made gown contributed by some designer Stone had never heard of. When the event was over, the gown would be auctioned. She was also wearing earrings which would be auctioned as well.
Stone couldn’t breathe as he stared at her. The gown was sapphirine, made of some kind of silky, slinky material that hugged her every curve. The neckline was high, circling the base of her throat, but the back was open to just above her waist, and the hemline brushed the floor. She held a clutch purse in both hands and her ears sparkled with tear-drop sapphire earrings.
Wren ducked her head. “Say something. Do I look okay?”
Stone took three long steps to cross the room. “I—I’m speechless. You’re so beautiful I don’t even know what to say.”
She grinned, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. “I feel…silly. I don’t know. I’ve never worn anything like this.”
Stone took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “I know what you’re saying. I hate wearing this uniform too. But you honestly look stunning. That’s not even a good enough word.” He pulled her flush against him. “You’re beyond beautiful. Just…breathtaking.”
“Really?” She took a deep breath, and Stone couldn’t keep his eyes from the swell of her breasts stretching the material of her dress.
“Really.” He grinned. “If we weren’t supposed to be out there in a few minutes, I’d lock this door and show you how beautiful you are.”
Wren grinned wickedly. “We have time, don’t we?”
Stone was instantly hard. “Don’t tempt me. There’s no way I can do what I want to you without effing up your hair and makeup.”
Wren’s mouth twisted into a dissatisfied moue. “I hate that you’re right. You look delicious in that uniform. Keeping my hands to myself tonight will be difficult.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Stone lifting her face to his, touched his lips to hers. “Now, let’s go raise some money.”
Wren nodded and took his hand, threading their fingers together. They strode through a pair of double doors and out into the ballroom. As they entered, the gathered crowd took notice and parted, clapping as Wren and Stone made their way to the dais at one end of the ballroom.
Wren took her place behind a podium, adjusted the microphone, and smiled at the crowd. Stone stood behind her and to the left, automatically assuming the “at ease” stance.
“Hi everybody,” Wren began. “I’m Wren Morgan. Six months ago, I was kidnapped by a sex slaver. His name was Cervantes. He wore green flip flops. He had rotten teeth and a scar on his face. He clapped his hand over my mouth and dragged me into the back of van, shoved a needle full of heroin into my arm, and drove away with me. It was broad daylight, half a block from my hotel. He—Cervantes—locked me in a hole in the ground that was pitch black. Bugs and rats crawled all over me. Bit me. He fed me food with worms in it. He brought men down into the hole and showed me off like I was a cow at market. They touched me, ripped my clothes off…
“Cervantes wouldn’t let them rape me, though. He wanted me…intact, I think. So he could get a better price. He beat me. Hit me. Kicked me. Shot me full of heroin several times a day so I wouldn’t try to escape. When I was high, I couldn’t remember who I was, or where I was, or why I was alone. All I knew was that I was alone in the darkness, with insects crawling on me.”
Wren paused, her voice shaking. She closed her eyes and gathered herself. The room was silent.
“They brought me to a hotel room. Somewhere far away from where they kept me. Men stood around in the room, haggling over me. I was being sold. I was being bartered away to a man who would use my body for sex, to make a profit off of me. I saw…I saw girls no more than ten, twelve, sixteen years old, naked and bruised and beaten, half-starved, being forced to perform sexual acts. Sometimes at gun or knife-point. Their eyes, those girls…they knew they’d never be free again. They knew they would be forced to…to be
“Thousands…
“Slavery didn’t end when Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation. Slavery still happens. Right now, today, this very second, there’s someone in chains, locked away until the next time someone pays to have involuntary sex with them. They’re drugged, starving, naked, and alone. No one is going to rescue them. This event, as incredible as it is, as many people are here donating their time and their money and their talent, isn’t even a drop in the bucket. It doesn’t even begin to touch the problem. But it’s a start.”
She closed her eyes, blinking away tears, swiping under her eyes with a finger. “There’s someone else here that’s going to tell you her story.” Wren stepped away, turned to take the arm of thin, fragile-looking blond girl with frightened eyes.
Lisa stepped up to the podium, visibly terrified and shaking. She had a piece of paper crumpled in her fist, and she unfolded it, smoothed it against the podium and read from it without looking out at the audience. “My name is Lisa Johnson. I grew up privileged. My father was a politician, a successful and important senator. I lived in a big house, drove a nice car, went on fancy vacations. I went skiing in the Alps, had dinner beneath the Eiffel Tower, and drank wine in Tuscany. When I finished my second year of college, I spent the summer backpacking around Europe and Asia. We went to Germany and France and the UK, Italy, Greece, Egypt, Spain, Thailand. And the Philippines. Manila. And just like Wren, I was kidnapped in broad daylight. I never even saw them. I was jerked from behind into an alley. A cloth bag was put over my head and a needle poked into my arm. When I woke up, I was in a locked room with no window. I was naked. I hurt, all over. I’d been…raped…while I was unconscious. Hours and hours went by, without a sound, without light or water or food. And then the door opened, and a man came in. He left the door open, and another man came in. The second man unbuckled his belt, took it off. He hit me across the face with it. I cried and screamed and begged him to stop, but he didn’t. When I was too hurt to move, he raped me. And then another man came in, and he raped me too. This…this went on so long I stopped counting how many times I was raped. They left me there, bleeding. I passed out, and when I woke there was a bowl of water and a bowl of dog food on the ground. Actual dog food. I was so hungry that I—I ate it.
“Some version of this happened every day. Really, there wasn’t day or night. Just…the time between.” Lisa paused to compose herself, and it took visible effort. “I have no way of knowing from my own personal experience how long I was in that room, but my family says I was missing for four months. No contraceptive was ever used. I got pregnant, and it was…rip-ripped from me. With a coat hanger. There in the room, just…dug out of me. I was raped again within hours. No one cared how loud I screamed.
“I’ll never be able to look at a man again, not the same way. I’m terrified of…of everything. I still sleep on the floor sometimes. I go to sleep in my bed, and wake up on the floor, in the corner, crying.”
She broke, then, crumpled. Wren caught her and helped her from the stage. Lisa’s father, Senator Johnson, took the podium, his face grave.
“What happened to my daughter…it can happen to anyone. It
