Once Anne was on the floor of her bedroom sleeping soundly a little past midnight when the phone rang. She got up from her rug and answered. It was Paul.
"I need you here in twenty minutes."
"I have a client meeting this morning -"
"The Smiths at ten, yes."
_Who told him that?_ she asked herself.
"You should be able to make it. If not, Louis will take over; they know about you."
She shuddered. "Yes, sir."
"Wear your leash beneath your clothes. And one more thing."
"Sir?"
"Grease up."
"Yes, sir." She was going to have a busy night.
She shook her head free from the cobwebs of sleep and found her tube of lubricant. She applied it, dressed and headed out the door.
She was halfway down the block when she remembered the leash. She dashed back to her apartment, took it from the hall closet and attached it to her collar. In her haste she forgot to put it inside; it dangled in front of her as she ran.
She reached Paul's place five minutes late, and knew what that meant; no dinner tonight. His frown turned to a half-smile when he saw the leash. He let her in, took it in hand and led her to the living room where a dozen or so Hispanic looking men and two women awaited her.
Paul introduced her as an example of the product his syndicate was pleased to supply. It had done little business in the South American market and welcomed the opportunity to expand into it. After a moment to get her breath back and regain her composure she undressed in front of them slowly and provocatively to appease him and make the sale. She draped her clothes on the back of the sofa. When she was done he turned her over to them.
He finally released her before dawn, deprived of a night's rest, weary and frail. She staggered home, cleansed herself where she had been most active, and caught an hour of sleep before heading for the office. But after the conference that morning her boss told her she had never been more sensitive to the needs of a client and she glowed with pride.
A day or two later (Anne couldn't be exactly sure) Paul took her out in public on a date. He brought her to an elegant downtown restaurant filled with well-dressed diners. Anne looked around in wonder at the opulent yet tasteful surroundings; she rarely moved in such exalted circles.
The headwaiter led them to a table for two in the center of the room before handing a menu to Paul. He ordered a glass of wine for himself but not for Anne. The waiter seemed to know him; she caught the words "special diet". He selected an entree and gave directions on its preparation. Anne looked up inquiringly at him, but he said nothing.
After a brief interval the waiter brought Paul's wine, and another placed a pair of bowls on the table in front of Anne. He returned with a pitcher of water and filled one bowl with it. Customers at nearby tables looked at the bowls, smiled, and talked behind their hands.
In time the waiter brought Paul's dinner and an engraved serving cup of feed pellets. Paul put a quantity in his open palm and she ate out of his hand. He poured the remainder in her feed bowl and invited her to dine. Anne wondered why he did not have the bowls set on the floor as usual; then she realized that in the crowded room she would be an impediment kneeling on the floor. Also, raised up like this her condition was more visible to everyone.
Other than that everything seemed quite normal; dipping her tongue into bowls was how she ate and drank now, though doing it in public was an exciting novelty. This was a new phase of her training.
On his orders she had once again fasted since morning, and her appetite was sharp. She clasped her hands behind her out of habit, leaned forward and began. The taste was subtly different from what she got at Paul's; richer and more complex with herbal flavors. She was becoming a gourmet of animal feed. She moistened her tongue by lapping from her water bowl now and then. Though she tried to be discreet, she could not avoid slurping sometimes and drawing attention to herself. The waiter refilled it as necessary.
