Everything was crisp - I could smell the smoke, I could taste my sweat, I could hear the music beginning to swell.All that mattered was Him.He held up...his hand and beckoned forward, and I felt myself jerk forward and fall to my knees. The beat began to throb, and the crowd were chanting.“Mandi, Mandi, Mandi, Mandi...”Like I said, I’ve never had a nickname, but I knew that they were chanting for me. Their needs were irrelevant, however; their wants didn’t affect me. My Master wanted me to dance,. And...er... thanks."Chris realized his attention was focused on this woman. Her hair wasfrosted and teased, and seemed frozen in place by hairspray. Her facewas covered in make-up - smooth, even skin tone, thick red lipstickwhich had ringed the cigarette she held in her cocked hand....but thoseeyes....elaborately lined in black, smoky, with long, charcoal lashes.She looked older, but the mask of make-up made it impossible to judgeher age. She was dressed half-way between a business suit and a. More

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