One night we were in his room, and rain was pouring down outside. Tony put The Doors’ “Riders on the Storm” on his stereo, and we ended up having sex. I was probably fourteen. I’d find out later that it had been his first time.
The music seemed to stop when she was approached by a woman at her Mar-a-Lago job, where she happened to be standing in for another employee in the Massage area... Her short time with a peer friend, Tony, had ended and, as most people know, this was to lead to Jenna's life with Epstein and his consort. Jenna was asked the right questions--did she work here? Did she do massages? Maxwell asked all the right questions. And then proposed that she meet a man who needed massages and Maxwell said she would teach her...
It wasn't surprising that Maxwell took her to a private home--a magnificent home--which started her fear, her confusion... And when she was taken almost immediately into a room where a naked man lay, she grew petrified. Maxwell knew just what to do. She took her arm and explained that she would begin teaching her right from the beginning. They moved to his feet. Maxwell took the right leg; Jenna was to follow exactly what she would do... And they began...
At some point, Epstein began asking about her past "experience" and then used that to manipulate how he related to her. Unfortunately, the combination of fear of men together with a fear received in her early life, that she had no choice but to obey, Jenna soon became a favorite to Epstein. She traveled everywhere with them. She was told she would be on-call 24/7 and no excuses would be accepted... Jenna then was given a tour of the home and "began work" immediately...
While there are always fear, Jenna could not help but be excited with all the clothes that were purchased for her, even jewelry... And, she was always pulled into the many party-type events where there were older rich and sometimes famous men there. She recognized several. She learned though that those who attended were selected for their own privilege and wealth. They came from everywhere, even higher education institutions, politics, and, of course, anybody who was rich enough to be in the same social arena... Jenna normally stayed with Epstein and his consort and they became a known threesome who traveled together...
Until it was time for the next step. Jenna began to be trafficked to other men, wherever they asked her to be. No details are to be provided here. Men AND women can realize what was happening... Until a prime minister got rough and she was rushed to a hospital... But it passed... Then began a discussion of what might come next when she was back "home."
Jenna was an intelligent girl, obviously acquainted with the world where men use children for their own purposes.
As I became a regular at Epstein’s house, it was difficult to avoid the demeaning nature of this transactional relationship. Epstein took delight in explaining to me, for example, that he had painted his house pink because “I love pink. Pink is for pussy!” But so many of my connections to men had been humiliating that I think I saw this one as a challenge; maybe for once, I thought, I could make it work for me. This only makes sense, of course, when you consider how little I’d grown up hoping for. As Epstein used me to satisfy his perverse appetites, I rationalized that perhaps he might also help me to better myself. If he and Maxwell made good on their promise to get me trained as a masseuse, perhaps that would set me on a path to freedom and prosperity. I told myself it was worth the gamble. But then, probably two weeks after I’d met them, Epstein upped the ante. I was upstairs, cleaning up after another “massage,” when Epstein told me to come to his office. “How about you quit your job at Mar-a-Lago,” he said, “and work for me full time?” Unsure what to say, I admitted I was worn out from pulling double shifts each day—the first at the spa, the second at El Brillo Way. Epstein nodded. He wanted to make things easier on me, he said. But he had a few conditions. As his employee, I would be at his beck and call, day and night. No exceptions. When he said, “Jump!” my response would have to be, “How high?” And another thing: I could no longer live in my parents’ trailer. Seeing me come and go at all hours might make them suspicious, he said, and he didn’t want that. He held out a wad of cash—probably $2,500. “Use this,” he said, “to rent yourself an apartment.” I was stunned. I’d never held that much money in my hand before. I thanked him, even as a twinge of worry crept into my head. By this point, I had seen dozens of girls coming and going from his house. Many came once and never returned. If he got rid of them so quickly, would Epstein eventually throw me away too? It felt foolish to rely on him for my livelihood. Epstein must’ve sensed my qualms, though, because he walked around his desk, picked up a grainy photograph, and handed it to me. The image had been taken from some distance, but it was unmistakably my little brother. Skydy was walking away from the camera; I could see his backpack, and the outline of the side of his face. I felt a stab of fear. Why did Epstein have a photo of the person I loved most in the world? “We know where your brother goes to school,” Epstein said. He let that sink in for a moment, then got to the point: “You must never tell a soul what goes on in this house.” He was smiling, but his threat was clear: should I ever be tempted to betray him and go to the authorities, he would hurt Skydy. I stared at him. He stared back. “And I own the Palm Beach Police Department,” he said, “so they won’t do anything about it.”
~~~
It’s taken me a long time to understand that Epstein and Maxwell solidified their power over me by offering me a new sort of family. Epstein was the patriarch, Maxwell the matriarch, and these roles were not merely implied. Maxwell liked to call the girls who regularly serviced Epstein her “children.” She and Epstein once took me to a boat show in Palm Beach and spent the afternoon introducing me as their daughter, just for kicks. As bizarre as that sounds, it felt kind of good to me. Less good, given my history, was that Epstein sometimes insisted that I call him “Daddy” during sex. While I was hardly equipped to judge, it often seemed to me that Epstein and Maxwell behaved like actual parents. The first time we ate a meal together, for example, they were appalled by my table manners. So Maxwell taught me how to hold a knife and fork, just so, and to fold my napkin in my lap, the way civilized people do. Soon, she’d be telling me how to do my makeup, how to dress, and where to get my hair cut (the celebrity stylist Frédéric Fekkai groomed many of the girls in Epstein’s world, including me). Even then, part of me knew she was having her dentists whiten my teeth, or sending me to a waxer to remove my body hair, to please Epstein. But the role Maxwell played in my life sometimes felt like more than that. One day in the fall
of 2000, we heard “Yellow,” Coldplay’s new love song, on the car radio. I loved it and couldn’t get the tune out of my head. A day later, Maxwell presented me with the CD as a gift. She also gave me my first cell phone. Of course, it served her to have me on a short tether, for her and Epstein’s use. But the gift also felt vaguely protective. I was no expert on mothers, but in those early days, I sometimes imagined Maxwell as mine. —
As Jenna got deeper and deeper, she began to realize and think about how many girls came a few times and then left, never to be seen again... So that, later, when discussions began about planning for the future,
But what they asked me to do for them still shocked me. I knew I had to stall somehow...
Jenna willingly discussed their plans, but, she brought up the promised training to become a certified masseuse and begged time to have than occur before any future plans were firm. Fortunately, that was agreeable and Maxwell found the, supposed, best place to be taught... It was in Thailand...
Arrangements were quickly made by Maxwell, as usual, and soon Jenna was traveling alone to a strange country, on her own, for the first time in over two years. There was a feeling of freedom, underneath, her very much being afraid...
But she was soon taking classes, meeting those who were at or near her age, and even having friends. One in particular would spend time with her, going places that she wouldn't have gone alone... And one day, he mentioned that his friend was in town--would she want to meet him...
Unexpectedly, the story take a sharp turn, Jenna saw a man surrounded by others. She was intrigued, wondering who he was. And then, he looked up at her, as if he could feel her eyes upon him. They stood staring at each other--as they say, everything disappeared but the two of them... Love at first sight... Robbie wanted to be married at the Soi Suthep Temple...
Soon the relationship had developed and they were serious about each other... Robbie asked him to marry him...She was ecstatic, because they had discussed the past with each other and Jenna was relieved that he still cared for her... Phone calls to parents were done. And then, Robbie told Jenna that she needed to end the connection with Epstein... She was afraid--what if he sent somebody to bring her back?! But she dialed the number and was somewhat relieved Epstein answered?
A few tense moments passed before Epstein picked up. “Hello?” he said, and his voice—that smug Brooklyn growl—sounded impatient. “I fell in love and got married, Jeffrey,” I blurted out. “I’m never coming back.” There was the briefest pause. “Have a great life,” he said. Then a click—Epstein had hung up on me...
To Be Continued...
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