Chapter 2
As the head teller in the bank, Steve had access to all the records, and, as a result, he was well aware when certain errors were made. He was also aware who made the errors, and most important, how the errors were covered up. As a result, when Caryn, as supervisor, made a hundred-and-eighty thousand dollar error and quickly covered it up so that no one was the wiser, Steve, with a copy camera, took pictures of the various records showing the goof Caryn had made. It wasn't the kind of mistake that would cost anyone money since Caryn had rectified it quickly enough, but anyone making this kind of mistake would definitely not be promoted to vice president. That Caryn had used Joyce to help cover her mistake, with Joyce's signature on certain records, all photographed by Steve, helped things along considerably.
At this point, all Steve would have had to do would be to present his evidence privately to Caryn, and he knew she would let him out of the car pool without giving him any future flak. But the two females had stepped on him time and again, taking advantage of his totally good nature, and Steve felt the time had come for him to emerge from his good-natured shell, as a butterfly emerges from a cocoon.
Thus it was Friday evening, and the three of them were leaving the bank in Steve's car, since it had been his turn to drive that week. He was supposed to drive them to their respective apartments, but instead he drove directly to his house. It was a bitter cold February day, and all three of them had been bundled up in his car, with the two women smoking madly, and as a result, all but choking him to death. But this was going to be the last time they did anything like this.
"What are we doing here?" Caryn asked, seeing his house.
"Small celebration," Steve replied. "I felt it only right my two closest friends share in my good luck with me. Come on in for a moment."
They stepped out of the car and headed for his front door. The light ten mile-an-hour breeze made the day seem colder than it was, and the loud whup-whup of his wind charger, as the blades turned, filled the air.
When Steve opened his front door, letting the two women into his small one-story ranch cottage, the heat almost overcame them.
"Steve Blaze, are you crazy?" Caryn asked as he shut the door with them inside the house and he took their coats. "Don't you know there's an energy shortage?"
"Hmmm?" he asked. "Yes, the temperature is a little high here in the living room," he nodded, gesturing for them to sit on the sofa to the left of the door. "Each room has its own thermostat, and I can regulate room temperature rather than the temperature of the entire house."
He walked over to the thermostat, adjusted it, turned, and smiled, saying, "There! It's been set down to seventy-two."
"Seventy-two?" Joyce gasped. "How can you set it so high? Don't you know you're wasting energy."
"Not me," he smiled, and he proceeded to explain how he got his electricity from the wind, the wind charger generating so much more electricity than he needed, that he usually ended up receiving a check from the power and light company rather than sending them money. After all, the law said the electric company had to buy back his excess power.
"Is this the good luck you have?" Caryn asked, sniffing, looking around with obvious distaste at the way he had furnished the house.
The small living room had two sofas. There was one against the wall to the left as one walked in, and there was another sofa at a right angle to it, acting as a separation between the living room and the tiny front hallway. A large TV set reposed against the far left wall, and the opposite wall to the door was very small, barely concealing the kitchen, and not concealing the dining room at all. The dining room had a kitchen dinette set in it, and the kitchen was bare save for the refrigerator, stove, cabinets, and wall oven.
There were three bedrooms off to the right side of the home, all small, all furnished, but only the master bedroom was used. Aqua carpeting covered the living room floor, as well as the hallway and bedroom floors.
"Not at all," Steve smiled, handing each a glass of wine he had poured from a special decanter on the sideboard against the small wall separating the kitchen from the living room. He poured himself some wine from yet another decanter.
"What's this all about?" Joyce asked, impatient to be on her way. She had a date for this evening, and she wanted to get to her apartment and get ready for it.
Caryn had no date. She despised men. But both had a date with destiny, a date arranged for them by Steve Blaze.
"Drink up," he insisted, and to get this over with, the two women hurriedly drank their wine.
"Now, what's this good luck?" Caryn asked.
"I've just acquired two household slaves," he told them. "Two women who are going to do anything and everything I want. They're going to live here, in the other two bedrooms, but the best part of it is I'm not going to have to pay them a thing to bed down with me, or to clean my house or cook my food. They're going to do it willingly. In return, they get to live here and not have to pay rent, though they'll have to chip in and pay for their share of the groceries."
"Just where are two slaves like these supposed to get money?" Joyce asked, hand on hip as she put her glass down on the small table next to the sofa.
"They work, just like I do," Steve smiled. "They'll continue to work, but when they come home in the evening, they'll turn into obedient slaves who'll do anything and everything I want."
"Are you telling me," Caryn snorted, "that you've found two women dumb enough to work all day, then come here and cook your meals, clean your house, do your laundry, pay for your food, and in return be content merely not to pay rent?"
"You left out the fact that they're going to do anything I want them to do in bed," Steve smiled.
"Oh? And just where are these dumb women?" Caryn wanted to know.
"Here, in this house," he nodded.
"Where?" Joyce asked. "Are they hiding in one of the bedrooms?"
"No," Steve told them, continuing to smile. He walked over to a small secretary at the far end of the room and opened it. Pulling out an envelope, he opened that and took out the photos he had taken handing them to the two women, saying, "You understand, these are just copies. I have other copies tucked safely away."
The two women looked at the photos of the records, showing Caryn's enormous monetary mistake and Joyce's help in the cover-up. They gasped and stared at Steve. He smiled back.
"Hello, slaves," he said to them.