How much? said a voice, clear but shakey. I couldnt see in, but I answered as I was taught: 15 for hand, 25 for oral, 60 for puss, 60 for ass, and 130...per hour for everything. Get in, please, the voice urged, and I climbed in the passenger seat, finally looking at my trick. He looked to be in his late teens, early twenties. He had precisely cut hair, glasses, a plaid collared shirt, and khakis. It looked to be his first time, too. He drove to a motel a block away, and pulled me into one of the. I answered what I could, and she seemed content with that; not implying that I was lying, or holding back, because to do so would be stupid.Later that night, I heard two of the men talking outside my cell. I had no idea of what they were saying, but from the crude laughter, I didn’t have to be a genius to figure it out.As they laughed and joked, and I shivered in a mixture of fear and cold, another voice cut in, over theirs. I didn’t understand that one either, but it was clear that its owner. More

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