Taylor had not started menstruating; she had torn her hymen when she lost her virginity. There was in fact little bleeding, just a small dried patch on the inside of her left upper thigh and a few spots on the sheet.

She went back to sleep until around nine and then got out of bed and went for a run, had coffee and played with some code. At eleven she showered, did her hair and fixed her makeup. She decided to wear a short grey pleated-skirt with dark mauve opaque tights to keep her legs warm, a light-pink knit sweater with plain t-shirt under and her tan suede ankle-boots. She accessorised with a white wool scarf, gold earrings and bracelets.

Just as she had finished dressing she received a text from Bradley Freeman: 'The Gage 1230'.

Taylor took the Blue Line 'L' which took about forty minutes to get to the Loop and during that time she thought about the previous evening. Was having sex with Bradley a good idea? Did it imply that she was easy and available to him whenever he wanted? Did he think that, despite her objections to the contrary, she expected him to favour her business proposal in return for fucking him?

She didn't regret losing her virginity; it was a memorable experience but had it come at a cost to her integrity? She would soon find out.

It was a five minute walk from Monroe Station to The Gage restaurant on South Michigan Avenue located just across from the Crown Fountain. The place was busy and she told the hostess at the door that she was meeting Bradley Freeman and was directed to a booth where Bradley was sitting with Veronique Pascal.

"Hello Kmart," Veronique gave her a bright-red lipstick smile displaying her perfect white teeth.

"Behave Veronica. Hello Taylor, please join us," Bradley greeted Taylor by standing and kissing her cheek.

This gesture was not lost on Veronique.

"So we are saying hello the continental way? Very friendly Bradley," Veronique said cynically.

"Hello Bradley, hello Veronica," Taylor replied, a little miffed that Veronique had joined them for lunch.

Bradley scooted over so that Taylor could sit and he sat beside her, opposite Veronique.

The waitress arrived and as Veronique and Bradley were ready to order she allowed Bradley to order on her behalf. Veronique ordered a farmer's salad and Bradley ordered a crab Louie sandwich. Veronique had a Sauvignon Blanc and Bradley and Taylor agreed to share a pitcher of IPA.

"I don't normally drink at lunch but you need a cold ale to wash down a good crab Louie, besides we have something to celebrate," Bradley beamed.

Taylor looked a little bewildered. She thought that she was joining Bradley for an informal lunch.

"I've decided to fund your startup," Bradley beamed.

"You are?" Taylor was delighted but a little dumbfounded that FreeCom had made the decision so quickly.

"I worked the financials this morning and Veronique consulted with some of our big retailers and they all reacted positively. What do you think Taylor do you want to come on board FreeCom?" Bradley asked.

"Sure. I mean yes. I mean of course," Taylor stammered.

"Congratulations Kmart; now you can buy some clothes," Veronique quipped but she was smiling.

"But seriously; the retailors and vendors I spoke to this morning are very excited," Veronique patted Taylor's hand affectionately.

Drinks arrived and toasts were made. The sandwich, as promised, was delicious although Taylor figured she'd need to double-distance her run the next day to work off the calories. Bradley's hand strayed to her legs under the table and he stroked her knees a little. It was nothing overtly sexual, Taylor knew he had a thing for nylons and his fingers softly circled her inner thigh, it was more comforting than sexual and she quite liked it.

"Ok, so what do you say we finish up and go back to the office and commence this venture?" Bradley announced as their plates were being cleared.

"I'm hardly dressed for work," Taylor protested.

"I'll give you a dispensation, just this once," Bradley joked.

They walked the couple of blocks back to FreeCom and took the elevator to the eighteenth floor. Bradley cheekily squeezed her butt in the elevator. He was standing beside her at the back of the car as it was crowded with employees returning from lunch. Taylor brushed his hand away. She was flattered by Bradley's little gestures but wasn't sure if it was genuine affection or if he was taking liberties.

Did he think that because he was funding her startup that he owned her body or that she was obliged to let him fondle her whenever the fancy took him?

Bradley had texted ahead and one of the small conference rooms was set up for them.

"I gotta take a leak; shouldn't have had that second glass of beer. You ladies go on and I'll catch up," Bradley peeled off towards the men's.

"I'll take a restroom break too," Taylor had gone at The Gage but the brisk walk through the cold Chicago streets had done its job.

Veronique followed Taylor into the ladies and they took a stall each. They finished at the same time, washed their hands and stood shoulder to shoulder at the mirror fixing their lipstick. When Taylor turned to leave Veronique suddenly turned her around and pressed her against the wall and leaned into her.

"Be careful of Bradley. He's a charmer and a pretty good lay but he's a ruthless businessman. He didn't get where he is by sharing all his toys," Veronique's bright-red lipsticked lips had formed the kind of sneer that only European women seemed to be able to master.

Taylor just nodded and turned to leave.

"I'm serious Kmart, be careful. You write good programs but you are not business savvy," Veronique stepped back and let Taylor leave the restroom.

They were joined in the conference room by a serious looking young man who it turned out was from FreeCom's legal department and he ran Taylor through the contract. His name was Hugh Fleetwood and he rambled on for what seemed like an eternity.

"Look, most of it is just boilerplate but the gist is: PostPay, which is described in these documents as a company wholly owned by Taylor Averille, becomes a subsidiary company of FreeCom but you maintain control of your company," Hugh Fleetwood explained.

"What this means is that as a subsidiary of FreeCom you get to use all of FreeCom's resources to promote and implement PostPay's business model and to carry out the daily technical, economic and financial undertakings of the company. Profits made by executing this business model are shared equally between FreeCom and PostPay," Hugh extrapolated.

"I also have documents here ready for you to sign in order for you to copyright your software and system architecture; I can't believe that you haven't done so already,' Hugh said in an admonishing tone.

Taylor blushed.

"That's why I never disclosed the whole program and architectural hierarchy and only provided samples to potential backers," Taylor said in her defence.

"So anyway... You're going to want to take most of this to your own legal counsel to have it reviewed and revised before you sign it, except for the copyright registration which I suggest you sign right now," Hugh Fleetwood finally stopped to take a breath.

"Wow that's a lot!" Taylor, whose expertise was in coding and programming, had never realised how complicated the corporate and legal side of her product would be.

"Look Taylor. It's not that hard. In simple terms I give you two hundred and fifty thousand dollars up front as a goodwill payment. PostPay becomes a subsidiary of FreeCom but you maintain the controlling interest and we split the profits fifty-fifty," Bradley gave Taylor that boyish grin again.

"Well that sounds good to me. Where do I sign?" Taylor returned the grin.

"Wait!" Veronique interrupted.

"As much as I want to get to work selling PostPay to my clients, promoting the product and making us all lots of money, I think we need to ensure due diligence is done here. We are offering Miz Averille a good deal I'm sure, but this is all happening very fast and Miz Averille is not effectively represented. This could lead to complications down the track if, and I doubt it will come to that, but it will become an issue if Miz Averille challenges the deal later. Let's all meet our legal and moral obligations," Veronique put her expertly manicured fingers on top of the documents.

Bradley's smile morphed into a scowl but his demeanour changed back to one of pleasantness almost instantly, it was like watching some therianthropial being.

"Of course you are right Veronica, I think we all got caught up in the moment," Bradley nodded sagely, but it was obvious that he was hoping to have the contract signed today.

"I'll sign the copyright registration now because that protects me," Taylor tapped the document in front of her.

Everyone around the table agreed.

"And I'll deposit the advance into your account as a gesture of goodwill. It'll give you a little stipend to start with," Bradley patted Taylor's hand.

"Ok we're done for now," Hugh Fleetwood gathered the documents together, put them in a binder and handed them to Taylor.

"As soon as your legal counsel has reviewed the documents, send me any proposed changes and we'll nut it out and get this deal signed. I want to start making money," Bradley stood and the rest of them followed suit.

Bradley escorted Taylor to the foyer.

"Dinner again tonight?" He smiled at her.

"I don't think so Bradley. I've got a lot to get through here," Taylor nodded at the files that she was clutching to her chest.

"Ok, I get it and call me Brad please," he leaned in and kissed her cheek chastely.

All of this was witnessed by Veronique who was standing in the doorway of her office watching intently.

Taylor took the L back home and dropped the documents on the bench next to her workstations and did a little dance. She knew that if anyone saw her doing her little jig she would be terribly embarrassed but she was just so excited. Female Taylor had been able to achieve in three days what her male alter-ego was unable to accomplish in two years. The oracle in the USB was right!

There was a knock on the door which surprised Taylor. She seldom had visitors, especially at this time of day. It was late afternoon.

"You live here like this Kmart?" Veronique looked disparagingly around the apartment.

Veronique had barged into the apartment as soon as Taylor opened the door.

"It's Walmart! I bought my clothes at Walmart!' Taylor stamped her foot indignantly.

"Tomayto - tomahto. Tomorrow we will go shopping and I will dress you like you own your own company. I need to be able to sell you Taylor; you are part of the PostPay brand now," Veronique continued to look around the little apartment with distain.

"We'll find you somewhere decent to live, you can't stay here," Veronique waved her hand dismissively.

Taylor's high spirits dissipated instantly and she stepped up to Veronique, standing only inches away and stared into her icy blue eyes.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Taylor glared at her.

Veronique didn't flinch. She searched Taylor's face, and then she bought her hand to her cheek and softly stroked it.

"You are a very stunning woman; not a classic beauty by any means but any bimbo can be pretty. You are far better. You are interesting... intriguing. You behave like a woman who is not sure of whom she is, like you are new to being a woman. Your behaviours seem almost rehearsed," Veronique smiled at Taylor.

Both women were tall and they stood eye to eye, only inches apart.

"You don't have a dick under that skirt do you Kmart?" Veronique put her hand under Taylor's skirt and grabbed her between the legs.

Taylor refused to be intimidated and she stood still, glaring at Veronique while she felt her pubis through her satin panties.

"Well did you find one?" Taylor glowered.

"Did I find one what?" Veronique tilted her head questioningly.

"A dick," Taylor hissed.

Veronique slipped her hand inside the waistband of Taylor's tights and found her sex. She slipped a finger inside Taylor's labia and stroked her sex.

Taylor trembled.

"No. I found something better," Veronique removed her hand and bought the offending finger to her lips and licked it.

Veronique leaned in closer to Taylor, her lips actually touching Taylor's earlobe, sending shivers down her spine.

"You taste good. I'm sorry for doubting you," Veronique took a step back.

"But we don't have time for this mischief. I know a boutique law firm that specialises in corporate law; I use them myself and they have no affiliation with FreeCom or Bradley Freeman. I took the liberty of sending copies of the contract over to them for review," Veronique was suddenly all business.

Taylor's shoulders drooped and she suddenly felt exhausted.

"Why are you doing all this Veronica? Helping me with legal assistance, finding me a new apartment, shopping, what the fuck?" Taylor was confused.

Veronique stepped back into Taylor and but her hand on her upper arm in a comforting gesture.

"Because it's my job. I have to sell PostPay and I have to sell you along with it. I can't have some gangly computer coder accompany me to business meetings. I need a smart sassy executive who looks like she can kick ass and take names; someone who looks the part; someone who looks like they own a successful finance technology company."

"You are part of the brand, whether you like it or not," Veronique explained.

Taylor nodded; it made sense now.

Veronique leaned even closer, her body pressing against Taylor's.

"And also because for some reason I like you Taylor," Veronique gently kissed Taylor on the lips.

The kiss was fleeting, Veronique's lips felt like the fluttering wings of a butterfly, her breath tasted like sweet like nectar but tinged with spice like cinnamon. Taylor stood stiffly with her arms by her side, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted.

Veronique turned away and picked up her handbag from where she had tossed it on the couch.

"Be ready tomorrow at nine. We have a viewing at nine-thirty then we are going shopping. Check your account; the advance should be in there by now. We are going to deplete it a little tomorrow," Veronique's heels click-clacked on the boards as she walked to the door.

She let herself out.

Taylor still stood stock still with her hands by her sides.

"She called me Taylor," Taylor whispered and then she smiled.

Taylor had a quiet night home alone, she fielded calls from Brad Freeman pestering her to go out for drinks, then later for dinner and finally he offered to come around to her apartment. She respectfully declined each invitation despite his insistence.

Taylor checked her bank account online and was delighted to find it had swelled considerably. There was an accompanying email from her bank requesting she come into the branch and talk to their manager about opening an investment account rather than the savings account she currently held with them.

She slept soundly after pleasuring herself. During the act her mind kept vacillating between images of Brad Freeman fucking her hard and Veronique Pascal kissing her deeply whilst she used her fingers on her sex. She imagined she could feel Veronique's finger still inside her cleft.

She was ready to go at nine and just as well. Veronique texted her and told her that she was waiting in a town car outside. Taylor was wearing the same outfit she had worn yesterday only with a fresh t-shirt and yellow tights this time.

Taylor clambered into the back of the car to find Veronique wearing her usual dark designer short-skirted power suit and Christian Louboutin's. She winced when she saw how Taylor was dressed but said nothing.

"Good morning Veronica," Taylor used her abbreviated name.

"Good morning Taylor," Veronique leaned in and kissed each of Taylor's cheeks.

Veronique smelled wonderful. Taylor appraised her sharp cheekbones, full lips and severe black bob and had to admit that she was envious. She was wearing black fully-fashioned stockings and Taylor thought that she might like to try them... once she had the clothes to match of course.

The driver stopped outside of the 'Millennium on LaSalle' located at 29 South LaSalle Street right on the Loop; it would be walking distance to work. An impeccably dressed and attractive real estate agent met them in the foyer; the agent and Veronique exchanged air-kisses whilst Taylor settled for a handshake.

She was shown to a one bedroom apartment which she immediately fell in love with. It was modern and impeccably furnished; 745 square feet and open plan. She could take it for $3,300 per month or $4,300 furnished as is.

Taylor signed the lease then and there, taking up the agent's offer of letting the apartment furnished.

"Ok Taylor, you have somewhere to live, now let's get you a wardrobe," Veronique said when they climbed back in the limo.

Taylor and Veronique spent four hours shopping, taking time out for a quick lunch. The raided every high-end shop on the Magnificent Mile and managed to fill the town car with boxes, shopping bags and suit-carriers. They took it all back to Taylor's new apartment and Veronique helped Taylor put away her purchases in an ordered fashion so that she could easily coordinate her wardrobe.

They went back to Taylor's old apartment and dropped Taylor off. They agreed to meet for drinks and dinner that night.

"Are we friends now Veronique?" Taylor asked her before alighting from the car.

"I don't know what we are Taylor, but we are something," she kissed Taylor's cheek in farewell.

Taylor packed up all of her male clothing into boxes which she labelled 'store'. Taylor probably wouldn't keep most of it anyway when she transitioned back into a man; male Taylor would need a corporate image when he reappeared. She packed her personal possessions, which were meagre to say the least. Except for the lingerie and hosiery, the Walmart wardrobe went into boxes labelled Goodwill.

She had purchased all new cosmetics and toiletries so except for the computers, there was nothing in the apartment she needed or wanted. She took her personal possessions and two suitcases full of necessities and was ready to leave; her town car would be here soon. No more Ubers for Taylor. A moving company would come and put what she needed to keep into storage and drop the remainder at Goodwill. Some tech wizards from FreeCom would relocate her computers to her new apartment. She was ready to leave her old life for good.

"Shit!" she said when she was on the apartment stoop.

She gave her things to the driver and rushed back inside. She opened the drawer where she kept the plethora of computer peripherals and accessories and took out the magic USB drive.

"I can't lose that now can I? Don't want to be stuck in this body forever," she smiled to herself and dropped the USB into her purse.

Taylor put away her things and stood in the middle of her new apartment and pinched herself. This had to be a dream. How could this have possibly happened? It wasn't a dream but it was certainly a miracle. She took the matte-black USB device out of her purse and stared at it. It remained dull and lifeless.

"Eighty six days to go. I need to get PostPay established and think of an exit strategy. Somehow female Taylor needs to disappear and male Taylor needs to reappear. Plenty of time to think about that," she said to herself and headed to the bathroom, she was keen to try her new rainfall shower.

Taylor stripped and luxuriated under the warm water for thirty minutes, dried herself and brushed her teeth and her hair having put on a fluffy bathrobe. The central heating in the apartment kept the temperature at a comfortable 78 degrees. She clutched a gin and tonic and looked out the full-length windows at the cityscape watching the night begin to fall.

She had shopped online for groceries and essentials whilst she was out shopping with Veronique and had the food and beverages delivered, pre-approving access to her apartment with the concierge. She was thinking she could get used to this luxurious lifestyle where necessities were taken care of for her. She wasn't rich yet but she was comfortable and well prepared for the profits from PostPay to keep her and after her, her male counterpart in the luxury that she was about to become accustomed to.

It had been another long day and Taylor would have been more than happy to spend another night alone, this time in the luxury of her new digs, but she had committed to dinner and drinks with Veronique and she was determined to meet her obligations. Beside, Veronique was fascinating and Taylor wanted to find out more about her.

Taylor fixed her hair and makeup and surveyed her new wardrobe. She selected a simple but elegant black longsleeved cocktail dress and laid it on the bed. She rummaged through her new lingerie and selected a black satin and lace bra and panty set and Jonathan Aston 12 denier seamed holdup stockings. Imported from London they were a luxury she could now afford.

Being a woman was still very new to Taylor and whilst she had experienced some of the drawbacks of being female, the little delights such as wearing alluring lingerie were exciting. She slipped into her underwear and put on and adjusted the dress, checking herself in the mirror. She opened the jewellery case in her walk-in closet and selected silver drop earrings set with emeralds and the matching necklace and ring. Veronique had assured her that the expense was worth it as the stones accentuated her green eyes.

Taylor excitedly slipped her feet into the black Manolo Blahnik stilettos and took a turn around the room; she was getting better at walking in heels. She sprayed herself with perfume, packed only the essentials into her clutch purse and put her Max Mara Manuel black camelhair coat over her arm.

"Ok honey, let's take this new girl out for a spin," she chuckled to herself as she called the elevator.

She stopped in the foyer to put on her coat and saw a passing housewife dig her husband in the ribs when he stared at her. Taylor smiled and tied the belt tightly around her waist and pulled up the collar in anticipation of the cold wind that would greet her on the street. The bar-restaurant was only two blocks over and she wanted to walk to clear her head.

The hostess at the chic establishment took Taylor's coat and directed her to the bar where Veronique stood looking magnificent in a simple red Claudie Pierlot stretch-ponté mini dress, sheer taupe hosiery and cherry-red high heels. There were three handsome well-dressed men paying attention to her as she engaged them in conversation.

"Ok gentlemen, time for you to shoo, my friend and I have much to discuss," Veronique waved the men away.

"Maybe we could stay and keep you company. Two beautiful ladies such as yourselves deserve to be pampered. Let us buy you dinner," one of the men replied as Taylor arrived at the bar.

"Hello darling, wonderful to see you again," Veronique caught Taylor off guard as she pulled her tight and kissed her passionately on the lips.

Still holding Taylor in her arms Veronique turned to the three astonished men.

"Are you still here? As you can see we have no use for men," Veronique mocked the man who had offered to buy them dinner.

The men dispersed and Veronique released Taylor and then kissed her chastely on the cheeks.

"Hello Taylor. Sorry about that but rather than waste time trying to discourage those men it was easier to pretend that they have no chance of fucking us," Veronique reached for her drink.

Taylor was still taken aback but she recovered.

"How do you know they wanted to fuck us, they seemed nice enough?" Taylor countered.

"They are men. They have dicks. Unless they are gay they want to fuck us," Veronique waved her hand dismissively.

"Now let me get you a drink. Two Absolut Crystal's on ice please," she called out to the bartender.

"How are you finding your new living arrangements?" Veronique studied her from over the rim of her glass.

"I can't believe that less than a week ago I was living in a rundown walk-up, wearing department store clothing, watching the last of my savings dwindle, schlepping PostPay around town with no one showing any interest. It's almost like a dream," Taylor confided.

"Don't complain Taylor. People... women in particular, have had it far worse than you and have overcome their adversity. Just enjoy what you have. You think it is some kind of miracle but believe me, I've seen PostPay and I see the potential. It's your work; you've earned everything you have," Veronique said soberly.

"Thank you," Taylor smiled.

Veronique seemed to have transformed from a cynical bitch to her best friend in very short timeframe.

"Come on; let's get some dinner," Veronique swallowed her drink and led Taylor to the dining room.

They ate lobster and made girl-talk. Taylor was guarded and listened intently to what Veronique had to say, picking up her nuances and her way of communicating, storing the information to assist her in projecting herself as a confident, feminine, powerful woman.

They drank champagne to celebrate and over dessert they spoke business.

"Make sure you listen to your lawyers tomorrow Taylor. Make sure that the contract is exactly what you want it to be, that it suits you. PostPay is your commodity, make sure you keep ownership," Veronique warned her.

"That's twice now that you have hinted that Bradley Freeman might not be all that he seems," Taylor frowned.

"Oh Bradley is a wonderful man. We were lovers for a while and have been business partners for quite some time and he has treated me well and I have worked hard for him. But he is still a man and you are still a woman. Men... particularly powerful men, often see women as prey, especially if they are vulnerable."

"You came to see him dressed in your Walmart suit, eager to make a deal, you had been rejected by numerous other financiers. He won't admit it, he was probably not even aware of it himself, but you were vulnerable."

"Like I said, Bradley is a nice guy but it is likely that he would be unable to control a subconscious urge to take advantage of you. It's just the way men are. Even the nice guys," Veronique shrugged.

Veronique insisted on picking up the tab, despite Taylor's new-found wealth.

"Shall we have a nightcap?" Veronique asked as they collected their coats.

"Where?" Taylor asked.

Taylor thought that she would be tired but the contrary was true, she was hyped up and far from sleepy.

"Your place is closer," Veronique said straightforwardly and opened the door and held it for Taylor.

The women huddled together as they made their way through the cold quiet windy streets, their heels skittering on the pavement.

Inside Taylor's apartment it was warm and cosy; the subdued lamplight gave the place an intimate ambience. Taylor hung up their coats and settled Veronique onto a white leather lounge. She poured them both a generous measure of scotch, kicked off her heels and settled down next to Veronique and folded her legs under her.

"I like this place Taylor; it's good for you," Veronique smiled.

"You should like it. You picked it for me," Taylor smiled back.

"Well, I have taste and I think you might be getting a taste for the finer things in life too. You certainly know how to shop," Veronique sipped her drink.

"One again with your assistance. You have a very good sense of style," Taylor countered.

"Things are moving fast for you Taylor; enjoy it, but like I said, just make sure you remain in control of your destiny," Veronique said earnestly.

Taylor scooted closer to Veronique, her scent was heady.

"You seem very cautious and have a contemptuous attitude to men. I sense that you have been wronged by a man or by men at some time," Taylor reached out and put a comforting hand on Veronique's shoulder.

"Hah! If you only knew Taylor! If you only knew," Veronique sighed.

"So tell me. Tell me why you don't trust men," Taylor whispered.

Veronique's icy-blue eyes searched Taylor's emerald eyes and then she stroked Taylor's cheek affectionately.

"It is not a good bedtime story Taylor. It will give you bad dreams," Veronique's smile was blanched.

For some reason Taylor felt sympathy for this bold, cold, confident women, she sensed a vulnerability. She snuggled up to her and put her head on Veronique's shoulder.

"Tell me anyway. You said we are not friends but we are something. So tell me about yourself and maybe we can be friends," Taylor nuzzled her forehead against Veronique's neck.

"Ok Taylor, but I warned you," Veronique whispered.

*****

Katcha Kovalenko had just turned eighteen when her mother came to her with the proposal. They were living in a tiny crowded government subsidised flat in a crumbling concrete apartment block in Lviv and living hand to mouth.

"Tatyana's daughter Irena is making a lot of money working as an au pair in Germany. She sends her mother two hundred Euros a month and she is living well in Bonn."

Tatyana was their next door neighbour and recently she seemed to be living a lot better lifestyle than the other families on their floor. Katcha was well aware that her friend Irena had gone to Germany for work; Irena had been very excited about the prospect.

"You meet this man at Uzhhorod station on Friday. He will get you into Munich through Slovakia and Austria to meet the people who run the employment agency. This man is a good man, Tatyana vouches for him, he took care of Irena and now she lives well and her mother is well cared for," her mother handed her a card and a train ticket.

"So it is all arranged. I have no say," Katcha said heatedly.

"The factory where you work in is closed. You are out of work. We are nearly starving. Be kind to your mother, go to Germany and get a good job. You will be happy and I will have some money to live on," her mother stroked her daughter's hair, just the way she had when Katcha was a little girl.

Her mother knew how to make Katcha feel guilty and how to get her to bend her mother's wishes.

"Wear you best clothes, you will need to look good," her mother said.

The conversation was over.

Katcha came out of Uzhhorod railway station looking confused and a little frightened. She was turning the business card that her mother had given her over and over in her fingers.

"Katcha? Katcha?" a big bellied man in his forties who had once been handsome but had let himself go approached her.

He was smiling and he looked happy to see her.

"I'm Uri. I'm here to take you to Germany," he took her little suitcase and indicted for her to follow him.

"It will take us about a day to get there. We have a few stops along the way," they were walking to the car park.

They halted next to a windowless white transit van.

"Sorry about the mode of transport, we had a bus but it broke. You know how reliable our Ukrainian vehicles are," he joked.

"Anyway it won't hurt that you are incognito so to speak. None of you girls have work visas but that won't be a problem when we get there, the agency will fix that up for you," Uri smiled and Katcha nodded.

"Speaking of visas, better you give me your passport now so that if we get stopped I can hand all the passports to the police or border guards," he put out his hand.

Katcha rummaged in her backpack and pulled out her passport and handed it to Uri.

Uri opened the document and checked it and then put it in his jacket.

"Come, meet the others," Uri opened the sliding door to the transit van.

The cargo compartment of the van had been fitted with padded bench seating and four other girls peered out the door at her.

"Girls; meet Katcha. Introduce yourselves, make her welcome. Show her where the snacks and drinks are stored. Katcha is our last passenger at Uzhhorod, next stop is Trnava in Slovakia so if you need to piss go now," Uri grinned showing tobacco stained teeth.

"Up front is Chessa, he will share the driving with me," Chessa turned in his seat and waved.

He was younger that Uri and very handsome.

"Ok. Let's go," Katcha climbed into the van and an attractive blonde girl offered a hand to help her while Uri tossed Katcha's suitcase into the rear of the cargo compartment.

She watched Uri take a small valise out of the glove compartment and toss her passport in it. The valise appeared to have all of the girl's passports in it.

"I'm Anna, this is Gordana, this is Zoya and this is Olga," the girl who had assisted Katcha introduced her to the other passengers.

They were all girls in their late teens or early twenties, all trying to look their best in their cheap clothes, home-cut hairstyles and bargain-bin shoes. All of the girls had the same story: no work, no prospects, poor families, desperate for a better life.

They were all excited about going to Germany for work. They all knew other girls who had gone there and found work as au pairs, nannies, housemaids, hairdressers, waitresses and other menial but well-paid jobs. There was also the opportunity for improvement; some of the girls had taken training courses. They had all been recruited by the same agency, the agency that had recruited her friend Irena.

What Katcha found a little unnerving was that just like her, none of the girls in the van had heard directly from their friends now working in Germany. They had heard of their good fortune from third parties.

The trip to Trnava took around six hours. The van bypassed Trnava itself and just as dusk began to settle the van turned down a dirt road surrounded by deep forest.

"Ok girls. Time for a piss break," Chessa called from the front.

The girls had been snacking and drinking the pop provided for them by Uri and they all needed to go. The van pulled into a clearing and stopped.

"Sorry there are no facilities here ladies, you will just have to go in the bushes," Chessa chuckled.

The girls hopped out of the van and found privacy where they could in the low scrub. Katcha pulled down her pantyhose and panties and squatted in the long grass and relived herself. When she came out of the scrub she saw that there was another van parked in the clearing and two other men were talking to Uri and Chessa, smoking cigarettes and haggling intently.

"Ok girls, over here please," Uri called to the gaggle of young women as they emerged from the scrub.

"Line up here please; the agency guys want to meet you," he said.

"This is Peter and this is Gunther. They work for the employment agency," Uri pointed to the two brutish looking men.

Katcha suddenly felt trepidation and fear wash over her. She felt cold and numb but she did what she was told. The girls lined up and looked at each other nervously, a couple of them were obviously thinking the same thoughts as Katcha and began to shake and Olga began to cry.

The men spoke to each other in guttural German-accented Ukrainian, they were arguing about something. Then the two German men came over and looked at the girls. They treated them like livestock, lifting their chins, examining their bodies, squeezing them here and there.

"What's going on?" Katcha asked.

"Nothing. Nothing. These are the men from the employment agency; they will take you the rest of the way," Uri said dismissively.

Katcha did not believe him.

Gunther went over to the other van and bought out a roll of blankets which he dropped on the ground.

"Gunther will try the blonde and I will try that one," Peter pointed at Olga.

Gunther came over and took Anna out of the line-up, gripping her by her upper arm. He stopped to pick up a blanket and led her into a smaller clearing in the scrub. Peter, a large-framed man in his forties came over to Olga who was standing beside Katcha and tried to do the same but Olga struggled and cried out. He raised a hand to slap her but Katcha leapt in front of him.

"Leave her. She will be no good to you. She will fight and kick and cry and struggle. Take me. I won't give you any trouble, I'll show you a good time," Katcha said, almost retching as she spoke.

"Sure. Why not? I just need to take care of my needs right now, you're all available to us anytime we want anyway," Peter took her by the arm, picked up a blanket and led Katcha into another small clearing where he unrolled the blanket.

"You know what is about to happen?" Peter unbuckled his belt, unzipped his flies and pushed his jeans and his underpants down to his knees.

He had a large gnarly erection, just visible in the fading light.

Katcha was resigned to her fate. At least she had spared Olga, who appeared to be the most innocent of the girls. She began to unzip her skirt.

"Hey! We have no time for that!" Peter pushed Katcha down onto the blanket.

He lifted her skirt and tugged her pantyhose and panties down her thighs and shoved Katcha onto her back. She opened her legs as wide as the bunched up underwear would allow and Peter knelt between them.

"You're a good girl. No fighting. No stupidity. You will do well in Munich. Don't bite me when I kiss you or I'll punch out your teeth," Peter grunted.

Katcha knew that it was most likely an empty threat. Where they were going they would want the girls to have all their teeth.

Peter lay on top of her and poked at her vagina with his big hard cock. Katcha was no virgin and she knew it would hurt her if he put it in her unlubricated.

"Here. Let me," Katcha reached down and took the monstrous organ in her hand and began to stroke it.

Peter crushed his lips on hers and drove his tongue into her mouth and Katcha opened her mouth and let him. In fact she even encouraged him, using her own tongue on him while she stroked his throbbing cock extruding as much pre-ejaculate as she could. She worked the slippery fluid on the head and shaft, lubricating it as best she could.

He started to jab at her vagina again and it hurt, so Katcha guided his phallus between her labia and rubbed the head on her sensitive lips. She wasn't aroused really but the feel of his manhood pressing into her sex induced a Pavlovian effect and she began to secrete vaginal juices.

Peter was impatient and he drove his huge cock inside Katcha causing her to wince with the pain of it. She refused to let him know he had hurt her and she put her arms around his neck and her legs around his back and rose to meet his trusts, returning his passionate kisses.

Her body betrayed her. Katcha liked sex and the feel of this brute's body on top of her, his pubis pressing on her clitoris, his thick cock filling her sheath and the fervour of his kisses caused Katcha to become aroused. She held on to him tightly as he fucked her hard and fast and she rode along with him to a shattering climax. She couldn't help but moan with lust but hoped the other girls didn't hear.

When Peter had finished with her he climbed off and fumbled around pulling up and fixing his trousers. Katcha began to sob but she choked it down. She felt disgusted with herself but at the same time she was proud that her survival instinct had prevented her from being hurt. She pulled up her pantyhose and panties.

"You are a good fuck. You will make plenty money," the man said gutturally and then roughly grabbed her arm and dragged her back to the vans, stopping briefly to pick up the blanket.

Anna was standing back in line, she was crying quietly. Her nylons were laddered and her hair was dishevelled and it looked like she had the beginnings of a black eye.

"So... two thousand American dollars each right? They are worth it," Uri lifted his chin to Peter.

Peter looked at Gunther and he nodded. Peter handed Uri a fat envelope and they shook hands.

"Watch the girls awhile. I want to fuck one before we leave," Uri said and Chessa grinned and nodded.

Olga was spared and Uri and Chessa dragged Zoya and Gordana into the bushes.

Peter and his friend stared menacingly at the three remaining girls.

Peter came over to Katcha and lifted her chin. She stared back at him defiantly.

"I think I'll go again," he grunted.

This time he took her around the back of the van and pushed her face-first into the side of it. He dropped his pants, kicked her legs apart and pulled down her underwear just enough so he could get inside her. He held onto Katcha's hips and fucked her; she pushed out her ass to assist him. She was not in any way aroused this time but it didn't matter, she was still wet from his cum and her own vaginal secretions.

He came quickly and dragged her back to the line. Zoya and Gordana were being dragged back to the line-up, Gordana was sobbing but Zoya held her head up high.

"Ok. Get in!" This time there was no pretext of friendship and the back of the new van was bare except for the now cum-spattered blankets.

It was dark but Katcha could see Uri hand the valise containing their passports to Peter.

The girls clung to each other for comfort and mutual support as they consoled and supported each other. Katcha and Zoya were indignant, refusing to show any remorse. Gordana was sobbing uncontrollably and Anna was catatonic. Olga, the only girl who hadn't been raped, was shivering frenziedly with fear.

"Shut up back there or I'll come back and kick your asses!" Gunther shouted at them.

The girls tried to sleep in the back of the van but it was cold and uncomfortable. They huddled together for warmth. In the morning they stopped in another forest clearing and the girls were allowed to urinate.

Peter took Zoya into the bushes and used her and then Gunther took Olga. Zoya was her stoic self when she returned but Olga was an emotional wreck.

The girls arrived at their final destination; an apartment block on the outskirts of Munich. The girls were directed to pick up their belongings and followed Peter and Gunther up several flights of stairs and were bundled into a well-appointed reception room. An attractive stylishly dressed woman in her late thirties was there to greet them; she spoke Ukrainian with a Russian accent.

"I am Yana and I am your boss. You girls should consider yourselves lucky. Many of your kind spend their days in cramped cells where they service customers all day and all night. Here you will each have your own room, which you will be required to keep spotlessly clean," the woman announced.

"You will be ready to start work at six in the evening until six in the morning. Two of you will rotate through the day shift from six in the morning until six in the evening to service any day customers."

"There are clothes, toiletries and other necessities in your rooms; food will be delivered. There is a kitchen for you to share where there are snacks and drinks. Drinking is permitted but don't get drunk when you are working. We have a no drugs policy, unless I prescribe them."

"We provide birth control pills and condoms. If you contract an STI because you didn't use condoms, the cost of the doctor will be deducted from your pay. You will each be given a check-up before you start work," Yana took a breath.

"This isn't what I came here for," Zoya said indignantly.

Yana ignored her and continued.

"I have your passports, this place is secure and all of the doors and windows are locked and alarmed. You will be billed for your rent, lodgings, clothes, food, drink and any incidentals. You have each incurred a debt of ten thousand Euros for your employment placement and the transport."

"The brothel takes fifty percent of your earnings to pay off your debt before we deduct your living expenses but the remainder is yours to send home or to put in a bank account of your choosing. Any questions?" Yana inspected her nails studiously.

Yana did not expect any questions.

"Good, pick up your belongings and follow me," Yana led the bewildered young women down a corridor and allocated each of them a room.

Katcha was surprised at the opulence of her room. It was well appointed with brocaded curtains and wallpaper; there was a chandelier and wall sconces, a huge Dresden ornate upholstered bed with antique gold patina. A large teak armoire and chest of drawers contained a selection of clothing, lingerie and shoes that would require further investigation.

The ensuite bathroom was also opulent with a huge bath and a walk-in shower with gleaming stainless steel fittings. A selection of toiletries and cosmetics were supplied and laid out ready to use.

Katcha heard the door open and she came out of the ensuite with some trepidation thinking that Peter or Gunther may have come to use her again but she was surprised to see it was Yana who had entered and seated herself on a red velvet chaise lounge.

"Peter tells me that you were the most compliant of the girls," she said matter-of-factly.

"I'm not stupid. As soon as they lined us up in the forest I guessed what was going on," Katcha replied.

"Do you mind if I get undressed while we talk. I need to take a shower," Katcha began to unbutton her blouse and kicked off her shoes.

"No. In fact I insist on it. I'm here to inspect you as well as to talk," Yana smiled up at her.

"The other girls will soon settle down. This is not such a bad life. They will earn more working here than would have as a nanny or waitress."

"Except that they will be forced to fuck fat old men and suffer vicious sadists twelve hours a day, seven days a week," Katcha spat back, stepping out of her skirt.

"The more clients you see; the more money you make. You are not stupid, if the men ask for special services you make them pay for it," Yana said calmly.

"Special services?" Katcha shrugged her shoulders and removed bra.

"Don't be obtuse; you know what I mean. You seem pragmatic and I heard how you offered yourself in place of Olga in the forest. The girls are already looking up to you. I will of course be their Madame and meet out rewards and punishments as necessary but I want you to be their confidant; the person they can turn to for advice and comfort," Yana replied.

"And?" Katcha raised her brows as she stepped out of her cheap denim skirt.

"And you will pass on to me anything I should know about. Any secrets or issues that they might be keeping from me," Yana smiled conspiratorially.

"And how much extra will you pay me for this service?" Katcha asked, shimmying out of her pantyhose and panties.

Katya stood naked, proud, tall and indignant. She was thin, with small firm breasts, long legs and a thatch of black pubic hair between her legs which contrasted with her flawless alabaster skin. Yana studied her from where she lay on the chaise lounge.

"Asking for more money already; you are a girl after my own heart. Come. Let's get you showered," Yana arose from the lounge and took Katcha's hand and led her to the bathroom, unbuttoning her own blouse with her free hand.

Katcha soon settled into the routine at the brothel. She and Zoya proved to be the most resilient of the girls, Anna and Gordana adapted to their imprisonment but Olga became even more insular and detached. She walked around like a zombie.

One day, not long after they had been abducted, the girls were sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee laced with vodka discussing how they had been duped. They started to argue amongst themselves as to who was responsible; most of them blamed their friends who had told them that they were working good jobs and being well paid.

"You are stupid!" Katcha had been silent up until then.

"My mother gave me the business card for the employment agency and booked my train ticket to Uzhhorod. She encouraged me; in fact she was insistent," Katcha said angrily.

"What about you?" Katcha pointed to the girls gathered around the kitchen table.

"My mother," Zoya spat.

"My mother too," Gordana said, shaking her head.

"And mine," Anna sighed.

"What are you saying? Are you saying that our mothers trafficked us? No! Never!" Olga fled the room sobbing.

One week later Katcha found Olga hanging from the ceiling in her bathroom. She had hung herself using her pantyhose tied into a noose and had shit her pants when she died. Katcha told Yana and bathed Olga's body after Peter and Gunther cut her down. They removed Olga's body when the other girls were busy and Katcha never told the others what had happened. She vowed that nothing like that would happen to her; she would survive no matter what.

Yana told the other girls that Olga had been moved to another brothel in Bonn because she was not a good fit here. The girls soon realised that they were a trafficable commodity and by the end of Katcha's first year all of the girls had moved on to other brothels elsewhere in Europe; only Anna had returned to the Ukraine after she paid off her debts, the others remained working as prostitutes.

New girls had replaced them and Katcha was now Yana's trusted aid, running the day to day activities of the brothel and she had earned some freedom. She had learned enough German to converse with the locals and made frequent trips into Munich. She sent her mother two hundred Euros a month despite the fact that she knew her mother had betrayed her, however she had no inclination to return home.

Yana told Katcha that Alexi Kamerov, a Brigadier in the Bratva, or Russian Mafia, was flying into Munich from Paris. Yana had been selected to run a larger establishment in Paris and she would recommend to Alexi that Katcha replace her as the Madame here in Munich.

"You have learned how to run the business, you are good with the girls and the clients like you. I think you are ready Katcha," Yana said.

"Make sure everything is perfect for when Alexi arrives. I want the girls looking their best," Yana patted Katcha on the shoulder affectionately.

Besides learning how to run the brothel, Katcha had learned about clothes, fashion and style and had improved herself. She was no longer the skinny girl from Lviv wearing her denim miniskirt, cheap pantyhose and scuffed high heels. When Alexi arrived he was served a drink and settled in the salon by Yana. She called out to Katcha to bring in the girls for his inspection. Katcha led them in.

Katcha had developed her own distinctive style. She had dyed her hair jet black and had it cut in a severe shoulder-length bob. She was wearing a short-skirted black suit, expensive four-inch high heels and fully-fashioned stockings. Her makeup was as severe as her clothes and her hair: her smooth unblemished ivory skin the ideal palette for the mauve eyeshadow, black eyeliner and mascara, sharp rouged cheekbones and full blood-red lipsticked lips.

Alexi was immediately taken with her and Yana's jealousy was evident.

Alexi was a brute of a man with a leonine head but was very handsome despite the scar that ran down the left side of his face from forehead to chin. He wore an Amani suit and walked and spoke with authority.

"Who is this?" he nodded at Katcha.

"This Katcha Kovalenko. She has been one of our best earners, a favourite with the clientele and she is my right hand woman. She is the one I told you about; the one that I recommend take over from me here when I go with you to Paris," Yana explained.

"Hello Katcha. Do you know who I am?" Alexi took her hand and kissed it.

"Yes, I know who you are," Katcha replied bluntly.

"You don't sound impressed," Alexi smiled.

He didn't let go of her hand.

"You are a man. You want to fuck me or you want to make money from me; that is just what men do," Katcha said dryly.

"Katcha! Hold your tongue!" Yana lashed out at Katcha.

"I like a woman who has attitude; who is not afraid to speak her mind. I will take her to her room," Alexi grinned.

"But Alexi... I have all these other girls here for you. They are younger and prettier than Katcha and not as well used," Yana whined.

"Where is your room?" Alexi ignored Yana.

"Come," Alexi still had hold of Katcha's hand and she curled her fingers in his and led him to her room.

Alexi locked the door, took off his jacket and pulled Katcha into his arms and kissed her. She responded and kissed him back, putting her arms around his neck and rubbed her body against his.

"I would like to take my time with you but I'm here on business and in a hurry," Alexi said.

"Then let me do my best to please you in the short time we have together," Katcha said, dropping to her knees.

She freed his penis from his pants. Working as a prostitute Katcha had seen hundreds of penises but Alexi's was the biggest she had encountered. It was just like his body, brutish and strong. She opened her mouth as wide as she could and took his glans into it, slavering at the corona with her tongue. She used her fingers to stroke the flesh that she was incapable of putting in her mouth.

"That's good," Alexi moaned.

Katcha forced her face further onto Alexi's cock, managing to get about half of it in her mouth. She expertly used her lips on the shaft and her tongue on the glans. Alexi lightly put his hands on her head but didn't try to force her, which she appreciated. She hated when men held her head and fucked her mouth.

Alexi allowed Katcha to suckle him for little while but she was so good that he was afraid that he would climax soon. Yes, he was in a hurry, but he wanted to fuck this gorgeous creature. He reached down and lifted Katcha to her feet and took her in his arms again. When he kissed her it was like being embraced by bear. He exuded strength and power and Katcha felt herself becoming wet, which was just as well because Alexi picked her up and laid her on the bed.

"Open your legs," he ordered, unbuckling his pants.

Katcha hiked up her skirt and pulled down her silk panties, leaving them draped around one ankle. She opened her legs as Alexi shucked out of his pants and climbed on the bed which creaked under his weight.

"Let me," Katya took his immense organ in her hand and guided it to her sex.

Alexi leaned down and kissed her and Katya positioned his glans inside her labia. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his flanks and put her hands on his shoulders and arched her back, impaling herself on his engorged cock. She kept still while her vagina dilated to accommodate his flesh, then she began to slowly grind against him.

"You are good," Alexi smiled down at her.

She began to slide his cock in and out of her slick velvet channel grinding her clitoris into the base of his penis to increase her own pleasure. She had never been so filled before and Alexi's cock awakened pleasure centres in her vagina that she didn't know existed.

"You are good too," Katcha kissed him passionately and allowed Alexi to increase the tempo.

Alexi pinned Katcha to the bed and began to fuck her earnestly, driving his cock in and out of her tight satiny cunt. She rose to meet his thrusts, hanging onto him as he ploughed her with his steely manhood.

They moaned in unison as Alexi's cock began to pulse and quiver and he spent his seed deep inside her vagina; Katcha writhed beneath him, grinding her pubis into his, eliciting her own climax. Her vagina spasmed and clutched at Alexi's quivering phallus, draining every drop of semen.

They lay in each other's arms basking in the afterglow of their passion for a while and then Alexi extracted himself from her embrace.

"I should bring you to Paris instead of Yana," he chuckled as he pulled up his pants.

"Check the books. Look for an entry under Ivana Kalchik," Katcha said, wiping her sodden vagina with tissues.

"Who is Ivana Kalchik?" Alexi was tucking his shirt into his pants.

"She is no one. She doesn't exist," Katcha pulled up her panties.

"What do you mean she doesn't exist?" Alexi was putting on his jacket.

"On paper she is one of your prostitutes but she actually doesn't exist except as a bank account which Yana dumps money into. She's stealing from you," Katcha hopped off the bed and straightened her skirt.

"Why are you telling me this? I thought you and Yana were friends?" Alexi paused at the door.

"I have no friends. I have no family," Katcha called from the bathroom where she was fixing her lipstick.

She came out of the bathroom to find Alexi was waiting for her.

"After you," he said, opening the door.

They went back to the Salon to find the girls and Yana waiting for them. Yana was dressed in an evening gown and was clutching her purse.

"Come Yana, we don't want to be late for dinner," he said brusquely.

Yana hooked her arm through Alexi's and gave Katcha a withering look.

"Ok girls, get ready for work. We're open for business again," Katcha clapped her hands and shooed the girls back to their rooms taking her place behind the counter at the entrance to the salon.

The next day Yana was dressed to travel and she had put her packed bags near the door ready to leave. She was giving Katcha some final instructions in anticipation that Katcha would be replacing her.

The outer door to the salon opened and Alexi came in accompanied by Peter and Gunther. A middle-aged mousey woman came in behind them.

Peter and Gunther picked up Yana's suitcases and Yana followed them out. She paused at the door and looked back at Katcha.

"Looks like you are not taking my place after all. Better get your cunt cleaned out ready for your first customer," Yana said bitingly to Katcha, nodding her head politely at the mousey woman.

Yana fell in behind Peter and Gunther and Katcha never saw her again.

"Don't just stand there; pack your bags I'm in a rush," Alexi said to Katcha.

"Where am I going?" Katcha asked, quite stunned.

"I'm taking you to Paris," Alexi replied reaching in his jacket for his cigarettes.

"Who is going to run this place?" Katcha asked.

Alexi nodded at the mousey woman who was busy behind the counter working the booking ledger on the computer.

"So where is Yana going?" Katcha was still a little confused.

Alexi just shrugged his shoulders but his eyes were ice-cold. Katcha knew not to ask again.

*****

"For eight years I worked for the Bratva in Paris. I learned French and English, I took degrees in commerce and business administration. More importantly I became a French citizen and changed my identity. I helped Alexi legitimise some of his business interests before I extricated myself from the Bratva and came to the USA," Veronique said.

"I told you, it is not a bedtime story," Veronique stroked Taylor's hair.

Taylor sat up and looked into Veronique's sky-blue eyes and saw the pain behind the fierceness. Taylor leaned in and kissed her softly and Veronique pulled Taylor into her arms and returned the kiss.

To be continued