Hands in her pockets, tossing her stringy blonde curls, Chickie stood on a street corner in Manhattan's East Village and talked about her bizarre introduction to the oldest profession. "I was grabbed in a store by this guy and this chick who said they were taking me for a ride," she said offhandedly. "They said they wanted me to meet a friend. He was a pimp. They sold me to him for $100. He locked me up in this hotel room and ran in cheap tricks $10. Old white guys, Chinamen, foreigners. I got away after a week, but...
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