Chapter 12: The Virgin No More, Part 3, The Rabbit Hole

The following evening, having slept most of the day, I am bathed, made up, dressed to the nines, and feel like a million dollars.

My Master has been very specific about what I should wear: a black satin wrap-around skirt, held in place only with two buttons; a matching halter top, which ties at the neck and, cut low, unbuttons at the front; stockings; shoes with a heel, but not too high, chic but comfortable. My red silk panties tie at the sides. A heavy Cleopatra-style necklace. Hair up, eyes lined dark, lips deeply scarlet, expensive perfume. Looking at myself in the mirror, I feel completely fuckable.

Michael is carrying a briefcase and I wonder what is in it.

We take a taxi to a part of the city I do not know. Basically medieval, modernity has over-run it, and in the darkness of the evening, neon glares brilliantly at me, garish ad boards dazzle, and the noise of traffic is deafening. Pulling into the rear car park of an unfamiliar building, the noise abates and I wonder wher