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to remember. The first thing you do is get the money. I’ve taken care of that for you this time, but in the future you’ll have to be responsible for that. Now strip off your clothes.”
    “I’m not taking off my clothes.”
    I tried to sound strong but that wasn’t the way I was feeling. I suddenly realized that Chuck was crazy, really insane, that he actually expected me to take off my clothes and go out there to have sex with five strangers. When he took his hand out of his trouser pocket, he was holding his pistol and pointing it at me. It was the first time anyone ever pointed a gun at me but it wouldn’t be the last time.
    “I’m going to shoot you right now,” he said. “Unless you get out there and do what I’m telling you.”
    “I can’t.”
    “Are you sure about that?” he said. “Are you really sure about that? You want to know what I think? I think you’re going to take off your clothes, all of your clothes, and then you’re going to go out there and fuck those five guys. And if you don’t, I’m going to put a bullet into your head right now.”
    “Chuck, you’re crazy!” I could hear a change in my voice —weakness—and I despised it. “You would never shoot me in front of five witnesses.”
    “Linda, don’t con yourself,” he said. “Those guys aren’t going to say nothing to no one. They have wives and families and they’re all fucking influential businessmen. You think they care what happens to some nickel-and-dime hooker who has an accident in some motel room? You think one of those guys would say he was out there waiting for a prostitute?”
    “Don’t do this, Chuck.”
    “Say your prayers,” he said. “Those guys out there got everything to lose and nothing to win by saying anything. And that about sums it up for you, too. Take off your clothes or you are one fucking dead chick!”
    Suddenly I didn’t doubt him. I knew he would shoot me. I was numb as I removed my clothes and put them on hangers. Then tears started to flow out of my eyes. I was trembling, really shaking, too scared even to pray. One thing I already knew about Chuck, he was not someone who’d be moved by someone else’s tears. When he realized he had triumphed, his attitude went from menacing to superior and condescending. He reminded me of a little boy saying, “Ha-ha, I’ve got you now.”
    Even as I remember those moments, my heart pounds violently and I have trouble breathing. Often I’ve thought back to that day, and always I have this same reaction. But this day, this hour, this moment—it was the turning point of my life and I have relived it again and again.
    When I look back, I always ask myself whether there had been any indications, any clues, any warnings. None. There were no hints that I was about to cross over from day to night. I remember the details with awful clarity; I remember that room as if I had never left it, as if I were still there.
    And now, as always, I asked myself one question: would he really have shot me? Even today I think yes—yes, he would have killed me on the spot. And then I ask myself this: would I do the same thing if it were truly happening to me today? Would I go through it all again? No. No, today I would take the bullet.
    I go back to that moment and I plot out escape scenarios, things that might have been done and things I might have said. I might have taken off my clothes, walked out into the room and then raced for the door. I might have picked up an ashtray and thrown it through the window and screamed for help. I might have hidden behind one of the men.
    “Stop your crying before you go out there,” Chuck said. “Crying is very bad for business.”
    Naked I walked out into the room. Two of the men waiting for me were also naked. The other three were partially undressed.
    “Not bad,” one of the men said. “Chuck got us a nice young one this time.”
    One of the naked men came over to me, put his hands under my breasts, and started to jiggle