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For a single guy who was, near as Kyle could tell, rich but not obscenely so, Master Neal--no, it's Dylan and you better get used to it--had a lot of slaves. It was nothing like the size of the staff at Parsons Ranch, but then again, the ranch was a working estate and this was just a house in an expensive Bay Area suburb. As Kyle settled in at the slaves' table that first morning and started eating a damn good breakfast, he glanced around, hoping he'd remember everyone's names.

Craig was the household manager, but it was easy enough to see that Sherri, the cook, and Andy, the groundskeeper, were the ones who were really in charge. The rest of the staff were a blur of names and faces, and Kyle knew it will take a while to sort them all out. The weird thing was that aside from Craig and a guy named Seth, who worked with the horses, the household slaves were all middle-aged or even a little older. It was reassuring to realize that Dylan didn't sell his slaves once they were no longer young and attractive, but Kyle knew better than to get too comfortable.

"I used to have your job," Seth told Kyle, "but then it turned out that I'm pretty good with the horses, so Dylan figured I'd be better out in the stables than kicking around the house or his office." He finished up his eggs. "We were wondering when he'd pick up someone new; he hates buying slaves."

"I think he felt sorry for me. They had to take my testimony against my owners and, you know how it is, some owners don't want slaves who've done that." There were slaves who didn't think too highly of it too, and Kyle hoped he won't run into too much of that here.

"Sounds like Parsons deserved it," Andy said, leaning back in his chair. "Breeding illegal slaves like that...as if there weren't enough of us poor bastards already and more each year."

Even though he was pretty sure Dylan was an abolitionist, Kyle still looked around nervously. Talk like this had sure as hell not been encouraged at the Ranch.

"It's all right," Sherri said, giving him a smile. "Master Dylan isn't the kind of master to worry or care about what we say in private."

As people started getting up, Kyle let himself hope that things would be different here. "Is there anything I can do to help anyone?" he asked. He'd been too busy dancing on Lady Parsons' whims to really interact with the other slaves much, but he wanted to get off on the right foot here.

"Thank you, dear," Sherri said. "Why don't you just sit with me for a while. I heard Craig say he wanted to go into town with you, so you'll have a bit of a wait."

She poured him more coffee and, once everyone but Andy was gone, she smiled at him. "I'm sure you have all kinds of questions."

"I...yeah, I guess."

Andy chuckled. "Have to say, we're all a bit curious about you, too."

"Andy, give the boy a chance to settle in." Sherri hit Andy's arm with her napkin.

Kyle took a deep breath. "The Master...he's a Reformist, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Andy said. "And didn't that drive Master Neal crazy."

"Master Neal? His father? You've both been with the family for a while, right?"

"Since before Master Dylan was born," Sherri said. "Poor boy."

Biting back a snort--Kyle didn't know how anyone who lived like this could be considered poor--he settled for looking curious.

"He was terribly sick as a baby," Sherri said. "In and out of the hospital all the time, and lonely too. There was a baby girl; she was born a couple of years before Dylan, but she was premature and never even came home from the hospital."

"It might have been better if she had lived," Andy said. "Mistress Neal might not have gotten the bright idea to buy the boy a body-slave that young."

"That's kind of the thing now, though," Kyle said. "Rich kids with body-slaves from early on."

"Master Dylan was only six and Joe..." Sherri smiled a little wistfully. "Joe was only five. Such a skinny little thing, he was, and so sweet."

Andy nodded. "Joe was a good kid."

"But...it's obvious the Master keeps all his slaves," Kyle said, and now that he knew that Dylan was Reformist, that much made more sense. "What happened to Joe?"

Sherri's lips pursed and her eyes went a little narrow. "Master Neal sold him as soon as Master Dylan went off to Harvard. Didn't even let them say good bye; Master Dylan didn't even know until he came home for Christmas. There was a huge row."

"You ask me," Andy said, "I think that Blair boy had something to do with it. He hated Joe."

"Blair wasn't all bad; he just didn't understand how things worked around here." Sherri sighed. "Anyway, when Master Dylan came back from college that first summer, he told his father that he'd registered Reformist and that he'd even given some of his money to the party. They fought for a couple of weeks and then Master Dylan went up to Canada to spend time with the Mistress' family. We didn't see a whole lot of him after that, not until after the accident."

"Accident?" Kyle felt like he'd fallen into the middle of a soap opera. Better than the night-time drama I just came from, I suppose.

"Car accident," Andy said. "The Master and Mistress were heading down to a weekend in Carmel and a drunk driver pushed them off the road and over the edge of the cliff. They died instantly and so did Blair, Master Neal's body-slave andMinh, the driver. Kim, the Mistress' girl, died in the ambulance."

"Damn," Kyle said, not sure what else to say.

There was a pause and then he asked, "and the Master...does he have a girlfriend? Boyfriend?"

"Sometimes," Sherri said. "But they never last long. It's too bad really, he'd be a good father and it would be nice to have children here again."

"What do they call it in those magazines of yours? Commitment-shy?" Andy snorted and shook his head. "That's enough gossip for me; I need to check on Phoebe, see how that leg of hers is coming along."

"One of the horses, dear," Sherri explained as Andy left.

Kyle laughed a little. "It's a lot to take in at once," he said. Remembering who he was supposed to be thinking about he sighed. "Do you know if...he said he didn't want me to act as his body-slave."

She gave him a sympathetic look. "He doesn't have sex with his slaves, and even if he did...not with a body-slave. Not since Joe."

Oh really? Kyle thought. We'll see about that.

"So," he said, standing up and filling her coffee cup for her with a smile. "Tell me about Joe."

"Oh aren't you just the charmer," she said, but then she chuckled. "Andy was right, he was a good boy...."

* * *

After talking with Sherri for quite a while, Kyle showered and then went through Dylan's clothes. Dylan might have said he could dress himself, but as far as Kyle was concerned it was his job to make sure Dylan looked good. And of course, if he was going to appear with Dylan in public, he had to know what to wear.

He discovered that while his new master might have liberal politics, his clothes were pretty conservative, mostly the kinds of suits you'd expect to see on a lawyer with money and taste. Even his casual clothing was pretty boring, jeans, polo shirts and sweaters, nothing particularly wild or colorful. Kyle was frowning over Dylan's shoes when Craig came into the room.

"Are you ready to head into town?"

Kyle supposed he should have expected it, but it still came as a surprise when, once they were in the car, Craig gave him a serious glance and said, "I've seen your provenance."

"Yeah?" Kyle asked, doing his best to sound nonchalant.

"Yes. And I warn you, if anything goes missing...."

So much for nonchalance, Kyle thought. "I was," he snapped, "a hooker, not a thief." He stared out the window, suddenly wishing he was still on the streets. "And I thought our lives before we were slaves aren't important."

"You know better than that, or at least, you should," Craig said. "Dylan is a good man and a decent master; I don't know if he'll ever manage to change the system, but he's trying. We owe it to him to keep his household looking good; he can't afford even a hint of scandal."

"He's the one who bought me," Kyle said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And the rest of us will be the ones who suffer if you cause problems." Craig sighed. "Look, I don't mean to be an asshole, but almost everyone in the household has a weak spot for pretty body-slaves with sad stories, Dylan most of all."

"Joe," Kyle said, his voice carefully neutral. Sherri had talked about Joe as if he'd been her own kid and Kyle had the feeling that she wasn't the only one who'd felt that way.

"Joe," Craig said.

"Did you know him?"

"No, Mistress Neal purchased me after he'd left." Craig sighed. "But you'd have to be an idiot not to see the impact he had on Dylan; there's a whole speech he gives about Joe to those abolitionist groups he meets with." He glanced over at Kyle again.

"You're pretty and given the household you came out of, I'm sure you've learned to adapt to just about anything, but...don't push Dylan. You won't get anywhere."

"Okay, fine," Kyle said. He took a deep breath; it wouldn't do to piss Craig off. "Sorry, it's just...what am I supposed to do?"

"Make sure he looks good in public, and help me with some of the secretarial work. You don't need to worry about being sold, so just do your best to get along with everyone and you'll be fine."

And don't act like a whore off the streets, Kyle mentally added. Although really, now that he thought about it, all he really needed to do was find out what exactly it was that Dylan wanted. He'd been good at that when he'd been turning tricks and he'd been good at it with Lady Parsons, who hadn't known what she wanted from minute to minute. He'd manage it here.

As for Joe? Well he's gone and I'm right here.

-tbc-

Notes: As usual, thanks go out to poisontaster and Darkrose for their worlds and additional thanks to Darkrose for looking this over.   

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