She nodded hastily and her hair bobbed with the movement."Can you show me... ?" I left the question hanging. Letting her assume what I wanted.She look...d over toward a row of videos, "Joey, I'm going to setup one of the booths for a customer. Watch the counter, please." I was surprised by her accent. It wasn't a southern drawl that I had heard so much over the last few days, but completely foreign. Maybe German or possibly Russian? I could find out.Looking around to where Yvonne had when she. Although she was still technically in London, it was the kind of suburban street she couldn't even dream of being able to live in, far away from the chain stores.She was glad it was finally the weekend. For just over forty-eight hours she was Jane again, a free woman, not employee number two hundred and fifty-six, a nameless whore behind bars.She looked at all the door numbers as she walked past them: nine, eleven, thirteen. At thirteen, she walked up to the door. She looked at the names next. More

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