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before, but there was nothing. She had been cleaned out. Either she was a victim of a theft, or a victim of Mr. Richard.
    Storming down the hall and punching the call button, she boarded the lift and was greeted with a ding before she knew it. Stumbling for a steady footing, her rage pushed her out of the floating box and into the lobby. One hand held a white-knuckle grip of the afghan and the other pushed the glass door open.
    “Mr. Richard, you bastard!” Her voice rang through the empty penthouse. There were no footprints on the mirrored polished floor and light beams cut through the room from between the vertical blinds.
    Leaving the entryway and living room, she made her way down a hall, past the bathroom with the well-polished and buffed floor. She was on a mission, and she wouldn’t stop until she had her clothes or his blood.
    “Mr. DICK!” No reply. “I want my clothes and I want them now!” Still no reply.
    Stopping abruptly at the closed door, which she assumed to be his bedroom, Tosh took two self-affirming breaths before taking the next aggressive step forward. Giving her shaking fingers a few self-assuring flexing grips, she shook off whatever nerves were stopping her and charged forward.
    Posh gray walls surrounded a minimal supply of dark wood furniture and a black metal framed bed. The bedding was black satin and the shams were white crushed silk. This was not just any bachelor pad, this was a cliché.
    Then she saw it, how it had passed her sight at first glance she did not know, but draped over the end of his bed was a leather French maid’s uniform. Much like what she’d had on the night before, only minus the rough sack she had worn underneath. It looked more like a gift rather than a uniform and butterflies fluttered in her belly just thinking about the care he took in placing it on his bed for her.
    Walking her fingers over the erotic label of servitude, she straightened the note to face her better. His penmanship was every bit the man he presented. Precise, calculated, sterile and… perfect.
     
    Good Morning,
    Everything you need to shower and dress are here. After you have done so, I want you to sit on the end of the bed and wait for me.
    Mr. Richard
     
    His orders seemed innocent enough, and there was something in how he’d taken care of her the night before that told her he could be trusted. But, how far should she let that trust go?
    Gathering up her things, she went to what she expected to be the master bath door. Another gray, black, and white gothic room furnished with an oversized glass walled shower, black toilet, ivory colored urinal and a pedestal sink. There was a wall of frosted windows that lit the room with the morning light, giving the room a sterile hospital feeling and it was in the light that she saw her personal effects displayed on a marble vanity. There were toiletries she had retrieved from her car the day before, the ones that were missing from her room. Taking what she needed, Tosh went on to follow the instructions.
    Fresh from the shower and clothed the best she could, Tosh now sat in place of where her cloths had been only minutes ago. The leather corset did little in holding her bound breasts in. She had done her best to secure the ties, but inexperience played out against her. Was this something she would become accustomed to or was this to be short lived?
    What was this?
    Was she starting a job or a love affair?
    Never shit where you eat, that’s what everyone always says, so was she going to risk it and start her new job on the wrong foot? However, if offered the choice, would she be able to pass it up? Mr. Richard was most definitely attractive and from the appearance, he was someone Tosh would consider for herself. But, what about him? What type of man was he? What type of place was this and who would own such a place? After what she had witnessed last night, Tosh had spent several hours wondering if she would be lost in the middle of a shoot 'em up raid