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constant and persistent, always coming at me, not even resting between times. The other two would back off from time to time. Two of the men got their biggest thrill by working themselves up to the point of coming and then shooting their sperm all over my body and rubbing it in.
    I had never been so frightened in my life. Every time I looked over at Chuck, his look scared me all over again. I was scared by what was happening to me at that moment and what might happen to me next. Even though it was all too clearly happening to me, I couldn’t understand why it was happening. I couldn’t believe that five human beings would do this to another human being.
    “Hey, let’s try to get in two at once,” one said.
    “Nah, that’s impossible,” another said.
    “Crowded, but not impossible.”
    And that’s what they tried next. I had no idea what they were talking about. But two of the men tried to pry their way ino me at the same time. I can’t tell you whether they succeeded.
    That’s when I went numb. A lot was still happening to my body but it stopped meaning anything to me. My breasts were being mauled and I stopped feeling that. It was as if my body belonged to someone else. A voice from a great distance was saying, “Stick this in your mouth, darling,” but that no longer concerned me—it seemed as though it was someone else’s mouth opening, someone else sucking, someone else swallowing.
    Finally they began to tire and to take occasional breaks. Maybe they were getting bored. After all, I had only so many hands and only so many openings and before too long, all possibilities were exhausted. Then Chuck came over to the bed and looked down at me.
    “You’re a fucking mess,” he said. “Go take a shower.”
    I picked myself up from the bed and went to the bathroom. I had never wanted a shower so much, and I had never scrubbed myself so hard. I scrubbed at my skin where they had come all over me. Then I scrubbed at the rest of me. I wished I could melt into the shower drain and disappear. At that moment I wouldn’t have minded dying.
    I was filled with hurt. And I kept turning to God. As far as I was concerned, it was His fault. He had put me here.
    All the time I was in the shower, I was talking to God. “Why, God, why? Please tell me why.” I had asked God to help me and He hadn’t helped at all. Well, maybe I shouldn’t say that. He did help me get through it. He did help me survive. So I guess He was helping me out after all. But it took me a long time to come to that belief.
    When I went into the room to dress, the men were gone and Chuck was counting out the money on the bed. Each of the men had been charged $40.00, but Chuck had only $180. The one who had been complaining about my attitude had demanded a refund and Chuck had given him back half his money.
    I was still speechless and in shock. I had no idea that human beings did such things. I knew that a prostitute offered sex for money, but somehow I figured they would make love —that there would be kissing and caressing and some gentleness.
    I didn’t say a word to Chuck. I followed him out of the room and to the car. The minute we were in the car, with the doors closed, he turned to me and started yelling.
    “Sit up! Sit up straight when I’m talking to you!”
    I didn’t say anything.
    “Don’t you know how to do anything right?” he went on. “You were lying there like some vegetable, like some fucking turnip. You’re no good and you never will be. You don’t know what to do and you don’t know how to do it. What the fuck is it with you anyway? You better start getting your shit together, Linda.”
    I didn’t say a word, couldn’t say a word, had forgotten all words. I could still feel those hands all over me, pressing me, squeezing me, milking me.
    “Sit straight when I’m talking to you! Any common hooker off the street somewhere would’ve done better. You know the difference between you and a pro? A pro would’ve taken