Human Commodity by Candace Smith Read Free Book Online

investment portfolios, it was going to require hearings just to have it acknowledged that they were even allowed to be covered under accepted human rights.
    POHO tried to get the backing of civil liberties organizations, but the once respected feminist organization found themselves in the unfamiliar territory of being shunned.   The groups and unions were exhausted from trying to balance budgets and fight wars for members whose companies had folded without honoring the promised pensions.   They had a dismal record of producing little results of recouping even their paid memberships’ portion of the savings, as companies used the last ‘guaranteed and protected’ monies belonging to their employees to try to patch the rip in their finances.   There was nothing left to return to the workers, even if the unions won the lawsuits.   With no company to throw their anger against, members stormed their ire at their unions who continued to send yearly renewal notices to support them for services they could no longer provide.
    It became quickly evident that POHO was the only real obstacle trying to block SHCI’s legislation.   The organization had yet to win a case, but the monthly hearings were as annoying as a mosquito buzzing on the other side of a screen, yearning to suck the blood money out of the firm.   Phillip was in his element… respected and looked up to as a leader among other attorneys struggling with the ideology of slavery as their client firms began trading in human commodities.
    That was the business side of his occupation that he could discuss in vague terms with his parents.   The majority of his time was filled with the private contracts of purchasing women, who left his office as a future commodity offering through an underground passage to the Training Compound next to his law firm’s building.
    His office was the last room the young women saw as free agents, and he carefully balanced the décor in a way that was in sync with his own unusual manner.   One wall held a tapestry with the muted soft colors of a foxhunt.   On another, hung a portrait of a bound, naked woman, kneeling at Mason’s feet and smiling up at him.   That one was placed so that the girls would only see it if they dared to look back at him as their trainers were leading them to the tunnel… and they usually did with a pleading look in their eyes that he found strangely arousing.
    There were no blasted hearings from POHO that morning, so Phillip sat at his desk and studied the list of contracts he would have to go through that day.   Such a chore, to decide if a young woman was up to SHCI standards or had to be tossed to the street vultures, who were obvious by the very nature of the anxiety burning through eyes in their naturally unnatural appearance.   They knew better than to approach a woman going into the law firm.   Mason’s shrewd wrath and rumors of how he had blackmailed his way to ownership of the once revered Dugan’s Securities firm, caused uneasy competitors to back off and wait for any scraps or discards he threw back to them.
    Competitors… and most probably the Finance Commission… knew that the three enterprises were connected by a bond much stronger than mere shareholdings.   The fact that Sanford Human Commodities Investments, Commodity Investment Law Firm, and the Commodity Training Compound might be set up as a monopoly, remained unchallenged.   But hell, their buildings stood beside each other and comprised a full block with rumored underground passages connecting them.   In the world of Wall Street, it was understood that it would be a quick road to bankruptcy, or worse, if anyone tried to block the dynamic trio… and Mason, Phillip and Eddie’s names were only referred to in hushed, revered, or cursed tones over cocktails and lunch.
    “Sir, your ten o’clock is here.”   Noreen watched the former model cross long nyloned legs.   She had graced the cover of several magazines before her