But she didn't know that. It was clear Ruth carried a big burden of guilt over
her role in getting me downsized. In fact, she talked for quite a while,
explaining in detail what an cruel backstabber she had been. Tears glistened in
her beautiful dark eyes.

Finally she fell silent, sitting across the dining table from me, staring down at
her hands clasped in her lap. I couldn't think of anything much to say, so I
stayed silent. After a few moments she took a deep breath and spoke again.

"I know you're angry, and you have every right to be," Ruth said meekly. "Nobody
would blame you if you beat the crap out of me and left me bleeding in the
street, not even me.

"If you want, I'd like to do something to make up for the horrible things I've
done to you," she said.

I laughed bitterly.

"There's nothing you can do that would change anything," I said a little sharply.
"Unless you can turn back time."

"I know, I KNOW, there's nothing I can really do that will fix the past!" Ruth
said, staring at me desperately. "But there IS something I can do that would even
the scales a little."

At this point I began to think she was talking about money, which struck me as
ridiculous, so I didn't quite hear what she said next.

"Would you say that again."

"I could be your slave," Ruth said, barely above a whisper.

This time I heard just fine, but didn't understand.

"What do you mean, you could be my slave?"

"For the next 48 hours I would do anything you told me to do," Ruth said, her
voice growing stronger. "Anything that wasn't illegal or life-threatening."

She didn't act or sound like she was joking, but I still wasn't sure.

"You mean if I ordered you to clean my house or give me a back rub, or drive out
to Astoria for fresh salmon you'd do it?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, pausing, "anything."

"What if I ordered you to do something you wouldn't ordinarily do?" I taunted,
still not really believing. "What if I ordered you to take off your blouse?"

"Is that an order?" she asked quietly, her eyes cast down.

"Yes, that's an order," I said, beginning to wonder how far she would go.

She made no reply, but her hands moved up to her throat and began unbuttoning the
first of the tiny round buttons. Barely breathing, my mouth was suddenly dry. I
watched her unfasten one after another until, finally, they were all undone and
she pulled the tail of her blouse with difficulty out of the waistband of her
skirt. Then she unbuttoned another dozen tiny buttons at the cuffs and a few
seconds later she dropped her blouse to the floor. I could see from the heave of
her breasts in her bra that she was breathing heavily, almost panting. A flush
spread across the smooth, bare skin of her shoulders and neck.

"Stand up," I said, feeling bolder, and she stood, still looking down at the
table.

"Take off your skirt," I ordered, and when her skirt dropped to the floor, "Take
off your bra." Seconds later her large, pale breasts swung free, her big, dark
brown nipples already pointing stiffly.

I stood and walked around the table to her. "Look at me," and her eyes locked on
mine. Hers were full of fear. My mind was racing, full of ideas.

"Do you want to be my slave for the next 48 hours," I asked. She tried to speak,
her eyes boring into mine, and finally managed a choked, "Yes."

"Suck me."