A Financial Thing
Marion G. Otto


Margie listened to every word the man said. He intended it as a warning, but to Margie it was something to further her education. If sex was what got you some place in the business, then she would have to learn about sex. But where to learn? She couldn't ask mom. She'd, or rather, we'd tried that, but mom wouldn't give us any details. She told us we would find out soon enough. Margie decided she would have to ask someone who was a specialist. Prostitutes should know all there is to know about sex. Margie decided to look there.

One week end, when there was nothing going on at the University, Margie dolled herself up, put on a blonde wig she had borrowed from the dramatics department, and paid a visit to the red light district. She had seen the girls standing on the streets talking to the Johns sitting in their cars. That was where she went. Cars honked at her as she strolled along, but she never looked at them. When she found what looked like an older woman off by herself she stopped and talked to her,

"Can I talk to you for a minute, madam?"

"Sure, but only a minute, I'm working."

"I want to learn about sex. I can pay you for your time."

"This is a switch. I thought all of you high school girls knew all about sex. How much you got?"

"How about twenty bucks?"

"Nothing doing. How about fifty?"

"Thirty three is all I have."

"All right. Let's go get a cup of coffee."

They walked up the street to an all-night cafe and sat down at the counter. When their coffee arrived, Judy started,

"Just what is it you want to know, kid?"

"Well, can you start at the beginning? Describe what it's like and whether you like it or not. In other words, everything," said Margie.

"That's quite an order. Well let's get started."

Judy told about the basics, which I will not repeat here, because this is not that kind of story. When Judy was through talking, Margie asked a few questions, and the interview was finished, as far as Judy was concerned. Then Margie asked,

"But where do you draw the line?"

"I give them anything within reason. All of the girls will. What we won't do is anal. I never heard of anyone who did anal. That's reserved for perverts."

"What is that exactly?"

"Go look it up. It's in the dictionary. Here let me write it down for you."

Judy was about to get up when she said,

"You know all you can learn from a lesson. What you need is some practical experience."

"Where do I get that? I surely don't want to be caught out on the street. My folks would kill me."

"What you want to do is go for airline pilots. They come in town and have to spend the night before they fly out again. All you need to do is hang around the hotel bar and you're sure to get picked up."

"Why don't you go there?"

"They don't pay nothing. They get all they want for free. They'd be good for you because they have to pass physicals so you know they're clean and they're usually married so they probably won't want to get involved."

Judy told Margie the names of the hotels where the airlines kept rooms for turn-arounds and then took off, returning to her place on the street.

Margie had almost completed her education. If she was going to make her fortune, she had to learn how to use what she had to good advantage. She had heard the words 'bum lay', and knew that they described a woman who simply lay there, without moving, during sex. Judy told her she had to contribute at least half, to make it a pleasurable experience. With that under her belt, Margie made up her mind to add sex to her curriculum and to finish this course before graduation. Then she would be equipped to take on the world. Oh yes, Margie forgot to thank Judy for mistaking her for a high school student. She didn't think Judy would mind Margie using her name in place of her own when with the pilots.