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where the women actually became richer and more powerful than before. What could Constance do for herself with five hundred thousand dollars of his money? And a quarter million would also be donated to anti-trafficking charities.
    So why did he feel so horribly guilty about it all?
    Because you’re buying a woman. You’re paying for sex.
    But it wasn’t so different from a man throwing money and apartments and jewels at a mistress or a girl-on-the-side. Was it? He went back and forth over the moral conundrum of the situation until his head hurt so badly he couldn’t fall back to sleep. He got up instead and went for a run, directed by a new, fresh-faced young butler to a lake behind the house surrounded by a trail. The familiar
thump thump
of his gait along the shaded path dispelled both his headache and his dithering. Life was short, and frustrating and complicated. This thing, for one year, could be simple. Simple pleasure, simple enjoyment. The worst that would happen is that it wouldn’t work out, and then he’d just release her. He’d be out a million, but so what?
    With this refreshed and calm mindset, he returned to the house to shower, shave, and sift through a mountain of emails as he ate an early lunch in his room. Afterward, Bastien took him to visit the “training facilities” as promised. These facilities turned out to be a series of similarly opulent rooms on the opposite side of the house. But unlike the tasteful parlors, dining rooms, and bedrooms, these rooms were designed and decorated for the business of sex.
    The first room Bastien showed him was, predictably, a gym. It was empty at the moment. “This is usually the ladies’ last stop of the day,” his host explained. “After they complete their schedule of sexual training, many of them can be found here, winding down with a short workout before they head out to the grotto.”
    “The grotto?”
    “Follow me.”
    Bastien led him through a side door and into a garden that was green even in winter. A low stone building sprawled at the end of a path. They ducked beneath the lintel into a dimly lit, humid and fragrant space. It was a swimming pool, manmade but cleverly designed to look like some kind of ancient spring with boulders, flowers, and overgrown shrubs.
    “I bet the water is warm as a bath tub, even when it’s snowing outside,” guessed Kai.
    Bastien grinned. “You can test that hypothesis later when you take a dip with the women. I’ve been known to do so myself after an especially stressful day. For now, let’s continue on our tour. There are many provocative sights to see.”
    They made their way from the grotto back to the building. The next room was large and airy, brightly lit from picture windows on the side wall. The room was equipped with three wide, white padded tables, although only two were in use. A man attended to the two women tied face up to the tables, arms over their heads and legs spread wide. The man had no air of menace or even sexuality, aside from the toned, muscular body under his pristine lab coat.
    “Is he a doctor?” Kai asked.
    “He’s what we call a trainer. All these women are on a personal voyage of sensual development. What we seek from them can’t be taught, only teased from inside with encouragement and reassurance. And of course, our trainers are all male, since our ultimate goal is for an odalisque to be at ease and sexually open around men.”
    “So the men--the trainers--all have sex with the women?”
    “Occasionally they do. Not in a sordid, abuse-of-power type way. There are some things that are just better understood when a trainee is interacting with a real flesh-and-blood man. But the majority of the training is related to sexual sensitivity, and loss of inhibition and self-protectiveness. A little touch goes a long way.”
    Bastien nodded at the tables, where the man was fingering one of the restrained women. She moaned and pulled at her bonds, her legs clenching. The trainer