Chapter 1

David Beatson straightened up, groaning, and looked at his son. “Harry, I know it’s good we have plenty of work, but, for God’s sake, it’d be nice to get some time to relax.”

“Yeah, Dad. You know what I think.”

“I suppose I do. But really, a woman in the workshop?”

“Come on, Dad! I’m sure you can remember a time when women did anything they wanted in the way of work! And what we need is just menial stuff, at the moment. Just having the vehicles degreased and clean would be an enormous help.”

“I just can’t get my head round a woman willingly getting grease under her nails.” He held up his own hands, and inspected them. Of course they were coated with the grime of the afternoon’s efforts, but even washing them wouldn’t restore them to their natural colour. “Besides, I don’t fancy buying a slave, or an indenture.”

“You need to call Fred Jenkins, Dad. He did pretty well, buying that Arab girl. And that wife of his ... she had some behaviour modification, apparently.”

“That’s a thought. He might have some ideas. God knows we need some ideas.” He walked over to the sink and got a dollop of hand cleanser in his right palm. “This stuff isn’t bad, but it’s playing hell with my skin.” He worked it in to the grime on his hands. “Forgot my watch again. Would you mind?”

His son laughed, crossed the workshop and undid the bracelet of his father’s watch, then tucked it in his Dad’s overall pocket. He then grabbed his own dollop of hand cleanser. “It’s too late to cook again, Dad. I’m sure the Pizza Palace will be pleased to have our custom ... again.”

Once they’d both removed as much of the grease and dirt as they could, they dried their hands and left the workshop, setting the alarm before locking the door. Their apartment was above the workshop and they climbed the stairs wearily. The first order of business was to call for something to eat. Pizza and salad from the neighbouring business would satisfy that need, and once the order was in, David called Fred Jenkins.

“Mister Jenkins, David Beatson...”

“Oh, David! So formal! It’s Fred.”

“I didn’t want to presume.”

Laughter. “So presume! What can I do for you?”

“Advice. Harry and I desperately need some help in the workshop, and you’re the only person I know and trust enough to ask about buying a slave or IS.”

“I see. I assume you’re thinking of a woman? Not a male slave or IS?”

“Yes. I know there’s hardly any men to be had, of any description.”

“Just so. I wouldn’t, personally, go to a dealer or auction. I was very lucky with Sabina. You don’t know what you’re getting. Most women will have been abused, and probably won’t be up to anything you can trust.”

“Pretty well what I thought.”

“I put Eleanor in the Training Centre. When she came out, she was a different person. A much nicer person. I know they have residents there who need a place, and I think you’ll find one, probably two, in fact, who would be suitable. I’ll warn you, though, whichever woman you take, she’ll want ... need ... attention.”

“I don’t want to have to stand over someone to make sure she does what she’s told. I need someone I can trust, at least with simple stuff.”

Laughter. “Oh, not that sort of attention. You can trust anyone you get from the Centre to do as she’s told, she’ll need a little supervision until she’s sure of each task, but once she’s got the idea, she’ll get on with what’s needed. She’ll cook and clean as well. That’s not what I was meaning. No, the likelihood is she’ll want ... need ... sex. Quite a lot of sex.”

David was somewhat nonplussed by that. “Not exactly what I was after.”

A chuckle. “Will you complain when you have a clean apartment, a hot meal, and follow that with an enthusiastic round of sex to help you sleep?”

“Well...”

“You can always leave satisfying your apprentice to your son.”

“Hmph.”

“Ring Major Prestwick or Reg Smith at the Training Centre. See if they think they have anyone suitable. Ring now, and see if they’re there. If not, they’ll ring back.”

“Okay...” sigh. “I’ll give it a try.”

“I don’t think you’ll regret it. If you take one of their trainees, you’ll have a disciplined, intelligent apprentice who may very well enhance your life considerably.”

************************

“Training Centre, Sergeant Olsen speaking. How may I help you?”

“Good evening, Sergeant. David Beatson. I was hoping to speak to Major Prestwick, or Reg Smith. I realise they’re probably not available this late, but I can leave a message?”

“Oh, Mister Beatson ... Sarn’t Major Smith has just left the Centre, and he’s on call tonight. If you’ll just hold on a moment, I’ll transfer you to his quarters.”

David opened his mouth to say that the matter was far from urgent, and he’d call in the morning, but he heard an intermittent buzz which indicated that he was on hold.

“Sergeant Major Smith’s quarters, Louisa Smith speaking.”

“Good evening, um, Missus Smith? Could I speak to the Sergeant Major?”

“Indeed, and I have the honour to bear that title! I am expecting my husband at any moment. In fact, I hear the door. Please hold on.” A slight sound as the handset was put down, and just audibly, ‘Master? Reg? The phone for you.’ Followed by a gruff voice, “Smith.”

“Oh, Sergeant Major, I’m David Beatson. I’m sorry to bother you at this time. I was transferred before I could offer to leave a message.”

“No problem, Mister Beatson. Beatson? Do you have that garage a couple of miles from here?”

“Yes, I do, with my son. And that’s my reason for calling. Mister Jenkins suggested you might have some advice about an apprentice for the business.”

“Indeed? Fred Jenkins suggested us? Could you come to the Centre? We have several women who might be interested in a career in motor maintenance. Tomorrow is my day off, as I’m on call tonight, but Major Prestwick will be in. He’s the Officer in Charge. Off hand, I’d say perhaps three or four of our trainees might be suitable.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Major! What time would you suggest I come?”

“Mid morning, or mid afternoon. And if you can, I’d suggest bringing your son too.”

“Bring Harry?”

“Of course! Don’t you think he might have an opinion about whoever you might take into your household?”

“Oh! Yes. Of course. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“I’d suggest you take two women – one each to be around your son’s age and yours. I have two in mind, and a couple more to give you some choice.”

“Oh,” he said again, obviously nonplussed. “Won’t they be put off by having ingrained grime in their hands?”

“Not the ones I’m thinking of. Actually, most of our residents would put up with that in order to get a permanent place with a man. By the way, there are grants to encourage breeding. You won’t lose out if they get pregnant.”

David did not respond to that, he was too busy assimilating the idea.

“Will ten-thirty suit? Or would you prefer afternoon?”

“Ten-thirty sounds fine, Sergeant Major.”

“Good! There’ll be coffee ready when you get here. Good night!”

“Good night, Sergeant Major.” ‘Coffee? Coffee? I haven’t tasted coffee since ... when?’