I lost my job at a private corporation that my father had 50% of his stocks in. He believed that I would have my life set out for me to the day I died... I tried the job, which sat me in a desk with no windows. Just a door to have my boss pop in once in a while. Did I mention I was a wuss? To add to my hellsih life, my boss tried to fool me and succeeded. He sent a gorgeous, steamy, young, hot secretary of his to my office. I didn't notice that she handcuffed her hand behind her. I had no control. Finally, she took her collar out of her locker, and knelt in front of Gretchen, presenting it to her on her outstretched hands.Gretchen took the collar then paused for a moment, thinking. “Since you’re no longer a slave only while you’re in the gym, I think we need to get something different for the future. For the time being you can wear the collar to mark you as a slave, but we need something that you can wear in the outside world. It will need to show your status but it shouldn’t be too. The night went by like a taxi cab speeding down Second Avenue. He slept for a few hours more.He knew nothing of the hour. He awoke later reaching across the bed. The stillness of the bedroom offered no response. He urinated in the bathroom, and yet he could not hear a sound, save for the splashing against the toilet bowl. He checked himself in the mirror and discovered clotted scratch marks about his face. He found the alarm clock flung far across the room. Three p.m. glowed in digital sanity.. One of the bars was called the Kit Kat Club where women wearing tight, low cut dresses got the sailors to buy them drinks, sat on their laps, leaned their teasing bodies against them, and then would either leave with a sailor on her arm, or walk up the narrow stairs to the rooms above the bar. I nursed a beer and watched the scene. One older, chubby woman with thin strands of hair growing from a mole on her chin put her hand on my thigh and whispered, “Hi, Johnny, buy me drink and we have.
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