Chapter Eleven
Contract
A pair of French doors framed Reeve behind her oak desk. Outside, stretching to infinity, the Pacific Ocean shone like blue glass.
The contract Charles signed stipulated personal services. No where did it mention the words slave, mistress or SM. Its length was for two years with an option for a third, the salary comparable to what he’d make as an entry level programmer with a large company.
A Ms. Jones sat to Charles’s left. Middle-aged with sallow cheeks and dressed in a pin-stripe suit, she gave the impression of a non-scene person until she handed Charles a copy of his contract. From inside the long sleeve of her white shirt a thin leather cuff peeked out.
Charles remembered the businesslike Mr. Smith from Ash House. And now here was Ms. Jones. A pair of sur
