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did massage on the side, I stated I was only reading the book and had not yet began to study but one day I would love to practice massage therapy.
She introduced herself as Ghislane Maxwell. I would later find out that she was the daughter of the late prominent businessman and disgraced newspaper tycoon, Robert Maxwell. I told her my name is Jenna pointing to my nametag on my shirt and offered her a cold or hot beverage, as those were my instructed duties at work. She accepted a tea and went on to chat a bit about this rich guy that she worked for and she knew off-hand that he was looking for a massage therapist. Just doing me a good deed out of her kindness of her heart, I’m sure, she offered to introduce me to him. I declined her first proposition, thinking out loud, told her I didn’t know the body well enough to even attempt an interview. She didn’t seem worried at all by my fear of incompetence saying that if he liked me enough he would get me the best training in the industry.
Ghislane thought I had a cheery persona and fit the quota for what he was looking for and as she put it an enthusiastic learner that she said she gathered from the sticky notes popping out of the various sections in my book. I accepted her phone number and the house address and told her I will call her if I am able to come over after work. I rushed over to the tennis courts where my dad was working and told him of the news. We both thought this could be a wonderful opportunity to get my accreditation in massage therapy. Seeing that it was a lady in her late thirties who came off as more of a nurturer rather than a procurer, neither of us saw any reason to be hesitant.

Chapter 4

At around Five p.m. my dad drove me down to the bottom of “El Brillo Way.” on the Palm Beach intercostal. We pulled into a short driveway beckoning a large pink mansion with heavy wooden doors. I was so excited about this chance and asked my dad to wish me luck. He gave me a big squeeze and wished me the best. He walked me to the front door and I rung the door chime. Moments later we were greeted by an older gentleman dressed in a casual butler uniform. I told him I was here to meet Ms. Maxwell for a massage trial and he opened the doors for my father and I telling us to wait in the entry as Ms. Maxwell would be on her way any second, and she was. Down the stairs she walked with a warm smile, her short black hair seeming very proper and elegant, for now. She shook my fathers hand and thanked him for bringing me and kissed us both on the cheeks. They spoke briefly about whom she worked for and about Mar-a-Lago where we worked. She was in hurry, you could tell to end the conversation and say good-bye to my dad, which she did so ever pleasantly. She said the boss was upstairs and waiting my arrival, so with that I said bye to my dad and began to follow Ghislane up the stairs. I was so nervous, but I didn’t show it. I kept my reserve and demeanor cool as ice, trying show maturity for the open position. We continued on to the massage room, passing by a grand crystal chandelier, and a couple lengthy wooden hall tables displaying a multitude of photos displaying young girls and beautiful women, trying not to gawk at them I didn’t even notice that some of those girls were only wearing their smile.
Ghislane asked me how my day at work was and I told her it was easy peasy as always just trying to make simple conversation. There was a fork at the end of the staircase and she led me to the right hand side. The lights were dimmed in the bedroom but I could still see the King Size bed in the middle of room, we did a U-turn around the bed, which led us into a massage room. Dripping in luxury I could’ve definitely compared it to the renowned Mar-a-Lago’s spa’s, it had marble walls and a glass enclosed shower and self-automated steam room at the very end of the Burberry carpeted room. There was a large mirror over a basin to the right of the room with an array of oils, ointments, soaps, and lotions and a small closed door, which I assumed must be a closet. The only thing that struck awkward about this room was the naked man laying face down atop of the turquoise massage table in the center of it. “I had to be prepared for this,” I told myself. Massage was something I had never done before so I quickly brushed away my thoughts of possible schemes, wanting to believe whole-hearted this was going to be legit. Ghislane introduced us to each other and I proceeded to make his acquaintance.
Looking up at from his downwards position, he looked me over and gave a smile to Ghislane, an obvious notion of his approval. He was Jeffrey Epstein as she pronounced for him, as if I supposed to recognize his name or something. He affirmed, “It was his pleasure” and replied to just call him Jeffrey, “No need for formalities” he answered, cleverly putting me at ease. This man did not look like someone to beware of. Both him and Ghislane appeared to be very nice people and conscious of their health as their need for massages and spa visits, no alarm bells went off, yet. I was prepped by Ghislane to “treat this as a lesson from her and follow her exact lead, if I did good tonight then maybe I would become Jeffrey’s Travelling Masseuse, seeing the world and getting paid well for it”. I was very hopeful, a job like this could really make my dreams come true.
I followed suit and washed my hands with warm water so the coldness would not shock Jeffery’s naked body, then lathered them in rich body butter. Ghislane told me to always keep one hand on Jeffrey, even when getting more lotion, so it didn’t make him lose concentration on being relaxed. She gave me a tip and told me to keep a blob of lotion high up on

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