Island IV – Meetings · Part 12 (12/21)
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Ray leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Yes, I can. I have a certain individual in mind who could possibly be an ideal match, but first, a few more questions…”
First Impression Tom sat in a small room, watching the large display screen mounted on the wall. Next to him Ray was on his phone, making some arrangements. The screen looked out into another small room, adorned only with a table and two chairs in the center. A large man in company uniform sat in one of the chairs.
“Her name is Sandy, short for Sandra. What you’re about to see is a little demonstration of what you will have to consider in dealing with her. She’ll be along in a few minutes, but first I want to give you some background for context.” Ray slipped his phone into his shirt pocket.
“You have to bear in mind she has spent her entire adult life on North Island.” Ray paused, debating how much of her history he would reveal. “She arrived on South Island soon after coming of age. How she got there I don’t know and I’m not going to ask. It was about a month after that she contacted a brokerage office, not mine if you are curious. The details are sketchy, but in some way she managed to sell herself to that brokerage, which is how she wound up on North Island at a young age.
“She has only known one owner, who unfortunately met with a fatal accident very recently. He encouraged her dependency on him, not unusual by itself, but remarkable in degree. She has been taught how to behave in one particular fashion, his way, and no other. Understand, after ten years she has a set way to act, to speak, to respond in just about any situation. The concept of change is not part of her mental makeup. You might say she is in a rut an inch wide and a mile deep. We’re taking a gradual approach, to ease her into a new life after the tragedy.”
Tom took in what Ray explained and mulled it over. He hadn’t been prepared for it; no one could anticipate circumstances like these. He saw the difficulties right away. Any attempt to change her routine, given her inflexibility, would leave her confused and upset. Yet the prospect of owning such a woman outweighed the negatives.
“Interesting,” Tom said. “The challenge is slowly turning her orientation to what I see as the most appropriate. Is this some sort of due diligence, warning me of risks?”
Ray laughed. “Very astute! Yes, in answer to your question. However, I’d like to show you what we have discovered about Sandy. Les, the guy in there,” he gestured toward the display, “is going to have a short conversation with her.”
On the screen there was a knock at the door. When Les told them to come in, a guard, also in uniform, escorted Sandy into the room. She wore one of those purple company dresses, not the most flattering but distinctive if one of the brokerage’s involuntary guests decided to try to walk away. Not that escape was remotely possible. Her hands were bound behind her back, in handcuffs attached to a chain around her waist. Shortened leg irons on her ankles limited her to a short stride, sharply limiting her ability to walk.
She stopped a few steps away from the table. There was a chair in front of her, though she ignored it. Sandy turned her head to the side, looking up at the guard who held onto her arm.
Les rose and slammed his hand on the table. “Look at me!” he snapped. “I am in charge here.”
Tom noticed the instant change in her demeanor. Once it was clear Les was in control her escort all but ceased to exist. “What you’re seeing is the result of years on North Island, coupled with her own personality,” Ray explained. “Disobedience is virtually impossible. We have to be very careful around her, as you will see. One wrong word can result in unimaginable damage.”
Tom frowned at the display. “If she’s that vulnerable, how can she function in public?”
“Good question,” Ray replied. “We’ve discovered her, let’s say fixation, is very selective. Her previous master represented absolute authority, but only him. Any other man, she was respectful but indifferent to attempts to order her around. You noticed how she is ignoring the man next to her? Keep watching.”
“Thanks, Bill. I’ll take custody of her,” Les said. With that the guard left, closing the door behind him.
Les walked around the table, until he faced Sandy. She didn’t move other than to raise her head to look up at him. “My name is Les, Mr. Unger to you. I am the Operations Manager for the brokerage. Until you are sold, I will be responsible for you. Can I count on your cooperation?”
“I will do my best, sir.” Her answer was flat, unemotional.
“She’s still in shock,” Ray observed. He pointed to the screen. “Notice the expressionless tone of her speech, devoid of any emotion? She’s operating on autopilot, responding but not really focused on the here and now. When her master passed away unexpectedly, he left without anyone specifically designated to inherit her. She’s all alone in the world. The estate executor, an attorney, consigned her to us. It won’t be easy to penetrate that black cloud of despair.”
Back on the display Les was talking. “This is what will happen. We are going to sit down and have a conversation. It won’t be a lecture; I expect you to take part. For the immediate future I must decide what’s best for you. We are strangers, so I need to find out more about you. That’s why it’s so important for you to be honest with me, and not hold back. Unless you help, I can’t do my job properly.”
Ray gestured toward the screen. “This is what I mean. See how he takes one step at a time, very slowly, encouraging her to agree rather than simply dictating terms.”
Tom watched but wasn’t impressed. Something didn’t feel right. Sure, she was participating, trying to do as asked, but in Tom’s opinion it wasn’t really sincere. He’d have to think about what he was being shown.
A Done Deal With a pained expression Tom slid over the envelope with the certified check inside. Firefighters were, as a rule, far from the wealthy elite. The check for Sandy represented a sizeable chunk of his savings, as well as a bank loan. Still, money was a means to an end, not an end in itself.
Ray took the envelope but didn’t look inside. He passed Sandy’s ownership title to Tom. “The registration will be updated in about an hour. We are authorized to post transfers directly, so you don’t need to visit a registration office. That’s it; she belongs to you now. As a long-term resident of North Island her status as property is not revocable, even on South Island. Effectively the two of you are in a permanent agreement per South Island regulations. You may receive a few forms from the Public Administrator dealing with estate details; they do love their paperwork.”
Tom picked up the sheet of paper. Like most official documents it had an elaborate border, plus a notary seal at the bottom. The text was remarkably simple. Tom Cooper is now the listed owner of one Sandra, registration number blah blah blah, with all rights and obligations conferred upon receipt of possession. She must know this document exists, even though she would never see it.
“And here is the receipt, her bill of sale.” Ray was working down a short stack of papers. Inwardly Tom sighed. He had written too many after-incident reports at Search & Rescue to hope for fewer dead trees in other lines of business.
“There is another matter I am obligated to bring to your attention.” Ray picked up the desk phone. “Could you ask Mr. Gleason to come in?”
The door opened and a man in a business suit entered, carrying one of those legal brief cases. He held out his hand to Tom. “Ed Gleason, estate lawyer and executor for the estate of the late Sam Willis. Mr. Willis was Sandy’s owner until the unfortunate accident.”
Sam Willis, the name triggered a recognition in Tom’s mind. He had been on the crew that helped to investigate the wreckage of his yacht, when it had been smashed against the North Island cliffs by a rogue wave. There had been no survivors.
Tom shook his hand. “Tom Cooper, call me Tom.”
He took a seat next to Tom and opened his case. “Make it Ed, no formality here. Well, except for fulfilling the provisions of Mr. Willis’ will.” He took out a sheaf of papers and handed them to Tom.
“Mr. Willis made certain provisions for his women in the event of his demise. It includes a life insurance policy. The beneficiary is a trust fund set up to divide the policy payout among all four of his women. Since they cannot handle finances, the trust fund is charged with seeing to their expenses. You will see the list of beneficiaries? Sandra is on the third line.”
So, Sandy had some money coming to her. Or rather, he did since she could not own assets. “Okay,” Tom said slowly. “How does this trust fund work?”
Ed hesitated. “This is where it gets a little complicated. Sandy is the only survivor in the list of beneficiaries. That means the entire policy amount goes to her, via the trust. As of today, that amount is roughly thirteen million US dollars.”
Tom turned back to the policy. Sure enough, on the last page there it was, whole life insured in the amount of ten million, with dividends to accrue to the principal amount. That was ten years ago.
“At the moment, as executor I am the administrator of the trust fund,” Ed continued. “Between us, although entirely legal the trust is a sham, partly for tax reasons in the US since Mr. Willis was a citizen, and partly to help me to keep unscrupulous opportunists profiting from Sandy’s misfortune.”
He took out another sheet of paper. “I hereby transfer the trust fund to your administration. You don’t strike me as a gold digger. You are free to use the fund as you see fit. The bank account transfer will go through tomorrow. All I need is your signature. Since this is life insurance it bypasses Probate.”
Tom sat there, dumbstruck at the unexpected turn of events. Just like that, he was a millionaire. “I don’t know what to say.” One thing for certain, Sandy would want for nothing. Then he caught himself. “Sahe isn’t aware of any of this?”
Ed shook his head. “Of course not. Mr. Willis was quite firm on keeping his women separated from his business. I’m sure they had some idea he was well off. His boat, while not the largest in the harbor, was impressive. And his house…but you’ll see that soon enough.”
“House?” Tom asked.
Ed took more papers from his case. “This is the last part, I promise. Mr. Willis had no heirs. There was a brother, listed in the will, but he was killed in action while stationed in Syria. The will doesn’t provide for passing on assets to his brother’s estate. The sole beneficiary for Sam’s estate reverts to that same trust fund I mentioned.” He handed Tom a long, legal-sized print out.
Tom was no accounting expert but he could recognize a balance sheet, with assets and liabilities. This one totaled roughly ninety-four million in US dollars for assets. He frowned, what was this?
“This is accurate to one week ago. I hired an audit team to prepare the balance sheet for the Probate Court. Due to the amount, I anticipate it will be at least another month before the judge rules on it. At that point, you will be in control of Mr. Willis’ holdings as part of Sandy’s trust. That includes his house on North Island. You’re welcome to look it over any time, just call my office.”
Tom kept looking at first to Ed, then Ray, and then back again, trying to figure out what had happened. Ray must have known from the beginning, yet said nothing. That made sense; he had to filter out the fortune hunters. “I, uh, I’m overwhelmed.”
Ed slid his business card across the desk to Tom. “You are now in a class where estate management should be a serious concern. I hope you don’t mind if I make a pitch for my services? If you’d rather, I can recommend several other reputable attorneys.”
Ray opened the drawer underneath the desk, sorted through something, and produced two more business cards. “I use these people for financial advice. You are going to find yourself buried in the near future, especially when this leaks out. Not much we can do about that: Public Administrator, everything has to be transparent, by law on the public record; same for Probate Court records.”
Tom had won the lottery, without even buying a ticket. Idly he wondered how Sam Willis hid his wealth from Sandy. Would it make a difference if she found out? For the last ten years she had never so much as touched a coin, let alone handled a significant amount of currency. He’d have to check if she had been given a debit card, or if Sam had required her to ask him to buy everything.
Tom turned to Ed. “Any more surprises waiting for me in that briefcase?”
Instead, Ray spoke up. “There is just one more thing.” Now what? Tom thought. He must be one of those Steve Jobs fans, after delivering that signature line.
Ray picked up the envelope with Tom’s payment inside. He slid it across the desk, unopened, back to Tom. “Your purchase price is covered by Sam’s estate. Prior arrangement, he really did look out for his own. You’re perfect for Sandy, and that’s what he wanted, someone who would look out for his most valuable of assets after he was gone.”
The lawyer stood up. “Time for me to make my exit. Sandy doesn’t know who I am, per Sam’s wishes. If you don’t mind, Tom, I’ll keep it that way for you too.” Ed shook hands with Tom and left.
The Handover “Sandy will be here in a minute.” Ray picked up a plastic wrapped bundle on the floor behind his desk. “She will be wearing a company dress. If she walks into the ferry terminal dressed like that the phones here in the brokerage will start ringing off the hook. I’d appreciate it if you have her change into something else. I had a dress sent up from our wardrobe manager. She assures me it will fit.”
There was a knock at the office door. “Come on in, Les. We’re finished.”
The door opened. In came Sandy, guided by a hand on her shoulder. She had on that eyesore of a company dress. Tom knew the unappealing though distinctive fashion statement was deliberate, to ensure any woman who somehow walked away from the brokerage would be quickly spotted. Not that Sandy had any opportunity to walk away.
Once again, her hands were held securely behind her back with handcuffs, attached to a chain that wrapped around her waist. Around her ankles larger cuffs were locked in place, with a connecting chain that guaranteed she was limited to a slow walk, no running or kicking allowed. Despite the restraints she gave the impression of calm acceptance, almost as if this were an everyday occurrence.
Maybe, in her world, it is commonplace. Tom noticed the way she quickly scanned the room, first sizing him up before shifting her attention to Ray. Makes sense, she doesn’t know me, so I’m a non-entity for the moment. Ray, on the other hand, was her known authority figure.
Her focus was justified. Ray came around the desk and stood in front of her. “Sandy. I want you to listen carefully to what I have to say. This is information you need to know.”
As far as she was concerned both Tom and Les, standing behind her, ceased to exist. Ray certainly had her undivided attention.
“Your former master did not neglect you. He made plans for your welfare in case he wasn’t able to provide for you. You were not informed of these plans because he didn’t want you to worry. Anyway, I’m here to carry out his wishes concerning your future. I want to stress I am acting under your owner’s express directives. This is what he wanted for you.”
That last sentence drew a reaction from Sandy. She didn’t move, or speak. That would be an unforgiveable act of disobedience. She couldn’t hide the shock of learning that Sam Willis had not abandoned her. The expression on her face, the wide-eyed look, gave it away.
“Sandra, the man standing next to me is Thomas Cooper. From this moment on he will be your new master. You should be aware he was selected based on very specific criteria spelled out in detail by Sam Willis. In his will he left instructions for you to give this man your unreserved loyalty and obedience. In return Mr. Cooper will watch over you, protect you from the outside world, and provide the stability you need to move forward with your life.”
Sandy finally turned her head to take in her new owner. Ray handed a small box to Tom. “These are the keys to her collar. I assume they still work. Her collar hasn’t come off in the last ten years.”
He dropped the keys in his pocket. When he got home, they’d go in his fireproof document safe. Tom didn’t foresee any circumstances where he’d need to use them.
“Les and I have some brokerage business to look after, so we’ll leave you alone. To make the late afternoon ferry you’ll need to be at the terminal in about forty minutes. I’ve arranged for a car to drive you there, as soon as you’re ready. Feel free to use the office until then.” Tom and Ray shook hands.
Les held out a small bunch of keys. “For her,” he explained. The two of them filed out the office door.
Once they were alone Tom reached out, placing one hand on her shoulder. With the other he ran his fingers around her collar. A close fit, but not tight. “This is how it will be. You will continue to wear my collar. You will address me as ‘sir’, and only that, unless you need to attract my attention in a crowd. For now, you will continue to follow you prior master’s rules and instructions, unless I make changes. You will not hesitate to come to me for your wants and needs, no matter how unimportant it may seem to you. Naturally, I demand your unquestioned obedience at all times. Unacceptable behavior has consequences, remember that. It’s not a threat or a bluff, only a statement of fact.”
I’m not making the same mistakes as last time, Tom promised himself. He wasn’t sure but he thought her reaction was positive. She’s not like me. She lives for strict, unambiguous commands that relieve her of any personal responsibility.
He leaned in, eye to eye. “You and I, Sandy, we will have a good life together. I have no doubts on this. You know why? Because I’m not going to let anything ruin it.”
Immediately after he spoke, to Tom the speech sounded trite, stilted, like something out of a cheap romance novel. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Those words were exactly what Sandy needed to hear. He could see tears in her eyes.
“This is what you need to know for today. We will go by car to the ferry terminal. We’ll take the late afternoon rush hour boat across the channel. My, our car is parked at the far end. From there we will drive to our apartment.” He needed to shift his thinking to include both of them.
“But first you need to change your clothes.” He pointed to the plastic bag on the desk. “You will change into this dress. You can use the bathroom over there.” He pointed to a side door. “You have my permission to speak.”
“Thank you, sir. I cannot comply with your order to change while under restraint.”
Tom grinned. “It would be most impressive if you could. Hold still while I get those things off you.”
He started by releasing her wrists, then unlocking the waist chain, and finally opening the leg irons. When he finished, she didn’t budge. Details, Tom reminded himself. “You may change now. After you are done, leave the company dress in the laundry hamper in the bathroom. You will return to this spot.” That should cover it.
She didn’t keep him waiting long. On her return she stopped in precisely the same spot, facing him with her hands at her side, feet together. “On instruction, sir. I have been instructed on set positions to stand, to sit, to kneel, both unencumbered and restrained.”
“Good to know. I will need your help, since I’m unfamiliar with your past history. For now, continue as you’ve been taught. You will provide the details to me. From what I’ve seen so far, I approve of your conduct.”
“Habits are difficult to break, sir. You are kind to grant me time to adjust.” Kind? That wasn’t what Tom was feeling. Here was a woman locked into a behavioral structure so rigid she could barely blink without permission, and he was encouraging her to continue.
While she was changing, he had been examining the keys Les had given him. The handcuff and padlock keys were obvious. The mystery was a tubular key with notches at the open end. He had no idea what it was intended to open.
When she returned, Sandy spotted the odd key in his hand. “Sir? In case you were puzzled over that key, you should be aware it goes to my belt.”
Belt? What was she talking about? There was no belt for her dress, and why would it require a key anyway?
She saw the confused look on his face. “Let me show you, sir.” Before he could reply she lifted up her dress, solving the mystery. Around her waist was a close-fitting band, with a lock in front. Descending from that lock was a triangular plate that narrowed as it passed between her legs. Tom recognized it immediately, a modern female version of the classic chastity belt. Closed, as it was now, there was no sexual access. From the shape of the flat lock, it was obvious how the key worked.
“You can lower your dress,” he told her. “How long… What are the conditions where you wear the belt?”
“The rules are simple, sir. Anytime I leave home its use is mandatory. Once in place I can’t remove it. Mr. Unger, my escort, ordered me to put it on before I was brought to this office.”
He didn’t know what to make of yet one more unexpected surprise for the day. “Is it uncomfortable?” The question was a stall to give him time to think.
“Not at all, sir.” She put her hands on her hips. “The waistband is padded, so it doesn’t cut into me. It’s a little awkward when sitting but not a major concern. After wearing it for so many years, most of the time I forget I have it on.”
Tom was positive he’d never forget if he were stuck in one of those things. One more difference between us; she sees it as a normal part of her daily routine. He came to a quick decision. “I’ll permit the use of the belt to continue. Is it worn at home too?”
She shook her head. “Normally no, sir. At times master would leave it on after we came home from a night out. That applied to all of us, not just me. As you might assume, we were not allowed to ask to have it removed, or even remind him we still had them on. Worst case, we had to wait until the morning before he released us.”
Tom had this nightmare image of him lying in bed next to her, desperately trying to remember where he put that cursed key. What made it all the worse is the way she smiled at him, almost laughing at the way he’d screwed up…or in this case not screwed at all.
He shook his head, trying to get that image out of his head. “You have my permission to remind me about your belt before bedtime, if I ever forget.” Immediately after the words came out, he realized how stupid it was. Its presence would be glaringly obvious. No reminder would be necessary.
Sandy gave him an odd look but said nothing. Yeah, I’m an idiot. Thanks for not pointing it out.
There was no reason to wait any longer in Ray Madsen’s office. “We’re leaving for the ferry terminal,” he announced. She looked at him, then turned around and placed her hands behind her back. It was a little reminder of what she deemed essential for being seen in public.
I am not Sam Willis. I’m going to do this my way. “No, turn around and face me, hands in front.”
She obeyed, though he sensed some reluctance. “You’re used to a certain procedure. That’s fine, but it doesn’t suit me. From now on, the right way will be the waist chain, but your hands will be cuffed in front. This applies when we’re using the car. For other, more formal occasions, I may choose behind the back.”
“Yes, sir.” And that was all it took to make a profound alteration in her routine. Ray’s theory about gradual persuasion was wrong; the best approach with Sandy was direct, domineering commands, not gentle persuasion.
Heading Home The trip back to South Island was uneventful. Sandy’s registration indicated she had been a North Island resident for ten years, which automatically put her in the equivalent permanent agreement category on South Island. About the only significant difference in her status was the removal of the no driving prohibition. It was a moot point; Sandy had never had the opportunity to learn to drive a car.
She sat next to him, mostly sightseeing while he drove. “Have you been to South Island before?” he asked.
She turned to face him. “Not recently, sir. I think the last time master brought me here was about…” she paused to think, “about five years ago. With four of us it was difficult to get past the ferry terminal. Island laws sir, except on religious grounds they don’t like poly relationships on this side of the Channel. The officials have ways to make you sit and wait.”
