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Both her and her mother sat watching him, wondering. After about five or ten minutes he stood up and said, "We're going to New Orleans. You'll have to get an abortion. I can't have my congregation knowing that my daughter is having sex outside of marriage."

Here she was two months pregnant and her Baptist, anti-abortion preaching father was going to bring her to New Orleans for an abortion. He wasn't the least concerned about her, her future, her health, the hypocrite who got her pregnant or anything except what his congregation would think of him.

The following Saturday he took her to a clinic in New Orleans. Four months later she turned eighteen, dropped out of college and returned to New Orleans. She got a job as a waitress at Snug Harbor, a restaurant and bar in Marigny District that offers Creole cuisine along with live music. But that wasn't enough to pay her rent, car note, insurance and all her other bills. She took up prostitution.

For sixteen months she managed to stay out of trouble, always careful when choosing a john. For sixteen months she lived without her domineering father constantly looking over her shoulder, watching her every move.

Her only blemish came last year when she was arrested for prostitution and possession of two marijuana cigarettes -- some of her johns like to smoke it before sex. Her case was pending. Since it was her first offense, her court appointed lawyer told her she would probably pay a fine and maybe do some community service. But Jinny wasn't worried about that; she was free and happy for the first time in her life.

Unfortunately her happiness ended when she met Edgar.

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"How much?" Edgar asks.

"That depends on what you want to do," Jinny answers him.

"Is it extra if we go to my house? I live in Airline Park."

"Where's that?"

He can tell that she's not from New Orleans; her Texas accent annoys Edgar. "In Jefferson Parish."

"I don't go into any kinky stuff with the wife and kids and all," she tells him. "Will you bring me back here when we're done?"

"I'm not married," he interrupts her. "If you don't mind playing in my house, then hop in. After, I'll bring you anywhere you want to go."

She looks up the street momentarily and then back at him. She doesn't want to leave the street. But she hasn't had a trick in two days. She needs the money. "For a hundred dollars I'll give you an hour, straight sex, nothing kinky or ropes and bondage and that kind of thing."

"Get in," he orders her.

She walks around the front of the car. Edgar watches her as she does so; he is revolted by her. He hates whores. He tells himself that it's because of that whore Donna that he used to date when he was in college that his life today is such a wreck.

"Well, this is one whore who will pay for messing up my life. I'm going to teach this one a lesson that she will never forget."

He picks up the bottle of ether and holds it out of the window, pouring a few drops into a handkerchief. He seals the bottle and after she gets in the car, he immediately puts the cloth against her mouth. She struggles but in a few seconds she is asleep, leaning against the door. He drives back to his house.

He pulls into his garage and is glad that he installed the automatic door opener last year. He carries the girl over his shoulder to the punishment room. There is a thick coat of dust on the bare floor. He has not been in this room for 15 years. The padlocks, keys, shackles and chains are still lying on the floor where he left them.

He drops the prostitute on the dirty floor and rips off all her clothes, throwing them in the far corner. He cuffs and padlocks her wrists to the same shackles that his mother used to chain him to. Then he manacles and padlocks her ankles to the chain bolted to the baseboard eyebolt.

Next he goes to the bathroom and gets an old towel.

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