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“Would that be all, sir?”“No, actually,” he replied, looking up from his papers. His eyes brushed over my chest and back to my face. I staye... expressionless, waiting for his next order. “Bend over, Miss Cranston.”My lips dropped open. “Sir?” I asked, glancing from the young man on the couch to his stone-faced father.“Turn around,” he replied, his voice getting tight with anger, “and bend over. Pick that skirt up while you’re at it.”I did as he asked, slowly, reluctantly…every part of me. "Emma?" I said, "Good lord!" Right the first time," she said, grabbing my arm, "come along."I followed her down a boardwalk and up some worn, outside stairs to a dark room above a large tavern."Sit," she said, pointing to the only chair. "I'll get us something."She put down her bundle, opened a cupboard and produced a bottle and two dirty glass. She wiped the glasses out with her shawl, splashed whisky into them and handed me one. She gulped hers and I sipped mine. It was awful, raw stuff not. More

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