She had on a pink tube top that tightly held her rather large chest. She shook her head as she sat up and again once she looked around, seeing all of us. Sitting up next to her was a woman who was visibly scared. She grabbed onto the woman next to her and looked at all of us. She asked, ‘Where? Who?’ Then lapsed into silence. She had long wavy brown hair, big brown eyes, and looked like a college girl. Looked like someone Megan would have introduced me to at her college in Florida. She had on a black miniskirt and a black scoop-neck pull over shirt. Her right thigh was bandaged. Her nipple bumps were evident in front of her small breasts. The third woman sat all the way up before her eyes opened. She had a tattoo on her neck of a spider’s web. It was the first feature on her that I noticed. The second thing I noticed was that she was wearing a blue wife-beater t-shirt that barely covered her nipples, leaving her breasts almost completely uncovered. He hair was dirty, blond and her. A compact of rouge. A white embroidered handkerchief. A lengthy strip of paper which lay unraveled across the floor. And a make-up pencil–whose color perfectly matched the scribbled words on the scattered paper. I didn’t have to read her scribbling to know what it was she had been writing about. Or rather, who. All these things I neatly returned to her own small clutch and lay it gently on the empty space of couch by her side. ‘Last night, ‘ I began. ‘Was that your first meeting with Sir face to face?’ Slowly, the young woman nodded. She then took a breath as if to speak, but instead said nothing. ‘Hmm. And I suspect that you were fully aware of what Sir is before you met with him.’ ‘Yes,’ she whispered, her voice hoarse. ‘For about a year now.’ She took a moment to compose herself before finally raising her eyes to meet with mine. There was no fear there when she looked at me. She knew exactly what it is that I was, though there was still a question in her eye in concerns to the.
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