Au Pairs Wanted

Another fat, sweaty body on top of me, pressing me into the stained mattress. Bars on the windows, a guard at the door. Why do these men not show me the consideration they would their wives and girlfriends and have a wash. This one's so pissed he's not going to get there no matter how much he grinds.

I close my eyes and my imagination takes over. I answer the ad for an au pair and a wealthy family treat me to a life of luxury. I'm pushing a pram through the park, the baby cooing while a toddler runs beside me. I dine on lobster and champagne. I take a private jet to St. Tropez for the season. I stay on the Champs Elyses for three months so that the children can learn French.

I imagine this man licking my ear is a sexy Italian Count wooing me with diamonds and furs. He wants to marry me but I don't want to leave the children. The children, like the one now growing in my belly, the one that must be killed. This is no place for babies.

The man has fallen asleep. I push my way out from under his bulk. Johnny will see to him. I have more clients waiting, more money to make for the money grabbing bastards who keep me prisoner here in this hell hole. They have my passport, they threaten my family back home. I learn just enough English to know how they want to screw me and tell them how much it costs.

My only escape is my imagination.

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