Unlike my "sisters", in this occupation, I am not strung out on drugs. I have been doing what I have to, to survive. Three years ago I was in a car accident. It left me emotionally scarred. Those scars are still with me.
My name is June, and life had been hard through most of jr. high school and high school. My dad, a farmer, had died when I was eleven. My brothers, mother, and I sort of kept the farm going. At least we made enough to cover taxes and what food we couldn't grow and preserve in jars. We heated with wood and survived. It was hard work, but we all pulled together.
It was in my senior year and I had been to an informal school dance. Our family couldn't afford the latest in styles so I had to avoid fancy dances. My date turned out to be a really bad person. Instead of driving me directly home after the dance; he took me to an out of the way spot where four of his friends were waiting. He and four of his friends raped me. They all piled in the car when they were done. While driving, they were trying to figure out what to do with me (to keep me from talking), My date swerved his car into the oncoming lane of traffic. I was the only survivor. None of them had bothered with a seat belt. To make things worse, these boys were members of the young people's club at the local church. Their families were all what you would call "well to do". My family was from "the wrong side of the tracks".
After the rape, the police didn't believe my story. They didn't even send me to the hospital to have a rape kit taken. After all, the boys were all from upstanding families who were pillars of the community. It wasn't until I was obviously pregnant that some people, other than my family, started to believe me. I miscarried. But, without having an inside track to our town's officials, no justice was about to be provided.
Even today, in our area, an unwed mother is considered to be a "loose woman", or worse. The overly strict local church had a lot of influence. If you wanted to be respected you had to be a member. If you were a member you were considered as pure as the falling snow, by definition. After graduation I tried to find work; but nobody in town would hire me because of "my past". The local church wasn't supportive. After all, the fathers and mothers of these boys were on the deacons or trustees boards. How could such upstanding people put up with someone like me when their precious sons had died in the car I was, essentially, kidnapped in?
The emotional strain was such that I had to get away. My family believed in me, but I just couldn't face the constant rumors, smears, and sneers of the "good" townspeople.
I headed to one of the larger cities in the state. I tried out for various jobs but there was little work to be had. The results of the injuries I had received, in the car wreck, prevented me from joining the military. The economy was in a downward spiral due to incompetent government action. Our new president had precipitated a real depression as a result of driving the economy into a ditch so that he could move our society to socialism. After just a short while I had to do something to get shelter and food. The only thing I had left was my body. I, very reluctantly, decided I needed to rent it out. Yes, I became a prostitute. I didn't have a pimp, I didn't do drugs, and I didn't get into alcohol or partying. I did the job I had to do, and prayed for forgiveness every day.
I was approached one day by a clean cut looking man. He indicated that he was interested in a "little action" and asked me what I charged. We discussed the matter and I agreed to do what he was after. In general they are all after only one of two things. He wanted a good blow job. When we got to my place and I had taken his money, the cops rushed in and arrested me. This was a sting. This was my first time to be arrested.
I was taken before the local judge and given a stiff, for me, fine. I basically gave the court all the money I had. They had to know that my only way of getting money for food and shelter would lead me back into the same work. I think the cop who arrested me felt sorry for me.
That evening, while I was making a Raman noodle soup for supper there was a knock on my apartment door. I went to the door, and there was the cop who had arrested me; officer Alan Glen. He smiled and asked if he could come in and talk with me for a few minutes. I was a bit leery about trusting him. After much assurance, I let him come in. I even offered to make him some soup as well. But he wasn't interested.
"What do you want, officer Glen?"
"June, please call me Alan, unless we are talking about official business. There is something about you that is different from the other women, I have seen, in your profession. I think I saw some things in you that left me with questions. I had to ask you some things so that I could ease my conscience. You see, after watching how you reacted when you were arrested, and how you behaved in court; I realized that there was a depth to you that I haven't seen in similar offenders. If you would consider it, I would like to ask you some personal questions. These are just between me and you. They are not official questions. After what you have been through, I'll understand if you just want me to leave. And if you do, I will leave. But I hope you will talk to me."
I didn't know what to say. I looked down at my soup and then up to Alan's face. There was a kindness in that face that didn't look like the cop I had seen when I was arrested.
"O.K. Alan, I'll try to answer your questions, but I may have to refuse if they get too personal."
"That's fair enough. Let's start with a very basic question. How did you happen to get into your current profession?"
Woah, that was a deep question!
"It will take some time to answer that. Are you sure you have the time?"
"In this case, I will make all the time you need to answer. I really want to know."
Well, for the next half hour I gave him all the gory details, right down to the point of me 'coming too' in a car awash in blood from the guys who had raped me.
As I was talking, I could see what looked like storm clouds crossing his face. When I told him about the police not even getting a rape kit he was squeezing his hands hard enough so that his knuckles turned white and his jaw line sharpened. It looked like he was fighting back pure rage.
I ended up the story with how I had started to work as a prostitute. I was amazed when I saw tears in his eyes.
"Alan, are you o.k.?"
He shook his head and lowered his eyes for a minute or two. I could see that he looked like he was praying.
"You've been dealt a lousy hand, June. You are doing what you felt you had to, just to survive. I am truly sorry that things have ended up this way for you. I need to go to my home now and think over what you have said. I want to help you, if you will let me. I'm not after your body. I don't want to see you hurt. How much does it take for you to live a week?"
"My food expenses run about forty dollars a week. I have gotten by on twenty-five dollars a week. Why do you ask?"
He reached into his pocket and took out a crisp one hundred dollar bill. "Take this and promise me you won't prostitute yourself this next week. I think I may be able to help you, but I need to consider some things. Will you do that for me?"
"What strings are attached? Nobody gives things away without getting something in return."
"There are no strings. I just don't want you arrested until I find a way to get you out of this mess. Is that o.k.?"
I agreed that it would be o.k.. I was very confused, but very grateful that I could add a bit more protean to my diet.
