Chapter 7

So much had happened to Corrie since her escape from Eldorado that she was having problems recognizing the FLDS girl who had disappeared into a culvert beneath the highway at the outskirts of El Dorado. Magically emerging like a Lorelei of myth she was nearly run over by the giant Freightliner she had jumped in front of, desperately waving her hands for it to stop. Somehow seducing a long-distance trucker into saving her from a monstrous life in a polygamous Mormon family she was able to develop a trusting relationship with him.

As she now stood in front of a mirror at the Wayfarer’s Inn, studying the changes that plastic surgery had made she could see that, though slight, they had become a permanent difference that she hoped she would soon learn to learn to be comfortable with. The floppy-eared, long-nosed teenager with long hair that reached her knees now appeared to be exotically attractive. Her smaller ears, button nose, and slightly slanted eyes beneath her stylishly short but spiked hair was a definite improvement. But the change was still difficult for her to comprehend. In her hand was a passport with the picture of the “woman” she had become. The name on the document was “Jeanette De Mornay.” According to the passport, she had aged six years and was now twenty-one.

Startled by the sudden break in silence Freddie seemed to appear from out of nowhere. “Seems like magic doesn’t it, Jeanette,” Freddie said as the reflection of her face joined Corrie’s. “When I went through it, I remember thinking ‘How can Billie-Jo Hadley be this beautiful girl with the name of Frederica Krause?’”

“It just seems weird to me Freddie,” Corrie said. “Do you know why they named me Jeanette? I don’t know if I like it.”

“Why did they call me Frederica? I didn’t like either at first. But (she laughed) I had no choice in the matter. The name Frederica was too highbrow and strange sounding to me, I could not get used to it. Then Houston started calling me Freddie. When everybody else did the same I felt much better about it.”

Giving Corrie—now Jeanette—a sideways hug she continued. “Name changes are a tricky thing. You and I are not the only ones who have gone through it. Some of my girls had their names changed also, though most of them keep the names they come here with. You and I are special cases ... um ... Jeanette. We had to be given new identities for our own protection.”

A defensive wall began tiling around her as she reeled at the possibility of being stuck as a permanent addition to Freddie’s whorehouse. During the last three weeks, she had seen the goings on at Wayfarer’s, girls having sex with different men under the direction of Freddie Krause. In Corrie’s mind, Freddie owned these girls just as she had been owned by Zeb Jeffords. She had been part of his stable of wives and never had any choice in the matter. “But I’m NOT one of your girls Freddie.”

The weird thing was that she had been hankering to know Freddie’s whores better than just being an outside acquaintance. The aspect of them having sex for money had a magnetizing effect on her and she had been thinking what it might be like if she gave it a try. She liked sex and thought prostitution might be an interesting thing to try just for the sake of having the experience. But when Freddie asked if she might like to join the group, she had the same impulse to run that she had when she fled from Zeb, the cult, and Eldorado.

“You shouldn’t look down your nose on my girls Jeanie,” Freddie said in a cautionary tone. “Every one of them seems to be quite happy with what they’re doing.”

Just like Freddie had said about Houston shortening the name Frederica to Freddie the nickname of ‘Jeanie’ felt comfortable enough to wear. “They were escaping from their prison, Jeanie,” Freddie went on. “But they’re not prisoners here; they live well and are protected from what they’re running from.”

Since her arrival at Wayfarer’s Freddie had looked after Corrie more like a mother than a caretaker. To Corrie, she was what she wished her own mother could have been to her. But her mom had become no more than a breeder in the FLDS herd whose purpose was to grow the numbers of the cult. Freddie had her own herd, so to speak. But their purpose was to serve men for profit. From what Corrie could see they enjoyed doing it. As she watched the actions of the two women in the mirror it was as if she were suspended. Everything was still so new to her that she could not feel completely at ease. In a way everything that had happened to her since she escaped still seemed part of a strange dream.

“I know what you’re thinking sweetie,” Freddie said. “In the first place, Chet McClean isn’t like some of the assholes on the road who would do anything for a profit. He didn’t kidnap you to become a sex slave at the Wayfarer Inn. He saved your life darlin, just like my brother Houston saved mine.”

“You were doing it on your own, having no idea what would happen when you decided to surface from that culvert. You just happened to find out that the driver you stopped is one of the most honorable men in the business. The difference between you and me is that you escaped. I was rescued. And, you have a passport. I never got one of those. We didn’t need a passport to go into Canada and come back across the border back then.”

“Why does my passport say that I am six years older?”

“From what you’ve told us of the cult Corrie and from what we have heard from people familiar with the way they operate there’s a possibility you may not be able to allude to them like I have. The Warriors have done everything in their power to change your appearance and your identity. If there is the possibility that the cult can identify you and hem you in, you are in jeopardy. If they can identify you, you are a minor and they can easily exert their legal claim on you. The identity of twenty-one-year-old Jeanette De Mornay would confuse them if they ever ran across you. And if they were to get too close, we can put you on a plane to Canada or Mexico and you will be legally free from them. But the Warriors are quite sure they can hide you by keeping you on the road. It worked for me. If they are successful in doing that your passport is good for seven years. It can be a ticket to any place in the world you might want to go. As an adult, you can go wherever you want whenever you want to go. As a minor Corrie Jeffords could pop up on anybody’s search list and all they would have to do is nab you ‘til the bad guys showed up.”

“But getting back to my girls, none of them have been kidnapped like sex slaves. It was their choice to come here. They were free to go when they came, and they are free to go now. I think you’ve seen how well they all get along together and how well they regard me and the Warriors. They earn substantial incomes and have fabulous health benefits. If you did choose to become one of them, and I am not suggesting that you should, it seems to me that the fifth wife of an old Mormon man who put her life in danger by running in front of a truck could do a lot worse.”

With Freddie’s explanation, Corrie/Jeanie felt comfortable enough that she was not going to be forced into prostitution. The mirror reflected Freddie pulling their bodies together. She chuckled and said, “I’ve always been a whore though sweetie. I was just married to an asshole that beat me senseless all the time. I was in jail for murder and could not run away from MY circumstances. But I was saved from spending thirty years in jail by my brother, a foster child who calls me ‘Sis’” and the Warriors.”

She went on, “Riding around in those trucks with those guys was heaven for me for a while if you know what I mean.” She winked. “But I have a favor to ask of you Hun.” Cocking her head, she smirked (Jeanie was fearful of what Freddie might ask her). “I understand that you had what Houston called a world-class evening last night.” She gave Jeanie a warm smile which brought a blush to the girl’s face as a wave of remorse washed over her when she thought she was cheating on Chet. Funny, she thought, I never once had any feelings of cheating on Zeb when I was riding with Chet.

Freddie went on, “he said that no one had ever done anything to him like what you did last night. (She was talking about Jeanie deep-throating her brother). “He told me that he almost fainted when you did it.”

Wondering what Freddie wanted of her she said, “So what do you need me to do?”

“I tried doing that myself a few times Jeanie but never got beyond the gagging part of it. Houston raved so much about what you did that I was wondering if you could teach my girls to do it. I bet there aren’t many whorehouses in the country that offer that kind of service from most of their whores.”

Jeanie remembered how she resolved to do something special for her husband, something that she knew her sisters could not or would not do. She remembered shopping at the grocery store when all the wives went together, and how she specially selected the medium-sized zucchinis, when other wives wanted to buy larger ones. The ones she picked had bulbous ends that she thought emulated the head of a penis.

“I’ve always loved things in my mouth,” she said to Freddie. “Being the youngest of Zeb’s five wives I was always being ridiculed by my sisters about the things I couldn’t do. So, I vowed that I was going to suck Zeb’s penis better than any of them. I learned to do the throat thing on Zeb by practicing on the zucchinis. The other wives didn’t even like having Zeb’s penis in their mouths.” With a big smile, she said, “But I did ... and so did he.”

“So, what’s the secret?” Freddie asked.

With a giggle, she said, “The secret is learning to relax your throat by practicing, practicing, and practicing. But you’ve got to pick out the right-sized zucchinis to practice with or you might just hurt yourself.”

“I’m no virgin when it comes to sucking cock Jeanie; I’ve had miles of them in my mouth. I swear though, every time the head of a cock touches the back of my throat, I’m ready to heave.”

“Some of the girls here take yoga Freddie,” Jeanie said. “Samantha told me that when you get good at yoga you hold some positions that are really painful for someone who hasn’t learned how to stretch and relax. But after you learn to be patient and how to work through the discomfort until you relax you condition your muscles to do those stretches and it doesn’t hurt anymore. Getting the head of a man’s penis down your throat is no different than some of the things they do in yoga.”

Freddie thought about that for a bit then said, “I guess you’re right. But I know how thick my brother’s cock is, Jeanie. I have had it both in my mouth and my puss but never down my throat. How in the hell did you manage THAT?”

Jeanie was not shocked that Freddie had sex with Houston. Incest was a fact of life in the FLDS community. But in her town, it was mostly fathers or grandfathers or uncles having sex with daughters, granddaughters, or nieces. She never had a brother but imagined how much fun it would have been as a kid to have sex with a brother. She envied Freddie and Houston. “It is just more of the same Freddie. It took a greater effort to get your brother’s dick down my throat, but I just closed my eyes and relaxed. Once it popped past my larynx it was not uncomfortable anymore. And then I just got used to it. Then I began loving it.” She giggled. “And he liked it so much that I was afraid he might have a heart attack.”

“Funny what you said about the girls who do yoga, Jeanie. When I talked with them about deep throating it was those girls who thought it would not be too much of a stretch, so to speak.”

Freddie took Jeanie to the farmers market that afternoon and they picked out the most logical zucchinis on which the girls could practice. After breakfast, the next morning they all practiced to the point where only one out of the six was too uncomfortable to continue. And she was a tiny woman.