I got to the cafe at the same time as Alice. Alice turned purple and stared at the sight of me. "What the fuck happened to you?"

"Andrew made me shower and stole my dress," I grumbled.

"You look fabulous," she told me.

"I don't want to look fucking fabulous," I hissed at her. "I don't need to increase expectations around me."

"Andrew did this?" Alice asked, sounding very amused. "You fucked him, them?"

"No. He found a loophole in my menu that made me come to his room. He still didn't touch me."

Alice looked at me in a knowing way.

"Stop it," I told her.

I kept my breakfast light, mainly because the thought of Andrew and his offer kept my stomach churning. I knew I couldn't accept. He wasn't going to give me a real job; he was going to use me as a fuck toy and discard me when he'd had enough. The urge to get out of this place was strong, but not that strong. I didn't want to be a fool.

Uncharacteristically, I went for a walk after breakfast and then went back to my room and cleaned up the sty. I was jumpy because I expected an interruption at any minute. So, when the intercom beeped, I nearly jumped out of my skin. The mic opened up and I took a deep breath.

"Hello, Maddie."

"Hi, Andrew."

"I love the dress."

"Yeah, it's all that anyone is talking about. What can I do for you today?"

"Come to my room."

"Look, that isn't necessary. I..."

"I want to see you." I huffed a long, exasperated sigh. I knew he saw it. "An official is on her way," he added in as stern tone.

"Thanks," I muttered.

A minute later, there was a knock on my door. I stepped out and let her lead me back to the lodgings block. In another ten minutes she knocked on Andrew's door. He answered, this time in slacks, a shirt, and a tie. "Come in," he told me. "Thank you," he said to the official.

The minute the door closed, I said, "I could have told you my answer over the intercom. I already told you last night. No."

He took a long drink from another dewy glass of alcohol. It was barely noon. "You're giving up the chance to have a skilled job because you'd rather live in a brothel than have sex with me?" he asked, his voice disbelieving.

"I'm giving up the chance to be used and returned."

"That isn't what I'm going to do."

"Sure it isn't."

He got out of his chair and paced the room. "How about this? The course to be an assistant is six weeks. I won't touch you until you're done, unless you say I can."

That made me listen. "Really?" At that point, I would at least have a skill; I could apply for a job through the usual means and have a shot. Maybe never go back to the brothel--whenever he decided he was done with me. Which was another problem. "That does sound better," I admitted. "But afterwards, I'm still your personal whore forever. What's the point in even having a skill?"

He paced some more. When he spoke again, it seemed to pain him. "After you're trained, you have to work for me for six months," he said.

"And fuck you for six months?"

"Yes. Then you can seek employment elsewhere, with my recommendation."

"After six months."

"That's the deal."

Suddenly, the impossible became possible again. I could stand being used for six months. Six months? After four years, six months was nothing. I was fixed by the brothel, so there wouldn't be any kids. He was screened for STD's. I would have a skill, no matter what. If I was going to have to trade my body for something, this was a good payoff.

"Where would I live?" I finally asked.

"An apartment. Same building as me but a different floor. I will cover the cost until you're employed and then the company will, under the typical housing contract."

"Are you married?"

He looked a little surprised. "No. No wife. No children. No girlfriend."

"And you'll put this all in writing?"

"Of course." He smirked at me.

I thought about it a moment longer. Either I was the luckiest whore that ever lived or the biggest idiot in the compound. And I was about to find out. "Okay, then," I told him.

"Okay?"

"Put me through the skills course. After I have my certification, I'll do whatever you want for six months."

His grin was huge. "A handshake to seal the deal?"

I hesitated again but not for long. "Mr. Mueller has my permission to touch my hand one time," I said, looking up at the camera.

"Acknowledged," the official replied.

I offered it. He took it in his with a firm grasp then covered it with his other. "You are so small. I'm wondering if you'll even be able to take me."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, stud."

"I guess we'll find out."

I rolled my eyes again "Yeah, whatever."

####

The next week was a whirl of activity. Alice wasn't really shocked that I jumped on the chance to leave. She knew about my escapades from before I came to the brothel. She never really believed I would come around to my job.

"I'm going to miss you," she said, giving me a tight squeeze. "Most of the girls around here aren't worth a hello."

I didn't promise to stay in touch. Neither did she. What would it have served? If I failed, she'd see me again. If I succeeded, keeping in touch would just make Alice feel bad.

I didn't have much of anything to take with me--just one suitcase and it didn't hold any clothes. Those were all on my back. Andrew didn't come with the driver who picked me up. He didn't meet me at the perfect, small, one bedroom apartment where I ended up. There was a wooden bowl of apples on the kitchen table and the closet was full of business clothes. The refrigerator was full of food. That first night, I did little more than eat.

For another month, while I took classes, I didn’t see Andrew either. No contact at all, which was unexpected. The course work kept me busy, learning how to use a computer and keep an appointment schedule. I was taught how to order a car or a meal from the service sector. Each employer, it was explained, would have a different set of expectations. Outside of basic skills, I should learn how to adapt to my employer's needs. I wondered if they included sexual needs among those but was smart enough to keep that question to myself.

There were classes on deportment and appearance. Someone came and cut all of our hair, the men and the women. They appraised our clothing. The woman got make-up advice and the men were shaved and their tattoos removed. Within three weeks, I had changed from the colorless waif that I had been at the brothel. Now, thanks to clothes and make-up, I was a small, vivid thing.

Then, one evening two weeks before I graduated from my course, there was a knock on my door. Nobody visited me so I had a fair idea of who it was.

I opened the door and there Andrew stood, wearing a suit and holding a drink. "Don't you look different," he said. His eyes went from warm to hot.

I didn't invite him in. "You have my old dress if you want a flashback."

"I burnt that thing." He looked me up and down. "They told me you're doing well in your class. Talented enough even to serve me." He laughed at his own joke and I noted that he was more than a little bit drunk.

"I'll graduate on time," I said.

"In two weeks."

He started to reach for me by I shied back. "Not yet," I said.

"I've been in Japan. Not even one kiss to welcome me home?"

"A kiss?" Now, not all of the girls at the brothel had a hard and fast rule about not kissing clients. Since I didn't touch at all, it was never an issue for me. Still, kisses stood for intimacy that didn't exist and a bond that wouldn't ever form. I didn't see the point. "What for?" I asked.

"Call me old fashioned." He laughed drunkenly again. "What are you? Sweet twenty two and never been kissed?"

"I've been kissed, just never by a client."

"Maybe you should stop thinking of me as one. Perhaps you should start thinking of me as a patron."

That would be an interesting turn. He did resemble a patron more than a client at this point. The clothes. The food. He hadn't promised me anything but the apartment and the class.

I gave him a long look and then stepped out of the doorway. "Would you like to come in?" His intense expression slipped aside for a moment to include surprised pleasure. He stepped inside a little too quickly, like he thought I might change my mind. "Freshen your drink?" I asked. The apartment came with a fully stocked bar which I hadn't touched. However, making a drink was part of my education.

"Please. Bourbon on the rocks." I made it and turned but he was already close beside me. He took it, swirled he glass a couple of times, and swallowed in in two gulps.

"Thirsty?" I asked in a dry tone.

"Hungry," he answered, looking me up and down. He shook himself. "I'm too drunk. I can't stay or I will certainly go back on our agreement. Although it will be challenging knowing that you're just an elevator ride away."

"The bar is always open and in two weeks, I will be too."

He laughed. "In the meantime, a kiss?"

He was still hung up on the damn kiss. I considered it. It was a small meaningless gesture that would make him kinder to me, possibly, when there were no restrictions to what he can do to me. "Will you even remember it tomorrow?" I asked.

"I have a tremendous constitution," he told me.

I looked at him for another beat. "Alright then." I walked over to him and stood on tip-toe, though he still had to lean over to bring our faces even. I pressed my lips against his; without asking, he twined his fingers in my loose hair.

He wanted a welcome home kiss but his lips demanded something more. He urged my mouth open, bringing his tongue and the taste of liquor into me. He made a small sound against my lips. I wasn't even touching him but his breath grew ragged. He broke the kiss before I had to. Then, he looked at me too close with unfocused eyes for a minute.

"Two weeks," he slurred.

"That's the agreement."

"Good night, Maddie."

He staggered to the door, somehow more drunk than when he walked in, and let himself out. He wasn't completely graceless, even smelling like a distillery. I watched him go.

#### 

I didn't see Andrew again for almost two weeks. He showed up at my door again the night before my graduation, this time sober. I was just home from class, so still in a business suit, when he rang the doorbell. I opened the door and he spent a long beat just looking at me.

"What can I do for you, Andrew?" In not knowing what to say, I reverted to the old script of prostitution.

"I wanted to go over tomorrow's schedule."

I stepped aside and motioned him in. "A drink?" I asked.

"Not this time."

I closed the door behind him. "Please sit."

We sat down across from each other in my living room: him in a chair and I on the couch. It was hard for me to believe that in less than a day, I would be fucking this man on demand in a way I hoped to never do when I lived life as a whore.

"I'll be at your graduation. Noon, correct?"

"Yes."

"You'll start work for me the following Monday." I didn't say anything. "That leaves a very empty weekend."

"I know what you expect of this weekend. I'm not going to go back on my word."

"But you are going to make me wait another day for it."

"I want you to keep your word, too."

"Very well," he said standing. "I'll bring you back here after you graduate. Look for me."

"I will."

#### 

The next day, everything was a blur. I stood at the graduation when my name was called. My grades were read aloud and my new skills were enumerated; it was noted that I graduated with honors. Businessmen sat in the audience, no doubt looking the new class over for prospects. Andrew sat there, somewhere in the middle of the audience, looking very satisfied with himself.

When it was over, I shook hands with my professors and collected my documentation. I didn't need it; everything was recorded in the database but some graduates liked to hang their credentials in their offices, I was told. A hand touched my back. I turned; it was Andrew. He stood next to another man.

"This is Maddie," Andrew said with practiced politeness. "She'll be starting as my assistant on Monday. Maddie, this is Mr. John Katz. You'll be seeing a lot of him at the company."

"A pleasure," I said, remembering my training and extending a hand.

"It's about time," Mr. Katz commented. "Now, we may be able to make an appointment with you some way besides finding you at a bar."

"If we just had meetings at bars, the way I suggested," Andrew said coldly. Mr. Katz gave him an exasperated but indulgent look and then turned to me.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Maddie," Mr. Katz said, taking my hand. Everything about him was warm and round.

"Likewise," I answered properly.

Andrew watched our contact with narrow eyes. "We're going to celebrate her graduation now," Andrew told him, taking my arm. The way he said it, he might have been telling them that we were going out for lunch. "Check in with her on Monday. Make sure she has all of your contact information."

"I will," he said, and was gone before Andrew could dismiss him. I saw him stop to speak to one of the instructors, looking at me.

"Are you ready?" Andrew asked me.

I didn't know if I would ever be ready but I was committed. "Any time you are." His cool demeanor heated for just a moment. Then he put his hand on my back again. It was like he enjoyed taking advantage of casual touch as much as he was going to enjoy sexual touch. I let him lead me out to the line of hired cars waiting for the business leaders. He ushered me into one.

"The Federal building," he said, naming where we lived. "Front entrance." I always came in the back. Force of habit, I supposed, from being one of the undesirables of society.

We rode in silence, he helped me out in silence, and he led me to the glass elevator that I never used in silence. He pressed a code into the pad and we sped to the top floor. I don't know why I hadn't assumed that he lived in a penthouse, but I hadn't.

We exited to a room with two chairs and a small table. A couple of viewing screens were available, in case anyone wanted to read a magazine, I guessed. I wondered how long Andrew kept most people waiting. He tapped a code into the one door and motioned for me to go inside.

Still not saying anything, he poured himself a liquor drink at the bar just inside the door. He opened a bottle of champagne and poured a glass of that, handing it to me without asking. "To the end of a two month wait," he toasted.

"To your self-control," I amended. He clinked his heavy glass with my delicate one. I sipped at the drink; I hardly ever tasted the stuff so it went straight to my head. He gulped his drink in one swallow and topped it off again before the ice melted.

He turned and reached for me; I let him. I thought he was going to touch my face, but instead he opened the clip holding up my French twist. My hair tumbled down, better trimmed and healthier than it had ever been but not much shorter. He reached for my blouse next. I expected him to take it off but he only undid the top two buttons. I had gained a little weight so I had a little cleavage. He looked me over and downed his drink again.

"I'm hard for you already," he said, laying his glass aside.

I took a long deep breath. I had made this deal; I should try to make good on it. Six months. I could do six months. "What would you like to do about that?" I asked

He closed...