Entering the café she had someone in tow, a young man with shoulder length, dark hair. No cherub like Patrick was this one. He just about smoldered with an inner fire that threatened to burst out. Renata directed him to a corner table, almost like she was shooing away a fly. Taking a seat in distant isolation I noticed he wore a wide training collar and, in spite of his dark sexuality, appeared nervous. Maybe this was his first public appearance as a slave. Renata had picked a good place, but why did she need me here for that?
Before I could even ask Renata held up her hand. “I know, I know,” she said. “Santo’s on loan from Odelle for evaluation. She flew him out and I’m about half finished. He’s been jumping at shadows and I thought a little outing might help.”
“What do you think of him
