On a hot, sunny day in the center of town, large canvas tents stand in a parking lot. It's sweltering under the tents, making the women sweat. But they can't leave. It's training day, training day for prostitutes. This city likes its whores top-grade.

I'm one of the girls stuck here today; the slave trade nabbed me. Like many of the others, I'm beyond trying to escape, resigned to my fate. Whatever that may be. But it still feels a little strange--adding insult to injury--to be forced to attend prostitute academy before they turn us loose on the streets. "You'll get higher rates," they tell me. Yeah, but I'll still be trading sex for money...

A woman in charge of assigning the younger girls "test subjects" gives me a man with a sack tied over his face--this school is big on getting us used to anonymity--and instructs me in some kind of oral technique. So I start on him, and when the teacher leaves, I change technique a bit. I mean, I don't recall what I was told to do, but I remember thinking "That doesn't seem very comfortable..." After he comes, the man pulls off his mask to look at me.

And I recognize him. He raped me last year!

"Wow. What'd you do that makes it better than all the rest?" he asks. "Is it in the way you breathe? Are you so beautiful my body can't help it, even blindfolded?"

Well. Can you say awkward? Does this guy really not recognize me? "Uh..."

"It was like this last time, too. It is not proper for a man to lose control, especially before the lady! But one touch from you..." So he does remember. And, the horror, he's genuinely appreciative. But the touches weren't from me, they were taken from me!

Suddenly the man pulls me into a hug. I try not to flinch. It's like being hugged by a bear, so huge and warm and frighteningly strong. I really fucked this guy? How'd I avoid being crushed? And I'm claustrophobic, too--there's a reason I prefer to be on top. With this man, I feel engulfed.

"How would you like it if we were married, eh?" he says, laughing. I can tell he's joking about the marriage part...but not about setting me up in his household! Is he crazy? "We will rein in on whatever it is, of course. It's not right for a grown man to become weak, whimpering like a little baby!"

I'm about to tell him, Yes it is, if that's the way you let go. It's good to lose control. It's about the only time when most of us are allowed to; don't ruin that for yourself!

And I bite my tongue. This man had sex with me against my will, and I'm about to give him sexual advice? What's the matter with me? I'm facing long-term servitude in his house!

...Then again, that's preferable to servitude on the streets. And living with other whores. And seeing ten different customers a night. Serving in a private home will also give me better access to food, resources...and possible escape.

Besides, there is not a bit of deceit anywhere in this man. He honestly likes me. May even be a little in love with me. He's just backwards about women because the whole culture is!

I mean, here we are in a parking lot in broad daylight having a public training day for girls who must become whores, and nobody cares. There are police among the male volunteers coming in to "help" with the training.

Should I accept Bear Man's offer?

NOTES

• Believe it or not, this dream has nothing to do with sex. No, this dream is about something both more public and more difficult to talk about in polite company: education.
• I'm currently enrolled in a public high school, where I must routinely jump through hoops to satisfy a faceless god--oops, I mean government--as I lower my OWN standards, forfeit my time, and make myself ill in pursuit of severely delayed rewards that may not even be worth it. "You'll get a better salary," they tell me...
• Am I really comparing school to prostitution? Hell yes. I'm that pissed off.
• For some reason, I won't allow myself to quit school entirely. However, my best friend has been pleading with me to try homeschooling. I have profoundly mixed feelings about this. I would STILL have to satisfy state requirements. That I could do it within the comfort of my home feels like trading exhaustion for claustrophobia. And I would once again be at the mercy of my own brain--that bear-hugging, well-meaning enslaver.
• So: ten different semi-anonymous teachers, or one constant, inescapable companion? Homeschooling is by no means a perfect option. On the other hand, it puts me nearer to escape...

--Emily Joy

EDITOR'S NOTE

Not to get all Jungian (OK, I'm gettin' all Jungian!) but to me this looks like a friendly overture from a shadow figure. I mean, you have every reason to dread Bear Man yet he still makes an offer of alliance. What he represents exactly I'm not sure, but if you're home you may face sides of yourself you find both unsavory, scary, heavy (even crushing you when you come in contact!), animalistic, impulsive... yeah, I think he's a Shadow. If you run into him again, I'd say yes and see how it goes.

And I agree that servicing random johns is a painfully apt image for the numbing, potentially deadly impersonality of public schooling--for the gifted, at least.

Just remember: society approves!

--Chris Wayan

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