, and maybe they need to watch out for me. Which is what I set my mind to do the next morning – find out who this buyer was and get him out of my jungle. “I want to talk with you. How about I buy you a drink Dante? Can you meet me in about an hour at the Clown Bar?” I set an appointment to meet him for a drink so we could have a little heart to heart about Jeri’s future.
A Clown Bar was where pimps would go to have business meetings with other pimps. If you were in any major city, you could find a Clown Bar by looking for the neon clown on the bar’s sign. That’s where the local pimps would hold court to stay connected in the game nationally before we had cell phones or the internet. It was kind of like a neutral zone for sit-downs among businessmen – of which I was one now despite being a female. I knew to keep my eyes down in such a bar, but it was the only place where I knew Dante would have to behave himself in front of his peers.
Getting more like a vampire daily. Coming alive only at night. Entering strange mens’ houses and preying upon their weaknesses. Having to live underground and hidden from mainstream society. Now I’m even going into neutral territory to meet with other predators.
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