Social Bodies (Chapter I)
My name is Anh. I’m a state-employed service worker. The conversation usually stops there. It’s not that I’m embarrassed of my line of work, but most don’t assume I’m anything other than a low-level bureaucrat: the kind of job that exists so people feel like they’ve earned their keep. Who likes a freeloader? But I know I earn my keep, and my clients tend to agree. One was inside me right then. He knew me as Hannah. I knew him as John. His hands gripped my waist, and his hips slammed rhythmically against my behind. His dick slid in and out, in and out, in and out of me. I moaned and arched my back for him. You like that, baby? Fuck, yeah. Give it to me. He pulled me by my hair and held me up with one hand on my breast and the other between my legs, his fingers circling my clit. He kissed me from my neck to my ear and then pushed me back down onto the bed. Grunting. You might be wondering: why is the state playing pimp? Spread open your history textbook. Prostitution is the world’s old...