the large glass table that sat eight and into the kitchen area that was
bigger than the small space she lived in. By far, her favorite room on the floor was
something called the Solarium, which housed a simple white couch and had floor-to-
ceiling windows that overlooked the lights of the city and the stars twinkling above.
“Oh my,” she whispered as she gazed out the windows. As she looked down the
twinkling city lights, she wondered which lights represented her place of employment.
After a moment, they continued their self-guided tour and went down the stairs
that led to five bedrooms, a viewing area for the box with moving pictures . . . what had
her boss called it? Ah, yes. A television. She had spent hours at the club pushing buttons
on the cylinder that changed the pictures and watching the images fly by, fascinated by it.
A large table with balls and sticks laying on it filled part of the room. The glass
doors opened up onto a patio with what looked like a fireplace as well as some tables and
chairs. A few steps down led to a bath of water that looked very inviting.
“I think it’s best if we stay down here,” Jovan said. “The rooms are close together,
and chances of anyone seeing the glow of our eyes is slim.”
“Whatever you wish,” she said, eyeing the bath of water.
Jovan grabbed a gray cylinder and pointed it at the television. He found a station
that played music, then sat down on the davenport. The male singer talked of a hotel in
California, where a woman had pretty boys she called friends.
Liberty remained standing, staring at the floor.
“You can sit down,” Jovan said.
“Thank you.”
Liberty sunk into the overstuffed couch, surprised at how tired she was, and she
closed her eyes.
“How long have you been on Earth?” Jovan asked quietly.
Meeting his gaze, she stared at the plush carpet and wrapped her coat around
herself. “I believe the human time frame would equate to two weeks.”
“Two weeks! Jesus, Liberty. How have you been surviving? Are you here alone?”
Liberty jumped at his raised tone of voice.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I can get a little loud sometimes.”
She slipped her shoes off and nestled her toes in the carpet. It felt wonderful.
“Well?” he said.
She could feel his eyes on her, scrutinizing her. “No, I’m not here alone. There
were twelve of us, but as I stated before, Warrior, if it will not offend you, I would like to
tell the story only one time.”
“Okay, I’m cool with that. But how did you get mixed up in a strip club? And for
God sakes, please call me Jovan. And could you please look at me?”
She turned her head. He was very pleasant to look at, but she couldn’t hold his
gaze as she was unaccustomed to looking others in the eye. That was one thing that you
learned quickly about being in servitude: the less you were noticed, the better you were at
your duties. Those born into servitude were created to serve, nothing else.
“Yes, Warrior Jovan,” she said.
He sighed, stood up, and walked over to her. My, how he loomed. If it weren’t for
the kind smile on his face, he would have been frightening just because of his sheer size.
She bowed her head again as he crouched down in front of her.
“Liberty, look at me.” She raised her eyes, feeling quite uneasy at meeting the
gaze of someone above her social stature. “Just Jovan, Liberty. That’s it. Forget the titles.
No Warrior, no sir, none of it. Just Jovan.”
Unable to speak, she looked down at the floor again and simply nodded.
“Okay, if you only want to tell your story one time, I can respect that. I don’t like
it, but I respect it. You being here has me a little worried and concerned about what’s
going on at home, but I’m willing to wait.”
“Thank you, Sir Jovan. Truly, it is difficult for me to discuss.”
“Just Jovan, Liberty.”
She nodded and looked at him, doing her best to hold his gaze, his green eyes
boring
Lynsay Sands, Hannah Howell