monsters.”
Whenever I started talking about my life, I found myself fighting to hold back the tears. But it was no use; there was no holding them back. And then I couldn’t hold back the words. I told Melody everything that had happened: how he kept me prisoner; how he watched me through a peephole; how he beat me constantly; how he threatened to kill me, and how he swore to murder my parents if I ever managed to get away.
“And it’s getting worse,” I said. “He keeps thinking up worse things for me to do. And now he wants me to think up weird things—he says if I don’t think up at least one new ‘freaky’ thing every day, he’ll beat me.”
“He’s a real sicko,” Melody said. “Sometimes I get the feeling that the world is full of sicko people.”
“There can’t be anyone else as bad as Chuck.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” she said. “Look, I’ll tell you the kind of thing you tell Chuck. Tell him that today I tied all the other girls together, locking them into strange positions, and then the old guy began beating on everyone with a cane. Tell him that some of the girls were really screaming; one was yelling, ‘No, no more, no more pain!’ And another one was saying, ‘Hit me! Hit me! Harder, harder!’ Tell him that some of the girls got very excited and had orgasms.”
It was a strange way for a friendship to start. Melody told me every unnatural act she had ever heard of, and then she made up some brand new ones just for Chuck. And almost every day she managed to find me a trick in a hotel or an apartment, a job that got me away from Chuck, if only for a little while.
Sometimes, the way things worked out, I’d rather have stayed with Chuck. Melody turned over one of her $150-a-week customers to me, a guy who weighed nearly 400 pounds. Chuck was happy to have me do that one for two reasons: it was so much money, and it was so revolting.
To make up for jobs like that one, Melody would also take me along on her easiest tricks. There was Leo, a retired clothing manufacturer who had a condominium on the beach. When you first arrived, Leo made you go through closets filled with dresses, gowns, and lingerie. You were allowed to select whatever you liked. Then you modeled that for Leo, marching up and down in front of him, turning this way and that, until he said, “All right, girlie, take off all your clothes.”
When Melody and I had removed our clothing, we would pretend to make love while Leo got turned on. Afterwards, he would give us each thirty dollars and the clothes we had modeled; that clothing was the only payment I was ever allowed to keep.
I knew that someday God would get me away from Chuck but until then, until God made His move, my only help came from Melody. She kept thinking up new perversions for me to tell Chuck. She was like that girl in The Arabian Nights , the one who had to tell the king a brand new story every day, only the stories Melody told me were not exactly fairy tales.
“Linda,” she said, “you know what a dildo is?”
“Yes.”
“Well, they have these dildoes with two heads on them.”
“Two heads?”
“Yes, try to follow this, Linda. The two-headed dildoes are about this long and this big around. Tell him that the trick had one of those with him and you had to insert both ends of it at once . . .”
Okay, so it wasn’t exactly The Arabian Nights . In fact, some of the perversions were so elaborate that I couldn’t believe my ears. I was sure that Chuck would start laughing at me when I told him a story like that. But that wasn’t what happened at all. His eyes would go glassy and then he’d get sexually excited.
Every time Melody and I turned a trick together, we would find time for a little talk. Melody had a book— The Female Eunuch by Germaine Greer—that she wanted me to read. The first time Chuck saw me looking at it, he tore it from my hands and threw it away.
There were other times with Melody when I felt very uncomfortable. One
Whenever I started talking about my life, I found myself fighting to hold back the tears. But it was no use; there was no holding them back. And then I couldn’t hold back the words. I told Melody everything that had happened: how he kept me prisoner; how he watched me through a peephole; how he beat me constantly; how he threatened to kill me, and how he swore to murder my parents if I ever managed to get away.
“And it’s getting worse,” I said. “He keeps thinking up worse things for me to do. And now he wants me to think up weird things—he says if I don’t think up at least one new ‘freaky’ thing every day, he’ll beat me.”
“He’s a real sicko,” Melody said. “Sometimes I get the feeling that the world is full of sicko people.”
“There can’t be anyone else as bad as Chuck.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” she said. “Look, I’ll tell you the kind of thing you tell Chuck. Tell him that today I tied all the other girls together, locking them into strange positions, and then the old guy began beating on everyone with a cane. Tell him that some of the girls were really screaming; one was yelling, ‘No, no more, no more pain!’ And another one was saying, ‘Hit me! Hit me! Harder, harder!’ Tell him that some of the girls got very excited and had orgasms.”
It was a strange way for a friendship to start. Melody told me every unnatural act she had ever heard of, and then she made up some brand new ones just for Chuck. And almost every day she managed to find me a trick in a hotel or an apartment, a job that got me away from Chuck, if only for a little while.
Sometimes, the way things worked out, I’d rather have stayed with Chuck. Melody turned over one of her $150-a-week customers to me, a guy who weighed nearly 400 pounds. Chuck was happy to have me do that one for two reasons: it was so much money, and it was so revolting.
To make up for jobs like that one, Melody would also take me along on her easiest tricks. There was Leo, a retired clothing manufacturer who had a condominium on the beach. When you first arrived, Leo made you go through closets filled with dresses, gowns, and lingerie. You were allowed to select whatever you liked. Then you modeled that for Leo, marching up and down in front of him, turning this way and that, until he said, “All right, girlie, take off all your clothes.”
When Melody and I had removed our clothing, we would pretend to make love while Leo got turned on. Afterwards, he would give us each thirty dollars and the clothes we had modeled; that clothing was the only payment I was ever allowed to keep.
I knew that someday God would get me away from Chuck but until then, until God made His move, my only help came from Melody. She kept thinking up new perversions for me to tell Chuck. She was like that girl in The Arabian Nights , the one who had to tell the king a brand new story every day, only the stories Melody told me were not exactly fairy tales.
“Linda,” she said, “you know what a dildo is?”
“Yes.”
“Well, they have these dildoes with two heads on them.”
“Two heads?”
“Yes, try to follow this, Linda. The two-headed dildoes are about this long and this big around. Tell him that the trick had one of those with him and you had to insert both ends of it at once . . .”
Okay, so it wasn’t exactly The Arabian Nights . In fact, some of the perversions were so elaborate that I couldn’t believe my ears. I was sure that Chuck would start laughing at me when I told him a story like that. But that wasn’t what happened at all. His eyes would go glassy and then he’d get sexually excited.
Every time Melody and I turned a trick together, we would find time for a little talk. Melody had a book— The Female Eunuch by Germaine Greer—that she wanted me to read. The first time Chuck saw me looking at it, he tore it from my hands and threw it away.
There were other times with Melody when I felt very uncomfortable. One
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