“World’s press?” she asked. Beeg sex “Am I bid two million dollars?” I asked, “One?” I asked, “Come on,” I said. I didn’t think much about the market until later, much later, and then I couldn’t sleep, girls with leather collars kept drifting in and out of my mind, metal ankle bands, rusty chains clanking, rusty chains leaving rusty marks on alabaster pale skin, and my bloody jaw ached. “Sorry,” I said inadequately. I couldn’t get the slave market out of my mind, young women shackled together by their ankles or shackled to a wall by their iron or leather collars, ready for any inspection as they waited to be sold, naked women in the shade of the arches of an ancient market
