”“I’m not a whore,” Janie insisted.“You got seven hundred dollars?” Sam asked.“No!” Janie admitted.“So we’re giving you the chance...to earn some, either that of some time in Jail?” Sam asked.“I’d rather spend time in Jail.” Janie snapped.Sam showed Janie the cell. There was just the one cell. Eighteen guys were in there watching her through the bars. Not one of them under fifty. Not one of them with his own teeth suddenly jail time just didn’t look attractive any more.“Uh guys, maybe I was. “No, Love.” He arranged her such that her ass was at the table’s edge and gently persuaded her to sit. As he repositioned himself back onto the bench seat, he spun her on her ass to face him. Her legs were splayed open and his hands placed her feet over his shoulders. She knew. Lifting her skirt, his head descended to the target of his desire. Her pussy was bared for him, open for the taking, for him to taste and feast upon. Dew drops were running down her thighs, even migrating toward her. Col and I came out and sat down with her at the table. Her eyes were closed and I could see her fingers trembling slightly.“They have gone,” Frau Schmidt said, opening her eyes.I looked at her left forearm, still bared. In blue dye, six slightly blurred numbers were tattooed there. From my seventy-year-old perspective, I knew what they meant, but not Frau Schmidt’s story.“What does that mean?” I asked, pointing at her forearm.Frau Schmidt looked at her forearm. She brushed her sleeve down,. Just because you're going to be a girl from now on, it doesn't mean you can turn up to work looking as though you're dressed in your older sisters 'hand -me-downs'!" I let this sink in, 'buying me some suitable clothes'. Where? How? What on earth would she tell the assistants? Would I be expected to try them on? If so, where? My heart sank, my legs turned to jelly. I suddenly needed to pee - desperately. And, to cap it all, before I could climb out of the car, as carefully as possible to.
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