Chapter One: The Purchase
Wendy was the oldest of thirteen children. Her relatives were all members of one of those strange polygamist sects that still pop up in Utah from time to time, claiming to be Mormons. (They're not, strictly speaking...but don't tell them that, or you may find yourself staring down the wrong end of a shotgun.) Anyway, with three wives and thirteen children to support, you can imagine that Brother Malachi, Wendy's father, was pretty much chronically short of cash. And so, ordinarily, Wendy would have been married off at age fourteen or fifteen to whichever fellow cultist was willing to pay the highest "bride price" for her. In fact, she later told me stories of girls as young as twelve being married to their own uncles or cousins... you wouldn't believe the things that go on in these weird religions. It's disgusting, to my mind.
However, Wendy got lucky. She was the only girl in the first six kids or so, and so her father kept her on for a while, to help his wives with all the boy children, because of course he didn't expect his sons to do "women's work." And I guess, he was more liberal than most, because he let her finish high school. She was home-schooled, of course, but she had more education than you might have expected, in addition to being a good cook, an expert housekeeper, and very experienced at sewing and tending babies. She didn't know anything about science, because evolution was "Satan's Doctrine." But she could read and write, manage a household budget, and she could recite the Bible and the Book of Mormon for days... as I had cause to find out later.
But anyway, when Wendy was nineteen, her luck finally ran out. Her little sister Sariah, at age ten, was old enough to take over Wendy's tasks, and Brother Malachi wanted to take another wife, which required money he didn't have. So it was time for Wendy to find a husband. There weren't many members of Brother Malachi's particular sect of Mormonism in that area, though. And as I said, he was a bit more liberal than most, because he didn't like the idea of marrying his daughter to one of his brothers. So Brother Malachi was forced to look further afield for someone to take Wendy off his hands.
That's where I come into this story. No, I'm not a member of the same sect. I'm a property developer and occasional dealer in slightly more exotic merchandise as well. I was just passing through the tiny town of Lemuel, Utah, but I ended up stopping at the local convenience store at about the same time that Brother Malachi, his three wives, and Wendy pulled in to gas up their rusty, clanking twenty-year-old van. As I stood in line, I heard Brother Malachi commiserating with the clerk about how they had to take Wendy over a hundred miles, to the next congregation of like-minded souls, in hopes of finding her a husband.
Of course, my ears perked up at this news. I'm always on the lookout for fresh, unspoiled girls, whom I can personally tutor in what Brother Malachi would have termed "the ways of the world." Utah is generally a prime place to find fresh, unspoiled girls, and it looked like this was my lucky day. So I insinuated myself into the conversation as we stood in line at the convenience store.
"Pardon me, Brother, but I couldn't help overhearing that you had an unmarried daughter on your hands. Now it just so happens that I'm a Mormon myself and I'm looking for a good second wife. Perhaps I can spare you the trouble and expense of your long journey."
I got pretty suspicious looks from Brother Malachi and the clerk, in return. After all, I was wearing a $1,000 suit and driving a BMW convertible. I looked just about as much like a member of his sect as Madonna would have. But I'm a good actor, and I was actually raised as a member of the Mormon faith, so when he started quizzing me, I was able to play along. After I recited the "plot" of the Book of Mormon, and managed to at least paraphrase all thirteen of the Articles of Faith, he reluctantly agreed to let me have a look at Wendy.
"Wendy! Get out the van and come along in here, girl! This Brother wants to have a look-see. Happen we won't have to drive anywhere at all today." Somewhat nervously, Wendy complied. I watched a tiny figure in a long skirt step from the rear of the van and "come along in" the store.
She stood in front of me, in her baggy, long sleeved dress, with her head modestly lowered. I could see she was about five feet tall, with long honey-blonde hair neatly braided and coiled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her dress was high-necked, loose fitting as hell, with long sleeves and a floor length skirt, but I could still see her breasts straining the fabric as she clasped her hands behind her back. I estimated she was probably at least a C-cup, and there was no way she was wearing a bra. I couldn't really tell about the rest of her figure, in that awful dress, except that it seemed proportional. But I had to be sure.
"Brother Malachi, would it be possible for me to have a look at her legs? She's lovely and I'm sure you've got her trained to be an obedient wife, but I'm a particular man when it comes to legs." At this, Wendy shot me a terrified glance, and I got a look at turquoise eyes under delicate brows, framed by long, dark brown lashes. She also had a tiny, straight nose with a few freckles scattered across the bridge, and a pert little mouth with a very full upper lip. The lower lip was currently being nervously chewed, and she was pale and tense looking, but despite that, her oval face was one of the prettiest I'd seen.
"I reckon it might be possible for you to take her around back for a few minutes if one of her Ma's goes with you. But I'm gonna want a token of good faith or somethin'." Grinning, I peeled off five hundred-dollar bills from my wallet and handed them to Brother Malachi. His eyes positively glowed as he called to one of his wives, "Rebecca! Take Wendy around back with this good Brother and let him see a bit more. But don't you let him touch her, or I'll strap you."