Speaker 1: What's up everyone, and welcome to another episode of the
Epstein Chronicles. In this episode, we're going to pick up
where we left off with Virginia Robert's memoir The Billionaires
Playboy Club. The next two weeks, I was expected to
be at Charlie's beck and call, never allowed to leave
his side, even making me sleep in his bed. From
the second night onwards, I never even got the chance
to call TJ again. It was too much of a
risk anyway, thus pushing him further out of my memory,
too afraid of the emotional repercussions. Our typical routine was
to wake up, get showered and dressed, and I would
put on my makeup while Charlie made his business calls
for the day. We would leave the house mid afternoon
and run his errands, do some shopping, sometimes meeting his
friends or business partners for lunch. None of the men
he introduced me to seemed offended at his choice of
adolescent eye candy. They just continued to chat away as
if it was normal to be in public with the
His arms draped over a girl young enough to be
his granddaughter, not too shy by giving me a flirty
tap on my bottom or even trying to kiss me.
My last night was no different from every other night.
We went shopping that day and out for lunch alone. Later,
we headed to a club he called Iguana Joe's. We
met up with his friend and said our helles. They
both seemed so excited about the club, and Charlie was
full of compliments all around. The club did have a
line out the door, which looked a mile long coming in.
Luckily we didn't have to use the front door. Charlie
returned from the bar with two giant looking long Island
dice teas, which were his favorite drink to start with,
and then we just sat there for a while, watching
people dancing, occasionally conversing about passing thoughts. We danced for
a while, having a few more drinks, and after about
two hours, Charlie said he was ready to go home.
What a daunting time to look forward to. He always
liked to have a brief sexual encounter before drifting off
to sleep, with my naked body intertwined between his arms
and legs. It was bad enough to have to entertain
him at every given second of the day, but his
grip on me was so stifling I felt so choked
I could hardly breathe, much less sleep. Eventually, my overworked
mind would drift in and out of a restless sleep,
but constantly on edge. I thought many nights of escaping,
But where would I go? Would one of Ron's ever
so connected informants find me and turn me into something
to be disposed of for good. I just prayed that
I wouldn't be another missing person to add to the
list of girls found in the local ditches, and I
knew that was where I was headed if I screwed
this up for Ron again, as if my guardian angel
was here the whole time, listening to my secret prayers.
My rescue came the next morning with an abrupt bursting
through the bedroom door at about six am. Charlie and
I were still lying in bed together and his grip
on me was still tight. The men, dressed in all
black military gear, had large guns and helmets on. It
was so rightening that at first I couldn't even comprehend
what was happening. So rapidly. I thought Charlie could have
been in some kind of trouble with a business friend
he had done wrong too. But then one of the
men in black shouted FBI this is a raid. Get
down with your hands on your head. In too much
shock to move, three of the men grabbed Charlie and
threw him to the floor and cuffed them. I sat
up in bed with the sheets covering my naked body
and watched as they dragged Charlie from the room, still
completely nude. He wasn't even allowed to get dressed. Another
agent had come back into the room to find him
a pair of shorts. I could hear him screaming at
the top of his lungs all the way outside. He
was screaming, and the last thing I heard him yell
was if you say anything, you know who will find you.
I could hear more threats being yelled at me, but
I couldn't make out what it was that was being said.
I was in total confusion and I couldn't believe what
was happening. There were so many uniformed agents. I felt
so small compared to all of them. But they were
very kind and helped me out of bed, allowing me
to remain covered up with the bed sheets so I
could get dressed. The first decency I had been shown
in a long time. It was an odd feeling to
acknowledge I knew the life that I had come accustomed
to for the last six months was now over, and
in so many ways, I was relieved, but I was
also very nervous about what lay ahead of me. I
excused myself to the bathroom to put on some clothes.
Not having anything half decent like a normal pair of
jeans and a T shirt. The best I could come
up with was a metallic blue mini skirt and a
tiny matching top that fell just below my breasts. Hardly
clothing at all. It was more like scraps of cloth.
Putting my hair up in a tight bun with the
scrunchy that held my five hundred dollars bills, I was
led out of Charlie's townhouse for the very last time,
starting my life over again. I wanted to leave behind
my every memory belonging to these horrid times, only taking
a small sack containing my underwear, makeup bag, and journal
with me. The agents led me down the stecase, and
my last vision of Charlie was bent over the hood,
screaming and handcuffed. I slipped into the backseat of the
car and was driven to Broward County Police Station, where
the federal agents interviewed me about my entire whereabouts for
the last six months. I was so scared of what
Ron would do if I told the agents what really happened,
but at the same time, I knew he'd most likely
kill me anyways for being such a liability. Over the
next few hours, I sat down and told the agents
how Ron's business worked and what part I had to play.
To them. I was able to ask how they found
out I was at Charlie's house, and they informed me
that I was being followed all the way from Okalla, Florida,
where Ron had me stowed away for the last four months. TJ,
my friend, called my parents after the first conversation, and
ever since then, the FBI were tapping the phone lines
and recording every conversation, completely unaware of TJ's caring act
of deceit. I was in shock that they had been
tracking us for so long. I knew now with or
without my help, the FBI had enough to put Ron
away for a very long time if they could catch him.
That is, having so many crooked people working for you
can be an advantage when you're in trouble, like having
a pair of eyes in every city. Ron somehow was
able to find out about Charlie's arrest and immediately deserted
the country to avoid legal punishment. Ron had so many
countless charges put up against him. Eventually, when the FBI
were able to track him down, they were able to
have him arrested in Yugoslavia and extradited back to Miami.
He was finally held accountable for being a pedophile, soliciting
women for prostitution, and running many illegitimate and illegal businesses.
By the time the FBI caught up to him, he
was in his mid seventies, and he died of old age,
serving his second year in prison of a lengthy sentence. Coincidentally,
I was told of his punishment and death many years
later by one of the same FBI agents that had
rescued me from Charlie's arms. I was taken out of
interrogation after the interview was over and told to sit
in one of the officer's desks while I was waiting
for someone to come pick me up. Uncertain of who
that someone would be, I assumed it would be someone
from the Juvenile Delinquent Division to take me back to
some state operated lockdown facility, not the nicest place to
call home, but I had no choice in this matter.
Sitting back in the revolving chair, I was twirling out
of boredom and listening to the roaman conversations within the office,
I pondered in fearful anticipation of the dreadful places that
lay in store for me, Having spent a lot of
my adolescents in these kinds of places. For the sheer
factor that my mother said I was out of control
and unable to handle by eleven years old, there was
plenty of just reasons for me to be scared of
those places. What I knew lay in store for me
were constant fights between the rough girls being settled with
violent raids. Then out came the pepper spray, and then
the strip searches, and worst of all, no sunlight. It
didn't matter if you were quiet, shy girl that didn't
belong there. When there was a fight, which could be
like a few times a week, every person in the
room was considered a threat and they were treated like
a violent criminal. I hated those places and the memories
they gave me. That's why I always ended up back
out on the street. No child or juvenile should have
to be subjected to such unreasonable force and neglect. Some
of the girls were so used to being subdued to
this kind of treatment their whole life they ended up
repeating the same attributes as the people who initially hurt
them in the first place. One very sad girl I'll
never forget had a father who had been a heroine
junkie and decided to play Russian Roulette with some of
his attic friends, and by fate or chance, took the
bullet straight through his brain, killing him instantly. Her mother,
being a heroin addict herself, spiraled downwards after his death
and gave her four year old child to her aging
grandmother that eventually had to put the twelve year old
in this undire circumstance. I can only have the highest
hopes for her today. But unfortunately, for most girls that
have been victimized by society, they aren't ever able to
stop being a victim for the rest of their lives
or go on to make other people victims themselves. A
sad and unfortunate fate for so many innocent and it
happens so much more than anyone would rather admit to.
Instead of just trying to find a solution, all right, folks,
we're going to wrap up right there, and in the
next episode dealing with the topic, we're gonna pick up
where we left off, and that's with part one of
chapter three. All of the information that goes with this
episode can be found in the description box. What's up, everyone,
and welcome to another episode of the Epstein Chronicles. In
this episode, we're getting right back to the Billionaire's Playboy
Club the memoir by Virginia Roberts, Chapter three. Hours later,
I was still twirling myself in the same office chair
when I spun around to see my father walking in
my direction. I nearly fell off my seat at the
sight of him gripping the chair's handles. I couldn't imagine
what in the world I would say to the man
I once used to call Daddy, but now hated for
the abandonment and unforgiving wounds he instilled inside of me.
He contemplated putting his arms out to hold me, but
instead anger and shame took over, and he just shook
his head. I never saw my dad cry until that day,
and I have to say it made me feel young again,
and said that I had disappointed my parents again. The
agents now standing beside us, led both of us together
back into the interrogation room to retell my journey to
my father, who they said I had no choice to
tell or they would have to tell him for me
being I was underaged minor when Ron violated the statutory
rape law, among many others when he took me back
to his apartment and kept me as a sex slave.
My dad couldn't believe what he was here, and for
his lack of a better choice of words, asked me
to stop talking. He was just happy to know I
was alive. Like everyone I'd known in my life, they'd
rather brush it under the carpet and not deal with
the pain, rather than realizing sooner or later, it all
comes out sometime in our life, even when it transgresses
into our future, then becomes what we are willing to
accept out of partners, work and people in general, simply
saying in other ways, then with words, that our bad
decisions befall our tragedies later on in life. The next
discussion was led to where I would go from there.
Before anyone could put his or her suggestion forward, I
leapt in with my two bits and made it obviously
clear to my dad that if I was sent away
to another lockdown facility, and if you betrayed my trust again,
he would never see me again. I would disappear for
good this time and for all he would know. I
could be dead in no time. On the streets, he
looked at me for the first time in my life life.
He saw the many years I had grown up and
the time I was gone, and heard the seriousness in
my tone of my voice. When I made my vow
to him. He put his head in his hands and
told me the bad news. My mom didn't want me
to come home, and she was making his life hell
for even suggesting bringing me back into their lives. I,
for some reason, threatened her lifestyle and drove her crazy.
I'd been surprised about how a lot of things lately,
but not that one. The last time I saw my mom,
she ever so carefully lied to me and told me
she was bringing me to an eye doctor for an infection. Instead,
we walked into this tall blue building with people in
uniforms holding clipboards and a few muscley guards. She ushered
me inside and hurried to close the large auto lock
doors behind her, leaving me there alone and imprisoned, which
is what led to me recently living on the streets.
My life was hell as long as she was in
control of it. So when she didn't want me back
at home, I was fine with that too, but there
had to be somewhere else I could go. My dad
said he had no choice but to put me back
into the facility, but he made a sincere promise that
he would not take any longer than a week to
try to find a place for me to stay and
to go to school. A week I could deal with,
but I was still unsure if I could trust my
father and hold him to his word. But yet again
I had no choice. Being my legal guardian, he could
send me anywhere he wanted, and there was nothing I
could do except for keep running. I gave in, and
before he left the officers to take me back to
the last facility I had run from, I gave him
one last hug and reminded him one week and I'm gone,
nodding his head and squeezing his arm tighter around me.
I could only hope he meant it, but he didn't
look too optimistic. In the police car on the way
back to the facility, they had to handcuff me in
case I ran again, but I had no intentions anyway.
I was going to give my dad the week before,
I began to search for the right opportunity to jolt again.
I was like a ghost come back, said so many
of my girlfriends from the past, and there was now
a lot of new faces there too. At night, we
were all in bed and supposed to be sleeping, I'd
be daydreaming of better days and imagine myself somewhere in
a comfortable bed, actually enjoying my life for a change.
A week went by in this facility, spending most of
my days locked up in what they called the White Room,
a bare room with a concrete floor, no toilet or
even a chair to sit on. The only comfort I
had was the blue sweater that was provided as part
of the uniform, and my hairscrunchy filled with my stowed
away cash that no one had found during the unpleasant
strip searches. I would spend hours in the White Room
for objecting to the conformity and unwilling to participate in
their drilling regime. I didn't feel like I owed an
explanation to these people, even when they brought a psychologist
in to speak with me. What was the point when
I would be gone any day now, and as if
any of these people even cared the first place, I
was just another number in the system and they had
a job to do. There was one megabitch female guard
named Evelyn, and she used to either really like you
or really hate you, and God forbid you were one
of the unfortunates that she didn't like. She'd make your
entire stay an agonizing nightmare, constantly picking on girls who
were not strong enough to cope, whether her predicament or
past issues. She'd stand them up and publicly humiliate them,
and even when they begged her through their sobs to
let them sit down, she'd only torment the worse, which
only made the strong girl want to antagonize the fragile
ones with more malicious intent. Luckily, when I had previously
been there, she didn't take much notice of me, but
I stayed out of harm's way with her just being
quiet and observant. Being back here seemed like an eternity
while I held my end of the bargain, but unfortunately
my father didn't. The first chance I saw to run,
I took it. I was being sent to get my blood,
and you're intaken for drug and disease analysis. Dry would
be a volunteer from the community and it would be
of a perfect getaway for me. I was brought from
the white solitaire room and led into the bright sun,
feeling like today would be a favorable day for my escape.
We got to the doctor's office. My whereabouts told me
I had plenty of ways to run, and I scouted
out the best looking route. My plan was to barge
through the volunteers in experienced grip and wriggle my way
out if needed, then hit the asphalt, running until my
legs couldn't carry me any further. Playing it out in
my mind felt different to the anticipation that led up
to actually doing it. The inner strength that I had
was the only thing going to help me in this circumstance.
We arrived in the parking lot and I hadn't said
a word to him the entire drive. The small frame
Spanish man tried to make pleasant conversation, but I couldn't
see him as anything but a challenge, so I kept
quiet instead, ignoring his humorous attempts to befriend me. The
car pulled to a stop and he came around the
side to unlock my door. Was it here we go,
I told myself and pushed past the volunteer. His arms
grabbed out at me, but only caught me by my shirt.
He didn't even put up much of a struggle. Like
some of the other trained ones I've gotten away from before,
they would put me on body locks of all sorts
of types, but just tore up my collar of my shirt,
letting me break free. I had done this many times before,
so I knew I wasn't gone yet. I had to
first get out of these clothes. The cops would be
looking for someone of my description in the area with
a blue shirt and khaki pants. So my first stop
was a busy shopping complex. I took the money from
my scrunchy and bought myself a pair of jeans, a shirt,
and a sweater for disguise, and my next stop was
Dunkin Donuts to get a chocolate ice donut and a
cup of coffee. I didn't have doubts about getting out
of the facility, but I wasn't expecting it to be
so easy this time. My past excursions all began with
an abrupt struggle, sometimes ending in a brutal state of
affairs after being pepper sprayed and fastened into some painful
lock by forceful men four times my size, then tossed
into solitary until I saw my next chance to dessert.
I got to know the guards real well, as I
spent a lot of my time being dragged down to
the white room by them. There was Jim, large black
man who could have doubled for a Miami Dolphins defensive linebacker.
John was another big man with a ponytail and a
mustache and you look like someone who definitely owned a Harley.
The last guy, Scott, was smaller build, but made up
for it with his steroid injected muscles bulging out of
his neck, and there was this added height from his
curly fro. When they weren't restraining me and holding me
captive in solitaire, they were actually pretty nice guys, not
afraid to have to laugh after some explosive incident, and
I held no contempt towards them either. They were just
doing their jobs. It was deja vu all over again,
Free at last, But where would I go now? With
ron scouts on the lookout for me, and now the
authorities being notified I was a runaway again? I would
have a lot of people searching for me, so I
knew I had to be careful where I went. My
last stop before leaving the shopping center was to use
the payphone to call my parents. My dad answered, completely
surprised to hear me on the other end. I wanted
to sarcastically thank him for breaking his promise to me.
I hope he is happy now. He just lost his
daughter for good. I stopped to listen to what he
was trying to say, and he told me I was
getting you out in a few days. I found you
somebody to stay with. She's a good person who's got
teenagers your age. I was just trying to convince your
mother to sign the papers to get you out of there.
I was so outraged at her ability to put her
own wants before the needs of her own flesh and
blood daughter. I told him to come pick me up
and bring me to the house so I could speak
with her for the first time and over a year.
But if I felt threatened for one second, I'll be
on my way quicker than a blink of an eye,
and for my own good. He wasn't overjoyed at my proposition,
knowing what position this put him in as her husband,
but as my father. He decided to put me first
for once and take me home to confront my mother.
I arrived to my house for the first time in
a very long time, and everything looked different. My parents
refurnished and renovated the house. I didn't even have a
room anymore. My old belongings in bed were removed and
it was now in office. Of course, my mom didn't
meet me at the gate or the front door, like
her long lost offspring reunited. No, Instead, she waited for
me to come up and find her out back smoking
cigarettes and having a beer. She stood up from her
chair and squinted her eyes, loathing in hatred. She coldly
slapped me hard in the face. The slap stung, but
I matched her look with a familiar stone coldness that
only she could understand. Immediately, we both started to cry,
and we washed away our anguish and resentment through our
tears and consolidated our feelings for the first time since
the chaos first affected our lives. She didn't want to
know how much of my whereabouts, and she still had
a lot of anger to get over, but she asked
me to stay home at least my little brother ran
through the back door and hugged me so tight. I
started to cry again and was saddened by how much
time I had missed. The time I had lost just
hanging out with my brothers, and it took me even
longer to realize how precious time really is. We were
never going to be the average Joe's next door, but
at least this was better than nothing. I love being
with my family again. We had barbecues and bonfires with
each other, and life began to slowly piece back together.
It was bizarre how normal it was when I first
got home. I turned fifteen that year, and it was
the exact cup of tea that I had needed to
boost me up and get me on the right track.
I decided to go to school and acquire my general
education diploma or ged and got a summer job with
my dad at Mara a Lago, Donald Trump's exclusive country
club in Palm Beach, surrounded by lush acres of tropical landscapes,
manicured gardens, and a mansion made in a beach club
for the rich and famous. It's known as the Jewel
upon Beach. I was in sheer awe at the gold
arch ceilings and grandeur ballrooms. The spa where I worked
was world class, not only oozing in style, but in
the way each and every clientele was treated with the
utmost service. My focus was now set on becoming a
massage therapist and working my way into the luxurious spa
like the one I worked for now only I was
a locker room attendant there. I studied many books about
the anatomy of the human body and how you can
affect a person's well being and health for the better
through a simple healing touch. It was amazing to me
that the way the body responded to massage. I was
more than just interested. I was determined to become a therapist.
All right, folks, we're gonna wrap up right here, and
in the next episode dealing with the topic, we're gonna
pick up where we left off. All of the information
that goes with this episode can be found in the
description box. What's up, everyone, and what Welcome to another
episode of the Epstein Chronicles. In this episode, we're going
to pick up where we left off with Virginia Robert's
memoir The Billionaires Playboy Club. It was one of those
anatomy books that I had my nose buried in one
afternoon on a quiet Tuesday, and it could get pretty
lonely in the locker room, So if I wasn't busy,
I'd sit outside by the SPA's reception and read my
books in the warmth of the Florida sun. A lovely
looking woman in her late thirties who spoke with a
proper English accent approached me. I assumed it was a
general question, like where's the lady's room or was that
the famous model from so and so? But she was
more interested in the book I was reading, only believing
at first we were just making small talk. She was
really intrigued at my choice of reading. She then asked
if I did massage on the side. I stated I
was only reading the book and I had not yet
begun to study, but one day I would love to
practice massage therapy. She introduced herself as Glenn Maxwell. I
would later out that she was the daughter of the
late prominent businessman in Disgrace newspaper tycoon Robert Maxwell. I
told her, my name is Jenna, pointing to my name
tag on my shirt, and offered her to cold or
hot beverage, as those were my instructed duties. At work.
She accepted a tea and went on to chat a
bit about this rich guy that she worked for, and
she knew offhand that he was looking for a massage therapist,
just doing me a good deed out of the kindness
of her heart. I'm sure she offered to introduce me
to him. I declined her first proposition, thinking out loud,
told her I didn't know the body well enough to
even attempt an interview. She didn't seem worried at all
about my fear of incompetence, saying that if he liked
me enough, he would get me the best training in
the industry. Glenne thought that I had a cheery persona
and I fit the quota for what he was looking for, and,
as she put it, an enthusiastic learner that she said
she gathered from the sticky notes popping out of the
very sections in my book. I accepted her a phone
number and the house address and told her I will
call her if I'm able to come over. After work.
I rushed over to the tennis court where my dad
was working and told him of the news. We both
thought this could be a wonderful opportunity to become a
massage therapist. Seeing that it was a lady in her
late thirties who came off as more of a nurturer
rather than a procureur, neither of us saw any reason
to be hesitant. Chapter four, Part one. At around five pm,
my dad drove me down to the bottom of lbri
Away on the Palm Beach in her coastal. We pulled
into a short driveway beckoning a large bank mansion with
a heavy wooden door. I was so excited about this
chance and asked my dad to wish me look. He
gave me a big squeeze and wish me my best.
He walked me to the front door and I rung
the door chime. Moments later, we were greeted by an
older gentleman dressed in a casual butler uniform. I told
him I was here to meet miss Maxwell for a
massage trial, and he opened the door for my father
and I, telling us to wait in the entry as
Miss Maxwell would be on her way any second. And
she was down the stairs. She walked with a warm smile,
her short black hair seeming very proper and elegant for now.
She shook my father's hand and thanked them for bringing
me and kissed us both on the cheeks. They spoke
briefly about whom she worked for and about mar A Lago,
where she worked. She was in a hurry, you could
tell to end the conversation and say goodbye to my dad,
which he did ever so pleasantly. She said the boss
was upstairs and awaiting my arrival. So with that, I
said my bye to my dad and began to follow
Glane up the stairs. I was so nervous, but I
didn't show it. I kept my reserve and demeanor cool
as ice, trying to show maturity for the open position.
We continued on to the massage room, passing by a
grand crystal chandelier and a couple of lengthy wooden hall
tables displaying a multitude of photos displaying young girls and
beautiful women. Not to gawk at them. I didn't even
notice that some of those girls were only wearing their smile.
Glayne asked me how my day at work was, and
I told her that it was easy, peasy, as always,
just trying to make simple conversation. There was a fork
at the end of the staircase, and she led me
to the right hand side. The lights were dimmed in
the bedroom, but I could still see the king size
bed in the middle of the room. We did a
u turn around the bed, which led us into a
massage room dripping in luxury. I could have definitely compared
it to the renowned Mar A Lago spas. It had
marble walls and a glass enclosed shower and a self
automated steam room. At the very end of the burberry
carpeted room. There was a very large mirror over a
basin to the right of the room with an array
of oils, ointments, soaps and lotions, and a small closed
door which I assumed must be a closet. The only
thing that struck awkward about this room was the naked
man laying face down a top of the turquoise massage
table in the center of it. I had to be
prepared for this, I told myself. Massage was something I
had never done before, so I quickly brushed away my
thoughts of possible schemes, wanting to believe wholehearted that this
was going to be legit. Glaine introduced us to each other,
and I proceeded to make his acquaintance. Looking up from
his downward position, he looked me over and gave a
smile to Golane, an obvious notion of his approval. He
was Jeffrey Epstein, as she pronounced for him, as if
I was supposed to recognize his name or something. He
affirmed it was his pleasure and replied, just call him Jeffrey.
No need for formalities, he answered, cleverly, putting me at ease.
This man did not look like someone to be aware of.
Both him and Golayne appeared to be very nice people
and conscious of their health as their need for massages
and spa visits. No alarm bells went off yet. I
was prepped by Golane to treat this as a lesson
from her and follow her exact lead. If I did
good tonight, then maybe I would become Jeffrey. He's traveling massuse,
seeing the world, and getting paid well for it. I
was very hopeful a job like this could really make
my dreams come true. I followed suit and wash my
hands with warm water so the coldness would not shock
Jeffrey's naked body, then lathered them in rich body butter.
Glaine told me to always keep one hand on Jeffrey,
even when getting more lotion so it didn't make him
lose concentration on being relaxed. She gave me a tip
and told me to keep a blob of lotion on
my forearm, so it prevented me from having to keep
going back for more and it was less disruptive to Jeffrey.
This all seemed like real fun to begin with. I
was being educated about the body and splitting Jeffrey's body
with Glaine, mimicking her every motion. Starting with his feet,
we began with his heels and the arches of his souls,
pushing the blood up his calves in upward strokes to
rejuvenate the body's blood supply, and being careful to mind
his leg hair didn't pull. I was keeping up with
her and enjoying the education. It was so interesting how
the body worked, and I couldn't believe I was learning
all of this for free. Once I got a bit
of a groove following Alane, they began asking me all
sorts of questions about my past, and it didn't take
long before the conversation led down the darker experiences of
my young life. When they found out that I hadn't
led much of a normal existence, they only probe me
with more questions, which, being put on the spot, answered honestly.
The funny thing is that they didn't seem appalled at
all by my statements, rather entertained, if anything. Jeffrey called
me a naughty girl with that ry smile of his,
and half playful and half defensive. I answered, no, I'm not.
I'm really a good girl, just always in the wrong places.
He then replied, it's okay, I like naughty girls, and
rolled over onto his front side to expose his complete
nude self. He wasn't the first man to show me
his penis, so I wasn't shocked at the appearance of
his manhood, but I was incredibly shocked at his complete
ease to present himself with an erection. I tried to ignore,
waiting to follow the next directions off of Glaine, who
now surprisingly stood behind me bare breasted. Before I had
a chance to even think of replying hastily, she began
to slowly undress me while Jeffrey started to stroke his
manhood while watching us. She unbuttoned my blouse and removed
my bra, revealing my bosom. Cupping them in her hands,
she moved her lips across my nipples, licking and teasing
them with her tongue, making them cold and stiff. Next,
her hands moved down to my tiny white skirt, removing
the final piece of my remaining uniform. She slid my
skirt down my legs with these for a moment, keeping
on my love heart panties so they could both take
notice of my apparent youth. They even snickered to each
other about how cute she still wears little girl panties,
Jeffrey said, and Glaine joined in his laughter. Acting as
my madam, she instructed me to start by licking his nipples,
and after I had sufficiently pleasured both of them, then
prompted me to go down on Jeffrey orally while she
rubbed her breasts along his body tantalizingly. She moved behind
me again, this time to remove my panties and start
fondling the delicate folds between my legs. I was still
in shock from the initial degrading blow. I didn't even
let the reality sink in. It was all too much
for me to emotionally handle, so instead I hid behind
my fears, which I told myself I wasn't ever going
to be worthy of anything at all, and this would
probably be as good as it gets for me. After all,
I thought, what have I been trained up for until now?
Nobody ever stopped to ask if it was comfortable or
if I wanted to stop. No, Instead, Glaine only directed
me to conclude the massage session by climbing up on
the table to be fixated on Jeffrey, straddling him so
he could penetrate me. When it was all said and
done and over with, I was taken into the steam
room with just Jeffrey to get further acquainted. As Glane
left the room to go get dressed, he asked me
to grab his feet and rub them, not saying a
word about what just happened, like it was all normal
and accepted. I listened on to him ramble about his health,
benefits of a sauna and the history of it, ignoring
the fact of the matter, of his pretentiousness degrading my spirit.
I figured I had gone too far already. What would
be the point thrown in the towel now, after I
had done exactly what these people wanted. Whilst we were
sweating out our body's toxins and the steam was blasting
my burning face, I listened to his lessons. Entertaining his ego,
I let him become my teacher. He seemed to like that.
He sounded like a very clever and intelligent man, though
telling me a story of how he made himself an
empire of billions from being a middle class professor to
an elite financial advisor for clientele with only billions in
their bank accounts, and through his so called lessons, he
became my mentor and I emerged as his pupil, the
teacher's pet. After the sauna, we went to the next
glass door beside us, where the shower was. He turned
tap outwards and stood underneath the water as I stood
naked in cold from the temperature difference. Instead of asking
me to join him under the warm stream, like I
thought he was going to, he handed me a bar
of soap and asked me to wash his body from
top to toe. It didn't stop there. I had to
massage the shampoo and condition her into his scalp as well.
I was bewildered that someone would ask this of someone else.
Wasn't it belittling enough having to endure the illicit massage
from beforehand, but now this. The surprises kept coming that
night as this was definitely not how I expected my
interview to turn out, but that's what I had learned
in my short time on this earth. Life was full
of disappointments. I let everyone else take the power of
authority from myself and use me in whatever way he
or she wanted, instead of standing up and giving myself
the respect I deserved, which in turn would have helped
me get through life without all of the abuse I
ended up copying, not given the belief in myself from
an early age I suppose affected my sense control, always
letting the ones with power and strength reduce my inner
self to shreds until I was cut so tiny in
size I would be completely subdued, till only their wants
and needs left, ignoring mine. The men I had encountered
in my short experience with them only repeated their inflictions,
convincing me that there was no running away from this
sick world I lived in. Not yet understanding it all
came down to the choices that I had made for myself.
I needed some encouragement on the right words to unlock
my very soul. Jeffrey told me the towels were on
the heated rack just outside the shower, and asked me
to get one and pat him down again, putting himself first.
As I sat there freezing while I compliantly padded down
his body with a white fluffy towel until he was dried.
I nearly expected him to ask me to dress him
as well, but not surprisingly, that came later down the
track too. I dried myself off and wiped the makeup
from under my eyes, keeping quiet, not sure what to
really say, and half embarrassed from the entire evening's events
that just took place. I just remained silent while we
both got dressed, until he brought me downstairs, where Golaine
was sitting at a desk holding his black leather Duffel bag.
When she moved from the chair to let Jeffrey sit down,
she passed him the bag and began to tell me
that I had great potential to be a massage therapist.
They really liked my style, and who knows where this
could lead to. She asked to see me again tomorrow,
same time after work. He opened the bag, revealing stacks
of brand new hundred dollar bills, separated with rubber bands
to count by the thousands. He grabbed one stack and
took out two crisp notes, placing them in my hand.
He laughed that it was nearly my whole week's wage
at mar A Lago. Only here I didn't have to
degrade myself as his new little toy. When I got home,
my parents were anticipating my arrival. I kept it simple
and sweet with my folks, only letting them know of
the lessons about the body I had received and the
future prospects in massage therapy that lie ahead. Nobody questioned
who I was working for and complimented my ability to
be a hard worker. I quickly got out of the conversation,
afraid I might give away a hint of shame in
my eyes, but no one caught on. I excuse myself
to the bathroom to have a shower, and stared into
the mirror for a moment, asking myself if I could
really go through with this, only to mentally respond by
reminding myself, this would be as good as it gets
for a girl of my stature and limitations. I scrubbed
myself rigidly in the shower, as if I could wash
away the filthiness of the night, but it didn't help.
I could still feel their hands in me and all
over me and inside of me. Trying to sleep that
night was nearly impossible, too, closing my eyes only to
drift away to flashbacks of the moment I had to
give myself to. Jeffrey and Epstein, each replay an exploitation
of my vulnerability. The next morning, I awoke feeling anxious
about the day ahead, trying to push yesterday's men from
my thoughts. I was quiet for the whole trip to
work with my dad. Before we got out of his
car in the parking lot, he asked me if everything
was okay. I lied for his sake of mind. My
life was being transformed and I didn't even know it yet,
but soon enough I would be a brainwash tool, only
used for the sexual pleasure of others. All right, folks,
we're gonna wrap up right here, and in the next
episode dealing with the topic, we're gonna pick up where
we left off. All of the information that goes with
this episode can be found in the description box.