Tai Anne Roper 2
By Nicole Sutter
FOR MATURE READERS ONLY
Chapter 10 - "Captive Hearts"
Melissa Martin woke up as the first shrill klaxon of the day cut through her sleep. Instantly awake, she hopped off her cot and out of the arms of her cellmate and immediately sat on the stainless steel toilet to quickly relieve herself. She then wiped and flushed, skimmed on her orange latex short shorts and tube top and was standing on the yellow line ready for morning inspection less than a minute from when she first woke up.
She was the first in her pod to be on-line, but the others soon followed. As usual, the last one would get punished.
"Look sharp, cunts!" Pod Leader Diane Lindstrom shouted. She was a former Marine DI who was lean and mean and loved to use the length of rubber hose that dangled from her belt to beat the ass of a slavecunt. "Shoulders back! Tits out! Belly in! Ass out! Legs spread! Eyes front! On your toes, cunts!!!"
Melissa Martin followed the commands by rote, as she had every day that she had been a prisoner of The Farm. She arched her bare feet so she was indeed on her toes, her powerful leg muscles were used to the exercise.
Melissa's cellmate was a twentysomething third year medical resident named Kiyesha, who had gotten snatched from Hennipin, Minnesota two weeks ago. A beautiful young black woman who just couldn't get it through her skull that slavery was alive and kickin' in the new millenium.
Right now she was sobbing, and Melissa could tell that her skintight latex tube top --actually more of a tight rubber band that cut across her large breasts-- was on crooked as well.
Two female guards in black spandex took her, forced her to her knees and twisted her arms up between her shoulder blades until she was in the impossible Reverse Prayer position that everyone at The Farm learned, one way or the other.
Straps at thumbs, wrists and elbows made the Reverse Prayer permanent. She was gagged with huge rubber prong and led away down the long, concrete hall to Punishments.
Melissa Martin let the cruel eyes of the Pod Captain wander over her. She let herself go blank, neither scared or happy. Just an emotionless cunt. That was for the best, whether they decided to punish you or not.
Melissa Martin was a tall, slender woman of 29. Her body was taut and toned, with firm, rounded breasts, six pack abs, a firm, round bottom and long, tanned legs.
She wore the uniform of the day well. The tight, orange latex tube covered her nipples and left the underside of her breasts free, also giving her a deep cleavage. The short shorts cut deep between her legs and over her taut bottomcheeks.
Her blonde hair had been allowed to grow into a short pageboy that she kept neat and parted in the middle. Her blue eyes stared at a middle ground as Diane looked her over and finally unbuckled her wide leather belt and skimmed down her black spandex.
"Service me."
Melissa immediately dropped to her knees, crossing her wrists behind her and keeping her shoulders back. She closed her eyes and worked Diane's bushy cunt with a religious fervor.
After a few short minutes, Diane grunted and held Melissa's head with her clenched fingers, coming in her face.
Melissa lapped up the flow, even bending down to lick the concrete floor.
"Retake position!" Diane barked.
Melissa Martin snapped back to attention, heels rising off the floor, face still wet and dripping.
Diane spent twenty more minutes disciplining the rest of the cunts in the pod. There were fourteen in all, and by the time she had finished, three had been taken for Punishment.
The eleven survivors were all long-term veterans of The Farm. Eleven beautiful young women who had all been trained to an inch of their lives to obey.
All wore the same orange latex tube tops and short shorts, hair was all short and neatly combed, and all had their measurements stenciled across their chests in black. Melissa Martin's was 36C-22-24.
"Slavecunt 36C-22-24!" Diane shouted. "Lead your cunts to Exercise and work them till they drop!"
"Ma'am, yes Ma'am!" Melissa called back in a clear voice. She then stepped out and led the others to Exercise.
***
The exercise room was another wide expanse of cold gray walls with about an inch of squishy rubber matting covering the concrete floor.
Melissa led her pod for a workout that lasted two hours from the first stretch to the last cooldown. By the time she was done, every woman there was sweating bullets and near total exhaustion.
“Slavecunt 36C-22-24! See the Pod Captain, doubletime!" a voice blared from the PA system.
At once, Melissa got up and ran as hard as she could through the complex, down a flight of stairs and past a sobbing woman being raped with billyclubs by three of the female guards.
She presented herself to the front door of the Pod Captain's office and waited on the yellow line.
Not for the first time, Melissa noticed a large emblem that had once been painted on the wall. It had been painted over several times, but it still managed to stubbornly show through the layers of gray paint.
It was the emblem of a fierce eagle holding lightning bolts in its talons, and below that, words that she could hardly make out... 583rd Strategic Missle Squadron - Peace Is Our Profession!.
It figured that Val Corder would have one of her slave farms in some abandoned ICBM silo complex. But that was still no clue as to where she could be. In the many months that Melissa Martin had been a prisoner here, she had never seen the light of day, or heard any news of the outside world.
In fact, The Farm had become her world, and she had concentrated on it, trying to be the best behaved slavecunt in the complex. Because unlike the world of Valerie Corder --where existance was simply one impossible torture after another-- here there existed a set of rules to live by, and there even existed rewards for living by those rules.
Melissa was proud of the fact that it had been several months since she had even been bound or gagged. She was pod leader of these slavecunts and led them to the food troughs, showers and exercise regimes.
She also submitted willingly to the sometimes cruel sexual demands of her wardresses... but she had also found that with cooperation came understanding, and that she was indeed treated better by the guards than any other cunt at the complex.
Alone with her thoughts in the cold corridor, she was amazed at how much of her past life she could remember.
Years ago now... three, or was it four? She had been a college girl from Brynn Mawr, recruited into the CIA. And after some whirlwind weeks at spyschool and some courses at Langley, she was a field agent for her country. A real life spygirl.
She remembered the excitement she had felt, meeting her new partner Sophia Chandler and being briefed for their their first assignment; stealing a computer program from the world headquarters of the Corder Corporation in Bridgeport, Connecticut.
At that point, everything had gone to shit. She and Sophie had been captured, their Control Officer was killed, and evidently no one else in the world knew they even existed, cuz the calvary never came galloping over the hill.
It was then that they had both gotten the real shock of their lives. Valerie Corder, owner and CEO of her namesake company was in fact, a white slaver. Not only that, but she enjoyed the cruel intricacies of the skintrade. She dealt in womanflesh on a worldwide basis, taking great delight in separating women from their lives and sending them to hell.
Melissa Martin knew that hell intimately. Val Corder had tortured her for months even after she had given up the name of her agency contact within Corder's company.
Both her head and cunt had been shaved smooth and kept that way. Raped by huge prongs of rubber and plastic on a daily basis. Tied into a tight bundle of hurting girlflesh everyday just for Valerie Corder's enjoyment... that became her very existance.
No wonder she had taken so quickly to the rigors of The Farm once Corder had tired of her. Compared to life as Val Corder's personal fucktoy, The Farm was a goddamned trip to Disneyland.
"Slavecunt!"
Melissa walked into the Pod Captain's room at the sound of her shout. She stood on another yellow line at attention, tits pushed out as hard as she could make them.
Diane Lindstrom, the wardress she had gotten to know better than any of the others, smiled at her. "At ease, girl. Come to me."
Melissa walked around the desk and went to a slave kneel between Diane's spread, spandexed legs. She placed her face to her cunt and groaned as she smelled the rich, familiar scent of girlcunt through ribbed spandex.
"I have news for you, cunt," Diane said gently. "You aren't being sold overseas like I told you the other day. Orders from the top."
Melissa took the news without emotion. A part of her no longer cared what happened to her. Not even if she was kept here the rest of her life or shipped off to some third world shithole.
"Instead you're being taken back to Ms. Corder... seems she wants you for her personal use."
Melissa knew she should have felt something with that bit of information. Panic. Fear... something.
But all she felt was a shiver of... pride. That someone as powerful as Valerie Corder --who could and frequently did have any woman she wanted-- would go to so much trouble for a cunt such as herself.
"It's not fair," Diane said, stroking Melissa's blond hair. "I was hoping I could keep you here as a permanent trustee... and once Ms. Corder tires of you once more, I will make that request again."
Melissa took some comfort in that. The Farm was the closest thing she would ever have to a home.
"Pleasure me again," Diane whispered. "Then we shall prepare you for transit."
***
Later, Melissa Martin was stripped, showered, douched and given an enema. When she was clean inside and out, she was led to a room that contained a large orange cylinder of plastic and steel that had CAUTION - BIOHAZARD stenciled on the sides.
The top was unlocked. The insides were padded. Melissa presented her wrists to Diane who cuffed her hands in front with hinged cuffs. Then her ankles.
Diane tenderly kissed her on the lips, then slipped the heavy gauge, black rubber face mask over her head, securing and locking it at the neck. It had a breather element, but she could no longer see or hear.
Two other female guards lifted her into the cylinder. She curled up inside of it, hugging her knees.
Diane attached a tube to the breather element and clicked the other end to the respirator.
"I have positive connect to life support," she said.
"Roger that," a tech guard named Camilla said, checking the readouts. "All systems nominal, ready for final seal."
Diane took a final look at the bound and masked woman sitting in the plastic canister. Then the hose was brought over and a warm, rubbery blue goo was poured in on top of her, filling the canister up, till Melissa Martin's rubbered head finally disappeared and the goo slightly overflowed down the sides.
"Systems A-OK," Diane said, checking the readouts again. "Lock it down."
Diane tapped the warm goo, but it was already hardening to the consistency of a soft resin. The top was sealed and locked.
Finally the bill of lading was prepared and slapped onto the top of the canister.
--------------------
FROM:
Farm Complex C-174
TO:
Corder Corp
12783 Black Rock Turnpike
Bridgeport, CO.
ITEM: 8564540846453832/468D
WARNING: EXPEDITE! TIME SENSITIVE ITEM!
--------------------
Diane and the others rolled the canister over to a holding area where seven other canisters sat. All of the canisters were addressed to various points on the globe.
"Wanna do lunch yet?" Camilla asked Diane. "Cafeteria just opened."
"Yeah. I just hope it’s not meat loaf again," Diane groused.
"I thought you liked the meat loaf?"
"Not three days in a row!" Diane exclaimed. "Keeerist, there is a limit to what a girl can take!"
***
Tess Stuart gently opened the door to her parents' bedroom and saw her dad was gone, but her mom was still sleeping in their bed, covered up to her chin by a thick comforter to combat another chilly San Francisco morning.
"Mom?" she whispered.
Kate Stuart blinked and looked at her daughter. "Tess. What did we tell you about coming in here without knocking?"
"Sorry. Where's dad?"
"Right here," Jeb Stuart said, coming out of the bathroom wearing a robe and the pajama bottoms he usually slept in. "What did we tell you about..."
"Yeah, yeah..." Tess shrugged. "C’mon, I know not to come in here when you two are doin' the nasty..."
"Tess!" Kate looked shocked but stayed under the covers.
"What do you want, Tess?" Jeb asked.
"Well, I just wanted you two to know that you didn't have to worry about me, just cos I'm goin' off with Tai Anne today," Tess said.
"We weren't," Jeb replied.
"I mean, like I know that Tai Anne is into all this... bondage stuff. Y'know, tying folks up and all?" Tess said. "And you don't have to worry about me getting hooked up into that, cos I just don't get it! I mean, why would someone who likes someone else wanna tie them up?"
Kate looked at Jeb. "Want to explain that one, dear?"
"Well," Jeb said. "Sometimes its all about... trust. Giving control over to someone you love and... well, trust. Other times its just the feelings of helplessness... I would imagine."
"Kooky," Tess said. She looked at her mom. "It's past eight and the twins are up, you gonna make breakfast?"
"Why don't you make breakfast," Jeb suggested. "We'll be along."
"But no Capt'n Crunch on toast!" Kate called as Tess left. Jeb closed and locked the door behind her.
"That was close!" Jeb said. "I thought you locked the door."
"I thought you did."
Jeb smiled and pulled back the comforter to reveal a naked and nicely hogtied Kate. He loved the way the thick, white rope contrasted with her tanned skin. "Now where were we, my damsel fair?"
"I was about to be pillaged, I believe..."
***
The Nakatomi Centre was the newest addition to San Francisco's Nihonmachi, or Japantown District. A six story office building with the clean, minimalist lines of traditional Japanese architecture.
Dr. Yoshiko Katsuhara Roper had her office there. She was a noted psychiatrist who was on the boards of several respected institutions both in California and Japan, besides having an exclusive private practice in both San Francisco and her home down in Santa Cruz.
She was also one of Tai Anne Roper's mothers. Tai Anne's other mother, one Glenna Jane Roper, had just arrived from their commune of New Lesbos in Santa Cruz with an East Indian woman named Shakira in tow.
Yoshiko Roper was a pretty, yet serene Japanese woman in her forties, dressed casually in a kimono and flip flops. She sipped some green tea from a Japanese tea service she had brought in from her living quarters next door.
Glenna Jane Roper, her wyfe and life partner, resembled the quintessential California Earth Mother. Broad of beam, with salt and pepper hair and a kind yet determined face. She wore a flowing, tie-dyed kaftan and Birkenstocks.
She ran the New Lesbos commune. She was also a nationally known spokesperson for the gay and lesbian community.
Shakira was a fairly new resident of new Lesbos. A beautiful girl with dark, chocolate skin, and long, raven black hair, who looked all of twenty or so.
She was a native of India, and was an Avatar of the Hindu Goddess Kali... when she wasn't trying to abduct Tai Anne Roper to become her lesbian slave bride.
Yoshiko also couldn't help but notice that western civilization was finally having an effect on young Shakira. Instead of her usual sari, today she wore a faded blue denim jacket over a tight, Harley Davidson tee, tight, faded-out jeans, boots and Ray-bans. The Hindu sign of the talika was still painted on her forehead, though.
It was just after 9am, and the subject up for discussion was Tai Anne Roper.
"Yoshi, I just cannot believe you have allowed our grrl to do all the things that she has done!" Glenna Jane said with great feeling. "Allowing her to get into dangerous gun battles with middle eastern terrorists, to get captured by white slavers, to fall in love and almost marry a..." Glenna Jane made a face, "man! And most of all, letting her become a model for some pornographic website!"
"A bondage website," Yoshiko corrected. "And she is also starring in a series of DVDs that are also bondage oriented.
"And you approve of this?!" Glenna Jane's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets and roll about her desk.
"What I --or you for that matter-- approve of is not the point," Yoshiko replied. "The fact remains that our daughter is 19 years old. Legally she can do as she likes."
"Legally 19, she may well be, Mama-san" Shakira said. "But in many ways she is still quite being a child! Allowing herself to be captured by various villains, and bound hand and foot with an almost comic book regularity!"
"First, you have only known my daughter for four days, so I don't see how you can claim to be an expert on her," Yoshiko replied evenly. "However, since you are one of the 'villains' who have attempted to abduct her on at least two occasions... I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt!"
"Come now," Glenna Jane said. "I think it can safely be said that Shakira has Tai's best interests at heart."
"As my bound slave bride, see to it I will, that Tai Anne is kept forever chained and shackled and locked away in my Temple of the Kali-Ma at New Lesbos," Shakira said. "Quite safe there, she will be!"
"I think someone is missing the point," Yoshiko chuckled. "The point is that it is her life. If she chooses to be a slave bride, then fine. If she chooses to be a internet bondage model, again that's her choice."
"Yoshi, have you actually seen this website?" Glenna Jane asked.
Yoshiko felt a blush creeping over her face. "Hai."
"Fine..." Glenna Jane waved at Yoshiko's desktop PC. "Bring it up... We'll see it together!"
"Oh my!" Shakira grinned and squirmed in her seat as Yoshiko booted up her computer and got onto her AOL account.
She tapped in:
www.taianneroper@slavelabour.com and got the standard warnings about being over 18. She skipped the free tour and used her password to go straight to the members section.
"My Gaia!" Glenna Jane whispered. "It's worse than the last time I saw it!"
Indeed, for those willing to pony up $19.95 a month, one surely got their money's worth.
There were extensive thumbnail galleries of Tai Anne Roper in latex, leather, Nawa Shibari, rope, chains and straps... all while being paddled, whipped, plugged, fucked and licked...
"At least she is only playing with other girls," Yoshiko said as she clicked onto a streaming video of her daughter servicing a rubberclad Taffy Chu.
"Enough!" Glenna Jane reached over and shut the computer off. "We didn't raise a daughter so that she could become some... internet whore!"
"You surprise me, Janie," Yoshiko said. "You welcome all women who come to New Lesbos with open arms. Prostitutes, addicts, the abused, the sick and the dying... all without judgement or prejudice. Yet you are incapable of showing that same consideration to your own daughter."
"This is self-destructive behavior," Glenna Jane said. "I would be remiss as a mother if I didn't do anything!"
Yoshiko raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Sorry, dearest," Glenna Jane said. "You know what I meant."
"Unfortunately, yes," Yoshiko replied.
Glenna Jane sighed. "Will you be seeing Tai Anne today?"
"Yes, she's supposed to come by this afternoon and help me get my patient files in a semblance of order." Yoshiko smiled. "Of course I shall be warning her that the two of you are in town and lying in wait for her."
"That's your prerogative, luv," Glenna Jane said, sipping at her own cup of tea. She turned to the girl next to her. "Shakira, dear... why don't you show my wyfe that Indian rope trick of yours?"
"Certainly!"
Yoshiko crossed her arms and looked askance as Shakira took out a handful of slender, woven rope from her pocket and placed it on the center of Yoshiko's teakwood desk.
Shakira rubbed her hands together and began to mutter arcane words under her breath. After a few moments, the rope began to stir and shift.
Yoshiko's eyes widened in amazement as one end of the rope lifted itself off her desk and began to swirl around in the air.
"Sugoe!" Yoshiko said, amazed despite herself. "How in the world..."
"There's a trick to it," Glenna Jane allowed.
"Really?" Yoshiko reached out with one hand and touched the dancing cord. That's when the cord suddenly twirled around her right hand and wrist, while the other end sped around her back and slipped about her left wrist. Then the two ends began to draw themselves together.
"Nane?!" Yoshiko jumped up and struggled hard, but her hands were quickly drawn behind her back, her wrists crossing as the cord cinched itself tight.
"The trick is... it's no trick!" Glenna Jane chortled.
But Yoshiko Katsuhara Roper was not going down without a fight. She kicked over her desk --knocking both her wyfe and Shakira onto the floor-- and ran for the door to her office.
Shakira tossed out another short length of rope and it followed Yoshiko like a snake into the anteroom, where it wrapped itself about her ankles, causing her to hit the floor with a thud.
By the time Glenna Jane and Shakira reached her she was bound hand and foot and struggling to no avail. As she took her first deep breath to scream, Glenna Jane was there, kneeling beside her with a handy ballgag.
"Open wide!" Glenna Jane cooed. "Thasagrrl!"
Yoshiko grunted as the big, red rubber ball slipped past her teeth and was strapped behind her neck by her wyfe.
"What now, Mama Jane?" Shakira asked.
"I'll take wyfie back to her apartment and... make her comfortable." Glenna Jane hefted the diminutive Yoshiko over her shoulder with no problem. "You just sit here and wait for Tai Anne. Soon or later, she will be along!"
"Yes, Mama Jane." Shakira watched Glenna Jane take away a wiggling and mmmphing Yoshiko. Once she was alone, she went to her large purse and pulled a massive amount of corded, hemp rope out and coiled it out on the floor.
Then Shakira sat in her chair, sipped her tea and waited for her beloved slave bride, Tai Anne Roper.
***
At that moment, a sudden sneeze woke up Tai Anne Roper from her sleep. She snorted and rolled out of Paige's bed, looking for a kleenex or something.
Tai remembered that it was a Japanese superstition that one sneezed because someone was talking about you. I just hope they were saying nice things, she thought.
She yawned and scratched her belly. She needed a bath. No sign of Paige either. But she had also been surprised that she had awakened unbound.
She went into the bathroom and showered and scrubbed herself good. She had just rinsed the jasmine scented shampoo out of her long black hair when she felt for the first time the metal ring secured around her neck.
Tai got out of the shower and wiped away the steamed over mirror. She gasped as she saw the reflection of a beautiful girl who was now collared.
She felt around the collar with her fingers and found no catch or release. It was just a solid ring of polished silver around her neck. Permanent and forever.
Tai's reaction to this was simple. She eased herself back under the hissing, hot shower jets and rubbed herself to a quick, screaming orgasm.
***
Paige Torne was having breakfast alone in the main bar of The Brickyard. She wore a tight, white tee shirt and loose fitting Levi 501s. A couple of workers were bringing in cases of Coronas, while a female bartender was polishing glasses.
Paige had just finished off her Spanish omelette when she saw Tai Anne Roper be-bopping along to her. She was wearing a motorcycle jumpsuit of red leather with white sleeves and piping down the legs. Black boots matched her black gloves. Team Honda was stitched in black leather down each sleeve.
As with most of Tai's wardrobe, it was a few degrees beyond skintight. The front zipper was down to her bellybutton, and revealed a black latex crop top and a bare midriff, her firm breasts tented the leather outward.
Paige almost choked on the last of her egg. That girl has no idea of her power, Paige thought. And that's what makes her so dangerous... both to herself and others.
"Penny for you thoughts," Tai said with a smirk, catching her eyeballing her curves.
"Nice outfit," Paige observed. "Where do you keep your wallet? Or should I dare ask?"
Tai made a face and turned in a circle, revealing a small, black leather backpack/purse strapped across her shoulders.
"Want some breakfast?" Paige asked.
"Nope." Tai sat down next to her and pulled back the high, rubbery collar of the crop top to reveal the silver metal collar around her neck. "Wanna explain this?"
"Sure, that's your slave collar, brat."
Tai looked at her." Just like that, huh?"
"'Fraid so," Paige said. "I own you now. You do what I say, when I say... or else."
"Or else... what?"
"Or else I'll take you over my knee and paddle that bodacious boo-tay of yours." Paige looked at her with those ice-blue eyes, and Tai knew she meant every word of what she said.
Tai swallowed, feeling the metal against her neck. "Why?"
"Because you need structure, brat," Paige said. "You need control... discipline... and someone to keep you in line."
"I thought that was Iwana's job."
"You had your chance to go back to LA with her, and you chose to stay here," Paige said. "She had her chance to say here with you, and now she has her own set of problems."
That's harsh... but realistic," Tai admitted. "But what's to stop me from going to the first muffler shop I find and getting this thing cut off?"
"Cuz, brat... deep down, you want this," Paige's smile was dark and evil. "I knew that the first time I roped you up, and last night you fuckin' asked for it. So there!"
Tai sighed. "Am I gonna have to start calling you 'Mistress' now?"
Paige laughed. "Just in bed, darlen'!"
But then Paige moved in close and kissed her. "But just so you know... I've also fallen for you hard. And I will do everything in my power to keep you my slave for the rest of your life."
"Sounds like fun." Tai licked her lips. "But what about... others?"
"You mean other women?" Paige asked. "Heh. I didn't think you could handle an exclusivity agreement. Besides, I need a randy lil' minx who will continue to make bondage movies for her Mistress." She pulled an envelope out of her pocket. "Speaking of which... here's your first paycheck from your paysite and the videos."
Tai Anne Roper took the envelope, opened it up and read the amount on the check. She felt her eyebrows crawl up her forehead. "Jiminy fuckin' Crickets!"
"The paysite is through the roof," Paige said. "And your DVD and VHS sales are moving faster than we can mak'em..."
"Bu... bu..."
"Don't spend it all in one place, brat!" Paige then frowned as something on the screen of the silent television in the corner of the bar caught her attention. She turned to the bartender. "Rosie! Turn the TV up!"
Tai saw that the TV was tuned to CNN and that the screen was showing file footage of a fat old man in a good suit, pushing away at reporters as he walked down a street. At the bottom of the screen he was identified as Accused Mafia Chieftain Vincenzo Scagnetti.
"Scagnetti?" Tai said. "That's..."
The sound finally came up...
“...with no proof so far that the deaths of mob informant Vincent Cundalini, or the ten New York City police officers guarding him, are connected to Vincenzo Scagnetti, who is reportedly very ill and in seclusion in his New Jersey mansion."
The screen changed to a still shot of a rather pretty young women.
"Meanwhile, authorities have issued an arrest warrant for this woman... Detective 2nd Grade Susan Kaminsky of the New York Police Department. Sources within the department say that she was present at the Plaza Hotel at the time of the massacre, and may have let in the unknown assassins..."
"Christ, I gotta call Iwana!" Tai said. "This Scagnetti is nuts! If he just offed ten cops..."
"Darlen', I know this is hard, but let her call you," Paige said. "She might have her hands full now."
"Yes'm." Tai watched the news story go to a commercial. "I gotta go. I'm already late."
"To where?"
"Gonna pick up Jeb Stuart's kid, head over to Taff's place. Do lunch. Then help Mama-san over at her office..."
Paige nodded and kissed her. "Be good."
"You're kidding, right?" Tai replied. Then she kissed her back and went running for the lower level garage.
Paige chuckled as she watched her go, never knowing that it would be a long time before she ever saw Tai Anne Roper again.
***