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HEAVEN'S HARLOTS: MY FIFTEEN YEARS AS A SACRED PROSTITUTE IN THE CHILDREN OF GOD CULT |
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5. "God's Whores": "I want to get out of the Show Group!" I lamented to Micah, the leader who had been sent to Paris to help Esther manage our entourage. Micah had been through many emotional and spiritual trials since joining the Family. We knew from gossip that his wife, whom he had married when marriages were still a personal choice, had been taken from him and given to a man Mo was recruiting into the family. Micah's two young children were now with his ex-wife and her new husband, and he rarely saw them since they lived in London. Micah was, nevertheless, always cheerful as he struggled to portray a positive spirit. A well-built, handsome young man of Mexican heritage, he was also a talented musician and songwriter, and perfect to help organize the unruly Show Group. He had established an empathetic relationship with those who came to him for counsel, and because of his reputation as a balanced and just leader, I felt safe approaching him with my problems. Micah had recently married a former nightclub singer who joined the Family and was now in the Show Group. Talitha was something of a prima donna, until Salome encouraged her to share her large and luxurious array of lingerie among all the showgirls. Since I was her size, I acquired the nicest intimate apparel I ever owned. I actually felt that this was a blessing. I had never been allowed to go out and buy my own lingerie, and the underwear we obtained free from stores and factories, or which our leaders bought for us, was very plain. When I told Micah that I wanted out of the Show Group and my marriage, he replied that this was out of his realm of decision-making power, so he sent me to a higher authority, to Esther's first husband, Jacob, who, of course, was Mo's son-in-law. Jacob had a large office in the building we occupied in the Bourse area of Paris, although he did not actually live with us. He had been one of the first disciples, so he was in his thirties, about ten years older than I, as evidenced by his thinning hair and protruding belly. He looked rather like a worldly businessman, but we knew better. Jacob was third-in-command in the Family at that time. "I don't have a good relationship with Cal," I explained to him. "We argue constantly, and I know it's mostly my fault but I just can't get the victory over this. Also, I don't like being away from my son so much. With all these practices, shows, and witnessing on top of it, I have hardly any time with him." Most of the leaders had changed mates at least once, I thought to myself, so why couldn't I get away from mine? Jacob listened intently. "Why are you so sad?" he asked, in a way that made me think that I was special. I burst into tears. I was really sad, and perhaps I did not have a good reason to be. "I don't know," I mumbled. "Well ... what would make you happy?" I thought for a moment. "I think I would like to be full-time with the children," I murmured hesitantly, knowing his wife had taken me out of child care. Child care had grown to a respectable position in Paris. The top floor of our Bourse building had been converted into a nursery for younger babies, but by now Thor was away all week at the school in the country. Since I had a show on weekends, I hardly ever saw him, usually only when I visited the school during the week. I longed to be with my son, and working in child care would give me that opportunity. "I can understand that you want to spend more time with your son," he said. "I think that is reasonable." It amazed me to hear him say this. Not even his wife, Esther, spent as much time visiting her children as I did. Since I was usually reprimanded for being overly concerned about Thor, I thought Jacob would rebuke me for being so selfish and un sacrificial, but instead he seemed to sympathize with my plight. It was the first time I heard a leader entertain such a bourgeois sentiment as wanting to spend more time with your child. He was a father. Maybe he could understand the confusing emotions that I was experiencing. I was touched by this man's empathy for my dilemma. "What if you had some sort of project involved with the children's department? It doesn't mean that you can stop participating in the Show Group, but you will be exempt from witnessing. Would you like that?" he posed. I thought it was a start. Any project with children would give me more time to see Thor. "Yes, that sounds wonderful." "Okay, come and see Pearl tomorrow. I'll let her know what you need to do." Pearl, who was Jacob's second "wife," was in charge of all child care in Paris, which had grown to huge proportions. She came from a wealthy background, and when she joined the Family, her parents became very involved in anti-Children of God activity. The story I had heard about her parents was that they visited a few of our homes in the States with police escorts, but since Pearl was no longer a minor, they were required to go through a long legal process to get her out of the Family against her will. With their money and influence, they were about to cause serious trouble for us in America. I had been told that New York State had started investigating us due to her parents' insistence. Therefore, Pearl was whisked off to a secret home in Europe, leaving her new husband, Enoch, in our band home in Boston. We later found out that she had become Jacob's second wife while in London. With her model's face and well-kept hair and skin, her beauty was awesome, and I respected the high status she had achieved in the Family, now being mated to Jacob. She was cold and distant, as I had expected, and from her clothes and makeup, I knew that she enjoyed privileges that the rest of us did not. When I went to see her the next day, she said, "Jacob informed me that I should give you a project with the children. Do you know what he had in mind?" I had no idea what Jacob intended, so I told her what I had been mulling over. "Well, I think it would be useful for mothers to have their own Montessori kits. This way they can teach their own children at home when the kids are with them on the weekends. I also think it would be very useful for the mothers out on the mission field, whose children do not come to the school." Pearl looked at me with a hint of surprise and hostility. "Okay. Can you give me a plan tomorrow of what you want to do, and I will look it over. If Jacob said you were to have a project in child care, I guess you will have to!" she sighed. I stayed up all night writing a proposal for my project, and I handed it in the next day. It included a design for a wooden container, about the size of a shoebox, that could hold learning tools for preschool-age children, such as counting rods, sandpaper letters and numbers, adding cubes, dressing frames, and anything else useful in learning how to dress oneself. Jacob called me to his office a few days later. "Did Pearl give you something you like?" he asked. "Well, I gave her a plan, and she said she would get back to me." "She will, soon. Meanwhile, I'd like to talk to you about the other problem you are having. Why don't we go out for dinner and discuss this ?" I had never considered going "out to dinner" to discuss a problem with a leader. Normally if we discussed something over dinner, it would be in the Family dining room or in the leader's private office. This was different. Jacob took me to a good French restaurant, and told me to order anything I liked. Since I had never been to a restaurant of this category, I hardly knew what the menu meant, so he ordered for me with a self-satisfied sigh. We talked over dinner about why I was unhappy in my marriage. One evening out led to another, and finally he invited me to his apartment. I did not realize that leaders had their own apartments. I thought they all lived in another colony somewhere. By this time, I was beginning to suspect that Jacob had designs of his own on me; however, we had been taught that "God works in mysterious ways" and not to question how God does something -- just accept it. I had prayed for a change in my life, and perhaps this was how God would answer my prayer. Therefore, I followed Jacob's lead, and instead of questioning why he was doing this, I reverted to my natural tendency to consider everything a grand adventure. He showed me into a small one-bedroom apartment with a cozy sitting room. "Would you like a drink?" he asked. "I'm not sure. Whatever you suggest." He gave me a vodka with orange juice. It was the first time I had had hard liquor since joining the Family. His tongue loosened with each drink. He was having his own problems with his wives, he told me. Esther, it was obvious, was no longer interested in him and had a young consort traveling with her. He thought Pearl had married him for his position. He seemed to be saying that he needed a sweet, tender woman who cared about him. I could not imagine why he thought of me as a sweet, tender woman. After all, I was trying to leave my husband. "You know, Mo has every leader in this Family with new mates. It will probably be going around the whole Family soon, but he wants us to experiment with this 'one wife' idea first. It is not as easy as you think to be in the royal family." I could not believe he was talking so disrespectfully about our leader and prophet. It was scary and exciting. The alcohol had begun to numb my revolutionary training. "Jeshanah, I am going to take care of you," he said, kissing my neck awkwardly. "You won't have to worry about anything in the Family again." Though I was secretly repulsed and felt no desire for Jacob whatsoever, I let him lead me to the bedroom and have sex. The whole time, all I could think of was getting home to my safe colony. I felt ashamed and humiliated, but I could not understand why. True to his word, Jacob gave me a big project in child care. Pearl was not happy about allotting one of the Show Group dancers such a responsibility, but she did what she was told. The project kept me busy and content. I felt useful now that I was doing something productive. With the carpenter, I designed and put together a dozen Montessori kits for mothers in the field. Typical of communist bureaucracy, by the time news of the kits got out, the leaders' wives wanted them. They ended up in the leaders' hands, and few actually were given out to the mothers who really needed them. To clean up my other problem, Jacob met with Cal and talked to him about having a trial separation from me. I don't know what was discussed or how Cal initially reacted, but Cal began to stay in the main Show Group home located in Colombes, in Northern Paris, and I moved to the home in Sceaux, a southern suburb of Paris. Thor began spending one weekend with me, and one with Cal. Jacob took me to his apartment regularly, usually without the dinner prelude. I also began drinking periodically, and hoped that no one would find out about me and Jacob. But of course, everyone knew, even Cal. He bore the hurt and shame heroically, just as Micah and others had done before him. They all obeyed leadership like good revolutionaries. I am sure that Cal, like myself, took his grievances to the Lord. He could have complained, but against a leader as high as Jacob, it was almost useless. He could have left the group too, but I know he would never had left our son. I was ashamed of myself, but I could not see clearly what to do. I had started this, and I would have to see it through to its conclusion. Perhaps it was better to stumble ahead blindly than stop on a dark and unfamiliar road. After the Montessori project was finished, I started writing. I had an idea to put some of the easy Mo letters in children's story form. I thought that the children needed Family stories written especially for kids, so I made up a series of fantasy animal stories based on morals in the Mo letters. I did not talk about this project with anyone, but it kept me distracted from the more stressful areas of my life, such as my deepening relationship with Jacob. I also stayed awake at night reviewing my life and actions in my mind. Cal was definitely not a bad husband. He had always been kind and considerate, never having that demanding attitude that some of our men had with their wives. Since we were taught that husbands rule over their wives in the privacy of their "home" (we never had our own home, so this meant bedroom to me), he could have been a lot more demanding. However, he wasn't, and therefore I had felt more compelled to give him the sex he wanted. I didn't want to discuss this with him, since it would hurt his feelings, and yet I was hurting him a lot more now. One day, Jacob picked me up at Sceaux in his car. Only leaders were allowed private use of our cars, and the one Jacob drove was a modest vehicle I had seen before in our Family. "I'm going to Switzerland for a few days," he said. "When I come back, I'd like you to start living with me." I had just finished my first children's story, and I was feeling good about myself. I was as free and independent as one could be in the Family. I was able to be involved in child care, and I saw a future for myself there. I had open access to visiting my son at school during the week, thanks to Jacob's influence. I was feeling a newfound joie de vivre. Why would I want to live with Jacob? He already had two wives. Why did he need me? And why would I again allow myself to be joined to a man I did not love? "I don't want to do that," I blurted out, without considering what his reaction would be. For a moment, he looked totally devastated. Then he quickly regained his composure. "Jeshanah, you don't have much choice. You either live with me, or you go back to Cal. I'll be gone for about a week, but when I come back, I want your answer." He dropped me off near the house without giving me time to think about what he said. "Do you have ten francs?" I asked. He smiled and reached in his pocket, perversely happy to grant my request. I got out of the car and went to a local grocery store to buy a bottle of wine. There was a small park near our home, and since we never witnessed anywhere near where we lived, I could safely get drunk without worrying that I would be seen by someone who knew me. I had never done this before, but being with Jacob often, I had developed a taste for alcohol. Sitting on a park bench, I opened the bottle and started to drink away every thought that I had stored in my mind's closet. I took out each feeling of guilt and every self-condemning accusation, and shook it like the rumpled piece of old cloth it represented. I had left my husband, a major sin in anyone's religion. I had allowed myself to become involved in an adulterous relationship, one of the worst sins of all. Then I remembered that Jesus had prevented the crowd from stoning an adulterous woman. I wondered if that woman had also been obeying leadership and Jesus knew that? In my stupor, I cast my thoughts aside with the privilege enjoyed by those drunken individuals who claim that "nothing matters anymore." Since I drank a whole bottle of wine on an empty stomach, I felt sick when I stood up to walk home. Entering our house while everyone was around the dinner table, I passed by quickly, went to the bathroom, and threw up. After cleaning out my conscience closet, I spent the rest of the week singing on the metro and visiting Thor. When Jacob returned, he called a meeting at the Colombes home. He had news from Esther concerning the Show Group; she had been in a hospital in Switzerland, deathly sick with a disease supposedly brought on by working too hard. We were all to have a prayer and fast for her, and try to get back into God's Word more. Every time a big leader got sick, especially if it was Mo himself, part of the cause usually lay with the followers. Jacob was waiting at the door when I came in the Colombes house. "Well, what's your decision?" he asked. "I can't do it," I answered, and followed the others into the meeting room without looking him in the eye. I had hidden that dilemma in the back room of my mind along with other unanswerable questions, and my response had come straight from my heart. Later, Cal and I were called into Jacob's temporary office upstairs. Cal knew what had been going on, but like a loyal revolutionary, he was trying to take it as a test from the Lord. "Cal, I want to apologize," said Jacob, without glancing at me. "Like you, I thought I could help Jeshanah, but it seems she does not want my help either. I want you to take her back. She's yours. Take good care of her. She needs a strong husband." Cal looked tentatively my way, trying to catch my eye. Jacob had offered no clue that he was going to give me back so heartlessly. I had no choice in a matter that concerned with whom to share my life. I stared at the floor while anger, shame, and confusion played havoc with my heart. I could say nothing. Only large, uncontrollable sobs were piling up at the back of my throat, like a huge tidal wave waiting to flood everything in its path. "Well, I will leave you two here to talk this over. Cal, you can move to Sceaux, or Jeshanah can move here, whatever you like." Jacob got up and left the room. "Why don't you love me?" asked Cal, clearing his throat. "I think I loved you." "I don't know," I cried, letting the torments of my soul transform into tears. "I don't think I know what love is. I hate myself, and I hate what I have become." I returned to the meeting with a tear-stained face. It seemed to me that everyone must know what had happened because no one asked me anything. Maybe they were just better revolutionaries than I was. Cal moved to Sceaux. We set up a room in the basement of the home, and I spent many hours downstairs by myself, reading letters or writing new stories. Cal tried to get to know me, but I was a closed person. I had too many questions and not enough answers, and nobody I talked to could supply any. Cal had secretly brought a copy of Watership Down, by Richard Adams, into our room, and I read it like a soul starving for food. When I asked him where he got it, he replied, "I got contacts, baby," imitating James Cagney. I would have liked to read more, but since we were really not allowed to have books in the home, Cal did not bring any more. A few weeks after Cal and I were reunited, our home leader asked to speak with us. From the look on his face, I could see that I was in trouble. "Jeshanah, we just got this new letter from Mo, and you're mentioned in it." By the tone of his voice, I knew that this was not an honor. "Do you want me to leave?" asked Cal. "No, I think Jeshanah is going to need all the help she can get for this one. I am going to leave this letter here for you to read. When you are finished, please bring it to me, Cal. I need to read it with the whole colony." We sat down, heavy in silent apprehension. Cal read the new Mo letter called "The Uneager Beaver" out loud. It was about the children's story I had written. In the story a beaver, looking for a name, learns a lesson on moderation. It seems that the editors at our publication unit had liked it so much, they gave it to their best artists to illustrate. They created a large coloring book for children, and then sent it to Mo as a surprise, for his approval. Mo sent them back this letter, which he also sent to the worldwide Family. The editors were berated for spending so much of God's time and money on such a worthless story. They were fired from their special positions and sent to some obscure country to be missionaries, supposedly to learn discernment. Then Mo publicly humiliated me in the letter. He said I was foolish, a bad writer, and probably plagiarized the whole story. He said that I must not be in the Word to write such nonsense; that I probably had been overly influenced by ungodly fairy tales as a child; that my story had nothing to do with his Mo letters, and I did not understand the spiritual message of his revelations. He suggested that the whole Show Group get back into the Word and spend less time practicing and singing and dancing. I could tell it was hard for Cal to read this to me. He knew that I had written a pretty good story, so good that our editors made it into a bigger production than anything they had ever done with a Mo letter. That had been their mistake. They offended Mo by taking someone else's writing and making a larger, more detailed publication. Ironically, they thought that Mo would be impressed; after all, the story was supposed to be based on one of his letters. However, he was furious, and the whole worldwide Family now knew never to put anybody's writings above Mo's. I accepted this humiliation as punishment for all the horrible things I knew I had done, which Mo did not mention. Mo was a figure as distant and all-encompassing as God himself; and just as I have never seen God, I had never seen Mo. In the beginning I thought I might like to meet him sometime, but as he wrote more and more letters rebuking the faults of everyone near him, of anyone who got in his way, I thought that I'd just as soon be out-of-sight, out-of-mind. Of course, since he was a God figure in our group, any big mistakes would surely reach his attention and be dealt with severely. Just like God does! It's all there in the Bible. I sent a long letter of apology to Mo, and he personally replied, writing "Amen" in red ink at the parts of my letter he evidently agreed with and then adding a few words at the end. These were the parts of the letter to which he wrote "Amen": I am very sorry for writing that story about the beaver and I ask that you and the Lord forgive me .... I was really influenced throughout my childhood by silly storybooks and fairy tales, however to the best of my knowledge, I don't remember reading a story exactly like that one .... I really pray for any children who have read this story, that God will set their hearts and minds right .... I know it will only be by the fresh water of His Words that these impurities can be washed away .... Along with your forgiveness, I would like to sincerely ask you to say a little prayer for me. Mo wrote in red ink on my letter: We do and have prayed for you a lot ... We really love you and are so sorry we had to spank you -- but it was needed. Now let me love you up real good -- Be my Valentine -- And His Seven hugs and kisses and lovins and one great BIG ONE -- all the way -- Dad 31/1/76 Time healed the wound, but I was always known as the "Uneager Beaver" girl after that letter. Mo, whom some of us had started calling Dad, now sent personal messages to me through leaders. If he had not heard about me before, he had now. However, my notoriety was quickly forgotten. The group of letters known as the King Arthur series were finally being distributed to the Family, and members were struggling to find out what this would mean in their situations. The King Arthur letters explained a new method of proselytizing, called "flirty fishing," or "FFing" for short. In this series of letters Mo laid out in detail the new doctrines that changed the Family permanently from a radical Jesus People commune into a sacred sex cult. Mo's secretary, traveling companion, and lover, Maria, became our first woman to tryout this new method of recruiting men to the Lord. I never met her, but from the eyewitness accounts of those who knew her, she was not a pretty woman. Mo himself had written that Maria used to be a quiet, homely girl, with buckteeth and a very bad complexion. He beautified her by putting her on a strict diet, telling her what to wear and how to do her hair, and giving her such love that her face literally beamed. She smiled a lot and was no longer shy. With Maria in tow, Mo went to dance classes and ballroom dancing establishments in order to recruit new members into the Family. They finally met Arthur, a rather hapless man. Maria took him to bed on Mo's advice, and she hooked him on God's Love. How this actually transpired was detailed in the King Arthur letters. Mo sent Maria in to seduce Arthur through sex. The metaphor of fishing was loosely taken from Jesus' instructions in the Bible to become "fishers of men." Arthur was hooked. Since Mo was not about to give up his beloved Maria for the man, he instead took Micah's wife, the beautiful Beth, and introduced her to Arthur. Beth, after giving Arthur all the sex he wanted, convinced him to join the Family. Arthur became known as a "king," since he was "fished in" personally by Mo. Of course, mixing sex with religion was sure to cause a scandal, but it wasn't until Mo took a flock of sexy young women to Tenerife, an island off the coast of Africa, to practice and preach this method openly, that the press began taking a serious interest. Eventually, popular magazines, such as the German Stern, sent reporters and photographers to the small island, and Mo's first public photo appeared depicting him as an old religious guru with a bevy of women. Dressed in a long black robe with Maria beside him, and surrounded by women with low necklines, Mo quickly became the scandal of the town. Besieged by reporters and police, he had to flee the island, but not before he laid a curse on the place. Uncannily, the island had a major airplane crash the day he left it for good. Although I was wondering how "flirty fishing" would affect me, I soon became distracted because my real sister Ruby, eight years younger than I and now almost sixteen years old, was coming to spend the summer with me. I had stayed in contact with my mother over the years through letters and convinced her that Cal and I were not the crazy, perverted people that she had read about in the anti-COG articles put out by the churches. My mother believed, or wanted to believe, that we behaved like good Christians. So when Ruby asked if she could visit me in Paris for the summer, my mother agreed. Ruby had always been a bit rebellious and -- somewhat like me -- did not seem to fit into any groups at school. She also had a beautiful voice, and we soon had her singing on the metro with us. She enjoyed communal life, and after a month she told me she wanted to join the Family. I discussed it with my home leaders, and for some reason, they thought she should go to the colony we had set up in Holland for new disciples. I think they wanted to get her away from her big sister's sheltering arms. While in Amsterdam, Ruby was taught about our new recruiting practices, although she was too new in the Family to do it herself. Meanwhile, all the letters about "flirty fishing" had been leaked to the American press, and the churches were notifying everybody about our evil ways. My mother immediately called my house and wanted Ruby home. Since my sister was not there, it was all I could do to calm my mother down, ensuring her that Ruby would be sent back soon. My mother was terribly angry, and we had Ruby returned to Paris and then sent her back home. I think my little sister had not really understood all that was going on in the Family, but she knew enough, and it was to haunt her the rest of her life. Like myself, it would take her years to figure out concepts like right and wrong, and she returned to America promising to join the Family when she was of legal age. She never did. Needless to say, this episode made my relations with my relatives rather strained for years to come. My robotic obedience to the Family was soon tested to its limit. At our house in Paris we heard that wealthy Italians were coming to see our Show Group. Since these were men from the upper class who held positions of influence in their country, we were told to please them in any way they wanted, with whomever they wanted. One of them, Flavio, was called a "king," indicating that he must have given us some financial support already. Actually, the title was now being used loosely, and many "kings" were just men who never joined our group but whom we wanted to keep as friends. After Flavio saw one of our shows in the Paris area, a manager named Ben came to see me in the dressing room. "Flavio wants you to come to the club with us," he informed me. "Have you asked Cal?" "We said we would have you home tonight, and Magdalene would spend the night with Flavio." By now I had become accustomed to just obeying orders, having learned that I was going to have to obey or leave the Family in the end. Also, we all knew that fishing was under way in Paris, and although I was never asked to participate, I was sure it was just a matter of time. I had decided to belong to a social experiment called the Family, and this was just another variable; no one was twisting my arm. And, how would we ever start a new society if everyone balked at each new experience? Sure, it seemed strange and deviant, but that is what living over the edge is about. Accepting Family ideology by faith, I gave my body much as a soldier is taught to give his or her life. And truthfully, Flavio was not so bad. He was a sweet, charming Italian, and I had enjoyed talking to him at the party where we first met. I was not in love with my husband, and Cal knew this was coming as much as I did, although we had never talked about it. I went to the club, and Flavio danced only with me. It was clear Flavio wanted to spend the night with me. Ben was sent to Sceaux to get Cal's permission and I was told by another brother that my husband had agreed. I was taken to the Colombes home in a car, and Flavio and I went to the blue room, which had already been prepared. It was my first experience of being offered as live bait to a man. During my experiences with Jacob, I had already crossed the threshold of moral ambiguity, and the detailed instructions in the Mo letters provided me with both a rationalization and a script to follow in sexual encounters. Through letters like "Revolutionary Sex" and "Revolutionary Lovemaking," we had learned anything we did not already know about making love. In the Arthur letters, and later in the letters written from Tenerife, Mo went into detail about how to massage the man, how to give oral sex, and other sexual practices that were pleasurable for a man. However, he steered us away from anal sex or sadomasochism, and I was never afraid of a man becoming violent, although perhaps I should have been. I knew that being a witness to God was my main job, and although the letters told mostly of men who had already been witnessed to, Mo assured us that God's Spirit would shine through us as we made love. I wasn't so sure of that, but I was not afraid or shy that first night. In fact, I found it easy to perform my role without any emotional attachment or moral dilemma. As always, I did not use any type of birth control, but I was not even worried about becoming pregnant. Flavio evidently had been witnessed to by our women and seemed to know the salvation message; I think he was already saved. That was a relief, because I was too tired to preach to him. Although he was extremely handsome, and had a better physique than any man I had ever seen, I don't remember feeling any pleasure. I did not experience pleasure in sex for many, many years. First it was a duty, then a tool, and finally a burden. But I was very good at faking pleasure. I often had myself convinced. The next morning I woke up and wondered what I was to do now. Flavio was still sleeping, so I got out of bed before he would wake and ask for me. I knew I had to get back to Cal. He had probably been pacing the floor all night, waiting for me to come back and make love to assure him that I was still his. I dressed quietly and went downstairs, looking for someone to give me some metro tickets. Ben was in the kitchen drinking coffee. He had been up all night. "Did you hear the commotion last night?" he asked. "No, what was it?" "Cal came over and was trying to get upstairs to pull you out of bed. We had to stop him forcibly." "But he said it was okay." "who told you that?" "Micah did." "Well, we never got his okay, but we never really needed his okay anyway. Mo has given us ultimate authority," Ben explained to me. "Cal threatened to break down the door. I calmed him down and took him home. Come on, I'll drive you back." All the way home, Ben advised me to be kind and tender and give Cal anything he wanted, as if it was my fault that this had happened. I had been up half the night already, and now I envisioned another few hours making up to Cal. The physical drain of the last twenty-four hours left me little energy to think about emotional issues. I did what I was told to do. I was being a good soldier of God. But in the back of my mind, I thought, "Hey, it's me that gave my body -- I did the work! What's all this fuss about Cal?" Well the truth was, my body belonged first to God, then to the Family, then to my husband. Actually, the God and husband part is in the Bible; we added the Family. Ben came in with me and promised that from now on Cal could be in charge of my extramarital affairs, especially those with men outside the Family. True to their word, Cal took over as my only fisherman, and he gave me away sparingly at first. Cal became known as the most possessive and jealous husband in the Show Group. Other husbands did not have the problems that Cal did with sharing their wives, as far as I could tell. I say this because most wives began to go out regularly on club excursions with male leaders, but I only went if Cal was along. Of course, Cal had calmed down considerably by the time I got there in the morning. First, he wanted to make love passionately. Then he wanted me to tell him the whole story, minute by minute, of what had happened. Where did Flavio touch me? Where did I touch him? How many times? And more and more. I made up some parts just because I couldn't remember every detail, even though it was only the night before. It just wasn't that important to me. Now ask me about the details of how my son laughs when I tickle him, or how he climbs up the slide ladder by himself, his strong, solid legs pegging each step like a carpenter's hammer, and that I can tell you. But sex? It was all the same to me. The word desire was never mentioned, If it had been, I could ha honestly told Cal that I did not desire Flavio any more than I desire him. If someone had asked me about desire, I would have realized much earlier that desire was not part of my sexual relationships, a I could have begun to try to understand why it wasn't. As a teenager I had wanted sexual experience primarily because sex was part of t hippie scene; as a wife it was part of the marriage institution; in t Family it was part of witnessing and loving others. I don't think ever desired sex or felt aroused. I wanted to be touched and hugged to be cared for -- but I had learned that intimate touch invariably meant sex also. If Cal would have asked me these questions, perhaps we could have understood the problem, but Cal wanted to know if still loved him. I couldn't believe he was asking me. Didn't he r member that I tried to leave him? Didn't he remember that Jacob forced me to go back with him as a wife? I knew that he wanted t be loved romantically and deeply as a lifetime soul mate, but he knew the rules of the Family as well as I: We loved everybody unconditionally. I answered him in Family jargon. "Yes, I love you!" I said, hoping he would let me rest for a while before I had to go out witnessing. He took me in his arms, and I felt so very uncomfortable. Who was I anyway? And who was this ma holding me in his arms? In many ways, being with a stranger for on night of witnessing was better than feeling like a stranger with you husband every night. I often consoled myself with the thought that the majority of women do not know their husbands, and those ideal stories of romance and love I had heard before I married were jus system lies, like almost everything else we had been told. Years later when well-meaning people asked me, "How could you hurt your husband like that?" I would sigh and run through my head all the complex questions I needed answered before I could attempt to answer that one. For instance: Define husband for me. Define love. Define hurt. What is the meaning? And so on. Instead, I answered with simple "We were both in the Family, and it's too long to explain." After my initiation with Flavio, I had a battle within myself love using sexual favors to lure converts to the Family. Whether I was rationalizing or not, I finally concluded that I was helping the men loved through a sexual channel. I personally believed in Jesus' salvation message, and even if these men had not asked Jesus into their heart, at least they had heard the message. One day they would remember. However, I gradually came to realize that the leaders seemed to be using sex as a tool to gain powerful friends and contacts, and my husband felt that fishing was a last resort for pulling someone into the fellowship of God's family, The purpose of FFing was in continual flux.
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