to rich in 60 seconds. This is real crime." My idea was to demean being a hooker as a low-end crime by comparison. She would realize she was too much of a pussy to do real crime, but at the same time no longer feel cool, or any thrill from doing her minor crime. As usual, she didn't hear a word I said. I told her again, but she had no interest to click my armed-robbery link. She did not have a general interest in crime or fast money. It was specifically being a hooker that made her feel valuable. Like she had a unique talent that other people couldn't match. She honestly thought her vagina, and her willingness to be raped, were unique. I saw this with other girls who were picked on in high school for being different, or for being slow or whatever. In high school they were treated like nothing. But they proved the other kids wrong and became someone important, when rich guys were willing to pay hundreds to have sex with them. A month or two later, there was a bank robbery in the news. Mandi said she could rob a bank with a note. Like " give me $1000" or something. She was so confident there was something special about her that guys would just hand her money. That is the way girls think about their interaction with the world, they don’t think to use force. Mandi never had any interest to own a gun as long as I knew her. Even when she told me her pimp was sleeping on the sofa with a gun and wouldn’t let her leave, it never occurred to her to get her own gun. Her first and last idea was to use her pussy to control the world around her. Early in the summer, I did finally visit her at Dancers Royale on East Colonial. A guy who looked like a skinny hillbilly Santa Claus walked in, and twirled her hair and winked as he passed by. She said “Gross, I don’t even know him.” I think she flicked him. Later in the summer I visited her at Cheetah Hallandale. While she was on stage, an old frail black guy walked up to me and said “You know her? She's sweet isn’t she?” I think she fucked him. When I came in the strip club, she had other customers. I heard her use a fake little laugh "teeheheheheee." Then she offered to give me a dance and used it again "teeheheheheee." I never heard her laugh like that at anything funny. I thought that must be her entire stripper strategy, use a fake laugh to sound like a little girl. Years later she laughed like that on the jail phone. It wasn’t fake after all. That is the laugh she laughs when she thinks you want to have sex with her. Like if I said on the jail phone "I want to have sex with you," she would laugh "teeheheheheee." It was like for real some bashful involuntary reaction when guys came up to her in the club. Over the summer she got evicted. I just assumed it happened as expected, that she and the guy went their separate ways. She was no longer trapped. She found a new place, and I thought the guy was gone. I don’t really remember, but I really thought she told me he was gone. I brought some fried chicken to Dancers and she asked if she could take some home. Who are you taking it home for? A little whore in her hometown, you will never get her all to yourself. The number of times I fucked her got up into the 10’s, and then into the 20's. I kept count as a cruel joke on myself. I originally thought I could talk to her and change her life after fucking her just two times. Of the 14 motels where I paid to fuck Mandi Jackson before she turned 21, my favorite was the downtown Orlando Travelodge. I don’t actually remember having sex there, it's not that important to me. I liked that I could get a room overlooking the pool, because I could see my motorcycle where I parked it. I could relax that it hadn't been stolen. We were on the balcony looking at my motorcycle when a guy rode by on a bike covered with LED's with an extended swingarm. Mandi thought that was inf1nitely cooler than my boring white CBR 1000. She is a child. Mandi liked to go out on the balcony and smoke between sessions. And lean her back against the railing, and look back into the room at me. And sip on her gatorade or whatever she was drinking. You could see downtown Orlando, and hotel parties in other rooms. Relaxing on that balcony with a cigarette, looking at the guy she had just satisfied, she was totally at peace. Like a dog that stares at its owner. This is the part she was good at, the stretch where things always went perfect. Leaning on that balcony and smoking in the summer air, while her spazz pimp sat at home staring at the clock, the world was under control. I fucked her three times at the Travelodge for her 20th birthday. That sounds like my birthday. Except I paid her $1000 and I offered to go see a movie.