Sighing, she wiped her brow with her forearm. Took a few steps back, looking at the cross from every angle to make sure the last specks of sweat and ...body fluid were gone. She turned around and surveyed the room. Whips and chains and rope, cleaned and conditioned, hung on the back wall. The silver rails on the the head, foot, and bottom of the bed gleamed the way nickel rarely could. The black rug was drying after being steam cleaned and crisp black sheets clung to the bed. A BDSM lover’s. Four point two litre roadster convertible……..made in nineteen eighty six in Astral Silver…….black soft top. Not many made that colour so probably stolen to order……personal number plate…..M 1 C K Y.’ By the time Michael had finished speaking the policeman was staring at him as if he had two heads. ‘My pride and joy that car…..cost me thirty-six grand……just had it serviced too.’ ‘Could you take a seat over there.’ The cop pointed to a bench opposite, ‘I’ll get someone to have a chat with you.. What the Hel‘, this couldn’t be TOO bad, RIGHT? As he reached their car, he admired both of them for a second. “What ARE you looking at…?” the Gothic girl asked. “Two girls. Anyhow… I’d like to start off by introducing myself. I’m Jason. Jason Teller. And…” he gulped for air, and took in a breath. “Yes? Some of us have places to be, maybe even people to Fuck.” the Skater-chic looking one said. “Any way… And. I want to be your slave.”Needless to say, the girls were shocked… Wait… Slave? What. " it must be lonely for you." I manage, especially when lovely detectives come calling." Then you are Tammy Cameron?" I didn't say that. Let's just say you can stop looking and let it go at that." Fair enough." And you detective? Tell me about yourself."Sarah knew an opening gambit when she heard it, but wasn't that exactly why she was here?Sarah summarized her life briefly. Born in Texas, raised in Chicago, a year of community college, on the force for nine years."Are you married?" asked.