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From the passenger seat of the red Camaro convertible hurtling away from Southampton Road, Janet watched the scenery change from one-story houses to tobacco fields and apple orchards. She had come to Charlotte, North Carolina, to work on a farm, but she wasn't going to be picking-she and the three other women in the car were wearing high heels and see-through miniskirts, and they felt alone and afraid. The thought of the violence to come terrified them. It was midday, and after about an hour on the road, the man behind the wheel, whom the women knew as Ricardo, a common fake name traffickers use, turned down a dirt path and stopped at a cluster of cheap cabins that had floors lined with mattresses. These beat-down shacks were home for more than farm workers. In the main farm house nearby, the workers-mostly from Mexico, El Salvador, Honduras and Guatemala-were on their lunch break, eating chicken and rice.

I hesitate, then nod. He gets out his beard trimmer and gets to work. The puppy is fascinated by the electric buzz so we lock her out of the bedroom. Usually I get super turned on and push up against the trimmer as the Viking shears my seventies porn pelt down to nothing. Finally, I feel a little tingle.

Fully naked, I roll onto my stomach, the trim over. The Viking kneads and kisses my butt, then my back. We both know later could be days or weeks away. Neither of us can remember the last time we had sex.

I was just an anguished dog mom. If only it were that easy.

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DAY TWO. I have an article due, but before I get up to work I decide to see if I can get myself off. He drops the shirt in his hands and gets under the covers with me, looking eager.

I like to masturbate next to him. He never masturbates for me, though. Before he even touches me, I decide to quit.

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I tell him as much. I drift back to sleep with the puppy at the foot of the bed. I wake up horny and decide to see things through. I think about the woman in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo English versionwhich we watched last night.

But I like how she takes what she wants, at the bar with the long-haired girl in the mini, and back in the research shack with Daniel Craig. I used to be like that with the Viking, and with the strapping young lads I knew before him. Just as I start to come, the puppy pounces on my chest. I laugh and push her off the bed. I suspect my sex life is more stagnant than that of my fortysomething friends with preschoolers. I finish finishing and get up to feed the puppy. DAY THREE. The Viking grills some salmon while I make a salad.

We settle on to the couch for a little TiVo while we eat, which is fine by this zombie. Between shows, I suggest a dinner-and-movie date for the coming weekend, just us two.

This makes the Viking happy. I like that we still flirt even though sex has been on the wane this year. I come upstairs after falling asleep on the couch, dead to the world.

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I press myself against his back for warmth. DAY FOUR.

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Rather than start in on the business profiles I have to write, I start in on an imaginary three-way with Jack White and backup singer Ruby Amanfu. The Viking looks up from his computer and says he wants to walk with us. The Viking is out the door in a flash, lifting me onto the covered hot tub. We kiss like awkward teenagers. He takes off my sneakers, my yoga pants, and my underwear and goes down on me.

Eventually something clicks and I succumb, kissing him deeply, stroking him, wanting badly to be fucked. Sex is not going to happen. I ask him what. I ask. I leave to walk the puppy. The Viking stays behind, looking as dejected as I feel.

Back home. I tell him I love him and he knows I mean it. He tells me the same. DAY FIVE. Saturday morning. The Viking and I snuggle in bed a while before inviting up the puppy for family wrestle time.

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It feels like progress. A friend comes over to help us stain the deck, or rather, to help the Viking while I attempt to catch up on deadlines.

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He chases me with the brush and paints my arm brown. The friend is still here, watching bad action movies with the Viking. I have a sore back, so I get in the hot tub.

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I stay in too long, wishing I were alone with the Viking. Feeling like Jell-O from the tub, I slink off bed early. The friend is still over. Janet was forced into prostitution in Mexico by a boyfriend named Antonio in ; coyotes brought them across the border the following year, and they went to live with Antonio's family in the borough of Queens in New York City, where she was put to work in brothels.

Every couple of weeks, a van would take her and other women and girls-some as young as to Charlotte, where she would spend a week or more, forced to have sex with strangers at a brothel by night and at farm labor camps by day.

Sex trafficking flourishes in areas of male-dominated industries, such as fracking and oil boomtowns, military bases and, as a slew of recent court cases and victim accounts show, farm labor camps.

The U. Department of State estimates that traffickers bring some 14, to 17, people into the United States each year.

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Hayes Jr. Traffickers set up shop in metropolitan areas-they often choose Queens for its central location along the Eastern corridor to cities north and south, plus its big clientele base in New York City-and send women to farms near and far, ranging from Vermont to Florida. Officials don't know how many women are trapped in this city-to-farm sex pipeline, but experts say the number is growing every year.

Keith V. Bletzer, an adjunct faculty member at Arizona State University who has studied prostitution in agricultural areas, says that until recent years, women went to farm labor camps on their own to sell sex out of financial necessity.

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Now, however, there is an organized crime element, with "other people recognizing that this might be a viable" source of income, he says. Rather than women selling sex to make a living, it's traffickers bringing them to farms as part of larger international operations.

In some cases, pimps posing as boyfriends lure victims and shuttle them from brothel to brothel. In other instances, coyotes smuggle women across the border and then force or coerce them into selling sex to pay off smuggling fees. The United Nations says criminals who once trafficked weapons and drugs have made women their latest commodity.

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Smuggled drugs are quickly sold, but with a woman, "you bring her across the border once and you just keep using her body over and over again until she breaks down," she explains. For Janet, who requested that Newsweek refer to her by the name she used most when she was a prostitute, that breakdown took more than a decade. Widely considered the sex trafficking capital of the world, Tenancingo, Mexico, is two hours southeast of Mexico City.

Many of the town's 10, residents are involved in prostitution; for young men, becoming a pimp means joining the family business. From there, many pimps take their victims to work in Mexico City; some later go to the U.

Janet grew up with her grandmother in Puebla, a half-hour drive from Tenancingo. One day inwhen Janet was 23, she was walking home from her factory job when a car pulled up beside her. The man persisted and asked if they could be friends.

When they reached Janet's home, she finally said OK, they could be friends. Having recently split from the abusive father of her young daughter, Janet wasn't eager to bring someone new into her life. But the man from the car kept showing up. In Puebla, when a woman gets into a car with a man, the first thing the man does is he starts grabbing her. He wants to take you immediately to bed," she says.

This man, however, "behaved very nicely. In Julyafter knowing Ricardo for a little more than year, Janet agreed to move in with his family in Tenancingo, leaving her daughter in the care of her grandmother. But when she arrived, she learned that his name was Antonio, not Ricardo, and that he was a pimp.

His family lived in squalor, even worse than where Janet had grown up. Antonio's family slept in one room, and the animals they owned slept in another. Water poured in through the ceiling when it rained, and children ran around barefoot and played with soiled diapers.

After six months, Janet decided to leave Antonio, but discovered she was pregnant and stayed. That's when the abuse began. First, Antonio forced Janet to take pills so she would have a miscarriage. She did. Weeks later, he told her she had to become a prostitute.

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At first she protested, saying she had worked a good job in a factory and could find work like that again. But he insisted, and eventually she gave in. Her first time selling sex was on the streets of Mexico City. During that time, she recalls, "[the sex] was day and night and I felt terrible. Reluctantly, Janet agreed, and in June they made their way across the border and to Queens.

The vast majority of the country's estimated 3 million farmworkers were born outside the U. Like Janet, most of them came to America in search of opportunity and, also like Janet, are being steadily ground down by a system working against them.

Few suburban supermarket shoppers know that federal labor laws exclude farmworkers from certain rights most Americans take for granted, such as overtime pay, days off and collective bargaining. State by state, advocates have tried to change that, but Big Agriculture usually manages to thwart the efforts. Seasonal crop farm laborers typically live in barracks for a few months at a time.

At year-round livestock farms, workers live in cheap houses or trailers. The scene is a volatile mix, ripe for violence. Single men. There's a lot of drinking, substance abuse.

Workers tend to take out that frustration on female visitors.

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What happens on the farms, says Cohen, is rape. Antonio had promised a better life for Janet north of the border, but their living conditions in Queens were horrific.

Antonio's cousins were pimps, she learned, operating a family ring. Janet still had to sell sex, and a routine developed: Antonio would spend his days playing soccer and billiards, while Janet had to work at brothels in Queens and Boston.

Once Antonio learned about the opportunity to sell sex to farmworkers, he began sending Janet to Charlotte. There, a white, one-story, three-bedroom house near the end of a winding road served as a brothel, offering johns a constant rotation of out-of-state women. Janet and the other victims would see men there from 7 at night to 3 in the morning, sleep until 11 a.

and then be driven out to the farms. They would grab me. They were pushing me.

They would grab me by the neck. They would penetrate me really hard. So when they finished, it was like my salvation. She tried to make them wear condoms, but sometimes the condoms would break or the men would take them off.

Janet says she had so many abortions-always done with Cytotec pills, widely used in the trafficking world-that she lost track of how many.

She lived in constant fear.

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Antonio still promised they would get married, and he told Janet he was sending the money she earned back to Mexico, where someone was building them a house.

Antonio's cousins told their victims similar lies to keep them hoping and in line. They've figured out the sort of sweet spot that needs to be exploited," Cohen says.

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For one ring that serviced farmworkers, prosecutors learned the pimps went so far as to impregnate their victims just so they could hold the children hostage.

from Homeland Security Investigations.

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Sadly, some victims go to great lengths to protect their traffickers or return to their pimps, despite the help of law enforcement and advocates. Aroun one of the pimps in Antonio's ring was arrested for domestic abuse, and Antonio fled to Mexico.

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However, he stayed in contact with Janet by phone and expected her to continue working and wiring him money. Meanwhile, Janet was in touch with her daughter, who was still in Mexico and had medical expenses stemming from an accident. To cover those expenses, Janet asked Antonio if she could use some of the money she made, but he refused. So she went to the Mexican Consulate in New York City for advice, and after she described her predicament, consulate staff contacted Sanctuary for Families.

That visit to the consulate set in motion an investigation by U. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, beginning in Investigators conducted surveillance and pored over phone, travel and financial records, in order to identify and locate key members of the ring.

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With Janet's help, officials rescued 25 victims, arrested the pimps and found Antonio hiding in Mexico. Inofficials extradited him, and he was sentenced in June He and three cousins all pleaded guilty and are now serving sentences ranging from 15 to 22 years.

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The path that led Antonio to trafficking became clear in court materials.

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