DEMONSTRATION OF PROGRESSION LITERATURE: “Within For

ty-Eight Hours”Progression Literature reveals how trut

h is revealed, handled and mishandled in literature as

well as in the news, in history books, and in the ima

gination. Every novel or story can be rewritten to pro

duce an entirely different set of “truths” by simply a

dding or removing relevant information, and the reader

/listener, unaware, will not know the difference unles

s access to prior or later information that changes th

is impression of “truth’ is possible. In the Kennedy a

ssassination, for example, the original story was that

Lee Harvey Oswald –a lone nut without discernible mot

ive—killed President John F. Kennedy. Only over the co

urse of time did enough new information emerge to cast

doubt on the original version of the “truth.” As a wi

tness who knew Oswald, I personally experienced the ef

fects of censorship, lies and exaggeration of my perso

nal flaws of memory in order to stop new perceptions a

bout Oswald –an innocent man—from reaching the public

. Progression literature is built upon the concept tha

t what the reader experiences –whether in fiction or n

on-fiction— is soaked up as “true” unless prior knowle

dge, or until later knowledge, argues otherwise. In th

e case of non-fiction, more information can expose unt

ruth, or, in some cases, truth can be destroyed if the

information is fabricated. In instances involving con

troversy, it is the duty of the intelligent reader to

obtain a better idea of the truth over time by keeping

a final judgment in abeyance, especially if the origi

nal story involved cover-ups or deceptions. In the cas

e of fiction, in particular, Progression Literature pr

esents limitless ways to surprise the reader: hence, t

his genre is also called The Literature of Surprise, o

r the Literature of Denouement. The two short stories

below demonstrate Progression Literature’s ability to

provide both denouement and surprise.

A Working Girl f

or Forty-Eight Hours(Story A) by Judyth Vary Baker

She

was an extraordinarily pretty girl, with her dyed blo

nde hair-- skin milky white, translucent, even—a sligh

t fuzz along her neck that, when the sun slanted just

right, made her seem to glow. Her eyes were blue, a la

zy, liquid blue as if summer breathed over them and ad

ded the glitter of butterfly wings and the sparkle of

a day at the beach, where white sands tossed up agains

t the shimmering shore of the sea. She was built with

that soft, yet sleek and rounded look of a movie star

or porn queen, too generous in the hips, too generous

in the boobs, and, above all, something altogether too

generous about her. She never wore nail polish, and y

et her very fingernails seemed shiny and perfect, and

her hands could have been carved from alabaster, they

were so white and smooth.Those hands, today, were very

busy getting scalded and overworked in exercises neve

r meant for such an elegant frame: she was carrying ho

t platters of sizzling steak to customers at Tony’s Cu

isine, a glamorous eatery perched on one of those low

hills surrounding Phoenix, that looked down on tiny ov

erpriced houses whose parched front yards were filled

with red gravel and sturdy stands of desert plants. “S

hawna!” Tony was calling, “Go faster, girl! You have t

o go faster!”Sherry-O, Shawna’s best friend, had got h

er the job at Tony’s, and now she stepped in to help.

“C’mon, boss,” she said, “give her a break, she’s new

at this!”Tony wanted very much to keep Shawna on, but

it was easy to see that she was going to have a hard t

ime adjusting to her role as a waitress. He began chur

ning around, in his head, about other ways to keep her

on that wouldn’t involve the busiest hours. She was t

oo pretty to give up: that was for sure. He knew that

some of his regular customers would take a special int

erest in seeing such a new and untouched gem of a gir

l.As he watched Shawna thread her way between tables a

ll too awkwardly, he began considering training her as

a cashier: under those luscious platinum blonde curls

happened to be a bit of brain. She was going to colle

ge, majoring in mathematics!Of all things!In fact, “ma

thematics” had been Shawna’s saving genie all through

high school: it had kept the jocks on the football fie

ld at arm’s length, had intimidated the prowling roust

abouts, had isolated her from young men whose testoste

rone overwhelmed their thinking caps. In her math and

science classes, she had been surrounded by technicall

y savvy nerds and earnest chess players whose manly in

stincts had been diverted to solving the puzzles of th

e universe. And in the universe, a sweet young thing w

hose looks intimated she lost some of her neurons ever

y time she struggled to open a can of coke, was not wo

rth the extra time and stamina it would take such inte

llectual scions to conjure up, in order to win access

to her vagina.Thus it was that, unlikely as it sounds,

and certainly unbeknownst to all the masculine gazes

that followed her where-so-ever she walked, Shawna had

entered college as a certifiable virgin. Sherry-O, wh

o lived in the same apartment with her and two other g

irls, was studying physics and astrophysics. She may h

ave known less about the churning heavens above than s

he did about the sweet realms that existed in the pung

ent Netherlands between a man’s legs. But Sherry-O was

discrete with her love affairs, and she had a job. Wh

en Shawna’s mother suddenly died of cancer, temporaril

y placing her inheritance in limbo for a few months un

til uncles and cousins had all been located, Sherry-O

was there to suggest a source of some emergency incom

e.Shawna, whose almost animal shyness had stymied all

attempts of upperclassmen to seduce her (so far), wasn

’t sure she could handle something like waitressing, b

ut something deep within her stirred—ever-so-slightly,

whispering to her of a different world’s existence, a

world where she would be exposed to dozens—no—hundred

s—of men.A restaurant known for attracting raconteurs!

Hormones fooling with her head, and all equations and

proofs and topologies and ratios pushed aside, she too

k up the waitress apron and the hot, steaming platters

of steak, and smiled her way from kitchen to table, k

itchen to table, kitchen to table.And despite a few bu

rns and stumbles, she got better and better: by the en

d of the day, Tony was determined to keep her on as a

waitress.“My God, girl!” he told her, as he untied her

apron from behind, giving him a chance to press his h

ands against the swell and curve of her young buttocks

, “you did great! You can come back tomorrow!”She sat

down, tired and pleased with herself, despite the band

age over the two burns on her left wrist, and took a l

ook at the restaurant, now between hours before the ev

ening shift, with just a customer here and there who w

ere drinking wine and gazing at the huge screen where

a soccer game was in progress.The restaurant itself wa

s very unlike the hazy, blank hills and stretches of s

and, rocks and dry-brush extending for miles and miles

beyond Phoenix. There was a waterfall, plunging again

st rocks where Koi swam, and artificial vines, overhea

d, holding bunches of artificial grapes. A wall full o

f bottles of wine ascended and ascended to the third b

alcony floor, their contents of crushed grapes waiting

for the connoisseur’s palate. Some of the artificial

vines were wrapped in twinkling white lights. Somehow,

despite this dressing-up, Shawna could see that the r

estaurant was really nothing more than a big, metal bo

x, a sort of gymnasium, bedecked to make itself seem s

omething far more alluring than it really was.It was r

eally the emptiest building, for all its shiny plastic

, that she had ever seen. Only the beautiful Koi, trap

ped in their man-made pool, be-graced with the waterfa

ll, brought life to the artificial weeds, their shadow

s shivering over the khaki-colored metal walls.When sh

e saw a scorpion scuttle across the stone floor, Shawn

a decided to leave the empty table and to go into the

bathroom, where Sherry-O was still cleaning up.“There’

s a scorpion under one of the tables!” she told her fr

iend, who was finishing a wiping-out of the last wash

basin. “A big one!” “You go tell Peter, right away!” S

herry-O advised.“Who’s that?”“He’s a big, tall handsom

e thug—our bouncer and table-mover,” Sherry O said. “H

e’s due to show up about now, for the night shift. If

Peter’s not here yet, then go tell Tony.”Tony’s work h

ours were horrendous, Shawna thought to herself, as sh

e left the bathroom’s lounge. The man’s whole life was

being lived out, right in this big, fake box! Pausing

just outside its faux bamboo doors, she thought she s

aw Peter, and quickly crossed the fake marble floor to

the other side of the restaurant, where he stood, a t

all, black-haired man of about thirty, hands in pocket

s, looking up at the giant screen and the soccer playe

rs.When he saw her approaching, he smiled. “You’re the

new girl, right?”“There’s a scorpion!” she answered,

pointing to the table near the hanging plastic vines.

“Over there!”Without hesitation, he strode across the

room, pushed past a few chairs in the way, and, grabbi

ng a water glass, within a minute he captured the scor

pion, whose stinging tail was arched angrily over its

back, its front pincers stabbing fiercely but helpless

ly against the glass walls. Tony slid a menu under the

glass and, Shawna following him, he carried the creat

ure outside, walked past the seething heat roiling up

from the black asphalt of the parking lot to the coole

r, sandy boundary of the endless desert, and there, kn

eeling, Peter let the scorpion go.“Why didn’t you kill

it?” Shawna asked.“We built this place in HIS world,”

Peter replied. “It’s US who don’t belong. Not him.”Co

nsidering his words, Shawna looked up into his face. I

t was seamed, here and there, from desert heat, she th

ought. But he was young, for all that. His eyes were m

erry and dark, as if he liked to tell jokes and loved

a cold glass of beer. He’d probably never pass an adva

nced math course, she thought, sadly. Then realized th

at she was being scanned just as deeply --by HIM…“You’

re not the usual dumb blonde, are you?”“Of course I’m

dumb,” she answered. “All blondes are dumb. Right?”“An

d all bouncers are stupid, ex prize-fighters, right?“Y

ou don’t have cauliflower ears.”“You don’t wear cheap

jewelry.”“My mother happens to be rich. That is, was.”

To his raised eyebrow of concern, she quickly added, “

She died of cancer. The chemotherapy, of course, kille

d her that much faster. Just as she thought it would.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Peter said, taking her hand. “Co

me on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

++++ ++++ ++++ ++++ ++++

++++The next thing she knew, instead of driving back

to her apartment, she let Sherry-O take her car keys –

Sherry had said Peter was a perfect gentleman, wasn’t

married, would soon graduate with a degree in busines

s administration, and would be sure to bring her home

in one piece later that night.It was spring break, she

needed the money, and Tony let her work the next shif

t, even though late that night – so tired she was dizz

y --she dropped two drinks on the floor.Drinks that Pe

ter mopped up, broken glasses cleared, before Tony eve

n noticed. In his car that night, they stopped before

he took her home, at the top of a hill, one of the emp

ty hills that Phoenix nights bathed in cold moonlight.

They sat in the back of his pickup truck and looked u

p at the stars. High above the city lights, in this di

rection thousands of stars looked down upon them, and,

dreamily, she asked him, “Did you ever read ‘A Wrinkl

e in Time’?”“Think I did,” he answered. “Every star ou

t there has a soul, fighting against evil’s darkness,”

she answered. “Who knows?” he replied, and, suddenly,

he kissed her.Her head was swarming with ferocious, w

arm, delightful, thrilling thoughts, far from books, b

ut close to the night, and the chilly wind that had ju

st come up, so that he wrapped his coat around them bo

th, and kissed her again.“Peter…!” He frowned. “I’m so

rry,” he said, drawing back. After all, they’d only kn

own each other a single evening…But something inside h

er had started to cry, as if a spoiled, angry child ha

d been let loose inside her, and would not be satisfie

d until…They talked.For hours.In a few hours it would

be sunrise, yet they talked on…then in the midst of th

eir conversation, she mentioned seeing Roland, the wea

lthy fellow, Peter said, who always came with a girl o

n each arm. He was dark, villainously dark, amazingly

handsome, used to getting everything he wanted. He had

a chauffeur and a car so big and black it could be us

ed in a funeral procession.She had served him an expen

sive meal, then wine, then bourbon… he had taken her h

and, held it tight, looked into her eyes. There, with

laughter and talk all around, and in front of the woma

n who sat in her glittering jewels beside him, he said

, “I would sleep with you in a minute, but I will be p

olite to my Carlita, and save you for another day!”“Th

ey say no woman can resist him, but that’s a lie,” Pet

er said. “Last Thursday, a girl turned him down.”And P

eter laughed. A bitter laugh.He had put his arm around

her again, but this time he only brushed her cheek wi

th his kiss. She wanted a little more, he would surely

know that, she thought. She leaned against him –and w

as startled because his heart was beating so fast.“Loo

k, it’s time to take you home,” he said, “before you f

reeze.”But as he said those words, his hand found her

breast: still, after a long moment, she pulled his han

d away. “You’ve never---?” he asked gently. “Never?”Hi

s hands moved under her sweater and across her back, s

wept down, around and up, pressing, gliding… tenderly

he breathed between her breasts…She looked down at him

, overcome with what he had roused in her, as he nestl

ed against her there.“Please, please!” she whispered.

And he drew back, after kissing her everywhere he had

dared. “Come on!“ he said, after he buttoned her sweat

er up, ”…time to take you home.”The drive back into th

e city was too quiet. She leaned against him, but ever

y time he looked at her, she turned her eyes away. “He

ll!” he said softly, then didn’t look at her again unt

il it was time to help her out of the truck. It was al

most dawn when he told her goodbye. Tony would have he

r back at work that night. Same for him. “See you toni

ght,” he whispered into her ear. How black and thick P

eter’s hair was! She let him kiss her, but he knew she

wasn’t anywhere near ready. She would be, he thought

to himself. Soon enough. And he knew he liked her, wan

ted to know a lot more about her. She would be ready s

oon--he was sure of it--but not-quite-yet… He thought

of where he might buy flowers… she gave him a smile th

at scattered all his thoughts from his head.“See you t

omorrow night,” he said. To her sudden silence, the qu

ick fading of her smile, he added, “What? Don’t you wa

nt to see me again?”In the distance, he could hear a p

olice car’s siren…“You move so fast, Peter!” she compl

ained. “I like you,” she replied, “but still, I hardly

know you—““I’m sorry. I’ll keep my distance, I promis

e. Tomorrow, we will go out and look at the stars, and

talk philosophy. Okay?”“Okay.”He was in his truck and

backing out of the gravel driveway before she got the

key into the lock. Inside, she saw the TV had been le

ft on, the little living room table had half a bowl of

uneaten popcorn, and the pink curtains had been drawn

tight, closing off the window. When she opened the be

droom door, very quietly in the semi-darkness, there s

he saw Sherry-O, her long, freckled arm over the shoul

der of a man… Sherry-O’s black cat, Mincie, jumped dow

n from the bed with a meow, rubbed against Shawna’s le

gs, and followed her out into the living room again.

This was the second time Sherry had let Richard – a ni

ce guy--wanted to be a pharmacist--into her bed for th

e night. Sherry-O said they were in love…. And he was

going home to meet her mom and dad that weekend. Seeme

d they never made it that far…. Shawna’s bed, of cours

e, was empty, but she would leave them alone. After fe

eding the cat and turning off the TV, Shawna collapsed

on the little red studio couch, and after taking off

her shoes –one shoe had a piece of gray gravel at the

toe—she went to sleep.It was Saturday morning. Shawna

had been a working girl for 24 hours.++++ ++++ ++++ ++

++“What you’ve missed, you’ll never know, unless you c

hange your ways, honey,” Sherry-O said frankly, coming

from her shower wrapped only in a big orange towel, w

ith Richard in tow. He and Sherry ate a quiet lunch, t

hen left for the weekend, to meet both sets of parents

. There was a hint that marriage might be in the cards

. Sherry-O bounced out of the house almost without tou

ching the ground, Richard laughing at her side. Shawna

studied her advanced calculus assignment for the next

hour; then, unable to think, she threw the book acros

s the room, straight at the bedroom door. Sorry she’d

done that, she picked up the book, inspected it for da

mage, then opened the bedroom door and looked inside.

There was Sherry’s rumpled bed, the bright red cover h

alfway on the floor, where the clothes of both male an

d female lay tangled together. Mincie sat on a pillow

that had been turned topsy-turvy, her black tail wrapp

ed to cover her face, her yellow eyes blinking wide, t

hen quickly closing again. After all, it was only Shaw

na…. In contrast, on the other side of the white-walle

d room was Shawna’s bed, done up in monk’s gray and so

ot black, neatly made and tidy with its un-creased whi

te pillow, and not a single footprint of the cat obser

vable. Shawna could see no perfume bottles, no jewelry

boxes, nor so much as a loose scarf hanging lazily fr

om the back of a chair, on her side of the room. There

was only a gray tiny nightstand with a black pencil,

a notepad covered with equations, and a thick book (Go

ne with the Wind), and –yes-- her mother’s picture…loo

king stern and dissatisfied with it all.After she fed

Mincie, took a shower, and dressed, it was time to go

to work again.Her second day as a waitress! This time,

she chose to wear the only low-cut blouse she owned,

along with her brand new, tight, black toreador pants.

Looking into the bathroom mirror at her lovely blonde

hair, she decided she could use some more makeup, so

she borrowed some of Sherry-O’s brightest colors, trie

d on various combinations, and finally, she was satisf

ied.Transformed, when she arrived at Tony’s Cuisine, h

e took one look at her, whistled, and said, “You come

like that every night, I promise, you’ll get tips so b

ig I won’t have to pay you any salary!”Saturday night

was the biggest night of the week, and she had plenty

to do, but now she knew what to do, so all went well,

and Tony was right—the tips came rolling in. Glitterin

g women with wealthy escorts, handsome men with amorou

s escorts, sprinkled among them living pairs of husban

ds and wives and genuine lovers, made their appearance

s, laughed, laughed more loudly as the night progresse

d, ordered cordials and expensive wines and elaborate

desserts, lavishly rewarding Shawna’s attentive servic

e with fistfuls of dollars, then left, to be replaced

by others…Peter came by every now and then, and when s

he saw the bunch of flowers standing by her locker in

the back room, she knew he had brought them for her. O

nce in awhile, their eyes met above the bobbing heads,

the talking faces, the comings and goings in the crow

ded spaces. Once he whispered, “Tonight?” And she smil

ed, and shrugged.Then again, as they passed each other

in the kitchen, he said, “I have a little surprise, j

ust for you, wait and see!”And she said she would wait

and see.Then, just as the band stopped playing for th

e evening, and just as the customers began to drift aw

ay, at the big, double doorway—alone—stood Roland DuMa

ine.He actually towered over the others. Only Peter st

ood as tall. He stood there with his arms folded and l

ooked haughtily at Peter, who turned from his gaze and

busied himself at the other end of the big restaurant

. Seated at the best table to be had, Roland ordered t

wo champagnes, and with a flourish of extra dollar bil

ls, soon had Shawna seated beside him. To her puzzled

look, he only said, “You need not worry, my beauty. I’

ve paid for your personal assistance, for the rest of

the night.”“I don’t think you need much assistance,” s

he replied, as he looked at every inch of her with kno

wing eyes, confident eyes. Scanning her.He took her by

the right wrist, and pulled her arm commandingly towa

rd himself. “Now, what should I call you, my beauty?”

“Shawna Richardson. I’m studying math at the Universit

y.” She forced herself to look right at him. Right int

o his eyes. They were such dark, mysterious, cruel eye

s.“Intelligent, confident. Beautiful. A pearl, found h

ere in the mire, the debris, the scum.”He touched her

neck, and suddenly, from his hand she saw a string of

pearls drop from between his fingers, and he had faste

ned the pearls, swiftly and expertly, around her neck.

By their very weight, she knew they were genuine pear

ls. Worth a fortune.“I was told that you will be rich,

that you have no need of these. But they are for you,

nevertheless,” Roland told her. “Nothing less would b

e worthy of such a neck, such a white tower.”Suddenly,

Peter was standing above them, a towel on his arm. Sh

e could see his eyes, sharp and inquiring…“Go away,” R

oland said, an edge of warning in his voice. He was gl

aring at Peter, who put a hand on her shoulder. “We sh

ould leave, Shawna—“Then Roland raised an imperious ha

nd. “Go.”“Shawna—“Roland’s hand shot out, again grippe

d Shawna’s wrist, this time so tightly that she made a

little cry of pain.“Get out, Peter,” Roland hissed.

And he turned, and walked away. Something inside her a

dmired what Roland had just done—respected it—understo

od. Roland would have what he wanted. His manhood domi

nated all others. Dominated her.Dominated the night.“I

t is you and I who should leave,” Roland told her. “It

is you and I who should exit this musty, fetid hole i

n the ground. My beauty –come.”Half hypnotized, with P

eter staring after them, the pearls around her neck, h

er eyes shining with excitement and her step energized

by romance in every atom of her being, when Roland ex

tended his arm, she took it, and she followed him into

the deep blue of the night.He guided her -- not very

gently--quickly into his limousine, but his smile was

punctuated with a sudden kiss. “To kiss you again will

be the greatest pleasure of my life!” he whispered, t

hen pushed himself into the limousine beside her, rath

er than going around to the other side.The chauffeur c

losed the door.“Where to, sir?”“The usual place,” he r

eplied, putting his arm around her and suddenly, asser

tively, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth, crus

hing her against himself…She drew back, and he smiled.

“Real passion!” he said. “Not the weak tea—but the str

ong wine!”He ignored her for the next fifteen minutes,

as she sat beside him, trembling with both excitement

and fear. Where were they going? Tony had said this m

an was a regular customer, he was always showing up, h

e was always accompanied by women, he was fabulously w

ealthy.He sat so silently, his hand still holding her

imperiously by the wrist. When she tried to withdraw h

er hand, he looked at her sternly, and refused to let

go of her wrist.“Grow up. You are with a real man. Be

a real woman.”The road taken went to the top of a hill

covered with sagebrush and brown stones. The moon sho

ne down, through threads of cloud. Overhead, as the ni

ght before, the stars glimmered beautifully.Roland thr

ew a thick blanket down, among the stones.“Go,” he tol

d the driver. The driver knew he should come back in a

bout an hour. As the limo backed away, turned, and the

n rumbled down the stony road back to the highway, in

the stillness, Roland poured her a glass of wine.“Here

. Drink.”They sat together in silence, as he looked he

r over, head to toe. She saw the hard, lascivious glea

m in his eye as he slowly removed her low-cut blouse.

Petrified, aware that she was alone and that not a sou

l could hear her, if she screamed, she only whispered,

“NO!”“Too bad, my beauty!” Roland said, taking a grea

t handful of her hair and pulling her down on the blan

ket, so that it was impossible for her to move, even i

f she had dared to.“You needn’t fear me,” he said, “bu

t now it is time to pluck the flower. And it will be d

one by a master of the art. Consider yourself privileg

ed.”Then, in a ferocious, but not entirely brutal mann

er, with some finesse and skill, he took her.

++++ ++

++ ++++ ++++

An hour and a half later, he returned her

to Tony’s Cuisine, leaving her shivering and dazed, a

t a table far to the side where others would not neces

sarily notice. Before leaving the place, Roland recogn

ized a woman wearing gold and silver, and she went wit

h him to his limousine, and they drove off.The lights

were going out, one by one…she got up, half-blind in h

er stunned condition, intending to go to her car….but

she was turned aside at the door.As she fingered the p

earls around her neck, tears in her eyes, a young man

wearing a green and white sweater stood before her wit

h a jaunty aspect. “Roland told us to take care of you

,” he said. He was a teenager, pimple-necked, skinny,

jerked his body, like he might be on drugs. His purple

shock of hair stood straight up in the middle of his

scalp. He was wearing a ski mask.“Tony!” she called ou

t.“Tony’s gone for the night,” the boy said. “Don’t yo

u see, it’s all closed up?”And yes, it was true. As sh

e stood there, the boy turned off the last of the ligh

ts. Suddenly, she realized that two others had joined

the teen.“We get the necklace—and we get YOU—“ the boy

told her, as the two others pinned her arms down.“TON

Y!” she screamed. “To--ONY!”They laughed at her, behin

d their ski masks…and did as they pleased with her unt

il dawn.She had been a working girl for forty-eight ho

urs.

A Working Girl for Forty-Eight Hours(Story B) by

Judyth Vary Baker

She was an extraordinarily pretty gi

rl, with her dyed blonde hair-- skin milky white -- tr

anslucent, even—a slight fuzz along her neck that, whe

n the sun slanted just right, made her seem to glow. H

er eyes were blue, a lazy, liquid blue as if summer br

eathed over them and added the glitter of butterfly wi

ngs and the sparkle of a day at the beach, where white

sands tossed up against the shimmering shore of the s

ea. She was built with that soft, yet sleek and rounde

d look of a movie star, too generous in the hips, a bi

t too generous in the boobs, and, above all, there was

something altogether too generous about her. She neve

r wore nail polish, and yet her fingernails seemed shi

ny and perfect. Her hands could have been carved from

alabaster, they were so white and smooth.Those hands,

today, were very busy getting scalded and overworked i

n exercises never meant for such an elegant frame: she

was carrying hot platters of sizzling steak to custom

ers at Tony’s Cuisine, a glamorous eatery perched on o

ne of those low hills surrounding Phoenix, that looked

down on tiny overpriced houses whose parched lawns we

re filled with red gravel and sturdy stands of desert

palms. “Shawna!” Tony was calling, “Go faster, girl! Y

ou have to go faster!”Sherry-O, Shawna’s best friend,

had got her the job at Tony’s, and now she stepped in

to help.“C’mon, boss,” she said, “give her a break, sh

e’s new at this!”Tony wanted very much to keep Shawna

on, but he saw she was going to have a hard time adjus

ting to waitressing. He began considering other ways t

o keep her on that wouldn’t involve the busiest hours.

She was too pretty to give up, that was for sure! Som

e of his regular customers would surely take a special

interest in such a new and untouched gem of a girl.An

d he had one or two such customers in mind.As Tony wat

ched Shawna thread her way between tables all too awkw

ardly, he decided to tell her that he’d be training he

r as a cashier: under those luscious platinum blonde c

urls happened to be a bit of brain. She was going to c

ollege, majoring in mathematics!Of all things!In fact,

“mathematics” had been Shawna’s saving genie all thro

ugh high school: it had kept the jocks on the football

field at arm’s length, had intimidated the prowling r

oustabouts, had isolated her from young men whose test

osterone overwhelmed their thinking caps. In her math

and science classes, she had been surrounded by techni

cally savvy nerds and earnest chess players whose manl

y instincts had been so diverted to solving the puzzle

s of the universe that they had been unlikely, Tony wa

s certain, to have won access to her vagina.Thus it wa

s that, unlikely as it sounds, and certainly unbeknown

st to all the masculine gazes that followed her where-

so-ever she walked—except to Tony-- that Shawna had en

tered college as a certifiable virgin. For Tony had ac

cess to that important information from Sherry-O, who

lived in the same apartment with her and two other gir

ls. Shawna really WAS studying physics and astrophysic

s. And Sherry-O was certain that Shawn a knew much mor

e about the churning heavens above than she did about

the sweet realms that existed in the pungent Netherlan

ds between a man’s legs. Sherry-O was a good informant

, Tony mused. A very good informant! When Shawna’s mot

her suddenly died of cancer, temporarily placing her i

nheritance in limbo for a few months until uncles and

cousins had all been located, Tony made sure Sherry-O

was there to suggest a source of some emergency incom

e.Shawna, whose almost animal shyness had stymied all

attempts of upperclassmen to seduce her (so far), wasn

’t sure she could handle something like waitressing, b

ut something deep within her stirred—ever-so-slightly,

whispering to her of a different world’s existence, a

world where she would be exposed to dozens—no—hundred

s—of men.A restaurant known for attracting raconteurs!

Hormones fooling with her head, and all equations and

proofs and topologies and ratios pushed aside, she too

k up an apron and the hot, steaming platters of steak,

and smiled her way from kitchen to table, kitchen to

table, kitchen to table.And despite a few burns and st

umbles, she got better and better: by the end of the d

ay, Tony was sorry he would not be keeping her on as a

waitress.“My God, girl!” he told her, as he untied he

r apron from behind, giving him a chance to press his

hands against the swell and curve of her young buttock

s, “You did great! You can come back tomorrow!”She sat

down, tired and pleased with herself, despite the ban

dage over the two burns on her left wrist. She took a

look at the restaurant, quiet now between hours before

the evening shift, with just a customer here and ther

e who were drinking wine and gazing at the huge screen

where a soccer game was in progress.The restaurant it

self was very unlike the hazy, blank hills and stretch

es of sand, rocks and dry-brush extending for miles an

d miles beyond Phoenix. There was a waterfall, plungin

g against rocks where colorful Koi swam, and artificia

l vines, overhead, held bunches of artificial grapes.

A wall full of bottles of wine ascended to the third b

alcony floor, their contents of crushed grapes waiting

for the connoisseur’s palate. Some of the artificial

vines were wrapped in twinkling white lights. Even so,

despite this dressing-up, Shawna could see that the r

estaurant was really nothing more than a big, metal bo

x, a sort of gymnasium, bedecked to make itself seem s

omething more alluring than it really was.It was reall

y the emptiest building, for all its shiny plastic, th

at she had ever seen. Only the beautiful Koi, trapped

in their man-made pool, brought life to the artificial

weeds, their shadows shivering over the khaki-colored

metal walls.When she saw a scorpion scuttle across th

e stone floor, Shawna decided to leave the empty table

and to go into the bathroom, where Sherry-O was still

cleaning up.“There’s a scorpion under one of the tabl

es!” she told her friend, who was finishing a wiping-o

ut of the last wash basin. “A big one!” “You go tell P

eter, right away!” Sherry-O advised.“Who’s that?”“He’s

that big, tall handsome thug—our bouncer and table-mo

ver,” Sherry O said. “He’s over there, by the door.”Ju

st outside its faux bamboo doors, Shawna thought she s

aw Peter, so she quickly crossed the fake marble floor

to the other side of the restaurant, where he stood,

a tall, black-haired man of about thirty, hands in poc

kets, looking up at the giant screen and the soccer pl

ayers.When he saw her approaching, he smiled. “You’re

the new girl, right?”“There’s a scorpion!” she answere

d, pointing to the table near the hanging plastic vine

s. “Over there!”Without hesitation, he strode across t

he room, pushed a few chairs out of the way, and, grab

bing a water glass, within a minute the scorpion was t

rapped, its stinging tail arched angrily over its back

, its front pincers stabbing fiercely but helplessly a

gainst the glass walls. Tony slid a menu under the gla

ss and, Shawna following, he carried the creature outs

ide, across the hot black asphalt of the parking lot,

and at the sandy boundary of the endless desert, Peter

let the scorpion go.“Why didn’t you kill it?” Shawna

asked.“We built this place in HIS world,” Peter replie

d. “It’s WE who don’t belong. Not him.”Considering his

words, Shawna looked up into his face. It was seamed,

from the desert heat, she thought. But he was young,

for all that. His eyes were merry and dark, as if he l

iked to tell jokes and loved a good, cold glass of bee

r. He’d probably never pass an advanced math course, s

he thought, sadly. Then, she realized that he was star

ing at her.“You’re not the usual dumb blonde, are you

?”“Of course I’m dumb,” she answered. “All blondes are

dumb. Right?”“And all bouncers are stupid, ex prize-f

ighters, right?“You don’t have cauliflower ears.”“You

don’t wear cheap jewelry.”“My mother happens to be ric

h. That is, was.”To his raised eyebrow of concern, she

quickly added, “She died of cancer. The chemotherapy,

of course, killed her that much faster. Just as she t

hought it would.”“Sorry,” Peter said, taking her hand.

“Come on. I’ll buy you a drink.”

++++ ++++ ++++ ++++

++++ ++++The next thing she knew, instead of driving b

ack to her apartment, she let Sherry-O take her car ke

ys – Sherry had said Peter was a perfect gentleman, wa

sn’t married, would soon graduate with a degree in bus

iness administration-- and was sure to bring her home

in one piece, later that night.It was spring break. Sh

e needed the money, and Tony let her work the next shi

ft, even though – so tired she was dizzy –by the end o

f the night she’d dropped two drinks on the floor.Drin

ks that Peter mopped up, broken glasses cleared, befor

e Tony even noticed. In his car that night, they stopp

ed before he took her home, at the top of a hill, one

of the empty hills that Phoenix nights bathed in cold

moonlight. They sat in the back of his pickup truck an

d looked up at the stars. High above the city lights,

in this direction thousands of stars looked down upon

them, and, dreamily, she asked him, “Did you ever read

‘A Wrinkle in Time’?”“Think I did,” he answered. “Eve

ry star out there has a soul, fighting against evil’s

darkness,” she answered. “Who knows?” he replied, and,

suddenly, he kissed her.Her head was swarming with fe

rocious, warm, delightful, thrilling thoughts, far fro

m books, but a chilly wind had just come up, so that h

e wrapped his coat around them both.And he kissed her

again.“Peter…!” He frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said, draw

ing back. After all, they’d only known each other a si

ngle evening…But something inside her had started to c

ry, as if a spoiled, angry child had been let loose in

side her, and would not be satisfied until…They talke

d.For hours.In a few hours, it would be sunrise, yet t

hey talked on…then in the midst of their conversation,

she mentioned seeing Roland, the wealthy fellow, Pete

r said, who always came with a girl on each arm. He wa

s dark, villainously dark, amazingly handsome, used to

getting everything he wanted. He had a chauffeur and

a car so big and black it could be used in a funeral p

rocession.She had served him an expensive meal, then w

ine, then bourbon… he had taken her hand, held it tigh

t, looked into her eyes. There, with laughter and talk

all around, and in front of the woman who sat in her

glittering jewels beside him, he said, “I would sleep

with you in a minute, but I will be polite to my Carli

ta, and save you for another day!”“They say no woman c

an resist him, but that’s a lie,” Peter said. “Last Th

ursday, a girl turned him down.”And Peter laughed. A b

itter laugh.He had put his arm around her again, but t

his time he only brushed her cheek with his kiss. She

wanted a little more, he would surely know that, she t

hought. She leaned against him –and was startled becau

se his heart was beating so fast.“Look, it’s time to t

ake you home,” he said, “before you freeze.”But as he

said those words, his hand found her breast: still, af

ter a long moment, she pulled his hand away. “You’ve n

ever---?” he asked gently. “Never?”His hands moved und

er her sweater and across her back, swept down, around

and up, pressing, gliding… tenderly he breathed betwe

en her breasts…She looked down at him, overcome with w

hat he had roused in her, as he nestled against her th

ere.“Please, please!” she whispered. And he drew back,

after kissing her everywhere he had dared. “Come on!“

he said, after he buttoned her sweater up, ”…time to

take you home.”The drive back into the city was too qu

iet. She leaned against him, but every time he looked

at her, she turned her eyes away. “Hell!” he said soft

ly, then didn’t look at her again until it was time to

help her out of the truck. It was almost dawn when he

told her goodbye. Tony would have her back at work th

at night. Same for him. “See you tonight,” he whispere

d into her ear. How black and thick Peter’s hair was!

She let him kiss her, but he knew she wasn’t anywhere

near ready. She would be, he thought to himself. Soon

enough. And he knew he liked her, wanted to know a lot

more about her. She would be ready soon--he was sure

of it--but not-quite-yet… He thought of where he might

buy flowers… she gave him a smile that scattered all

his thoughts from his head.“See you tomorrow night,” h

e said. To her sudden silence, the quick fading of her

smile, he added, “What? Don’t you want to see me agai

n?”In the distance, he could hear a police car’s sire

n…“You move so fast, Peter!” she complained. “I like y

ou,” she replied, “but still, I hardly know you—““I’m

sorry. I’ll keep my distance, I promise. Tomorrow, we

will go out and look at the stars, and talk philosophy

. Okay?”“Okay.”He was in his truck and backing out of

the gravel driveway before she got the key into the lo

ck. Inside, she saw the TV had been left on, the littl

e living room table had half a bowl of uneaten popcorn

, and the pink curtains had been drawn tight, closing

off the window. When she opened the bedroom door, very

quietly in the semi-darkness, there she saw Sherry-O,

her long, freckled arm over the shoulder of a man… Sh

erry-O’s black cat, Mincie, jumped down from the bed w

ith a meow, rubbed against Shawna’s legs, and followed

her out into the living room again. This was the seco

nd time Sherry had let Richard – a nice guy--wanted to

be a pharmacist--into her bed for the night. Sherry-O

said they were in love…. And he was going home to mee

t her mom and dad that weekend. Seemed they never made

it that far…. Shawna’s bed, of course, was empty, but

she would leave them alone. After feeding the cat and

turning off the TV, Shawna collapsed on the little re

d studio couch, and after taking off her shoes –one sh

oe had a piece of gray gravel at the toe—she went to s

leep.It was Saturday morning. Shawna had been a workin

g girl for 24 hours.++++ ++++ ++++ ++++“What you’ve mi

ssed, you’ll never know, unless you change your ways,

honey,” Sherry-O said frankly, coming from her shower

wrapped only in a big orange towel, with Richard in to

w. He and Sherry ate a quiet lunch, then left for the

weekend, to meet both sets of parents. There was a hin

t that marriage might be in the cards. Sherry-O bounce

d out of the house almost without touching the ground,

Richard laughing at her side. Shawna studied her adva

nced calculus assignment for the next hour; then, unab

le to think, she threw the book across the room, strai

ght at the bedroom door. Sorry she’d done that, she pi

cked up the book, inspected it for damage, then opened

the bedroom door and looked inside. There was Sherry’

s rumpled bed, the bright red cover halfway on the flo

or, where the clothes of both male and female lay tang

led together. Mincie sat on a pillow that had been tur

ned topsy-turvy, her black tail wrapped to cover her f

ace, her yellow eyes blinking wide, then quickly closi

ng again. After all, it was only Shawna…. In contrast,

on the other side of the white-walled room was Shawna

’s bed, done up in monk’s gray and soot black, neatly

made and tidy with its un-creased white pillow, and no

t a single footprint of the cat observable. Shawna cou

ld see no perfume bottles, no jewelry boxes, nor so mu

ch as a loose scarf hanging lazily from the back of a

chair, on her side of the room. There was only a gray

tiny nightstand with a black pencil, a notepad covered

with equations, and a thick book (Gone with the Wind)

, and –yes-- her mother’s picture…looking stern and di

ssatisfied with it all.After she fed Mincie, took a sh

ower, and dressed, it was time to go to work again.Her

second day as a waitress! This time, she chose to wea

r the only low-cut blouse she owned, along with her br

and new, tight, black toreador pants. Looking into the

bathroom mirror at her lovely blonde hair, she decide

d she could use some more makeup, so she borrowed some

of Sherry-O’s brightest colors, tried on various comb

inations, and finally, she was satisfied.Transformed,

when she arrived at Tony’s Cuisine, he took one look a

t her, whistled, and said, “You come like that every n

ight, I promise, you’ll get tips so big I won’t have t

o pay you any salary!”Saturday night was the biggest n

ight of the week, and she had plenty to do, but now sh

e knew what to do, so all went well, and Tony was righ

t—the tips came rolling in. Glittering women with weal

thy escorts, handsome men with amorous escorts, sprink

led among them living pairs of husbands and wives and

genuine lovers, made their appearances, laughed, laugh

ed more loudly as the night progressed, ordered cordia

ls and expensive wines and elaborate desserts, lavishl

y rewarding Shawna’s attentive service with fistfuls o

f dollars, then left, to be replaced by others…Peter c

ame by every now and then, and when she saw the bunch

of flowers standing by her locker in the back room, sh

e knew he had brought them for her. Once in awhile, th

eir eyes met above the bobbing heads, the talking face

s, the comings and goings in the crowded spaces. Once

he whispered, “Tonight?” And she smiled, and shrugged.

Then again, as they passed each other in the kitchen,

he said, “I have a little surprise, just for you, wait

and see!”And she said she would wait and see.Then, ju

st as the band stopped playing for the evening, and ju

st as the customers began to drift away, at the big, d

ouble doorway—alone—stood Roland DuMaine.He actually t

owered over the others. Only Peter stood as tall. He s

tood there with his arms folded and looked haughtily a

t Peter, who turned from his gaze and busied himself a

t the other end of the big restaurant. Seated at the b

est table to be had, Roland ordered two champagnes, an

d with a flourish of extra dollar bills, soon had Shaw

na seated beside him. To her puzzled look, he only sai

d, “You need not worry, my beauty. I’ve paid for your

personal assistance, for the rest of the night.”“I don

’t think you need much assistance,” she replied, as he

looked at every inch of her with knowing eyes, confid

ent eyes. Scanning her.He took her by the right wrist,

and pulled her arm commandingly toward himself. “Now,

what should I call you, my beauty?”“Shawna Richardson

. I’m studying math at the University.” She forced her

self to look right at him. Right into his eyes. They w

ere such dark, mysterious, cruel eyes.“Intelligent, co

nfident. Beautiful. A pearl, found here in the mire, t

he debris, the scum.”He touched her neck, and suddenly

, from his hand she saw a string of pearls drop from b

etween his fingers, and he had fastened the pearls, sw

iftly and expertly, around her neck. By their very wei

ght, she knew they were genuine pearls. Worth a fortun

e.“I was told that you will be rich, that you have no

need of these. But they are for you, nevertheless,” Ro

land told her. “Nothing less would be worthy of such a

neck, such a white tower.”Suddenly, Peter was standin

g above them, a towel on his arm. She could see his ey

es, sharp and inquiring…“Go away,” Roland said, an edg

e of warning in his voice. He was glaring at Peter, wh

o put a hand on her shoulder. “We should leave, Shawna

—“Then Roland raised an imperious hand. “Go.”“Shawna—“

Roland’s hand shot out, again gripped Shawna’s wrist,

this time so tightly that she made a little cry of pai

n.“Get out, Peter,” Roland hissed. And he turned, and

walked away. That got to Shawna….Something inside her

admired what Roland had just done—respected it—underst

ood. Roland would have what he wanted. His manhood dom

inated all others. Dominated her.Dominated the night.

“It is you and I who should leave,” Roland told her. “

It is you and I who should exit this musty, fetid hole

in the ground. My beauty –come.”Half hypnotized, with

Peter staring after them, the pearls around her neck,

her eyes shining with excitement and her step energiz

ed by romance in every atom of her being, when Roland

extended his arm, she took it, and she followed him in

to the deep blue of the night.He guided her -- not ver

y gently--quickly into his limousine, but his smile wa

s punctuated with a sudden kiss. “To kiss you again wi

ll be the greatest pleasure of my life!” he whispered,

then pushed himself into the limousine beside her, ra

ther than going around to the other side.The chauffeur

closed the door.“Where to, sir?”“The usual place,” he

replied, putting his arm around her and suddenly, ass

ertively, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth, cr

ushing her against himself…She drew back, and he smile

d.“Real passion!” he said. “Not the weak tea—but the s

trong wine!”He ignored her for the next fifteen minute

s, as she sat beside him, trembling with both exciteme

nt and fear. Where were they going? Tony had said this

man was a regular customer, he was always showing up,

he was always accompanied by women, he was fabulously

wealthy.He sat so silently, his hand still holding he

r imperiously by the wrist. When she tried to withdraw

her hand, he looked at her sternly, and refused to le

t go of her wrist.“Grow up. You are with a real man. B

e a real woman.”The road taken went to the top of a hi

ll covered with sagebrush and brown stones. The moon s

hone down, through threads of cloud. Overhead, as the

night before, the stars glimmered beautifully.Roland t

hrew a thick blanket down, among the stones.“Go,” he t

old the driver. The driver knew he should come back in

about an hour. As the limo backed away, turned, and t

hen rumbled down the stony road back to the highway, i

n the stillness, Roland poured her a glass of wine.“He

re. Drink.”They sat together in silence, as he looked

her over, head to toe. She saw the hard, lascivious gl

eam in his eye as he slowly removed her low-cut blouse

. Petrified, aware that she was alone and that not a s

oul could hear her, if she screamed, she only whispere

d, “NO!”“Too bad, my beauty!” Roland said, taking a gr

eat handful of her hair and pulling her down on the bl

anket, so that it was impossible for her to move, even

if she had dared to.“You needn’t fear me,” he said, “

but now it is time to pluck the flower. And it will be

done by a master of the art. Consider yourself privil

eged.”Then, in a ferocious, but not entirely brutal ma

nner, with some finesse and skill, he took her.

++++

++++ ++++ ++++

An hour and a half later, he returned h

er to Tony’s Cuisine, leaving her shivering and dazed,

at a table far to the side where others would not nec

essarily notice. Before leaving the place, Roland reco

gnized a woman wearing gold and silver, and she went w

ith him to his limousine, and they drove off.“Did you

know,” he told the well-dressed woman, “that little bi

tch Tony told me was a virgin—she was nothing of the k

ind.”“So are you going to get your money back from Ton

y, or what?”“Of course not. She lied to Sherry-O. It w

asn’t his fault.”The lights were going out, one by one

…Shawna got up, half-blind in her stunned condition, i

ntending to go to her car….but she was turned aside at

the door.As she fingered the pearls around her neck,

tears in her eyes, a young man wearing a green and whi

te sweater stood before her with a jaunty aspect. “Rol

and told us to take care of you,” he said. He was a te

enager, pimple-necked, skinny, jerked his body, like h

e might be on drugs. His purple shock of hair stood st

raight up in the middle of his scalp. He was wearing a

ski mask.“Tony!” she called out.“Tony’s gone for the

night,” the boy said. “Don’t you see, it’s all closed

up?”And yes, it was true. As she stood there, the boy

turned off the last of the lights. Suddenly, she reali

zed that two others had joined the teen.“We get the ne

cklace—and we get YOU—“ the boy told her, as the two o

thers pinned her arms down.“TONY!” she screamed. “To--

ONY!”They laughed at her, behind their ski masks…and d

id as they pleased with her until dawn. She had been a

working girl for forty-eight hours.