Grey stone columns, iron fittings in which unlit torches rested,a black metal gibbet suspended above, the off-white of old bone s w ithin itsbars. Sol...na wore nothing but a lace-up bodice and skirt. H er breasts, plumpedby the corset, were all but bared to the November chill. The bodice's slimstraps had slipped part-way down her bare muscled arms. H er skirt s w eretorn, muddy. H er hair was loose, a thick black mane tumbling to her shoulder-blades,partially obscuring her face. H alf African by. Monroe realized that, unlike the people he worked at his last job, noone around him saw him as anything special. He was not somebodyimportant's son; he was, now, simply someone who cleaned another'stoilet for a living. Monroe loved how lowly the thought made him feel."I've come a long way, baby," Monroe said to himself with a smile beforehe began to scrub the bathtub as he thought about his rapid descent downthe social ladder.Monroe finished with the bathroom and went over to Lourdes for his. More

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