The Apartment - Part 10

[Carl Bradford]

Jane had, as Domino Carminia might put it, “picked up a tail.”

Leaving SFS to return home, she noticed a dark red Jeep 4x4 pulling out of the parking lot across the road from the SFS office. It followed her out of the office park, taking the same on-ramp to the highway, staying a car or two behind her, changing lanes when she did, slowing down and speeding up to match her.

Amateur, Jane thought, but still possibly dangerous. I need to find a safe, public place where they’ll follow me and I can confront them, but with security just in case.

So Jane drove to the most obvious place that met that criteria.

Pulling in to the enormous parking lot at HCI, Jane made sure to stop the car where she was sure the company’s security cameras could see her, then flipped on her own dashboard cameras (one front and one rear). Reaching under her seat, she pulled out her GitOff (a gift from Wanda - she had called it a “Texarkana Chaperone” for reasons that weren’t clear to Jane): a small cylinder with a t-shaped handle that incorporated pepper spray, an electric shocker and a painfully loud alarm all-in-one. Concealing it in her palm, she stepped outside and leaned against the trunk, waiting for Jeep boy to catch up.

When he finally did, the Jeep hesitated at the far entrance to the lot. The driver clearly saw her waiting; after another moment of indecision the Jeep slowly entered, coming to a stop behind Jane’s car.

The driver shut off the Jeep and opened the door: out stepped a young man. White, 5’9" or 10", athletic build, medium-length tousled dark hair, dark eyes, clean shaven, wearing green pants and a dark blue Oxford shirt.

Jane crossed her arms. “Well?” she said.

“Well what?” He replied.

Oh for the love of God, Jane sighed. “Why are you following me?”

“I, uh, wanted to talk to you,” he said. “I wasn’t able to catch you at SFS before you left.”

“You’d have had better luck if you’d parked in front of SFS instead of across the street, like you were watching me, which you were. Care to try again?” Jane said.

The young man moved in front of his Jeep and casually leaned against it, mimicking Jane.

“I’m sorry, I promise I wasn’t stalking you,” he said. “I’m no good at this sneaking-around stuff, so I’m just going to be honest. Iris texted me, saying that you might know something about Courtney. She suggested I follow you to see where you were going. Really,” he spread out his hands, “All I wanted was to ask you about her.”

“About Courtney?” Jane said, then added, “Courtney Lombardi? How do you know her?”

“I’m her cousin, Greyson. The real question is, how do you know her?” He said. “Anybody who knows her at all knows she doesn’t go by Courtney.” He smiled, and Jane thought he looked really… handsome when he did.

But that also further explained Iris’ initial suspicion of her, in addition to the lousy choice of an alias - Jane called her Courtney.

“So if you’re her cousin, why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“Because,” Greyson said, his smile disappearing, “I don’t know where she is.”

“Ah, that would do it,” Jane said, then immediately felt bad for sounding too flippant. “Clearly we need to talk. Buy me a cup of coffee? There’s a decent shop inside,” she said, nodding at HCI.

Greyson turned his head to look at the slave market. “Huh!” he said, sounding surprised; then the smile returned. “Um, sure. That’s fine, I’ve just never been inside one of those places before.”

————————————————————————

Oh my God, Jane thought to herself, He is soooo cute!

She looked at Greyson over the rim of her coffee cup as she sipped. He was toying with his cup; when he looked up and saw her looking at him, he smiled bashfully. He had little dimples in his cheeks when he smiled, and Jane wanted to lick them like dishes of ice cream. Among other things.

Jane had explained her interest in the case, and told the truth.

Mostly.

Except for a tiiiiny little fib about her studying to be a private detective.

And working as a junior partner at a detective agency.

Just until she got her license, of course.

But he accepted her story, and talked freely with her about his cousin (who goes by Cori, not Courtney).

“So like I said,” he continued, “The cops have nothing, and don’t really want to bother since she hasn’t been gone very long, at least according to them. There’s no sign of her online or in real life. It’s like she just vanished, which is completely unlike her. If my aunt and uncle knew she helped Adie, they’d be thinking all sorts of terrible things and probably get the FBI involved - they have those kinds of friends–”

“Which could endanger Adie,” Jane guessed.

“Exactly. Adie is her best friend in the world,” Greyson said. “Cori would, and did, do anything for her. That’s why I’m trying to keep things low-key.”

“Anything,” Jane echoed. “Like hiding her in an apartment rented with a fake ID?”

Greyson laughed and shook his head. “I wouldn’t put it past her. Cori’s applied to law school, she’s seriously interested in social justice - the real kind, not the online kind - so I could see her doing all sorts of defense-lawyer-style tricks to protect Adie.”

Greyson knew was that Adie was in trouble: she was in danger of being enslaved. Cori told him that Adie had ducked out of her home one step ahead of the authorities, and had gone to her BFF for help. With her passport frozen and her subcutaneous ID chip set to go off at any national exit like an airport or border crossing, Adie’s options were limited. Slave catchers (who are sort of like bounty hunters) were looking for her, and if her ID got scanned by some random public device it would immediately notify the Houston police department, who would in turn inform the catcher networks. There was very little Cori (which is what Courtney went by) could do except hide her friend while they figured out what to do.

“So what did they figure out?” Jane asked.

Greyson shook his head. “No idea. Cori thought it would be best if I knew as little as possible, since if her role in whatever went on with Adie came out I would be an obvious target for police questioning, maybe try to make me an accessory."

He explained how after Adie left, things returned to normal until a few days later when Cori disappeared. She’d last been seen at work, and their cameras showed her leaving at her usual time, getting in her car and driving out of the parking lot. That was the last time anyone had seen her, three days ago.

“The police did find her car,” Greyson added, “It was parked at a closed-down shopping center, on the outer edge of the lot, so no camera coverage. Her purse was gone, but nothing else was missing. We lost track of her phone there, too. Like I said, she dropped off the face of the earth.”

“One thing I’m curious about, though,” Jane said, setting down her cup and looking Greyson straight into his dreamy eyes. “How do you know Iris?”

He actually, literally flinched before looking away. I’ve finally met someone who’s a worse liar than I am, Jane thought.

“Or more accurately,” Jane continued, twisting the knife, “why did Iris call you of all people when you ‘knew as little as possible’ and not, say, your aunt or the police?”

“Well,” Greyson started, “I am her cousin–”

“Who seems to know quite a lot about what’s going on,” Jane interrupted. “Enough that someone as cagey as Iris wouldn’t hesitate to text you without a long explanation?”

"Care to try again?” Jane said, smiling.

Greyson looked back at her, his face portraying his mental struggle. Finally he shrugged.

“Cori asked for my help,” he said. “I agreed to help on the condition that Cori tell me what was going on. She and I trust each other, so that wasn’t a problem for her, though like I said she was reluctant to involve me. The help I provided involved Iris.”

Greyson resumed twirling his cup. “The first part of Cori’s plan involved finding someone who knew about the ins and outs of slavery and could also be discrete. One of Cori’s sorority sisters pointed her to Iris - Iris had helped the sister with another matter, and she trusted Iris.”

“Iris was sympathetic,” he continued, “and came up with an idea: the authorities were looking for a free woman on the run from slavery, not a woman who was already a slave. If they were to disguise Adie, they could slip her out in a shipment to another country.”

That at least explains why Iris was so cautious around me, Jane thought. She’s committed a felony.

“As I understood it, the main trouble with Iris’ plan is that all exiting slaves are scanned (Iris was confident she could “spoof” Adie’s ID chip and change her facial structure with prosthetics enough to fool a cursory scan) but they’re also personally inspected by experienced handlers - officially part of a government effort to cut down on kidnapping-by-wrongful-enslavement, which I guess is a thing - and if they smelled a rat Adie would be impounded. So she had to be able to pass the test, which Iris tried to solve with a crash course of slave training.”

“Why bother with training?” Jane asked. “Why not ship her out as a recently-indentured untrained slave? Would’ve made things faster and any suspicions could be chalked up to her inexperience.”

Greyson shook his head. “No, the plan was to make her into another person entirely. ICE would be suspicious of a young, untrained slave being shipped out solo - apparently that trick has been tried before, plus the whole kidnapping thing - and would check her over very thoroughly. Besides, the training gave things time to cool off - so maybe they wouldn’t be looking for her quite as hard at the border.”

"Sooo,"Jane said. “What did they need your help with?”

Greyson blushed adorably and actually stammered a bit before replying. “Well, Iris insisted that Adie would have to give multiple, um, blowjobs while in customs, and would have to show at least some expertise, some ability - for which she would need training, but it couldn’t be learned on dildos alone. Sooo…”

“You got to be the test dummy,” Jane said, successfully forcing a wide grin into a smirk, “Like, um, what do they call it - Resusci Annie I think? The CPR training doll except with a dick.”

Greyson’s face grew redder, and he shifted in his seat, but Jane could see a shy smile creeping up on him.

“I wouldn’t put it exactly like that,” he said, “But yes, my cousin’s BFF went down on me a bunch of times, in the interest of freedom.”

“A bunch of times?” Jane asked, arching an eyebrow.

“We started off just sitting on the couch, then she got on her knees in front of me, then she started doing it wearing just a slave collar–”

“She’s pretty hot, huh?” Jane asked, enjoying Greyson’s squirming.

“God yes,” Greyson replied, then looked away, embarrassed. “At first it was har–difficult," he stammered, trying to calm down as he continued, "It didn’t help that I’ve known her for years and think of her like a sister. But, honestly, once she was naked and collared and on her knees in front of me, calling me “sir” and begging to - well, you know - it was like she was a different person. I read about it in Sports Illustrated, that story about the pro volleyball player who got enslaved and was bought by her own coach: how the sudden shift in status and the accompanying personal changes - submissive attitude, sexual availability - completely upends all previous relationships, even really close ones.”

“So she became just another slave girl?” Jane said.

“No, that’s not right either,” Greyson said. “She was still Adie, but she wasn’t kid sister Adie any more, she was slave Adie. Still the same person, but now her place in my life felt completely different. It’s hard to explain, but she wasn’t just some anonymous slave at a suck bar, she was Adie - but I got to see her naked and I could tell her what to do while she gave me head. It was both hot and weird, but it’s not like she became my private sex puppet or anything because Iris was always there.”

“Oh, right, Iris,” Jane said.

“Yeah, it was training after all,” Greyson continued. “Iris watched her when she went down on me and would tell her what to do and when to do it and corrected her when she did something wrong. Iris really got into it, took it super seriously. In fact…” Greyson hesitated, then returned his gaze to Jane, his head tilted slightly down so that he looked at her from underneath his eyebrows. His gaze was steady, and he wasn’t blushing anymore.
Jane felt a flock of butterflies take off in her stomach, and a faint tingle from further below.

“I’m not quite sure why I’m telling you this, but…” Greyson smiled a bit more brightly. “Iris was teaching Adie how to give head through the bars of a cage - Adie was in this small cage, like a dog crate–”

Oh yes, Jane thought, I’m familiar with it. In fact, mentally I’m inside there right now!

“–and Iris was kneeling next to the cage coaching her. Adie was having some trouble getting it quite right – I don’t remember what the problem was, it seemed fine to me,” Greyson laughed. “After a few false starts, Iris climbed into the cage along with Adie and took me into her own mouth. I don’t know what Iris did differently, but there was a BIG difference in how it felt. Christ, was there a difference. I think Iris knew just the right things to do in just the right places, and she would point up at my face when she changed what she was doing. Then she encouraged Adie to work with her, and,” He shook his head. “I wound up, um, ejaculating over the two of them, right on their faces, through the bars of the cage. It was the hottest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Really?” Jane asked, surreptitiously moving a hand into her lap.

“Yeah. I mean, not only is it every man’s fantasy to have two beautiful women servicing him at once,” Greyson said, smiling at Jane, “But they’re caged like slaves? One naked and collared, the other a willing freewoman? My God, then Iris shows Adie how to clean me up, you know, including how to lick my, um, stuff off her face in a very sensual manner. But then of course Iris climbs out of the cage and continues lecturing Adie on how to do better next time, and the moment was gone.”

After everything I’ve heard and seen today, Jane thought, these panties are a complete loss.

“Was Cori ever present for the training?” Jane asked, not wanting this part of the conversation to end just yet.

Greyson shook his head. “Not for training. Iris thought it would be better that way, less distraction. Besides,” he chuckled, “that would have been really weird for me.”

“One other thing before we go any further,” Jane said. “Why was Adie in danger of being enslaved?”

Greyson’s face became serious. "Do you know what a ‘covenanter’ is?”

————————————————————————

Jane walked up to the double doors behind the display area at HCI and tapped her badge on the reader. The door lock clicked and Jane pushed her way inside.

Just down the hallway on the right was the door labeled “Agent Lounge.” Jane opened it cautiously, looking around before stepping in.

It was a sizable space, not huge but big enough for the dozen people inside to hang out in without being crowded at all, and it looked comfortable: a kitchen with coffee and espresso machines, couches and armchairs and low tables, some restaurant booths recessed into one wall, a long bar with stools, and series of doors that probably opened into teleconference rooms. It reminded Jane of the tech startup offices she had cleaned in one of her first jobs, except there was no foosball.

Jane spotted Leighton sitting on one of the midcentury-modern-style couches, typing on a laptop. Leighton looked up, pushing her dark shoulder-length hair behind one ear and smiled, beckoning Jane over as she closed the computer.

“Thanks for taking the time to see me, Miss Caudill,” Jane said, taking Leighton’s proffered hand.

“Not at all, and you can call me Leighton if I can call you Jane,” Leighton said, grinning.

“Deal,” Jane laughed.

“I hope you didn’t dress up on my account?” Leighton said, gesturing at Jane’s “nice” jacket and skirt; Leighton was wearing a white (silk?) blouse with dark, slim jeans and low-rise boots - the sort of outfit that screams I have money but I’m trying to look casual.

“Oh, no, I just came from an interview,” Jane said, then instantly regretted it.

“Really?” Leighton leaned forward. “What kind of interview?”

Ah, fuck me, Jane thought, I gotta get better at thinking fast: “Oh, a company that does fabrication needs an office manager, a friend of mine recommended I give them a try.” She shrugged. “More money, but I’m not sure I want the job.”

“So what kind of job are you looking for?” Leighton smiled. “Or do I even need to ask?”

“Something in your industry, to be sure,” Jane chuckled. “Like I told you, I’m actually pretty new to the whole slavery business, so I really appreciate the invitation to talk.”

“I’m always happy to talk about myself, it’s my favorite subject. But first, how about something to drink?” Leighton asked.

“Sure,” Jane said. “What do they have?”

“There’s a full refrigerator with sodas, juice, water and all that sort of thing over in the kitchen, as well as a coffee bar. Why don’t you have a look, and grab me a water while you’re there?”

Hmm, Jane thought, but smiled and said, “Be right back.”

Returning with a diet soda, Jane handed the water bottle to Leighton, who was looking at her phone.

“Oh,” Leighton said without looking up, “Would you mind opening it for me?”

“Sure,” Jane said. She opened the bottle, wiped off the condensate from the outside, and set the bottle down on a coaster on top of the little table at Leighton’s elbow, along with the cap.

“Ah, thank you, Jane,” Leighton said, putting her phone away. Interlacing her fingers over one knee, she looked over at Jane’s empty chair, then back at Jane and said, “So, what would you like to know?”

Jane sat down on the chair Leighton had looked at, placed her soda bottle on the floor, and folded her hands in her lap.

“Cassie told me that you are a buyer. What exactly does that involve?”

“I like to think of what I do as being similar to a talent scout,” Leighton said. “Currently I represent a consortium that requires Prime subjects for their resorts, but not just any Primes - they want Primes that are at the top end of Prime, not just in appearance but in attitude, demeanor and personality, and are submissive enough that they won’t require obedience training. Bonus if they have any type of talent or skill, like dancing or choreography. Once I find a good subject, I purchase it for my client and arrange to ship it. The hard part is the overall assessment - appearance is the easiest part.”

“Have you ever bought one that turned out to not meet your client’s requirements?” Jane asked.

Leighton thought a moment, then sort of shrugged. “No, not with this client. I’ve been doing this long enough that I’m pretty good at it. But starting out? Oh yes. My biggest blunder was buying some Choice female stock for a client, only to find out that they were opening a brothel that catered exclusively to gay men.” Leighton laughed. “I definitely learned to do my homework before buying anything.”

“What happened then?” Jane asked. “Can you return a slave to the store, like a pair of shoes or something?”

“Oh no,” she replied. “All sales are final, which stops all sorts of bad behavior, believe me. Although,” Leighton started kicking her elevated foot in time to some music only she could hear, “legally you can return a slave on certain grounds, like fraud, but good luck ever buying from that market again. No, one of the great things about slave stock is that it’s always in demand. I was able to resell the females I’d bought and nearly broke even. That’s not always the case with buyers: especially when starting out, it’s very common to work on spec, which means taking out loans - at least for some buyers.”

“Taking out loans for a big-ticket speculative purchase seems dangerous,” Jane said.

Leighton nodded, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly. “Yes, yes it is. I always advise buyers just starting out to only use money you can afford to lose, like savings, the proceeds from a property sale, gambling winnings-” she laughed, her mouth returning to a smile, “-just kidding about that last part. But seriously, never bet your neck on a spec sale.”

“So I take it you didn’t start your business after a great night at the blackjack table?” Jane chuckled.

Leighton laughed again. “No, I was fortunate that my family gave me seed money as a gift when I graduated from university.”

“Do you know anyone who got into trouble buying on spec?”

“Oh yes. More than one, I’m afraid. I joke about gambling, but being a freelance buyer is one gamble after another, and if you lose…”

“You can wind up on the block yourself,” Jane said.

“Precisely,” Leighton agreed.

Without thinking, Jane reached up a hand and rubbed her neck. It was stiff, like a lot of the rest of her body. I am so looking forward to going home tonight, she thought.

“Long day?” Leighton asked, smiling.

“Long week,” Jane replied, returning her smile.

“Could you use a neck rub?” Leighton asked, sounding sincerely concerned.

Jane laughed, “Probably, I’ll see if I can get one later from–”

Leighton clapped her hands. “Sassy!” she called out.

A door next to the kitchen opened, and a young woman entered, trotting quickly to Leighton and kneeling down at her side. She was roughly the same age as Jane but taller, blonde, quite pretty, with small breasts and a trim, fit body: Jane could tell all this because she was completely naked except for a metal collar, a thong, and rubber sandals. She looked at Jane with mild curiosity.

“Sassy,” Leighton said, “Please give Jane one of your excellent neck and shoulder massages.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sassy said, immediately standing and walking around behind Jane.

“Oh, please, there’s no need to trouble–” Jane started, tensing up.

“There’s no trouble at all,” Leighton said. “She’ll fix you up in no time.”

Jane felt Sassy’s fingers on her neck, and the next thing he knew the tension in her neck - well, it felt like it was flowing away.

“Oh, my, gosh,” Jane said, closing her eyes.

“It’s funny you asked me whether I knew anyone who had ‘gotten into trouble’ buying on spec,” Leighton said. “Sassy here was my assistant - first one ever, her father asked me to take her on - and then my junior partner. She was a rather good, and I regretted losing her when she started her own buying agency.”

Leighton shook her head. “Unfortunately she was not a very good listener, especially the part about ‘only use money you can afford to lose.’ Her parents were reluctant to loan her any money, and she didn’t have enough in savings, so she went with the only thing she could get: high-interest short-term loans from a bank with a reputation for not working with their borrowers. She did well at first, but then a bad purchase snowballed and…” Leighton spread apart the fingers of one hand, mimicking an explosion.

Jane was barely paying attention. Sassy had eased her out of her (well, her sister’s) jacket and had started on her shoulders, and it was all Jane could do to not fall asleep.

“Her father begged me to buy her, but I would have anyway,” Leighton continued. “She’s invaluable as an assistant, and who knows? Perhaps she’ll learn something this time around.”

Sassy’s massage tapered off, and Jane heard her ask, “Did mistress enjoy that?”

“God yes,” Jane said, straightening up in her seat. She turned toward Sassy: “Thank you, Sassy, that was wonderful.”

Sassy smiled at her, then returned to kneel at Leighton’s side. Leighton placed a hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair absent-mindedly.

“Out of curiosity,” Jane said, looking at Sassy, “Is Sassy short for something?”

“Oh, no,” Leighton laughed. “Her free name is Victoria, I named her Sassy after her attitude when she was first collared. I guess she thought that because we knew each other before her enslavement that we could return to our previous relationship, and got snippy when that didn’t happen. I had to send her to a fairly rigorous obedience school, but when she graduated I was so impressed by her turnaround that I sent her to companion school as a reward. I call her Sassy to remind her of how far she’s come.”

Jane studied Sassy’s face as Leighton spoke; it struck Jane as a masterpiece of both restraint and deference.

“What exactly does, um, ‘Sassy’ do for you?” Jane asked.

Leighton smirked. “The usual: scheduling, correspondence, research, administrative duties of various kinds having to do with my occupation, as well as personal services: maintaining my home, doing my laundry, preparing my meals. But I suspect you’re asking if she services me sexually? I am not a lesbian, my dear, but frankly why should I use a vibrator when I have a well-trained tongue available? And I do not reciprocate. In fact, I keep Sassy in chastity - I find it helps her concentrate on her duties.”

Jane gawked for a moment. “Chastity?” she asked.

“Yes, this is a top-of-the-line belt. Sassy, please show it to Jane.”

Sassy rose, walked over to Jane and spread her legs. Jane could see that the “thong” Sassy was wearing was actually some type of hard material - it didn’t look like metal but perhaps carbon-fiber? Or an engineered rigid plastic? In any event it didn’t appear to be heavy, nor was it chafing her skin. Jane could see a faint seam on the front panel, the part that covered her crotch, that she assumed was for peeing? Sassy turned around and Jane could see that the rest of the “thong” structure was of similar non-metallic material; Jane expected a panel covering her back hole, but there was none, just the thong.

The implications there are disturbing, Jane thought.

“Thanks,” Jane mumbled, and Sassy returned to Leighton.

“Feet,” Leighton said.

Sassy immediately took off Leighton’s right shoe, removed her sock and began massaging the sole of her owner’s foot.

“What else would you like to know?” Leighton asked, smiling.

How much of a nightmare it is to be the live-in slave of your former boss?, Jane thought. Instead she asked, “Somewhat off-topic, I came across a term today that I’m unfamiliar with and I wonder if you might be able to help me out. Have you ever heard of a ‘covenanter’?”

Leighton raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Well, that’s not a term you hear very often, especially since a covenant, as the term is usually used, is illegal.”

“Really?” Jane said, also surprised. “I thought it was just another word for putting up your wife or your child as collateral for a loan?”

“Oh no,” Leighton replied. "Though you’re on the right track. It means that in return for something - money, real estate, a job, even just a personal favor - the parents promise to give their child to someone at some agreed-upon age. It’s more like a payment, which is one of the reasons it’s illegal.”

“There are more?”

“The big one is that you can’t use a free person as payment for a debt, no matter how long the terms of the debt. Another one is that no minor can be enslaved for any reason. Some states have challenged that law, but in every case the Supreme Court - to nearly everyone’s surprise - sided with the federal government. So no kids as slaves, even if they don’t begin their actual service until they’re eighteen. And finally, all slavery is either voluntary or imposed by a court of law. There is no legal way that someone can turn eighteen and poof - they’re a slave, there has to be some subsequent act like being convicted of a crime. No court in the land would uphold a covenant enslavement.”

“Then why do we still talk about it if it’s illegal?” Jane asked.

“Because very wealthy people have their own world, with their own laws and customs,” Leighton chuckled. “Sure, a covenant is unenforceable in court, but think about it this way: if you have a covenant with one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the country and after you received your end of the bargain you say, ‘Nope! Forget it, you can’t have my daughter when she turns eighteen,’ what do you think his reaction would be? He won’t call the police to seize your daughter because he can’t, so instead he’ll call someone much, much worse than the police to do it. He won’t sue you in court because he can’t, so he’ll destroy your business and impoverish you.”

“But why would anyone want a slave eighteen years in the future?”

“I don’t know,” Leighton said, reclining backward as Sassy did her magic. “It doesn’t make much sense to me either - rich people really do live in their own world, and they have reasons the rest of us can’t fathom. The few cases I’ve heard about - mostly rumors, but with some basis in fact I suppose - the point was to insure good behavior. You pay off this loan or I take your daughter, that sort of thing.” Leighton shook her head. “But sometimes rich people really are like Darth Vader,” she said, deepening her voice and giving it a rasp: “I am altering the deal, pray I don’t alter it any further.”
“Really?” Jane asked quietly. “So they’ll be like, ‘I’m keeping the money AND taking your daughter’?”

Leighton nodded. “It happens. Ruthless people get what they want. Left.”

Sassy shuffled around to Leighton’s other side and began massage her other foot.

[Belinda]

I so love this story.

[Mr. Smith]

Finally I found the time to sit down and savor all ten chapters. I have to say, I'm loving this story even though I do not have a clue as to where GM is taking us. It reminds me of a roller coaster with all sorts of twists and turns that only amplify my excitement for the next.

The complex characters are new and original while leaving me wondering who are the good guys and which one will be the bad guy or gal that catches Jane in a vulnerable position that she cannot escape from. In a legal slave world curiosity collars the kitty and it only seems like a matter of time before Jane finds herself on the auction block.

[Hotstuff]

Such an intriguing story getting more in depth and taking a different path to what I expected. Many great characters to expand and delve in. Looking forward to further chapters.