Randi dragged herself up the stairs with a zombie's weary trudge to the little mother-in-law apartment she rented from her aunt. She wasn't physically exhausted, although certainly the three-block walk with a lengthy climb up a snow-choked wooden staircase wasn't a great end to a long day; but after spending seven hours researching a senior thesis that only seemed to get denser and more impenetrable the longer she spent in the stacks reading medieval French poetry, her brain felt sludgy and her spirit drained. She was looking forward to vegging out to something dumb and trashy, perhaps a horror movie of the very American and very 80s variety. And just possibly a little bit of weed, once her aunt went to bed and she could trade off a cold bedroom for a little ventilation to get rid of the pot smell.
All her plans changed in an instant when she opened the door to find her aunt waiting for her at the small square table in her laughably tiny kitchenette with a man about her age that she didn't recognize. "Oh, Miranda, it's good to see you home!" the middle-aged Caucasian woman cried out, apparently oblivious to the invasion of privacy that Randi had thought she'd made it very clear she wasn't going to tolerate anymore, family or no. "Burt, I'd like you to meet Miranda, she's my niece. She's been going to the University of Michigan, working on a degree in French... although that's between you two now, of course. Miranda, this is Burt. He lives over on Locust Street, in that apartment complex with the park across the street? He's going to be your Master from now on."
Randi's eyes widened in stunned confusion. She looked around, unsure whether she was trying to spot a hidden camera crew or an old-timey narrator preparing to explain to everyone that matchmaking was very different... in the Twilight Zone. But no, it was just the little apartment that Aunt Eula leased to her for the family/starving student rate her parents guilt-tripped her into charging, and the frumpy brunette who looked disturbingly like Randi from a future where she dropped out of college and settled for the first guy who knocked her up.
And Burt, apparently. A pale, gangly dude with straggly black hair and thick horn-rimmed glasses that emphasized his watery hazel eyes. He looked at her with an embarrassed grin that made him look like he knew full well just how weird this whole situation was and didn't feel any more comfortable about it than Randi did. He wore a black t-shirt with the logo of some techno band Randi had never heard of, a pair of matching jeans, and big clunky boots that looked like they'd been chosen more for their practicality in the Michigan winter than any kind of aesthetic statement. Randi didn't hate him, but she sure as hell hated his presence in her apartment right now.
"This would all be a lot easier if you were dating someone right now," Eula continued reproachfully, as though the bizarre sentence that she'd uttered just moments ago hadn't even happened. "I know I'm very glad I've got your Uncle Harold to submit to! But you know the rules. Unattached women need to find a man within thirty days or go into the public collaring pool, and I've known Burt's mother for almost twenty years now. He'll treat you well, and goodness knows that's more important now than ever what with the new restrictions. Isn't that right, Burt?"
Burt had the good grace to look sheepish. "I think your niece might be a little confused," he replied, as though Randi's wide stare and gaping mouth wasn't an obvious hint. "She may not have been paying attention to the news today. If she's in school, she could have turned her cell phone off to study or something?" He didn't sound lewd or smug or condescending or anything else Randi associated with the word 'Master' in her extremely limited experience. If anything, he sounded a little embarrassed about the whole situation. Like he didn't want to be the one to break bad news to Randi, but he knew that someone was going to tell her sooner or later and he'd rather it was him than someone else.
Randi opened her purse and fumbled for her phone, sputtering out a brief, "Wh--hang on, I, um...." that only made her sound even more confused than she already was. She went straight to her Twitter feed, looking for trending news about hallucinogenic drugs in the water supply in Ann Arbor or something, but all she found was a hashtag that filled up every second with one testimonial after another from women all over the world who were waxing rhapsodic about finding their Master and men who reacted to their newfound romantic partners with varying degrees of excitement. It didn't make sense--it made almost the exact opposite of sense--but it at least sort of explained her aunt's weird pronouncement a moment ago. This was real. It was real and it was everywhere.
She looked up. "I--I don't want a Master," she said, feeling for all the world as though she was explaining how bicycles worked to a pair of fish. "I, I'm getting ready for grad school, I'm working two jobs, I... I don't have time for a boyfriend right now!" Even as she said it, though, Randi could feel something shift in the back of her brain. It was as though an invisible gossamer thread connected her to Burt, tugging her imperceptibly closer to him with every passing moment. She could still pull back, but she was beginning to understand now exactly what it was she was pulling away from.
Burt nodded sympathetically. "If it helps, I'm pretty busy myself. I'm starting a new business--computer repair, I know it sounds dull but it pays the bills." He gave a little self-deprecating chuckle. "I don't really date much, and I, um... I'm not exactly sure what a Master does with a--" He blushed, clearly uncomfortable with the word that all three of them were well aware came next. Randi blushed along with him, hearing it in her head with a joyous familiarity that shocked her with its intensity. She never thought of herself that way. She never thought she ever would. But somehow it felt right inside her brain, even if Randi couldn't bring herself to say it.
"Slave," Eula said patiently, patting him gently on the wrist. "She's your slave now. And I'm sure the two of you will figure it out soon enough. My Harold and I certainly did. Do you know he's out right now buying me a collar? Thirteen years we've been together and he hasn't so much as gotten me a pair of earrings, and now he's downtown looking for a steel collar to lock around my neck before everyone runs out. Honestly, it's the most romantic he's been in ages." Randi squirmed. She'd been trying to avoid a lot of things about this situation--the sociopolitical implications, the sexual feelings she'd been pushing aside until her college career was over, the practical questions about how something like this could be achieved--but nothing topped the list like hearing about her middle-aged aunt's sex life.
Burt leaped to his feet, his expression making it clear that he felt the exact same way. "I tell you what," he said, his voice a nervous squeak. "Why don't I take you back to my apartment and show you around? If you're really going to be, um, my... um... my, y'know, gal, and all, you're probably going to be spending a lot of time there." He unslung his coat from the back of the chair and pulled it on, nodding toward the outer door invitingly. Despite the weariness that still clung to her, Randi couldn't help feeling a warm surge of excitement at the thought of following his lead.
