All three of us; Shelly, Serge and I, sat in the front seat.  There was no mention made of what had just taken place.  Maybe they knew what I was going through. They never did say it would be easy.  In fact, they never said much.

I tried not to cry, I really did, but once the dam opened it would not stop. Every so often a Kleenex would be tucked into my clenched fist.  I welcomed them.

I remembered the night it all began, right here on the same highway.  How ironic.  Now I noticed the ugliness of Reno when we arrived; all of the former pleasures now gone. I knew then I would always hate that town.  Each time I went to Reno I would come to feel a sense of doom settle over me and a sense of freedom when I left.

 I recognized Harrah's parking lot. Another breakfast; was this a routine for them?  I felt sickened.  Serge and I ate our breakfast here, in what seemed to be, another lifetime ago.

At first I tried to lose myself in a game of Keno, but even the thrill of that was absent. Soon Shelly said we would have to leave if we were to get in to see the doctor in time to begin work tonight.  I blindly followed them to the car for the next phase of my initiation.

On the way she explained that in order for us to enter the brothel, we would have to be examined by the brothel doctor; a clearance of sorts.  I told her I already had an examination recently, in order to receive my birth control pills. It did not matter; this doctor was the only one who could approve our healthy status.  He had to check us each time we entered, and would check us over once a week while we were working.  There was so much more to this than I expected.

"Don't we need an appointment?"  I said hoping to stall.

"No," Shelly said, "we're regulars."

That was that.  The doctor's office was located in a shopping center, above a bowling alley.  Serge parked and winked at both of us as we got out of the car.  We took the elevator up to the third floor, getting off in a darkened hallway.

"It's number 303.  Just turn to your right."  Shelly said. I did as she told me, somewhat comforted by knowing that at least it was not her first time here. I opened the door and a pleasant, wholesome looking woman was seated behind the reception desk. There was only one other woman in the room and she smiled when she saw Shelly enter. We were told to take a seat and she would be with us in just a moment.

Shelly sat next to the other woman and they began talking; it was obvious they knew each other from somewhere.  Surmising the other woman worked with Shelly I sat down across from them and tried to occupy myself thumbing through the latest movie magazine.  This was the first time in my whole life I had been in a doctor's waiting room with hardly anyone else in line, having spent my sick time waiting in the crowded lobbies of military dispensaries.

Soon the receptionist came over introducing herself by extending a hand, "Hi, I'm Mrs. Clark, the doctor's wife.  Would you please fill out this form for me while you wait?  It is just the standard-- what are you allergic to, past illnesses, and so forth.  I'll collect it when you've finished."

She left one of the forms with me, along with a pencil.  Shelly got up, headed in my direction.  "Don't use your real name," she cautioned.

"What do you mean?"  I was puzzled.

"None of us use our real names when we work.  I use the name Candy, and she (pointing to the other woman) is working under the name LouAnn."

"What name should I use?  How will it match my driver's license?"

She snapped at me, "You shouldn't even be carrying I.D."

I felt the tears welling again, this time in frustration.  How was I supposed to know? I was upset and did not care who saw it.

"Hey kid, I'm sorry, I can't remember everything.  Come on why don’t we  pick out a new name for you?  It will be fun, LouAnn can help." She motioned for LouAnn to join us.

Actually it was sort of fun as we sifted through various names, some serious ones but mostly names like Matilda, which made me let out a genuine laugh.

"How about Bambi?  It's cute."

"No," they answered, with a perfect groan, in unison.

"Gidget?"  Hopefully.

"Nope, there already is one."  They nodded in agreement.

This was not as easy as I expected.  I had to pick one out nobody else had, as well as it being one I could be comfortable answering to.

"What about Buffy?"

LouAnn winced, but Shelly nodded, "Buffy isn't bad. It's all right with me."

Finally I did something right and I scribbled in my new name, adding to Candy,  "I am going to keep my middle and last name though, so I'll know it's me."  And so I would come to be known as Buffy K. Watson, born again in a doctor's office, appropriately enough. From this point on I would be known as Buffy.

It all seemed to fall into place; change your name, change your life. It was under these terms that I came to grips with myself.  Everything would be all right now.

Then I realized a solution to my dilemma causing me to relax and smile; I could remain untarnished in my eyes, no matter what Buffy did.

I handed Mrs. Clark the completed forms.

"Follow me, Buffy, and we'll get you ready to see the doctor." I rather liked the sound of my new name.

Once in the familiar gown, I took a seat on the examining table while Mrs. Clark readied the things the doctor would need.  She pushed up a sleeve and proceeded to take blood.  Seeing the syringe turning red with my own blood caused me to feel dizzy.  I had to lay down.  She fit my feet into the all-too-familiar stirrups.  I hated the feeling of total vulnerability in the stirrups--so dehumanizing.  I had no idea this would only be the beginning of my dehumanization.

A wave of fear swept over me.  The fear of the unknown was hitting me full force now. I gasped at the impact of these feelings.

The door opened again.  This time the doctor came in.  I caught a glimpse of his balding head as he positioned himself for the examination.  I could feel his probing and was relieved when it was over. He said a few words to his wife and then left the room, without so much as a hello to me.

She asked me to rollover for a shot of penicillin.  Worried something was wrong I asked, "Why?"

She explained that it was a safety measure for all new employees.

Jeez, some safety measure; ten million units of penicillin.  It really hurt too.  I would have sat down while waiting for Shelly to finish up, but my butt was too sore.  She came out of another examining room shortly and paid Mrs. Clark for both of us.

The car was empty, so we popped into the bowling alley bar.  Our hunch was right and we found Serge sipping on a drink.  His face lit up with a smile when he spotted us, "How'd everything go?"

I shrugged and rubbed my sore spot.  He laughed and said we would still have time for dinner.  Food was the last thing on my mind, but I was surprised to notice that Buffy was hungry.

Serge approved of my new name, but he also had trouble adjusting to it, as I did with Shelly's.  But we had some time to adjust.  Soon I would have trouble ever answering to Sheila.

Our strength now renewed with food, it was time to go.  Inside of twenty minutes we were traveling down a dark highway.  I still had no idea where we were. There were no lights, just the oppressive darkness all around.  All of a sudden a red neon sign screamed BAR into the blackness.   Serge slowed down and pulled into the parking lot. A farewell drink I thought to myself.

The car stopped, yet nobody made a move. 

"Buffy, gimme your I. D. You won't be needing it now."  Shelly's hand was outstretched expectantly.

Taking the wallet out of my purse, she practically jerked it from my hand adding, "You won't need anything with your real name on it."

I bit my tongue, not wanting to snap at her.   Again I still did not know how I was supposed to behave.

A taxi pulled into the bar lot along side of us and parked.  I had seen his headlights reflected in our rear view mirror for a second and they caused Serge's dark eyes to glisten almost evilly for a split-second. 

"Okay, the cab is here." He said rather gruffly.  He opened his door and got out, quickly rounded the front of our car and opened the door for us.  He took my arm and helped me out.  Then he took Shelly’s.   He explained to me we were to take a cab the remainder of the way. 

I know confusion was written all over my face at this point.  It all seemed extremely surreal.  Wasn't this legal after all? Then  I saw  Serge pulled Shelly close to him, pressing against her body as he gave her a lingering kiss.  I could not watch the way they seemed to meld together, it was too familiar.  I dropped my head.  

Suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder startling me.  I guess it was my turn but I did not want him to touch me.  He pulled my hesitant body close to his.  Now his arms were around me holding me tightly. Too tightly, feeling I would suffocate if I didn't break away.  I made an effort to push away from him, feeling awkward and sickened with Shelly there.  So this was the beginning of my so-called equality with her. 

He kissed me on the top of my head, all while Shelly stood there impatiently, arms crossed in front of her.  He whispered in my ear, "Everything will be all right. If it isn't babe, you call me. "  Yeah, sure. How could it ever be?

"I will."   We pulled apart and he put an arm around each of us, in a secure escort into the waiting cab. 

"Mustang." Serge said to the driver as he closed the door.

The driver got in and started the car.  I forced myself to smile and wave, without much enthusiasm, unlike Shelly.

"It'll only be another couple of minutes until we're there, and don't forget to call me Candy from now on", she whispered in a low voice so the driver could not overhear.  I heard a tinge of excitement in her voice now; one I had never heard before.

It was so dark when we pulled away.  I could not see anything beyond the radius of the headlights, and they revealed nothing except dirt.  Nevada seems like it is all dirt.  No trees, just dirt and rocks.  I figured somewhere out there are prisoners, in striped uniforms, crushing rocks to make more dirt.

A white arrow painted on a large boulder suddenly appeared before us, seemingly indicating the road would be curving to the right. With all of this dirt they could have make a straight road, just have a few prisoners crush more rocks in the way.  No goddamn common sense in Nevada.  California blows up or evicts anything in the way of their roads. "Who the hell can find this place?"  I blurted out.

"Horny men's all that need to."  Candy replied.

We followed more red arrows eventually crossing some railroad tracks. I thought I saw two streetlights, but a closer look revealed they were just bare pole lights that were lighting up a rickety, old wooden bridge.  On the right, just past the bridge, was a small shack.  I could make out the outline of a man in the window.  The taxi driver honked twice and the man waved us by.  I could see a few flickering lights peeking out from behind a group of gently swaying trees.  My body tensed up realizing we were nearly there.  We pulled into a parking lot where a dozen or so cars were parked, all grouped together.  I could not help noticing most of them seemed older models.  Beyond them was a clustered group of trailers painted white. There was a chain link fence about eight feet high surrounding them, topped off with barbed wire. I imagine a concentration camp looked as foreboding, not exactly a welcoming place. 

Several large windows were partially hidden by faded candy-striped red and white awnings overlooking the parking lot.

Again I could hear Serge's voice echoing in my brain, "You can leave anytime if you don't like it."  I was not sure if the fences were here to keep people out--or to keep us in.  Why else would he reassure me of the freedom to leave?  I would just have to continue to trust him.  I mean, couldn't Candy leave at will?

Candy paid the taxi driver.  He carried the two pieces of our luggage up to the imposing gate for us, then walked away, leaving us alone.  Over the gate was a faded sign reading; "Mustang Bridge Ranch Open 24 Hours."  Another sign beneath it said; "Press bell, push gate." All of this security was for what reason? I guess I stood there long enough to annoy Candy, because  she became impatient and pushed me aside and rang the bell.  I was not going to ring it.  I worried once I was inside of this fence, I would never see Sheila again. 

When the buzzer sounded, she pushed the gate open and with an uncharacteristic curtsy, she ushered for me step inside first. So... this was going to be our home for the next three weeks.  Where was the whorehouse of my fantasy?