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far as discussing the available women, we will plan to do that on the morrow if you would be so kind as to take notes on the ones that most interest you. We rise late here. If I do not see you at breakfast, I shall expect you at lunch.”
    Again Kai found himself alone in his opulent ivory guest room. At the desk was a leather binder about two inches thick, along with a silver tray of shortbread, fresh fruit, and excellent brandy. He was tired, but not too tired to settle down with the book. He would keep odalisque hours; stay up late and laze around in the morning.
    He leafed through the profiles, which were alphabetized by first name. Wonderful for Abby and Artemis, not so great for Yolanda and Zenaida. The profiles contained all the applicable data. Height, weight, age, nationality, languages spoken, even allergies and religious preferences in some cases. It listed each woman’s interests, favorites and turnoffs. It was noted whether a woman had been an odalisque before, or whether she was a “novice.” Some of the women were listed as
fellatrices
, or oral sex specialists, or
sodomellas
, anal sex enthusiasts. Some categorized themselves as
orgophons
, odalisques who were skilled at orgies. Some specialized in Tantra, others in sado-masochistic play. All offered the full slate of services, no matter their specialty.
    Kai hovered over Constance’s page longer than any of the others. Something about her had drawn him in, more so than the other girls they’d visited. But he couldn’t remember if he’d felt that strong reaction before the blowjob, or after.
When you find the one, you’ll know.
Constance listed yoga, writing poetry, and etymology as interests above and beyond sexual slavery. She didn’t list a hometown. Interesting.
    As far as sexual specialties, he was happy to find her in the sado-masochism camp. He thought again of the wooden hairbrush and her spectacular ass cheeks. So what if she was into the study of insects? He could deal with that.
    Was she the one? He would probably know by tomorrow. He forced himself to leaf through the book and pick out a few alternates. After he ruthlessly eliminated various women for being too tall or too short, having fake boobs, not speaking English, and just generally not being attractive to him, he further eliminated those who were not interested in sado-masochistic play, those whose interests seemed boring, or who didn’t have any creative endeavors listed on their hobby sheet. After that, he was left with a pretty manageable pool of five candidates, including Constance.
    So what did this mean? Was he really, really going to do this? He tried to picture himself at home with Constance, using her whenever it pleased him, in whatever ways pleased him. Having her walk around nude, a sexual creature at his beck and call, relaxed and content in the opulent nest he’d build for her. Writing poetry in her notebook with her legs pulled up under her, then putting it away so he could cover her with his body and empty himself in her again and again...
    Oh, yes, he would do this. If any part of his mind still questioned, his body was absolutely certain. In fact, his body was far too excited again. This time he couldn’t restrain himself, pristine bed sheets or not. If anyone watched via hidden camera, they got an eyeful. He sprawled naked on top of the covers and masturbated to orgasm three times before he could manage to fall asleep.

Chapter Four: The Training
     
    Kai woke up as conflicted as he’d been horny the night before. This was all so casual, so perverse. A woman he didn’t even know had dropped to her knees the night before and given him a blowjob. Another had masturbated in front of him while he’d stared at her like some visitor at the zoo.
    How could he even consider buying a woman for the sole purpose of using her body? Well, he wouldn’t be buying her, he reminded himself. This was not human trafficking, that ugly world. This was anti-human trafficking,