Scapegoat

Douglas's funk lasted for months and months. The film project had him like a bad drug habit. He knew he should put the needle down but lacked the will power to do so. Eloise watched in frustration as their world collapsed around her. Douglas sold the Manhattan apartment to raise cash for the "Earth Abides" project. He liquidated much of his stock portfolio. He sold the classic Bentley. It was like a fracture in a dam, the flood of money slowed but continued its inexorable outward flow. While he had miraculously managed to complete most of the principal photography, it was still an unfinished project. Convincing CGI was expensive. Douglas cut corners where he could, filming digitally and sometimes recording on the sly. San Francisco, where the film was set, demanded a premium for shutting down the Golden Gate bridge for a few hours of filming. Using a non-union skeleton crew, he was able to film on the bridge in the wee hours of the morning when it was essentially deserted. All the while, he had to be alert for cops and studio union reps. If he was discovered the fines would be enormous and the studio and Actor's Guild, upon discovering that he was using scab workers, would blackball him and refuse to release the film, if it was ever finished. All of it was affecting Douglas's bottom line. Still, his dream of an Oscar for best director refused to die.

Worst of all was that Douglas seemed to lose all interest in Eloise. She tried every form of seduction she knew to rekindle what they once had. The most she could get out of him was some perfunctory and most unsatisfying sex. The film project was not like competing with another woman; Eloise was facing the entire seraglio of a Middle Eastern potentate! The one thing she was positive would never happen to her once she became a slave, of a life without constant sex, was now a painful reality. Thank God for vibrators!

**

"Put on a pretty dress, Ellie and do your hair up nice, we are going for a drive."

Eloise sighed; Douglas seemed calmer. His kiss was warm and sincere. Maybe he had finally seen the light.

He hummed to himself as he drove but otherwise did not engage in conversation.

Douglas puled the car into a parking space outside a bank.

"Making a withdrawal, honey?"

"No," he said coolly, "Taking out a loan."

He held her hand with the assurance of their early days. They strode into the bank.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Clemmons," he told a teller. A few moments later, they were seated in a plush office while the bank president's secretary poured out three cups of coffee.

"What can I do for you today, Mr. Trainer?"

"I'd like to take out a loan."

"For what purpose?"

"Completing a film project."

A pained expression crossed Mr. Clemmons's face.

"I see. What have you to offer as collateral?"

He gestured with his thumb. "Ellie here."

Eloise's eyes grew large and her mouth fell open.

Mr. Clemmons appraised Eloise.

"I see, Mr. Trainer." The fact that Eloise was not a hot twenty-something chick was obvious in the banker's expression.

Douglas anticipated this.

"She has an assessment from Barrett and McGee!" he slid the evaluation across the desk.

"This appraisal is several years old."

"Does that matter?"

"Except for wine and fine art, all valuables depreciate in value over time. This appraisal serves only as a baseline. Have her get undressed so I can see what we are dealing with."

Douglas turned to face Eloise, "You heard the man, Ellie."

Eloise undressed robotically, as if in a trance. She knew, of course, that she could be borrowed against like a house or other property, but Eloise believed that Douglas's wealth would insulate her from that fate. Douglas must be at rock bottom financially! she thought forlornly. She neatly folded her clothes and placed them on her chair. She stood at attention under the penetrating gaze of the banker.

Mr. Clemmons expression changed ever so subtly when he encountered her encircled goat tattoo. He had Eloise turn for him several times and he scanned the barcode on her butt cheek with his phone. After an hour or so of agonizing scrutiny, the banker slid a sheet of paper across the desk.

"Is that all?"

"The offer is more than fair. You will note that you can gain considerably more by selling her to us outright. Less messy. No loan to call in."

"Why would give me more for a sale than for a loan?"

"As I said, less paperwork and we can resell the stock when the market is at its apex and we really, really know the market."

"Douglas, honey," began Eloise.

"Quiet slave. Men talking."

Eloise was shocked at how Douglas had just spoken to her. It was so unlike him!

If she was shocked at Douglas's rudeness towards her, she was overcome when Mr. Clemmons's secretary placed a cashier's check in Douglas's hands. The actor gathered up Eloise's castoff clothes and, with a shake of the bank president's hand, exited the office.

He hadn't kissed Eloise farewell or even said goodbye! Eloise was so numb she could barely breathe.

Mr. Clemmons handed Eloise his secretary's spare coat which she kept in the office for unexpected changes in the weather and placed the box of tissues next to her. Eloise slid the coat on and had a long, deep, and deeply therapeutic cry. Several hours later she was cried out. Like a lost kitten she looked up at Mr. Clemmons and asked,

"What happens now?"

"You are in good hands, Ellie. The circle looks after its own."

"Are you a sibling?"

"No, but I respect their authority all the same."

"But what will happen?"

"I'll have a better idea of that in a few days. In the meantime, I can't very well stash you in the vault, so you will have to come home with me."

**

The hot day had transitioned to cool twilight when Mr. Clemmons led her from the bank to the passenger seat of his Rolls Royce. The macadam was still hot on Eloise's bare feet. Once she was belted into place, the bank president stated,

"My wife is an excellent cook and is used to me bringing home guests unannounced."

The luxury auto purred to life and pulled out of the parking lot. Once off the highway, the drive was quite scenic.

"Being a bank president must pay very well," she said as he Rolls rolled past mansions with gates.

"It pays even better if your great-grandfather founded the bank, and your family is still the chief stockholder."

"Oh."

"Ah, here we are!"

Clemmons pushed a button on a remote and a metal gate swung open. The trip ended at the end of a very long and very winding driveway in front of a spectacular mansion.

"Don't worry, Ellie," he said as his hand came to rest on her thigh. "We are just regular folks."

And I'm the Queen of Sheba! said the voice in Eloise's head.

A uniformed man materialized on the driver's side of the car.

"Hello, Cheltenham. I don't believe I will be needing the car for the rest of the evening."

Cheltenham saluted and replied, "Very good, sir!" He held the door open for his boss.

Mr. Clemmons walked to the passenger side of the car and offered Eloise his hand as she exited the vehicle.

"Cheltenham is supposed to be my chauffer, but I actually like driving myself most days. I find open road commuting helps relax my mind."

There was butler by the front door with a martini and smile.

"Greetings to you as well Tucker."

Eloise noted that neither the chauffer, nor the butler wore slave collars. That struck her as odd. A man of his obvious wealth could easily afford even the most expensive slaves. Instead of asking about that she stated,

"Your wife does the cooking?"

"Most nights. She was had just graduated culinary school when we began dating. At first, I set her up in her own restaurant, but once the kids came along, I asked her to stop working. Her desire to still create culinary wonders was acute however, so giving her carte blanche in the kitchen was the compromise we worked out."

"How gallant."

"Honey, I'm home!" he bellowed.

A moment later a trim, dark-haired woman in an apron appeared. She and Mr. Clemmons exchanged a succulent kiss. Only then did she gaze at Eloise.

"This is Ellie, darling. Work related. She won't be with us long."

Her brown eyes danced over Eloise's form.

"You're naked under that, aren't you?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Well, you are taller than me. I suppose I can find an old kimono or something."

"Lucille!" stated Mrs. Clemmons. A petite Filipina appeared. She curtsied.

"Lucille, be a dear and fetch that jade green kimono from my closet. The oversized one that I can't part with because it was gifted to me by Matthew's aunt."

Lucille was also sans collar.

Noting where Eloise eyes had focused, "We have very little use for slaves in this household," she continued. "They are never dedicated enough, and you can never fully relax in their presence, especially the male ones. They have nothing to lose and are apt to either rape you or knife you. The female ones are always trying to seduce your husband away from you."

There was an awkward pause.

"Present company exempted, of course." She smiled an insincere smile.

"What's for dinner tonight, honey? It smells delicious!"

"Pheasant stuffed with onion, dill, and sage, scallops, and some surprises."

Lucille reappeared with the Kimono draped over one arm.

"Put this on Ellie," said the wife.

By now, pretty much inured to nudity, Eloise slid the coat off. Mr. Clemmons helped her out of it.

"Lucille, see to it that this is dry cleaned and then placed in my Rolls. I must return it to Emily."

With a curtsy the maid and the coat were off.

Eloise fastened the obi of the expensive silk kimono.

"I'll bunk you with Junior," suppled Mrs. Clemmons. He should be home from rowing practice shortly. He's a very horny little bugger, but a good kid at heart. I like it when he gets laid under our roof. So much less to worry about."

Eloise tried to meet that pronouncement with no expression but failed.

"He's eighteen! In the fall he'll be matriculating at Penn. Wharton Business School."

"Chip off the old block!" put in Mr. Clemmons.

"That's true, dear. You were just as much of a pervert at his age."

"Then I met you and got it all out of my system."

"Surely not ALL of it!" returned Mrs. Clemmons in mock horror.

"Let's find out! After dinner."

Husband and wife kissed a second time.

Eloise tried to focus elsewhere.

When they came up for air, Mrs. Clemmons stated, "Why don't both of you wash up before dinner."

The banker led Eloise to an elaborate bathroom.

"Ladies first!"

Eloise did her business. For a long time, she stood before the mirror. The only constant in her life was her collar. Emancipation was still over a decade away. "Normal is for other people," she sighed.

"I had fears you fell in," Mr. Clemmons lamely joked when she exited the bathroom.

They entered the dining room just ahead of a strikingly handsome young man.

"Junior," stated Mrs. Clemmons once everyone was seated. "This is something work-related of your father's. She is yours until her final dispensation."

The lad gazed at Eloise and smiled widely.

"I love you, mom!"

"You say that every time I give you a present. But on my birthday, or when I'm feeling blue..." Her voice trailed off.

Eloise looked away from the lad's intense stare. He was even younger than her young master! The thought creeped her out; it felt positively incestuous! How could Douglas have done this to her?

She focused upon the food. It looked lovely and smelled delicious. Eloise took a bite. Mrs. Clemmons was a remarkable cook! Trying to gain a sense of the family she would be staying with for an unknown period, she paid attention to the dinner table conversation. There was obvious affection for husband and wide and child for parents. Apparently, there were two older sisters, one of whom was married and the other was living in Europe. Junior was very much looking forward to college. He was also quite keen to focus on Eloise. He reached under the table and rested his palm on Eloise's thigh. She involuntarily shivered.

It was still hard for Eloise despite the many times she had been given away already. In so many ways she was still the suburban housewife she had been before becoming a scapegoat. A lifetime of habits and morals were just simply unlearned in a few years. She was also still angry at Douglas. If only he had listened to her advice! They could be relaxing on a beach or poolside somewhere. Now she was being groped by a horny high school kid who, even now, was working his way through the Kama Sutra with herself in all the starring roles.

Dinner wound down.

"Matthew dear, Remind, Ellie, that there are spare toothbrushes in the medicine chest," said Mrs. Clemmons to her son.

"Right-o, mom!"

"You two have fun!"

The son grasped Ellie's hand. "Come on, Ellie, my room is upstairs."

He practically dragged her along as he hurried up the stairs and into a room that screamed, "high school jock lives here."

The door closed behind them and locked.

"May I kiss you?"

Eloise relaxed her body and nodded.

The youth was and eager but satisfactory kisser. Eloise had pleasant flashbacks to her junior prom. The boy, Matthew Frederick Clemmons, Junior, kissed Eloise for quite some time. Eventually, his hands made their way past the opening of her borrowed robe. He still had much to learn about female erogenous zones. Still, Eloise tried to roll with it. With a bit of encouragement, the lad could be a decent lover. Right now, he was all hands and passion. His wealth and looks, as well as his mother's statements, meant that the kid had no trouble getting laid. He had, Eloise was certain, never been with an older woman, certainly not one as old as herself. A-ha, a "teachable moment" as she liked to say when an especially acute parenting situation presented itself. She was not the kid's mother, obviously and the thought of the age disparity caused her flesh to crawl anew, but he was legal.

"Sugar, slow down! I'm not going anywhere."

Matthew was eager and very horny; he was also not an idiot. This is a "learning moment" he told himself. A woman like this could teach him things that a woman his own age simply could not. His hands stopped roaming and he focused on Eloise's beautiful countenance. The rest of Eloise's evening was actually quite fun. He gave her some of his clothes. They paid strip poker. They played spin the bottle. She taught him the basics of erotic massage. She instructed him the proper way to nibble a woman's breasts and improved his cunnilingus technique. Her blowjobs curled his hair. They also had lot and lots of very messy and very enjoyable sex.

The second day, Eloise and Matthew hung around the pool working on their tans and composed raunchy jokes to tell each other. Mrs. Clemmons provided a fantastic breakfast lunch and dinner. She also supplied Eloise with some additional clothing.

"Nothing special, just some stuff of my mother's that I saved."

The fashions were way out of style, but Eloise preferred them to being basically a constant nudist. She discovered that she liked young Matthew quite a lot. His money and looks had not made him conceited. He was a kind, well-rounded boy, who would have the time of his life in college, the young women whom he would meet there would silently thank Elouise for taking him under her wing.

The Senior Mr. Clemmons announced the next morning,

"I've got you all situated, Ellie."

"Really?"

"Yes, you've been purchased. I understand it will be favorable to you, Ellie. The shipping company will be here at noon."

"Shipping company?"

"Yes. When there is no one to escort a slave, they are shipped like merchandise."

"You're joking!"

"It is perfectly safe. They put you to sleep at this end and wake you up at that end."

"No offense sir, but that sounds horrifying."

**

"It's a casket!"

"No, it isn't, Miss. You will sleep the whole way. It is extremely comfortable."

"I'm not getting in there!"

"Either you get in the container willingly, or I am authorized to use this stun gun on you and then toss you bodily into it," the shipping company representative pointed meaningfully at the weapon in the holster at his hip.

Naturally, they shipped her out naked. Just as naturally, they didn't provide a blanket to cover her nakedness. With great reluctance, Eloise inhaled deeply of the gas. The world went all smoked glass and wobbly.

The fog lifted as Eloise returned to consciousness. As she opened her eyes she was startled.

"Trevor?"

A moment later, "Trevor!"

"You know her?" said a bass voice. "Why does that not surprise me?"

The manservant made no reply.

"Stand her up I want to see this "worthwhile investment" my broker pitched me.

Still woozy, Eloise felt herself being lifted from the coffin-like shipping box and supported by Trevor's muscular arms and chest. A man at least ten years her junior, handsome in a way that was not her type, was eying her carefully head to toe. His fingers traced her encircled goat tattoo.

"I suspect, you had something to do with this purchase, Trevor."

"On my honor, Sir."

He raised his palm, "Spare me. She's quite a bit older than I like. I mean this bitch is ancient! The man in the neatly tailored suit sighed and ran his fingers through his thick blond hair. "I hear older bitches are supposed to by dynamos between the sheets. In any event, standard grooming for this one. Before and after pictures and my souvenir. Rotate her into my schedule immediately. Since this one IS in some way tied to you, you are responsible for her care and upkeep. She bunks with you when appropriate. You find the funds to clothe her and have her hair done without dipping into the household expenses. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"I'll check with a consultant tomorrow or the day after to see if there is any way I can recoup the outlay I made buying a pig in a poke."

He faced Eloise with an intense stare.

"You better be fucking amazing in bed!"

With a groan, he turned and walked away.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Trevor stated,

"Well, that went better than I expected."

"Is he always like that?"

"No, he's quite the pussy cat post coitus."

"Talk about pressure, Trevor."

"He inherited me from his father. I came to the old man rather late in life. The son resents the fact that I have had a more satisfying and remarkable life than he has sans collar. The old man also liked me a heck of a lot more than he did his son. It often puts me in a difficult place. But then again, we Brits thrive on adversity."

"Trevor. I am sorry if I have brought trouble your way."

"Oh. he'll cool off eventually."

She turned and hugged the gentleman's gentleman.

"Come with me. We will see about getting you something to wear."

As she fell into step a pace behind Trevor she asked,

"Where am I anyway?"

"Suburban Chicago. My master's father built much of Chicago's infrastructure from the nineteen-sixties on. He invested phenomenally well. Left and estate richer than Croesus.

My master was born during his father's retirement. His mother was an exotic dancer. Wonderful woman. Held a degree from Northwestern. Her career choice and his father's fondness for much younger women warped the lad. He's obsessed with nubile young things and has an essentially unlimited budget to engage in his hobby. There are twenty bedrooms in this mansion and sixteen of them contain young female slaves. Often more than one per room"

"So, I stick out like a sore thumb," after a poignant pause, "or an old cow."

"Not at all. I'm positive he will adore you."

"Nice digs, Trevor!"

"Thank you. My little den of civility and culture in the din of a generally uncivilized new world."

He strode over to closet and opened it.