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The only window is high on the wall, over a tall filing cabinet, and opens into a well, below ground level.The space feels like a cave, which has always struck Deery as about right, because her job is to talk dirty online to strange men. She has athletic good looks, with tawny skin, big brown eyes, and long straight brown hair that falls over her shoulders.Police patrolling the precincts of sin do not often find the streets empty.How are they to tell the difference between the casual sinner and the criminal?Deery would begin a dialogue, dangling the illicit possibility, gauging how serious her mark was.There were “players,” those who were just horny and despicable, and there were doers, or at least potential doers, the true bad guys.
A burly, round-faced man of 42, with a thickly muscled neck and shoulders, thinning hair, and a goatee, he was seated before the computer in their living room in a small, two-story town house in suburban Philadelphia.
He had immediately tapped her with three messages, and she had responded: The sun blazed in from the window to his back porch.
J had about an hour before his wife would be home from work.
One of the many false identities Deery has assumed online is something truly rare, even in this polluted pond—that of a middle-aged mother of two pre-pubescent girls who is offering them up for sex.
Baiting her hook with this forbidden fruit, she would cast the line and wait to see who bit. Men began vying for her attention the minute she logged on, night or day.