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.