My dear child,I have been informed that it is of the utmost importance and urgency that I takecare of you as soon as possible since it is alarming the stage to which you havebeen spoiled by previous instructors. I know your kind! But I’m a very busywoman. I’m an artist and I don’t have time to waste taming little whores likeyou for a servant’s wage. I can only consider this ordeal as a new challenge tomy infallible method of bending stubborn wills: I’ll never admit your becoming abroken condom in the hands of the lower classes. So, in case you can prove toown a real vocation to become a worthy prostitute; in case you decide todemonstrate to me in the most undoubtful way that you actually hear the call to
humankind as a living sewer, then (and only then!) I’ll yield to help you,and in such a case NOT to become the kind of rat you are doomed to be but,instead, The Golden Western Geisha, The Divine Bitch, The Butt of the World,the revised edition of The Beast of Desire.
such a strumpet is not amatter of just teaching a profession, merely transferring the tricks of the oldesttrade...It’s like bringing a Leonardo, a Michelangelo, a Shakespeare to this greysad world. It’s an Art! (And Art is a religion: the last remaining true one!) But allthis effort is lost down the drain if the candidate lacks the sinew. I notice part of the trouble comes with male tutors: After a while, sooner or later, their dutysuccumbs to the fishy smell of the female pupils, ending as despicable (broken)