Instead she was wearing a pair of tight jeans, and a white T-shirt. The shirt fit nicely, but her smallish breasts didn't make any kind of statement. Certainly not like her mother and Glenda's outfits.When she reached Conference Room E the door was ajar. She half turned and bumped it open, then walked right in, admiring the gold décor she had selected herself. To her surprise there were only four men. Seven of the comfortable dark red plush chairs had been pulled into a semicircle facing the end of the room facing the sofa, which had been pulled away from the wall. One man was sitting at one end of the sofa, the other three lounged on the chairs. A small table had been pulled out to sit beside the sofa and a big bowl of ice and some soft drinks from the vending machines down the hall were sitting on it.The man on the sofa stood up to help her with the tray, and my goodness he was big! He towered over her. She guessed he must have been at least 6' 7". And Cara had always. It was a very uncomfortable position which forced her to lean forward from the waist since her hands had been roped behind her. I fetched the pitcher of water from my sleeping place under the stairs and poured it on her back. She gasped, the first sound I had heard from her since we were introduced.“Are you from around here?” I asked her calmly as she dripped, her light dress soaked and clinging to her young body.She lifted her head and spat at me. She missed, and I smacked her across the face. “Answer me,” I said quietly.“You’re going to kill me,” she sobbed. “I heard that old bitch.”“It is my choice,” I said. “I can do what your friends do with pretty women, put you in a whore house. You could do twenty or so men a day, day after day after day, couldn’t you, into every hole you’ve got?”She looked away.“Or I could give you to some of our Indian friends. They’re very partial to blondes.”“You wouldn’t,” she snorted.“Or,” I said, taking out my big knife and showed it to her, “I could.
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