Jonathan Creed

I really hate the bullpen.

"Um, sir, am I being demoted?"

Jones shook his head, still grinning. "No Special Agent Creed, I'm just making you do some grunt work, so you'll maybe use that big brain of yours and think before landing yourself in this kind of trouble again.

Ah. So he's just being a bastard.

"Yes sir, I understand."

Jones nodded. "Good."

Jones looked back down at a new file on his desk. It had just come out of the official packaging from Washington. Two days ago I would have asked to see it. I would have wanted the case. Now I just felt lucky to keep my job.

"Dismissed," Jones said without looking up.

I walked from the room.

I eyed the bullpen and the jingling phones on the way to my office ... it had suddenly taken on a new meaning.

I slipped into my office.

It was still a bit disheveled from my episode so I started to tidy up.

I'm a bit of a neat freak.

When I was content that my office was sufficiently clean I sat down at my desk. I needed to tell Sarah Gale that she was free ... now all I had to do was convince her that living with me was not the solution to our mutual problem.

I reached for the phone sitting on my desk, and rang down to the holding rooms.

Dr. Thompson answered.

"Hello."

I cleared my throat. "Um, hi, Doctor, how is she?"

I heard Thompson give a little chuckle. "She's as antsy as a wild cat. Either that chip thing is stronger than I originally thought or you make quite a first impression."

I groaned internally. This did not bode well for my 'you're free' speech.

"Send her up to my office Doctor, I need to talk with her."

"Alright son, she'll be up in five minutes."

I gingerly replaced the phone on the receiver.

Twelve minutes later I heard a knock on my office door.

"Come in." I called out.

I poured myself some scotch to calm my nerves.

Sarah Gale entered my office.

She was a vision on two legs. Obviously UniCORP picked the best looking girls they could find. At five eight she stood quite tall for a woman. She had long shapely legs that were currently encased in form fitting jeans. She was wearing a pick blouse that accentuated her hourglass figure, and emphasized her C cup breasts. Her long shimmery auburn hair was pulled back in a pony tail. She gave me a half smile.

I tried to swallow the knot that had formed in my throat.

I gestured to a chair, "Please, Ms. Gale sit down."

She gracefully sat down. "Just Sarah, Agent Creed."

"Then I insist you call me Jonathan."

She nodded and said, "You wanted to see me Jonathan?"

I took a healthy swig of my drink. "Sarah, I've managed to get you discharged. You are a free woman once again, and can leave the premises whenever you desire."

She made a face. "Um, wonderful ... so are you going to take me to your house then?"

I sighed. "Sarah, please be reasonable."

She turned red, and made fists with her hands. "NO. Now listen to me mister. I get the most terrible headaches when I can't see you, and when I can see you all I can think about is sex! So don't keep going on about how I'm not being reasonable because you're the one who did this to me and YOU have to face the consequences."

Her anger was quickly giving way to tears. Suddenly she dropped to her knees and put her head on the ground.

"I'm sorry for yelling Master."

Master? That was a new one.

"Um, Sarah, get up," I said. She quickly rose and sat back down. Her face was crimson, this time from embarrassment.

"What was that Sarah?"

She shifted and looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"It was nothing, don't worry about it," said the adorable British red head.

I would not be denied. "Sarah, you called me Master."

She shivered.

"I suppose I can't fight the urge forever, you'd know eventually."

"Know what Sarah?"

"Each chip has a specific fantasy on it. One of the Doctors told each of us what our chips were designed for ... some girls got 'Perfect Housewife.' Others got, 'Model Daughter' while some got 'Nymphomaniac.' I and two other girls, got 'Sex Slave.'"

Her voice was shaking now.

I gulped. "You mean?"

She nodded. "I'm your sex slave."

-------

In all my years of conversation, I have never had to respond to that statement before.

I'm your sex slave.

Sarah was eyeing me nervously. I could see that her eyes were watering, as if she were about to break down and cry.

I stood silently, and did the bravest and most forward thing that Jonathan Creed has ever done with a woman.

I hugged her.

She felt soft and warm in my arms. Sarah was perfectly female, and perfectly vulnerable. She buried her face in my shoulder. Her long red hair tickled the nape of my neck. I felt moisture leak through my shirt. She let go of her tension, and was silently sobbing against my body.

I slowly rocked us back and forth, as we stood there in the middle of my office, and whispered in her ear.

"It's all right, everything will be alright."

She cooed into my chest. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly.

We stood like that for a time.

-------

I lost track of the moment. An hour could have slipped by and I wouldn't have noticed. We simply stood there, lost in our own little world, floating in a private universe. I never felt more at peace than that moment ... it couldn't last though. My legs started to ache from standing in place.

I slowly released Sarah from my grip, and reached around and disconnected her arms from my back.

She whimpered, and tried to grab me again.

"What's wrong with me," she asked in a soft voice. "I can't seem to let you go ... I don't want to let you go ... I've never been like this with a man. I've never been so helpless ... so needy for his touch."

I gently raised her chin so that her green eyes met mine.

"It's my fault Sarah. I did something terrible to you. I've taken your freedom ... and you are feeling things that you wouldn't normally feel. I'm sorry I activated that chip in your head ... if I could take it back and set you free, I would."

Sarah's eyes glanced away from mine. "But you can't take it back."

"No."

She nodded slowly. "Then, can you take me to your house then? Like I asked?"

I smiled at her.

"That much I can do."

-------

Chapter 7

The moment had passed.

She had been eager enough to leave the building, but the second we stepped into my little black sedan things became awkward again ... by the time we hit lunch time traffic it was just plain uncomfortable.

Unfortunately in bumper to bumper traffic I had nothing to do but to steal glances at my new teenage ward.

Suffice it to say she looked ... on edge.

She was sitting up very straight in her seat, and her hands were clenched into fists on her lap. She was also breathing heavily.

Odd.

I couldn't think of anything to say ... so I turned the radio on. A smooth and slick news reporter voice started talking.

" ... President Mendez refused to give a statement as to if he would be running in the 2028 election ... how this will affect his popularity in the upcoming polls remains to be seen. In other news US multi-billion dollar corporation UniCORP has been officially seized by the FBI as of earlier this week. CEO and founder Ronald Turner was spotted boarding his private jet an hour before the FBI raid. He is currently suspected to be in hiding in Somalia. The company is suspected of tax fraud, and construction of illicit technology, though as to the nature of this technology, Director Henderson in Washington refused to comment ... I'm Sam Young, and this is Afternoon News."

I quickly turned the radio off. I snuck another glance at Sarah. She had a numb expression on her face.

"Sarah..." I began.

"Don't, Jonathan..." She said, her voice breathy.

I dropped it.

I glanced out the window at the traffic. Everyone was out going to lunch. The streets were crowed, people were nearly shoulder to shoulder on the side walk. The snow was melting slightly, giving everything a slightly slushy feel. As if the entire world was wet melting...

Honking erupted on a distant street, probably due to some angry cabbie, and immediately everyone else joined in.

So many people ... it sometimes makes me nauseous.

Sarah closed her eyes and leaned back into the headrest.

"Are we going to be there soon?"

"About ten minutes."

Sarah smiled...

"Good," she said. She rubbed her legs together, and hugged her chest.

"Are you cold?"

"No."

We drove on in silence, choosing to listen to the noise already in the world than add to it.

This was going to be an awkward relationship if neither of us were big talkers.

"Do you have any family that you might want to call?"

She shook her head, "They already asked me that at the hospital."

I shrugged, while keeping my eyes on the traffic infested road. "Sometimes people don't like to call from the hospital or the FBI building ... but then they're on their cells the minute they walk out the door."

She brushed a lock of red hair from her face.

"No ... no family to call."

I simply kept driving.

Eventually we pulled through the bottle neck of the main roads, and traffic slowly disappeared after that.

I owned a town house ... one of those skinny affairs that have about four stories, but only about two rooms on each floor. It cost me much more than an apartment would have, and it was farther away from the Bureau building ... but I liked my space, and my privacy.

We pulled up to my place and I parked in my reserved resident's street side parking.

Sarah simply stared at my house.

"Is that it," she asked. She was pointing towards my white five story town house...

"Yes."

She chuckled. "You don't take very good care of your potted plants do you?"

I ignored her.

"Come on, let's get you inside ... I'm sure your hungry."

-------

We walked through the threshold and I gave her a quick tour.

"On this floor is the kitchen and the living room. Second floor has a guest bedroom and my media room. Third floor is my study, and the fourth floor is the master bed room. Below the first floor is a basement. Complete with a big freezer and pool table."

She busied herself looking around, as if trying to get acquainted to a new home ... or, at least I hope she thought of it as a home ... and not as a prison cell.

Finally she turned to me.

"This must cost a pretty pence for all this room in New York City."

I nodded.

She continued. "I didn't think cops made this much."

I winced at being called a cop ... even though I had a great respect for them. I felt myself getting a bit angry, it was if she was trying to goad me.

"I am a FBI Agent, Sarah ... a good one to. I get paid a decent amount ... besides; when my parents died they left me a little nest egg ... so I'm not pressed for money."

Her furrowed brow softened. "I'm sorry about your parents ... and I'm sorry for being such a wanker ... but I'm kinda confused right now ... and I don't know how to behave."

I smiled at her and took her hand. She trembled and closed her eyes ... but pretended not to notice.

"Just act like you're my roommate ... we'll get along fine until we can sort your problem out."

She cracked her eyes open and looked at me strangely.

"Like you're my roommate...?" She said confused.

I nodded. "Yeah, we'll be more comfortable with each other that way..."

She stuttered and winced, as if her head hurt. "But the chip..." she began.

"Shhh," I said softly. "Let's try not to worry your chip ... I won't ever force you to act on what the chip does."

She screwed up her face again. "It doesn't work like that John ... you can't just turn this bloody thing off ... those desires ... that need ... it's always in my head, telling me ... making me want to do ... to be your..."

"Sarah!" I said with some force. "Snap out of it."

She blinked, as if exiting from a trance.

"I am going to show you up to your room. Do you have your suitcase?"

She nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor. "Yeah, the FBI got all my stuff from my apartment."

"Good, now follow me up the stairs."

I showed her into the guest bedroom. It wasn't very big, as it competed for space with the media room on this floor, but it would have to do. The room was very white, and had dark blue curtains and a queen sized bed. The room had a connecting bathroom with a shower.

I turned to Sarah, who was looking very confused ... If only this beautiful woman had chosen to be here of her own free will ... I would have been ecstatic to have her in my house.

"Will you be comfortable here?"

She nodded slightly.

I continued. "Good, I want you to unpack and make yourself comfortable. When you're done I should have a bit of lunch ready."

She suddenly brightened up. "Can I make lunch for you? Please?"

I shook my head sternly. "No Sarah, unpack, get comfortable ... maybe take a shower. Don't come down stairs for at least forty minutes."

Her eyes flicked down to the floor again.

"Yes sir."

"Good, I'll see you at lunch."

She nodded. She had started panting again ... I couldn't tell if she was about to cry again or if she was just out of breath ... so I beat a hasty retreat out of her new room. I closed the door behind me.

I slowly made my way back down the stairs. The kitchen still smelled faintly of my failed attempt to cook eggs.

Despite my mother's best efforts I was not the best chef in the world.

I, however, had learned to work around my handicap. I reached into the freezer and pulled out two steaks. I set them out to thaw.

I then went to the pantry and found a bottle of a special local steak marinade that a little mom and pop store sells just down the road.

I was washing lettuce for a salad when I heard a moaning coming from upstairs. Almost as if she was in pain.

That girl must be so miserable with that chip in her head ... stuck with a wet blanket like me.

I tried to ignore her misery and went back to preparing lunch.

Sarah Gale cannot live with me ... of this I was certain ... somehow someway we would beat this chip, and have her get on with life. We would talk over lunch ... I would get to know her and her me ... and she would see me as the miserable loner I am...

And then she would distance herself from me...

Just like everyone does.

-------

Chapter 8

We picked at our food in silence.

Sarah kept her head down, and her eyes focused on her food. She was idly playing with her fork, and randomly scraping it across her plate. She did it in the way that people do when they're either extremely bored or extremely tired.

She had hardly touched her meal.

The afternoon had turned overcast, and it was dark in the kitchen, however, neither of us made a move to turn the lights on.

I cleared my throat.

"So tell me about yourself Sarah," I said. I wanted something, anything, to make this girl feel comfortable.

She didn't look up from her food.

"No much to tell really," she said glumly.

I stood up and took both our plates to the sick ... I began to wash them. Sarah quickly stood up.

"Can I wash those?" She asked, with a strange pleading note to her voice.

"No, you sit Sarah ... I'd rather you tell me about yourself," I said. She made a sound of disappointed.

"Yes Mas..." she coughed, "Yes Jonathan." She took a deep breath ... and looked around the room skittishly.

I sighed.

"You could start with what job you do, or perhaps where you go to school?"

She started mumbling something at the table ... Her words were completely inaudible. I felt like a parent asking his teenage daughter how her day was.

It was tedious.

"Sarah, look at me and speak up, I can't hear you."

Sarah raised her head, causing red tresses to fall neatly around her face, haloing her pale perfection in a beautiful sea of auburn.

"I'm model," she said simply.

I nodded, still busy scrubbing dishes.

"I can imagine that, I'm sure you know that you are a very beautiful girl."

Sarah surprised me by blushing a deep shade of pink ... in my experience pretty girls don't blush at being called beautiful ... especially not models ... they should be used to such comments.

"Thank you, Jonathan." She said softly. Her green eyes seemed to sparkle with sincerity ... perhaps we will get along after all.

I racked my brain for more questions. I found myself wanting to know more about my alluring house guest.

"How do you like Britain ... do you live here in Manhattan or are you just visiting?"

Sarah smiled slightly.

"I live here with you now Jonathan."

My belly did an unexpected flip flop.

"Well, yes, for now. But I mean before all this happened ... where did you live?"

Sarah's smile slipped a little. She began playing with her hair, twirling one strand on her finger. It was extremely cute ... I was positive she was doing it unconsciously.

"I lived in an apartment with two other models near Crotona park ... we shared the rent ... and we all worked for the same agency."

I nodded, "But you were born and raised in England?"

She looked away.

"Well, were you?"

She stopped playing with her hair. "Yes, I was born in London."

"Why'd you leave?"

She suddenly looked at me as if I were an idiot. "I got a job offer to be a model here."

I waved my hand, dismissing her statement. "Yes, yes I know that, but I mean you're nineteen. You should be in college."

She started tapping on my wooden kitchen table. "I got into Oxford," she said.

So she was smart and pretty...

"Then why aren't you in Oxford right now?"

She sighed ... acting like such a teenager.

"Because I could model here you wanker..." her breath suddenly caught in her throat, "Sorry for calling you names sir."

This girl seemed to suffer from mood swings.

But still, I could see how a young teenager could throw away prestigious college in order to be paid to wear clothes.

"How'd your parents feel about that?"

Sarah groaned, "None of your business."

I guess I could respect that.

I paused for a second trying to think of a way to bring up what she told me in her office. The term 'sex slave' made me distinctly uncomfortable ... but so far, except for one instance in my office, she didn't seem anything like what I imagined a 'sex slave' was.

Before I could talk she interrupted me.

"How old are you Jonathan?" She was looking at me with distinct curiosity now. I shifted my weight to my other foot, and busied myself loading the dishwasher. My age was a bit of a sore spot for me. Society thought people my age should be in a fraternity, not working for the FBI.

"Twenty four," I said cautiously.

She looked at me with genuine surprise. "I thought you were just well preserved. You act like you're in your mid-thirties."

I gave a little laugh. "No, I guess I'm just boring for my age."

She cocked her head. "You work for the FBI ... you must have gone to college ... so, um ... when did you graduate?

This was the part people realized I was a freak.

"When I was twenty," I replied.

She nodded as if this was normal.

"From what college?"

I almost didn't say it.

"Harvard..." Even to me my voice sounded dejected.

Sarah leaned back in my kitchen chair. It made a creaking noise as pressure was put on the back.

"So you're smart ... that fair to say?"

I nodded miserably.

Sarah looked at me as if she couldn't figure me out ... but what she didn't do was look at me as if I were an alien ... something that was completely different from her and could never be understood. Perhaps that's an exaggeration ... but people treat intelligent people differently. My least favorite phrase in the entire cosmos was...

'Get John to do it, he's smart.'

I eyed Sarah's teenage face for a second longer. All I saw was curiosity, and nothing else ... and it was wonderful.