she looks young and sturdy. the woman in the wheel chair is needling me.
she wants me to help her. she has money problems. she smothered my nose and pissed on my nose and mouth. she said she was paralyzed from a truck accident when she was 12. she earns a living as a sex worker. she won’t give me her name. she has amazing complete breasts. she has bony knees and thin legs that haven’t been used for most of her life. she has small eyes and a long wide chin that makes me think she was born paralyzed. she has a sharp one track mind: get the cash.
you’re in a chair, i said. i need a functional body.
my body functions extremely well though paralyzed, she said.
i’m sure you can, i said. i’m looking for something more physical, something less complicated.
somewhere in your fucked up head you believe that things can’t be physical, she said. you are definitely ignorant.
do you have sexual relations or only mental, i said.
i have both she said. it’s an entire experience.
how are you this morning, i said. have you had a coffee?
of course i’ve had a coffee, she said. so you don’t need me to bring you one. i wanted to.
where in pdx do you live, she said.
sullivans gulch, i said.
she is a formidable sales person. she speaks to me like i’m an idiot. she wants me to use western union to pay her monies on a weekly basis. negotiating over the money is as sexual as anything else that happens. it is an exchange. the more invasive and absurd she is the more i feel compromised and closer to her.
did you file your taxes, she said.
i filed my taxes, i said.
i want to make sure you have a steady income.
her parents are deceased. she is a worrisome and exacting person.
what is your zip code, she said.
how is it your legs are strong, i said.
my legs are muscular because i have extreme spasticity and i did not take
medication in order to prevent muscle activity which causes atrophy, she said.
they look amazing, i said.
they are normal, unlike me, she said.
my fist works really well, she said.
that’s fortunate, i said.
i have a task, she said.
ha!, tell me, I said.
i speculate if she will ever allow me to push her chair. i feel guilty that she is paralyzed. i worry if i’m not attracted to her because of it. i feel bad that she needs me or any other idiot for money.
I want you to go to the Atm and remove 360 dollars, she said. Then walk to 6901 NE Sandy Blvd. Portland, OR 97213 United States. When you get there you are going to call me.
i have about a four hour chunk of time. Sunday from noon to four.
how do you travel?
i have a van and a driver.
is he harmless?
i am able to make trips, whenever i please.
the driver is a woman. she accompanies me and will use a taser if you’re out of line.
is she your lover?
she is my anything i want her to be at the moment.
a nice dashing young man reminds me of my doc. he’s not a professional yet, but well on his way. most likely he still has his mother’s voice in his head.
the young woman has been with us for a couple of hours. she is facing me,
one table down. this is the second time she has gone to the bathroom. she’s
wearing colorful tight pants. she has a body that could arrest an advancing army.
is it a good sign that she chose to face me and not to give me her back?
there were two young handsome men in here earlier. i wasn’t able to see if she was checking them out. i don’t have the guts to say anything to her. she has acne which makes her less daunting, even though it doesn’t change her magnificent body.
maybe i should be patient. i know that she has been here before. does the young man who reminds me of my therapist know that she comes here at this hour. he looks
neutral and clean cut. i drink from my cup of coffee. she drinks from her thermos.
i’m used to approaching women on line not in real life. she has something in her boot.
i think she is trying to get a look at the young man. i’m too old but she is the age that
middle aged men covet. she must know that. ah! i just got sight of her face. it is nice. she has thick eyebrows, a square chin, and a broad long nose. i wonder what she would think if she knew i was thinking of what to say to her. i think she’s lonely. she doesn’t look like she is really working on her computer. it’s twelve. i should get back to my medicine cabinet. i forgot to take my medication. i’ve had two cups of coffee which is unlike me. i think she looked over at the sober young man. he looks like a debonair teutonic mountain climber. he must have a good sized cock. is she looking his way to make me jealous? i don’t want to leave until she goes. i saw her with her head down. she looks ugly when she has her face downward. her face looks vulgar and derailed. it looks like it has been subjected to multiple choice exams and on campus date rape. i can’t trust it to respond to something i say and then to respond again. she is leaving. she zips up her blue winter coat. she will go to her room she shares with another young person and read until she sleeps. i will do the same, search for thought, sentiment, and pity in my half sleep.
she sends me a video she has on you tube. she is still nameless. i still haven’t met her. in the video she has on an orange shirt. she’s in a wheelchair. she has long hair that has no body to it. she has no fancy salon to visit to get her hair done. she punches a young working class man in his thirties in a black t-shirt that has its sleeves cut off twice.
i think of the frustrated men who are unemployed or have not much money, who can’t get it up anymore unless they are abused or abusive. they are looking for an outlet or a way to survive. men with lives and money are equally frustrated and look to
sex workers to liberate them.