Page 3 of Master B-1901

Age: twenty-five

Hair: brown

Eyes: blue

Height: 5ft 7inches

My eyes flared. That tall? My imagination had her so much smaller. Not that I really cared but…I hadn’t ever been with a taller woman before. Not because I chose shorter women, I just hadn’t met the right one.

Skills: hyper-alert, impeccable attention to detail, problem solving, sufficient communication.

I stopped. Sufficient? What was this? Was she going for a job interview? I scanned back up, not seeing anything to indicate why in the hell they would have set it up like this. The men, I could understand. Most of the blank slate males were protectors for the Mistresses, but the women? That wasn’t their purpose.

Knocking had me looking up, surprised. No way in hell they were already here. Were they?

More knocking sounded, and I swung open the barrier, my mouth parting in confusion.

“Doc.”

A warm smile came to Mistress Two as she brushed back her red hair.

“Good evening, Master. Braddock,” she said, gesturing towards me.

“Brad,” I corrected. “I feel our introduction is a loop stuck on repeat.”

“May I come inside?”

I hesitated, but widened the door, letting her through.

“I’m actually waiting for my new slave.”

“Oh, yes. I’m alerted when my favorite clients bid.” She headed for the middle of the room, turning to face me. “I was also notified your purchase was finalized. It’s why I’m here.”

“Oh.”

Silence played between us as her lids narrowed. I knew Melissa LaRoe from early in my youth. She’d been acquaintances with my mother, but I wouldn’t say they were ever close. My mother didn’t trust her, not that I really knew anyone who did. The stories of her were all over the place. Some spoke as if she created miracles. Others whispered that she was full of nightmares. I didn’t give much credit to either. I still wasn’t fixed.

“I know our appointment isn’t for a few more days, but it’s been almost two weeks since we’ve talked.”

My head drew back. “No, we talked the other day, remember? I was having a bad morning, and you saw me in the lounge area getting coffee. We talked then.”

The woman’s lids fluttered as her brow creased.

“I’m afraid I don’t remember that. What day?”

I thought over the date. “It was Tuesday. I told you about the dilemma I was having in finding a slave. I wasn’t sure if I should get another after…last time.”

More, she looked confused, but it was so brief, I wondered if I had caught it at all.

“Shame on me. I’ve had such a hectic schedule. Come, let’s sit on the sofa while we wait for your slave. Tell me about our conversation. I’m afraid with all my clients, everything is beginning to blur together.”

My jaw flexed, but I followed her to my sectional, taking a seat a few cushions away. Didn’t she know it was dangerous to be in my domain,alone?

I took a seat, taking another drink of my beer as I recalled the meeting.

“You were wearing a pale pink shirt and a black skirt. I told you about the episode I had, and you had me go over what I could remember of it.”

“Episode? You had an episode, and you didn’t call me? Tell me about it again.”

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