The Meeting Point Read Free

of first timers every day.” The woman opened up a large ledger book and dipped her pen, ready to write. “So, I’ll need some details. And we take payment up front.”
    Damn. Deborah fondled the near empty coin pouch in her robes.
    â€œOh, I’m only here for the day. Are you sure there’s no way you can squeeze me in? I’ve traveled such a long way.”
    The woman must have seen the desperation in Deborah’s eyes and her expression softened, something flashing across it—familiarity? Deborah shook the thought away. The last thing she wanted was to be recognized.
    â€œWell, I’m afraid I really can’t give you an appointment, but I could let you into the oxytocin bars. There isn’t an official time book for there, just a sort of queue.”
    â€œWhat kind of bar?”
    â€œYou know, where the pheromones are piped in from the servicing chambers.”
    â€œOh yes, of course, forgive me. I’ve had a long journey and could do with some refreshment.”
    â€œListen, please don’t mention I helped you in this way,” she said, opening her drawer and taking out a thin leather strap with a green bead on it. “It’s just...I saw you faint earlier in the crowd, and reckon you really are in need of a little oxy-boost.”
    Deborah couldn’t believe her luck and held out her wrist for the woman to tie the leather band on.
    â€œNow, this will get you into the bar and the viewing chamber.”
    Deborah had to hold in a shriek and steady her body which had started to shake. “Thank you, thank you,” she gushed. “But why are you helping me?”
    The woman leaned in, casting a shifty glance around the female filled room. “You look different. You seem different to all these other rich bitches,” she said in a low voice.
    Shit. She did stand out.
    â€œAnd besides...” The woman held tight to her wrist and breathed the words right into her ear. “I know you.”
    The chill started at the spot where the woman’s breath tickled her hairline and spread through her body. Deborah pulled away as the blood drained from her face. Taking in the woman fully, the flicker of recognition formed.
    â€œKatja?” she whispered softly, tears threatening to well in their ducts.
    â€œShh,” the woman snapped, and Deborah suddenly couldn’t imagine how she’d missed it. This was the very first prisoner she’d rehabilitated all those years before. This was the woman who’d mouthed I know Marcus while Deborah had watched from her cell as she was led away through the prison gates back to where she had come from. Here. Deborah was overwhelmed.
    â€œIs he here?” Deborah asked as her heart seemed to stop dead in her chest.
    Katja nodded once, and Deborah’s body kicked back into action. “Now go. I never met you.”
    Deborah fought hard to resist the urge to leap over and kiss this woman, and she turned away, shaking anew, to where the signs for the bar were.
    Taking a deep breath, Deborah simply walked past the queues of excited looking women and up to the security, flashing her leather bracelet as she walked right past. It was an empowering feeling. She kept walking straight to the bar and took a seat on one of the high stools. She fought to keep hold of her dignity as she had to hop her bum up onto the leather and keep her balance without being able to reach her toes to a rung.
    â€œGood day, miss.” A bartender in rolled shirt sleeves and a waistcoat smiled broadly at her. “What will it be? A drink first?”
    As Deborah wasn’t sure what came after the ‘first’, she nodded.
    â€œLiquorice root?”
    â€œPerfect.” Deborah smiled, thinking it sounded like the most hideous libation imaginable.
    As the sloshing brown liquid landed on the bar in front of her, a lump of nausea rose in her throat. She thanked the bartender and reached for her pouch, spilling