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She is from the valley of the Vosk, and you know what they are like, particularly the ones from Victoria, only a stone's throw from Jasmine's native village. That is Emris and Cichek who beg you to buy them. Zara, so slim and shapely, pleads for your collar. These are prize slaves, sought by the Curulean, but withheld, due to my popular propensities, for the district of Metellus, and our beloved Kettle Market. Any one of these is worth a Ubar's medallion, a thousand golden tarn disks, but I am a destitute man, who, due to personal exigencies am in sudden dire need of ready cash. I am prepared to let any of these unparalleled beauties go for as little as a dozen silver tarsks!" "Shelf girls!" snorted a man, turning away. "Have that one stand, to be examined," said a man. - (Prize of Gor)