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Every weekend, Longform shares a collection of great stories from its archive with Slate . For daily picks of new and classic nonfiction, check out Longform or follow @longform on Twitter. Have an iPad? Download Longform’s app to read the latest picks, plus features from dozens of other magazines, including Slate .
They Shoot Porn Stars, Don’t They?
Susannah Breslin • susannahbreslin.net • October 2009
Susannah Breslin ambitiously self-publishes a piece on the rise and advancing crash of the pornography industry in a certain suburb of Los Angeles.
Paying to Play: Interview With a John
Antonia Crane • Rumpus • June 2012
A former sex worker interviews a longtime John on how it feels to pay.
The Family Prostitute
Michael Albo • LA Weekly • September 2010
The Great Recession’s impact on the legalized prostitution industry in Nevada: more hookers, fewer johns.
The Sex Trade
Sean Flynn • GQ • March 2006
A three-part investigation of human trafficking and the international sex trade, with stops in Costa Rica, Moldova, and the Philippines.
Cycles of boom and bust in the drilling town of Williston, N.D., as seen from the perspective of an itinerant dancer filling one of three slots at the only strip club in town, Whispers.
Mark Jacobson • New York • July 2005
The rise and fall of a boom-era escort agency in New York City.
The lives of women who make their living on the Web.
Have a favorite piece that we missed? Leave the link in the comments or tweet it to @ longform . For more great writing, check out Longform’s complete archive .
Slate is published by The Slate Group, a Graham Holdings Company.
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10 New "Why Me" embarrassing stories for May 23, 2008 By Audrey Fine PUBLISHED: May 23, 2008
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"For winter break, I went up north to learn how to snowboard, and it turned out that my instructor was a major cutie, so I was even more excited! But just when I started to do well, I fell on my butt in the middle of the snow. I started crying because it hurt so bad, but to make everything worse, the cute instructor came up right behind me and smiled at me in a 'You're pathetic' kind of way."
"I was in the drugstore with my best friend buying tampons, and we were debating on which ones we liked better. Right as my crush walked by we crouched down, thinking he didn't see us, but then he turned the corner and came up to us and said, 'Wow, I only thought girls were like this when they were shopping for shoes!' It was so embarrassing!"
"One day I was outside playing with my twin brother in our swimming pool. He was chasing me around, and so I got out and ran over to the front yard. Finally, he caught me and he reached out to grab me by my pants, but he accidentally pulled them off and I tripped into the mud with NO pants on. As my brother was walking over to say sorry, I noticed one of the cute guys from my school taking a picture of me with his phone. He ended up showing the picture to everyone at school! I was mortified!"
"It was that time of the month and I had forgotten my pads at home. My friends told me it would be better if I went to the nurse and got a pad there, so I did, and then went into the bathroom to put on the pad. However, she went into a long ramble about pads, tampons, periods, etc., and was talking superloud. I was so embarrassed when I walked out of her office and saw that my crush was right there, listening to everything."
"I'm a cheerleader and I'm at the top of the pyramid. I didn't realize I had my period, and as I stood at the top, I heard someone holler, 'Hey, Maria. Did you sit on some ketchup or something?' I was so embarrassed, but luckily only three people noticed and they were pretty close friends, so they didn't tell anyone."
"I'm the captain of the varsity cheerleading squad, and at one of our games my friend Maria told me that part of my cheer uniform skirt was stuck in my spanky pants! I quickly pulled it out and looked around to make sure nobody saw it, but the entire football team was laughing hysterically!"
"Last winter I was over at my friend's house and we were bored, so we decided to go in her hot tub. We went skinny-dipping since it was so cold outside and the hot tub was superhot. Afterward, we decided to go jump in the snow outside. Well, what we didn't know was that my crush lived on her street and was out taking a walk. So, when we ran to the front yard and jumped in the snow, he totally saw us! I was so embarrassed!"
"One night I was staying at my friend's house and I had my period. A little later, during dinner, my friend's brother came screaming down the stairs, yelling, 'Who has their period?' It turns out that the dog had gotten my tampon out of the trash and chewed it up on her brother's floor! I was so embarrassed!"
"So, I was sleeping over at my friend Emily's house, and when we were eating breakfast, I excused myself to use the bathroom. I had to go pretty badly, and I walked right into the bathroom as Emily's older sister was just getting out of the shower! She just stared at me, and then I ran out. I was so embarrassed!"
"My best friend, Britney, and I were at this clothing store trying on bras when my former best friend came in. She works for the school paper and she secretly took pictures of us trying on embarrassing stuff! The next day, the school paper had me on the front page! So embarrassing!"
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Portrait of an old lady deeply affected by the death of her grandson.
A music teacher takes a singing class soon after receiving a terrible letter.
Virtually unprompted, Ellen - the lady's maid - reveals her history, habits and beliefs to a tired visitor.
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In her blue dress, with her cheeks lightly flushed, her blue, blue eyes, and her gold curls pinned up as though for the first time - pinned up to be out of the way for her flight - Mrs. Raddick's daughter might have just dropped from this radiant heaven. Mrs. Raddick's timid, faintly astonished, but deeply admiring glance looked as if she believed it, too; but the daughter didn't appear any too pleased - why should she? - to have alighted on the steps of the Casino. Indeed, she was bored - bored as though Heaven had been full of casinos with snuffy old saints for croupiers and crowns to play with.
"You don't mind taking Hennie?" said Mrs. Raddick. "Sure you don't? There's the car, and you'll have tea and we'll be back here on this step - right here - in an hour. You see, I want her to go in. She's not been before, and it's worth seeing. I feel it wouldn't be fair to her."
"Oh, shut up, mother," said she wearily. "Come along. Don't talk so much. And your bag's open; you'll be losing all your money again."
"I'm sorry, darling," said Mrs. Raddick.
"Oh, do come in! I want to make money," said the impatient voice. "It's all jolly well for you - but I'm broke!"
"Here - take fifty francs, darling, take a hundred!" I saw Mrs. Raddick pressing notes into her hand as they passed through the swing doors.
Hennie and I stood on the steps a minute, watching the people. He had a very broad, delighted smile.
"I say," he cried, "there's an English bulldog. Are they allowed to take dogs in there?"
"He's a ripping chap, isn't he? I wish I had one. They're such fun. They frighten people so, and they're never fierce with their - the people they belong to." Suddenly he squeezed my arm. "I say, do look at that old woman. Who is she? Why does she look like that? Is she a gambler?"
The ancient, withered creature, wearing a green satin dress, a black velvet cloak and a white hat with purple feathers, jerked slowly, slowly up the steps as though she were being drawn up on wires. She stared in front of her, she was laughing and nodding and cackling to herself; her claws clutched round what looked like a dirty boot-bag.
But just at that moment there was Mrs. Raddick again with - her - and another lady hovering in the background. Mrs. Raddick rushed at me. She was brightly flushed, gay, a different creature. She was like a woman who is saying "good-bye" to her friends on the station platform, with not a minute to spare before the train starts.
"Oh, you're here, still. Isn't that lucky! You've not gone. Isn't that fine! I've had the most dreadful time with - her," and she waved to her daughter, who stood absolutely still, disdainful, looking down, twiddling her foot on the step, miles away. "They won't let her in. I swore she was twenty-one. But they won't believe me. I showed the man my purse; I didn't dare to do more. But it was no use. He simply scoffed ... And now I've just met Mrs. MacEwen from New York, and she just won thirteen thousand in the Salle Privee - and she wants me to go back with her while the luck lasts. Of course I can't leave - her. But if you'd--"
At that "she" looked up; she simply withered her mother. "Why can't you leave me?" she said furiously. "What utter rot! How dare you make a scene like this? This is the last time I'll come out with you. You really are too awful for words." She looked her mother up and down. "Calm yourself," she said superbly.
Mrs. Raddick was desperate, just desperate. She was "wild" to go back with Mrs. MacEwen, but at the same time ...
I seized my courage. "Would you - do you care to come to tea with - us?"
"Yes, yes, she'll be delighted. That's just what I wanted, isn't it, darling? Mrs. MacEwen ... I'll be back here in an hour ... or less ... I'll--"
Mrs. R. dashed up the steps. I saw her bag was open again.
So we three were left. But really it wasn't my fault. Hennie looked crushed to the earth, too. When the car was there she wrapped her dark coat round her - to escape contamination. Even her little feet looked as though they scorned to carry her down the steps to us.
"I am so awfully sorry," I murmured as the car started.
"Oh, I don't mind," said she. "I don't want to look twenty-one. Who would - if they were seventeen! It's" - and she gave a faint shudder - "the stupidity I loathe, and being stared at by old fat men. Beasts!"
Hennie gave her a quick look and then peered out of the window.
We drew up before an immense palace of pink-and-white marble with orange-trees outside the doors in gold-and-black tubs.
"Would you care to go in?" I suggested.
She hesitated, glanced, bit her lip, and resigned herself. "Oh well, there seems nowhere else," said she. "Get out, Hennie."
I went first - to find the table, of course - she followed. But the worst of it was having her little brother, who was only twelve, with us. That was the last, final straw - having that child, trailing at her heels.
There was one table. It had pink carnations and pink plates with little blue tea-napkins for sails.
She put her hand wearily on the back of a white wicker chair.
"We may as well. Why not?" said she.
Hennie squeezed past her and wriggled on to a stool at the end. He felt awfully out of it. She didn't even take her gloves off. She lowered her eyes and drummed on the table. When a faint violin sounded she winced and bit her lip again. Silence.
The waitress appeared. I hardly dared to ask her. "Tea - coffee? China tea - or iced tea with lemon?"
Really she didn't mind. It was all the same to her. She didn't really want anything. Hennie whispered, "Chocolate!"
But just as the waitress turned away she cried out carelessly, "Oh, you may as well bring me a chocolate, too."
While we waited she took out a little, gold powder-box with a mirror in the lid, shook the poor little puff as though she loathed it, and dabbed her lovely nose.
"Hennie," she said, "take those flowers away." She pointed with her puff to the carnations, and I heard her murmur, "I can't bear flowers on a table." They had evidently been giving her intense pain, for she positively closed her eyes as I moved them away.
The waitress came back with the chocolate and the tea. She put the big, frothing cups before them and pushed across my clear glass. Hennie buried his nose, emerged, with, for one dreadful moment, a little trembling blob of cream on the tip. But he hastily wiped it off like a little gentleman. I wondered if I should dare draw her attention to her cup. She didn't notice it - didn't see it - until suddenly, quite by chance, she took a sip. I watched anxiously; she faintly shuddered.
"Dreadfully sweet!" said she.
A tiny boy with a head like a raisin and a chocolate body came round with a tray of pastries - row upon row of little freaks, little inspirations, little melting dreams. He offered them to her. "Oh, I'm not at all hungry. Take them away."
He offered them to Hennie. Hennie gave me a swift look - it must have been satisfactory - for he took a chocolate cream, a coffee eclair, a meringue stuffed with chestnut and a tiny horn filled with fresh strawberries. She could hardly bear to watch him. But just as the boy swerved away she held up her plate.
"Oh well, give me one," said she.
The silver tongs dropped one, two, three - and a cherry tartlet. "I don't know why you're giving me all these," she said, and nearly smiled. "I shan't eat them; I couldn't!"
I felt much more comfortable. I sipped my tea, leaned back, and even asked if I might smoke. At that she paused, the fork in her hand, opened her eyes, and really did smile. "Of course," said she. "I always expect people to."
But at that moment a tragedy happened to Hennie. He speared his pastry horn too hard, and it flew in two, and one half spilled on the table. Ghastly affair! He turned crimson. Even his ears flared, and one ashamed hand crept across the table to take what was left of the body away.
"You utter little beast!" said she.
Good heavens! I had to fly to the rescue. I cried hastily, "Will you be abroad long?"
But she had already forgotten Hennie. I was forgotten, too. She was trying to remember something ... She was miles away.
"I - don't - know," she said slowly, from that far place.
"I suppose you prefer it to London. It's more - more--"
When I didn't go on she came back and looked at me, very puzzled. "More--?"
"Enfin - gayer," I cried, waving my cigarette.
But that took a whole cake to consider. Even then, "Oh well, that depends!" was all she could safely say.
Hennie had finished. He was still very warm.
I seized the butterfly list off the table. "I say - what about an ice, Hennie? What about tangerine and ginger? No, something cooler. What about a fresh pineapple cream?"
Hennie strongly approved. The waitress had her eye on us. The order was taken when she looked up from her crumbs.
"Did you say tangerine and ginger? I like ginger. You can bring me one." And then quickly, "I wish that orchestra wouldn't play things from the year One. We were dancing to that all last Christmas. It's too sickening!"
But it was a charming air. Now that I noticed it, it warmed me.
"I think this is rather a nice place, don't you, Hennie?" I said.
Hennie said: "Ripping!" He meant to say it very low, but it came out very high in a kind of squeak.
Nice? This place? Nice? For the first time she stared about her, trying to see what there was ... She blinked; her lovely eyes wondered. A very good-looking elderly man stared back at her through a monocle on a black ribbon. But him she simply couldn't see. There was a hole in the air where he was. She looked through and through him.
Finally the little flat spoons lay still on the glass plates. Hennie looked rather exhausted, but she pulled on her white gloves again. She had some trouble with her diamond wrist-watch; it got in her way. She tugged at it - tried to break the stupid little thing - it wouldn't break. Finally, she had to drag her glove over. I saw, after that, she couldn't stand this place a moment longer, and, indeed, she jumped up and turned away while I went through the vulgar act of paying for the tea.
And then we were outside again. It had grown dusky. The sky was sprinkled with small stars; the big lamps glowed. While we waited for the car to come up she stood on the step, just as before, twiddling her foot, looking down.
Hennie bounded forward to open the door and she got in and sank back with - oh - such a sigh!
"Tell him," she gasped, "to drive as fast as he can."
Hennie grinned at his friend the chauffeur. "Allie veet!" said he. Then he composed himself and sat on the small seat facing us.
The gold powder-box came out again. Again the poor little puff was shaken; again there was that swift, deadly-secre
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