The Pleasure Slave Read Free

tales.”
    “Oh, you’ll like this one. There’s none like it. That I promise you.”
    After a sufficient pause, she said, “Sure, why not?”
    His eyes lit with amusement, as if he knew her game. “Story is, that when a woman owns this here jewelry box, she’ll find the greatest pleasure ever known.”
    Julia waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she said, “That’s it? That’s the big story? Own the box and find great pleasure?” For fifty dollars, she’d expected a story about naked dancers, bowls of cocaine and wildorgies. Disappointment coiled through her. “Just what is the greatest pleasure ever known?”
    “I don’t rightly know.” He scratched his beard, and a rain-scented breeze, like the calm after a storm, accompanied the movement. “I guess pleasure’s different for everyone. Who’s to say?”
    “The last female owner.”
    “Well, now, she lost her soul long ago, so I canna be asking her, can I?”
    “Lost her—oh. I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”
    “No, no. No need to be sorry. She was an ancestor of mine, you could say. I like to call her Granny Greedy.” He chuckled at his own joke. “Family legend says she created the box and kept it with her at all times, never letting it out of her sight. When she died, the damn thing had to be pried out of her fingers.” He barely paused before adding, “What’s your name, lass?”
    “Julia Anderson.”
    “Well, Jules me girl, I’ll be honest with you. I think you need this here box more than you realize. Great pleasure will put some color in your cheeks. Maybe put a sparkle in your eyes. So are you interested in buying or not?”
    Julia tried not to be insulted; she really did. She might not have any hobbies outside of work, and she might spend every evening in bed, reading sexy romance novels and watching made-for-TV movies, but she did have pleasure in her life. At the moment, though, she just couldn’t recall where.
    “Thirty,” a nasally voice said from behind her. Julia spun around. The Mustang’s owner gave her a smug I’ve-got-you-beat-this-time grin. “I’ll pay thirty.”
    “Well, lass?” the salesman prompted, giving her a chance to outbid.
    After haggling for half an hour over the price, Julia finally paid seventy-three dollars—plus fifteen for the pipe. She’d been robbed. She knew it, just as she knew her opponent hadn’t really wanted the box. He’d wanted retribution, and she hadn’t been able to walk away without owning the “greatest pleasure.”
    The moment she arrived home, an all-too-familiar anticipation filled her. She carefully placed her new purchases on the kitchen table, then gathered a rag and cleaning supplies. The bark of a dog pierced the air and the midday sun dappled through sapphire curtains covering the large bay window on the far wall. Settling into a high-backed gold velvet chair, she focused all of her attention on the jewelry box, cleaning every inch with painstaking gentleness. There was something almost… magical about it. And she would swear to God it purred every time she stroked the corners.
    Just as she began adding polish to the outer surface, she zeroed in on a tiny button hidden beneath the rim. Her fingers stilled and her heart drummed erratically in her chest. Excitement pounded through her veins. Would this open the lid? And if so, what would she find inside? Jewelry? Love letters? Nothing?
    With shaky fingers, she set aside her rag and pressed the button.
    At the moment of contact, lights flickered on and off throughout the house, dancing shadows and light on the rose-tinted wallpaper. A pulsating, purplish mist erupted in her hands and lit her entire kitchen.
    Startled, Julia jumped to her feet, dropping the jewelry box as if it were nuclear waste. Instead of shattering, it landed atop the honey-oak tabletop with a thud. She tore her gaze from the box…and froze in terror.
    A man—a large man—a