PAM BENJAMIN

Sex Worker #4

He pokes at my mouth with a wooden skewer,

“You don’t have any cavities, do you?”

“Insurance pays 80% on white fillings,”

I mumble through the stick.

“They look good. Close please.”

He is not a dentist. He likes teeth.

Teeth and drills and open mouths,

I had passed the test.

We agreed on $250:

My teeth brushed with gold Listerine

I would open my mouth

lie down on the couch

and he would floss me gently

while we watched dental video of drilling.

Dr. Morrow would be so pleased

with me flossing once a week.

Watching drilling video

is surprisingly sexual,

a pretty blonde with dental dam

secured lips open surrounding teeth

squirming and moaning

with the whirring of the tool.

Her eyes flitted side to side

and hands white knuckle gripped.

“Tell me if I hurt you,”

over the drilling from the TV.

The powdery latex pushed my tongue aside;

he forced ribbons between my teeth,

“a girl with wisdom teeth intact,

and they don’t even crowd your bicuspids.”

He continued his work

while I was getting wet.

A cotton ball to swab excess spit

“You’re a juicy one, aren’t you?”

I barely shook my head “yes”.

He was still orally wedged.

I wiped my mouth and collected $250,

and ran my tongue over my plaqueless teeth.