"Right this way, sir," she cooed with dramatic flair, "your bath awaits." She reached down for my hand and led me to our bedroom. I noticed the candle... flickering softly as we passed through to the en suite. The door was closed, and she smiled back at me before she opened it. Steam billowed out from the dimly illuminated bathroom. I followed her in and she shut the door behind us. Grinning and feeling the warmth of the room, I turned and gave her another appreciative smile, inhaling the warm. It was rumored amongst the local villagers that Frenchie's mother had been imprisoned by the Central Government because of her close personal association with a Communist General. The truth mattered very little and rumors were accepted as fact by ignorant ears.The bottom line on Frenchie's future was the bleak options of a lifetime of unrewarded drudgery or the mental and physical exploitation of joy-girl slavery.Only her face and figure would determine her fate.She knew it.Everyone knew it.Her. More

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