.not that I had a choice. For themost part, my clients were very good to me. Sure I heard a lot ofracial abuse from some of them, but I had gotten use... to that too. Ialso learned the more I reacted to the abuse, my crying and begging forme to make amends for the evils of my race, the more it got them offand, therefore, a bigger tip. It was like some surreal form of theateras afterward, many of them apologized for things they called me duringsex.I usually had two clients a day, sometimes three. Her hair fell in front of her face as she gazed at the man who’s arm she held.A pretty but shy girl, holding onto him like he was a life-line. Clearly nervous is a crowd, clearly infatuated with him.She was nothing like my Kat, but I knew her the moment I saw her.It was a big party and after a few moments of reflection I had a plan.A surge of confidence and adrenalin at seeing her drove me on. This was it, this was a chance to shake her up a little, let her know she wasn’t the only one who. More

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