Marketplace (5 page)

“So you stole information
about this house from the office of a friend of ours,” Grendel
noted.

Sharon visibly trembled.
Did he really know that? Or was he bluffing? This wasn’t going the
way she planned. What was going to happen now? Was all this for
nothing?

He leaned back in the chair
and watched her. She would fetch a high price if she were gagged,
he thought. But the minute someone got her home, her flaws would
become as apparent as her physical appeal. He remained impassive as
she bowed her head (very prettily) and said, softly, “Yes,
master.”

“I’m not your master, Ms.
Brosa. And frankly, your behavior isn’t impressing me. I train
people to act like that. It’s nothing new to me. If you wanted to
impress, you might have tried it with genuine contrition for your
inexcusable tardiness, and swift admission of your felonious
behavior.” He suppressed the incredible desire to grin at his own
pomposity, but it had the desired effect. She withered a little and
then became angry.

“What do you want me to do,
Mr. Elliot?” she shot back. “You want me to say I’m sorry? It
wasn’t my fault, but OK, I’m sorry. You want me to say that I took
the stuff about you and this place from what’s her name’s house?
OK, I did. But that was the only way I was gonna get in. All the
people who know about you keep you a secret. Like you’re the
president, or something.”

“There’s a reason for that.
When someone comes to us untrained and unprepared, it wastes time.
For us and them.” Grendel pointed at the papers and photos. “This
is a good attempt at faking our file format. And I have to admit
that you would make a nice decoration in someone’s hallway. But you
have no idea what you might be getting into.”

“I know exactly what I want
to get into, Mr. Elliot.” She picked up her pocketbook and pulled
out a folded sheet of paper. She smoothed it out and placed it on
his desk. “OK, so I need some real training, maybe. But I can be
the best thing that ever happened to you. Everyone who ever knew me
says I was the best pleasure slave they ever saw. Take a look at
that and tell me I don’t know what I’m doing!”

Grendel picked the paper up
and read it through. It was an excerpt from a contract, written in
proper Marketplace jargon. He read it through once and then scanned
it again. Then, he placed it carefully on the stack of papers in
front of him.

“Who wrote
this?”

Sharon looked down. “I
can’t tell you that.”

“Well, at least you didn’t
try to claim that you did. This interview is over. Chris will call
you a cab.”

“What?” Sharon’s voice
scaled up in genuine surprise and anger. “You can’t... I mean,
why?”

He closed the folder with
the contract inside of it. “Because how could I ever expect you to
be trainable if you are incapable of telling a simple truth to the
people you might be training under? Ms. Brosa, this isn’t a game.
But never mind. I’m sure you’ll be happy with someone outside the
Marketplace. You might even find a situation like the one outlined
in this contract. But for now, investigating who exactly wrote this
document has to take priority.”

Sharon panicked. “No, wait!
Wait. I didn’t know it was so important to you. It’s just, I
promised I wouldn’t tell anyone about him, OK? But I won’t let it
screw up my chances to get in here. Could you promise that you
won’t tell him I told you?”

Grendel hit the intercom.
“Chris, please call a cab and come and get Ms. Brosa.”

“It was Joe, Joe Manelli,
OK? From Forest Hills! I got his number!”

Wimp, Grendel thought,
suppressing a smile.

“Aren’t you going to tell
him to cancel the cab?” Sharon demanded.

“I never said that I would,
Ms. Brosa.” He leaned back, still impassive.

“But you have to! I mean,
please,
please
,
master, I mean, Mr. Elliott, this
is the most important thing I ever did in my entire life! I told
you about Joe, didn’t I? And read those papers, they’re true, every
word! I’d give up everything for a chance, OK?”

“That’s what the contract
says,” Grendel reminded her. “Do you understand what it
means?”

“Yeah! I get sold to a
place and a guy like it says in the contract, and I’m a pleasure
slave. For at least two years, but preferably five.”

“That’s what it says about
your life. But do you understand about the fee?”

Sharon nodded. “You get it
all.”

Grendel nodded. “And you
understand that this isn’t the usual way we do things.”

“Yeah. It’s like that book
about the resort hotel, isn’t it? Usually the slaves get the money
after the contract is over.”

A long sigh. “You really
got all your information about us from these fantasy books, didn’t
you? My God, I don’t know if they do ten times more harm then
good.” He shook his head and pulled the contract excerpt out to
read it again.

She just gazed at him, a
confused look on her face. “I just wanna get trained and sold,“ she
finally said. “And I know I can be worth a lot. Come on, Mr.
Elliott, look at me! Guys fight over me.”

“We will have to alter your
gender preference in the contract,” Grendel noted. “Slaves out of
this house may not negotiate the sexual preference or gender of
their future owners; it’s a house rule. If it’s that important to
you, come back in six months with some real training and I’ll refer
you to a trainer who will accept that limitation with the rest of
them.”

She shook her head. “As
long as they’re single, I don’t care. I’ve had my share of women,
too. I can do it.”

Grendel considered. She was
hot. Very attractive, with an edge of feral rut around her, and
that always went over well. She was young enough so that the lack
of real records wouldn’t hurt her that much. And the way the
contract was written wasn’t so difficult that they’d have trouble
placing her. It was just her attitude! Was she submissive at all,
underneath her play-acting? He wanted Alex’s opinion on this
one.

“We’ll accept you for one
week of observation and testing,” he declared. “After which, if you
look promising, another four to six weeks of training. But under
this agreement, if we feel you need more training, we may keep you
as long as we like. And you understand that you will receive
absolutely no part of whatever we arrange as a selling price for
you.”

She nodded, her eyes sharp
with anticipation.

He leaned over, hit the
intercom again. “Chris, please put Sharon with the
others.”

“What about the cab?” she
asked, helpfully.

“Chris will take care of
it,” Grendel said, as the door opened. “You will find that Chris
takes care of a lot of things here.”

As they left, Grendel
picked up the phone and punched in a long number. As he waited to
be connected, he read the piece of contract that Sharon had given
him, shaking his head. It was very neat. It was very
good.

“Hello, this is Grendel
Elliott, from New York. I just accepted an applicant with a
contract drawn up for her by Joseph Manelli, from Forest Hills.” He
spelled the last name. “No, the writing is fine, in fact, it’s
constructed to give the maximum benefit to the house. But the
merchandise is incredibly shoddy. I’m talking barely, barely
acceptable, and even then, I’m taking a gamble on it. I think this
is the third time I’ve heard that he’s working with unsuitable
clients, isn’t it? Yes, I thought so. Well, I just wanted to let
you know. Thank you.”

The beauty queen princess
and the Christopher Street clone, he thought as he put the phone
down. Alex always gets the interesting ones.

Chapter Two

Claudia woke to a
frightening, unfamiliar sound. For a second, the image of a
snarling lion invaded her already confusing dream. Then, she was
awake, in darkness, the vicious snarling noise unabated. She gasped
and clutched at the firm pillow, her naked skin cool against the
soft, light bed coverings. It took her a minute to realize that the
noise she heard was snoring.

What am I doing here, she
wondered for the thousandth time. She had sobbed last night, her
neat, gentle tears a contrast to the comic blubbering of the man
who was undoubtably filling the dorm with such a racket. Whispers
and sobs were the only sounds they had been permitted to make
yesterday. The awful sight of the other man being forced to wear
what looked like a very uncomfortable gag for hours was a concise
object lesson for the other three. They had avoided each other’s
eyes for most of the time they had been together. Or at least, they
tried to.

Claudia had fallen to her
knees and begged her Mistress not to leave her. It had been an
awful scene. Mistress Madeleine had to actually raise her voice to
stop Claudia’s first cascade of tears and restore her to obedience.
Afterward, when Chris brought Claudia to this bare, functional
dormitory room, she had resolved not to embarrass her Mistress any
more, to be even more perfect then she had ever been. Then surely,
Mistress Madeleine would be pleased and take her home
swiftly.

But it was so hard to
concentrate on being correct and brave when that large man was
making such an awful noise! Shivering under the covers, Claudia
pulled them tighter around her and tried to snuggle down. But the
mattress was hard, the pillow thin. She was too long used to the
softness of her own bed back home, with its pristine white cotton
sheets and the thick comforter and the oh, so big soft
pillows...

Just as she was beginning
to doze off again, the lights came on.

“Good morning,
applicants.”

Claudia blinked and
squinted, knowing that it screwed her face up horribly and hating
it. But the lights were a cold, white fluorescent, allowing no
relief. The other three stirred in their own beds, making various
sounds of waking.

“You have exactly one
minute to meet me in the hallway. Tardiness is not
permitted.”

It was Chris, the
majordomo. Through her now wide open eyes, Claudia could see that
today, he was dressed in dark jeans and heavy boots, and a white
shirt and a tie. He looked like a common laborer dressed for a job
interview. His hair was still wet. As soon as he finished speaking,
he turned and left the room, the door ajar.

Claudia and Robert
immediately jumped out of their beds, shivering. They looked across
the room at each other, and then looked away in simultaneous
embarrassment.

Brian groaned and stretched
and scratched between his legs. It took him a moment to notice what
was going on, but he was no fool. He got up and followed Robert,
trying to remember exactly what the little guy had said. The three
of them were out in the hall, rubbing their eyes, well before the
minute was up.

“Tomorrow, you will have
thirty seconds,” Chris said as a welcome. He wasn’t alone. A woman
in a conservative maid’s uniform stood next to him, with a laundry
tray at her feet. “By the end of the week, I will expect that you
will be awake before I arrive. This,“ he said, indicating the maid,
“is Ms. Rachel. She is in charge of the second and third floors. As
with any house servant, she is to be obeyed immediately and with
all respect.”

Claudia tried to keep her
eyes focused on the majordomo, but they flickered back to the dorm.
Where was the other woman, that beautiful woman she couldn’t help
but sigh over last night? The one who tossed and turned so much.
The door was still open, but there was no sign of her.

“Eyes front!” Chris snapped
suddenly. Claudia turned her eyes back to him in anguish. But she
maintained silence. She had not been given permission to speak. For
the first time, she noticed that a short, doubled strap hung from
one of his belt loops.

“Each of you will take one
bundle from Rachel, and proceed to the showers at the end of the
hall. This morning, I would like to see you trot. Wait for me
inside the room, with your bundles in your arms. Go!”

The three of them collided
as they all tried to turn toward the maid. But Robert stepped back
to allow Claudia to take the first bundle. I don’t know how to
trot, his mind screamed. Oh, please, you lovely, sad little thing,
show me what I’m supposed to do!

Claudia took the neat
bundle (something wrapped in a towel), and turned up the hall.
Immediately, she began a high-stepping fast walk, almost a run, her
legs jerking up like a Tennessee Walking Horse, her head
high.

I can’t do this shit, Brian
thought. But he took his bundle with a nod and tried to follow. The
stupidity of the gait got to him though, and halfway down the
hallway, he changed to a loping jog. Robert followed, trying
desperately to create the proper movements. His pounding feet
seemed to make an exceptional amount of noise, and he whimpered all
the way.

Chris watched them go, and
then dismissed Rachel. She took the tray, with the last bundle
still in it. Chris casually unhooked the strap from his belt and
walked into the dorm.

Sharon was still asleep.
She was curled up on one side, her arm clutching the thin covers
around her head and her knees drawn up.