Chapter 6

"Me?" The woman stood there for a moment, then muttered, "No," obviously embarrassed, adding, "I don't know why I came up here. I love my husband..."

She started to move off, but Mike grabbed her arm. "Kids, maybe?"

She shook her head. "They're all ... over..." Mike shrugged and let go of her.

Mike glanced around, disgusted. "Okay, in case you haven't heard, it's down to me -- and I have two open slots. Those of you who suspected me of being a child molester should know that I sent the young one over to the care of my friend over there, because he has two nice older ladies and -- more important -- her girlfriend." His eyes swept the small group. "We're going to go at this differently, now. In the first place, if you still object to me on some grounds, you may as well go sit down." Three women left the line. "Now, if you really don't like sex, you should probably excuse yourselves..." Two more pushed off the counter and walked off. That left three.

One of them was a narrow young black woman displaying some serious if droopy cleavage in a halter top. Hands on her hips, she asked, "How do I know that YOU'RE any damned good?"

Mike eyed her stonily. "NOW, you ask that question?"

"I've had a shitload of men walk out on my ass," the woman retorted, "but ain't none of 'em complained about ME!"

"And why is that?" Mike asked.

"Why is what?"

"Why do men walk out on you?"

"I dunno." The woman shrugged. "I chase 'em down, anyway -- ain't no way they're gonna stick me with kids and not pay for it!"

Mike shook his head. "How many kids do you have?"

"Three." She cocked her head. "If I go with you, they'll still be payin', right?"

Pete, who had come forward to observe, laughed. "No. On the other hand, you won't need anything basic, anyway. Everything will hinge on him." He nodded at Mike.

The woman gave Pete the fisheye. "What do you mean by I won't need nothin' basic?"

"Just that," Pete replied, shrugging. "You're gonna have food and a roof over your head, a place to sleep..."

"What if I put his ass out?"

"You don't." Pete grinned. "HE puts YOUR ass out -- and, frankly, you don't want that to happen. It limits your options -- severely."

"What the fuck does THAT mean?" the woman asked.

"It means it's a man's world again, Honey -- that's what it means!" Pete replied. "Are you always this irritating?"

Mike laughed. "She's just spirited. I don't figure shes got reason to trust anybody. What's your name?"

"Jolene." She eyed them both suspiciously. "I don't get it -- what am I gonna do for money?"

Mike didn't know the answer, so he looked to Pete, who replied, "Nothing. YOU don't DO money. He gets a stipend, but there isn't much you can do with it anyway. The basics are provided, just like they're slowly getting to be here. If you want something that ISN'T basic, you wheedle him for it."

"So I don't need money..." Jolene looked confused.

"You don't even GET money," Pete explained. "He does, but you are totally dependent on him."

"So what do I do?" Jolene asked.

Pete shrugged. "What he tells you to. Clean house. Raise kids. Fuck. Whatever makes him happy."

Jolene frowned. "Sounds a lot like they used to tell us marriage was -- but it ain't."

Pete nodded. "It's more like it was a couple of hundred years ago. Without him, you're nothing -- nobody. Look, I could bullshit you, but we're short on time, so I'm gonna go with the bald facts. He will OWN you -- period! You want it -- it comes from him. If he's happy, you're golden -- but if he isn't you're in deep shit! I really don't know how to make it clearer..."

Jolene nodded, thoughtful. "So, I figure the old 'I got a headache' game don't cut it?"

Mike knew the answer to this one. "Not even, Honey!"

"Is it just you, or do you get to pimp me out?"

Mike opened his mouth, but Pete beat him to the punch. "There isn't any prostitution -- no need. But if he decides to lend you out, that's his call, not yours."

Mike added, "I don't see me doing a lot of that."

Jolene sighed. "I know I'm gonna regret this, but what do you want NOW?"

Mike pursed his lips. "Show me your card -- and what's under that halter."

Jolene handed over her card, then undid the halter. The jugs underneath were substantial -- but they sagged and looked under-inflated. The nipples sported a good-sized pair of rings, too. "Don't those get in the way of breast feeding?" Mike asked.

Jolene shrugged. "Not really. I probably ought to run a string through 'em to hold 'em up."

"We can crank them back up -- easy," Pete informed her.

"No knives," Jolene insisted, holding up her hand. "Besides, if I have another kid, they'll just crash again."

"No knives," Pete agreed. "We have other methods. And after every childbirth, you can go back to looking like you did at sixteen, if that's how he wants it."

"No shit?" Jolene blinked.

"No shit."

"I was hot before Tyrone..." she mused. Looking at Mike, she said, "You'd like that."

"Go get in line over there," Mike told her, pointing.

She swayed up to him, suddenly seductive. "You make me look like that again and I'll make you so happy, Baby, that you won't know what to do with yourself -- promise!"

"Go on, then," Mike croaked.

Pete shook his head. "You never know what's gonna trip one's trigger..." He squared his shoulders. "One to go."

Mike nodded. What was left just wasn't impressive ... He cast about; there was a girl standing by the coffee machines, holding a baby. "What are you doing? Waiting to buy a bagel?" She was a classic, heavy-set brown- haired chick. She had a serious set of hooters locked into an even more serious-looking brassiere under a blouse that looked vaguely like it was designed to support nursing. It ran a bit short, exposing some puffy midriff flesh over her stretch capris. The obligatory pair of cheap flip-flops adorned her feet. The hair was pulled back in a topknot with wisps escaping at the neck; her face looked oily and sweaty and tired -- and scared.

"Mister?" she replied, blinking.

"I asked why you were here," Mike amplified.

"Well, lunch ... It's cheap, you know."