During my college years, I shared a living space with a roommate who led a rather unconventional life. Let’s call her Jessica. With her relatable name and stylish wardrobe—think Jordache jeans, trendy tops, and flip-flops—Jessica looked like any other student in my economics class. She often talked about wanting to teach me some sleight of hand tricks, but little did I know the real magic she was performing.
From the moment the semester began, she maneuvered her way into my apartment, and we quickly established a routine that included shared bathroom time and Post-it notes detailing our study schedules. However, as time went on, I began to notice some oddities. For one thing, she possessed two pagers—this was 1992, after all—leading me to wonder why anyone would need two. On top of that, she kept unusual hours, and I often spotted large sums of cash on her dresser.
The truth about Jessica’s life surfaced one night when she called me at 2 a.m., urgently needing a ride from a local hotel. “Bring me sweatpants and sneakers,” she instructed. Upon arriving at room 805, she confided that the police were poised to arrest her. Her latest client had just exited the room, and she needed a discreet escape—because, apparently, leaving in revealing attire was not an option back then. It was surreal to hear her story, and I felt a mix of horror and intrigue.
Jessica let me glimpse behind the curtain of her life and divulged her secrets. She worked at a strip club as a cocktail waitress, and this gig was part of a calculated strategy. Here’s how it went down:
- Step 1: Charm the customers by telling them she was only working to fund her education.
- Step 2: They’d propose paying for sex, which she likened to a college scholarship.
- Step 3: She would feign offense while leaving a hint of possibility.
- Step 4: The offers would increase in value.
- Step 5: When the price reached a sweet spot, she’d grant them their ultimate fantasy, pretending to be their very first customer.
Though the service was sex, what they truly bought was the fantasy of the “good girl.” Her client pager buzzed around the clock, explaining the second pager she kept for family use. Airport runs were a favorite among her clients, who’d often call for a quick rendezvous just before their flights.
In the months that followed, I met several of her regulars—wealthy older men who she’d drag along to fancy restaurants. “He’s so old and gross. I can’t stand his laugh,” she’d whisper as she plastered a dazzling smile on her face.
I discovered that the word “never” was her secret weapon; she’d tell clients things like, “I’ve never had an orgasm” or “I’ve never slept with a married man,” which could lead to a credit card or even a new car. “Only” was another key term—“I only wear these special panties for you.” And here’s the kicker: she had a real boyfriend, a med school student her age, whom she genuinely adored. Talk about a complex web of dysfunction.
Our friendship fizzled out as quickly as it ignited, lasting barely a semester. One day, I came home to find her in an intimate situation with a guy I had just started dating. I kicked him out immediately, but then I truly saw Jessica for who she was. “I’ll never do that again; you’re my best friend,” she assured me with a manipulative smile. It struck me in that moment that if I didn’t cut ties, I was setting myself up for a world of trouble.
Jessica eventually dropped out of school, and I lost track of her. Thanks to social media, I learned she has been married twice since then. I can only imagine the price those husbands paid.
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In summary, my college experience with Jessica was as eye-opening as it was bizarre. It served as a reminder that the lives we think we know can often contain hidden complexities.
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