<div class="floatleft">(http://i980.photobucket.com/albums/ae282/caela_ecub/Redheads/sjr1-1.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Illiana “Ana” Thompson<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Slave, Owned by Phineas Landerson<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Mall Opening<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Phineas<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Feeling the strap to the small clutch that was draped across her body vibrate, Ana glanced down and opened a sleek looking cell phone. If anyone looked at it closely it would be clear, to the discerning eye, that this was a model not yet out on the market and yet she, a mere slave, carried one as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Looking at the screen, and the message it contained, a small smirk curved her lips before she snapped the phone shut and replaced it on the strap of her bag, the angle of the clip, and coloring of the phone, almost making it blend into the bag it was nestled against.<br/><br/>The message read:<em>When Mr. Lynch checks in, please arrange for me to meet with Kurt Iosefeveysli for an early lunch tomorrow. And do do you're home work perfectly. A lot is riding on this succession.</em><br/><br/>If she'd been at work or home and received such a message she'd have rolled her eyes but she was in public and so her actions reflected back on the man who owned her. A man who settled for nothing less than perfection, which was fine with Ana. The smirk on her lips was all she allowed herself, that and a glance at the man who'd sent the message. She looked at his head until she caught his gaze and then gave him a small nod. Her "homework" as he'd called it was already done and there was a file waiting on his desk for his arrival at work in the morning.<br/><br/>She'd had no intention of coming out tonight with anything left for her to worry over.<br/><br/>Returning to circulating, now that the opening ceremony was complete, she continued to speak warmly with business contacts that floated through the room. She spoke confidently, professionally, and with great knowledge and at length, with the men she paused to speak to. Here she was a bit of a dichotomy. She was a slave but unlike many slaves she didn't drop her gaze or speak softly but met these men's eyes as freely as they met each others and laughed<em>with</em>them as if she were as free as they were. Most treated her as such as well. Those she talked with were Landerson's business partners in one venture or another and they were as used to dealing with her, as his personal assistant, as they were with him. In fact she was often the Gatekeeper in even being able to reach Phineas and so they often spoke to her more than they did to him depending on the need when they called the offices.<br/><br/>In the time she'd been with Landerson she'd learned to simply handle many of the minor details surrounding him and only to bother him with those things that would actually<em>need</em>his especial attention. Tonight was no different as she did some minor troubleshooting and gave the men just enough of a flirtatious edge to keep them happy but not so much as to make them take it seriously. Even in a setting like this, Ana was working, was earning the small luxuries that filled the<em>very</em>gilded cage Phineas kept her in. She was well aware that as his personal slave, she had it, by far, better than many "free" women and was always conscious that her demeanor and behaviour reflect the strength, confidence, and prosperity of her Owner.<br/><br/>Inside, she hated these affairs. She'd much rather be home, curled in front of her computer and compiling the files of prospective investment partners that she created for Phineas, than flirting and smiling and making small talk with men she truly loathed.