The modern prostitute does not stay still in a brothel waiting for a pimp to come call her name or a John to point her out of a line-up. She seizes every opportunity to stand out, to reach a little deeper into an on-looker’s heart and soul, to seek something a little bit beyond. By touting her body around in a seductive little wiggle she exercises the full force of her biological power like flag raised into the stratosphere for the world to see. She has the right to act, and she waits for no man. You want it, you buy it and you will miss it before you even get both feet out the door upon your exit. A modern prostitute is a force of her own, like the red eye storm on Jupitar, churning while you sleep. A sales-pitch is the only form of speech she has ever known. You may see her naked and fear for her exploitations but rest assured she knows which of you is better off. You might not see the bars around you of a job, house and family but they’re there, and she knows that they’re so thick you’re more doomed than she is.
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