Erica Jong, Erica Jong, please return to baggage claim. Erica Jong to baggage claim

That was the last time Erica could remember her name being used while she was a free person. It’s the same old story: Handsome foreigner. Great sex. “Will you take this with you? My business partner John Smith will be waiting for you curbside. Love you. We’ll rendezvous in a week. Can’t wait.”

Sitting in a third-world-country prison cell Erica often thought of the three risks she’d taken during that vacation: unsafe sex, trust, and carrying that suitcase. She had an idea about the suitcase, but refused to let it ruin her trust. “Trust feels good” she had told herself, “I love trusting him.”

She was now about to take two more risks, starving and escaping. One day they left her plate a bit too far from her cell. Struggling for it, she realized how skinny she’d become, her entire shoulder could fit through the bars. More pounds lost and she could slip through.

Suddenly being a skinny white girl had its advantages.