At this point, I had fucked her twice. And I figured that is enough. I have played her game. She knows I like her. She knows I am a sucker. So it is time to get what I want, which is to lecture her. But first I have to find out a little more about who she is and what the fuck she is doing here. So I went into the room, and I gave her $250 right up front. Now she can walk out any time. She knows she doesn't have to fuck me to get the money. So she sat on the bed, and I leaned against the bar, and I asked her questions. I asked her about her dogs, about her cats, about her family, where she lives, why she comes down to Miami. After a while she must have gotten tired of being talked to like a little girl. So she blurted out “I’m a PROSTITUTE.” I know, I got that already. She said it in the voice of a little kid. So she started telling me prostitute stories. She told me how she and her friend met some guys on the beach, and went back to their hotel room. And they trapped her in there and wouldn't let her out. So they had to start screaming, and security came. I asked “How can you do that?” She misunderstood what I was talking about. She thought I must be asking how can she have sex with strangers. She said “You just ignore what is happening for a minute, and then afterwards you forget it happened.” To me, that sounds like she learned to have sex with strangers by being sexually abused as a child. But I said no, I mean how can you risk being in a room with people you don’t know? With violent strangers. They could be serial killers, they could strangle you, they could do anything. How can you go into a locked room alone, with people you have no idea who they are? She said in a hotel or apartment, they can't do anything to you. Because everyone can hear you, and if you start shouting, someone will come. I said how about if you are in some rich guy's mansion? And no one can hear you? She said I will punch him in the throat and run out. Then she said your hour is up, I am late, I have to drive to Broward, bye. As we walked out I said wait, can I get your real phone number? Just so I know I can reach you if you change your number? She said okay, I will give you this phone number. It is the same one I have had for years, it is not going to change. She called my phone standing right next to me outside the door. Like a dork I picked up and said “Hello?” And she laughed. I looked up her phone number, and I found out some more about her. I guess when Mandi May was a kid, her dad wanted her to be a professional racecar driver. Maybe because Danica Patrick was the big thing on TV at the time. The way kids learn to be racecar drivers is racing something called carts. They tie the kids' hands to the steering wheel, so when they flip over and roll the cart down the track, they won’t stick their arms out and lose them. So the kids just flip over right on their head. Which I guess Mandi May did a couple times. When the brain is injured, it reroutes. This is especially true in young people and females. It can have an affect of setting a 16-year-old person back to age 12. That is something like what I decided happened to Mandi Jackson. But in a few years it can have what that movie called an "awakening." And a person can regain the skills she lost, though often using a different part of the brain for the same task. Not using the parts of the frontal lobes, for example, that are designed to be talented in specific tasks necessary to navigate the world. Instead of having the intuition a person has about other people with the frontal lobes, Mandi would have to learn logically about human behavior. And instead of perceiving risks from typical things that would cause fright, she would have to learn to analyze the risks in situations. The thing that bothers me the most, is that by the time Mandi might have that "awakening" at age 26 or 27, her life would already be over. Taken from her by a bunch of dirtbag older men, who had an ambition to amuse themselves, I-l3