conditions, that their punishment would be relentless and wearying and not for the pleasure of anyone, and that in the next few days they would be visited by the class for a further understanding of disobedience and its results. We were moved steadily towards the open door. My whole body felt swollen. The Club was swallowing us like a giant mouth. But inverted as we were, we might have been moving into another dimension. I tried not to look back at the upside-down vision of the room. 'Now,' came the voice, 'the trainers may choose their slaves.'
Chapter Eight
8 -- Lisa
Anything You Desire, Master
Of course they had to send him below stairs, didn't they? Who had made all the rules about firm punishment in the beginning? And it was routine, even if nobody pulled that little scene before, Richard was right about that. Nine o'clock when I finally shut the bedroom door. Twilight through the curtains, and the inevitable night breeze that always cools our island. Why couldn't it cool the fire burning in me? The bath slaves were two of my favorites, Lorna and Michael, both blond and small and perfectly adorable, and already lighting the lamps. They drew the water without asking how I liked it, set out my nightclothes, turned down the bed. I got sleepy finally as they worked gently with the shampoo and the soap. With a light touch, Michael rubbed in the oil afterwards, dried my hair, and brushed it. 'We missed you, Lisa,' he whispered, kissing me on the shoulder.
He lingered after Lorna had gone, doing a dozen little unnecessary things. Superb body, thick organ. Why not? But not tonight. 'That's all, Mike,' I said. He came silently across the room to kiss me again on the cheek. I slipped my arm around him just for a second and leaned on his shoulder. 'You work too hard, boss lady,' he said. Mouth ready to kiss. I closed my eyes and the plane went round and round in circles. My sister looking across the table at the Saint Pierre said, 'Why don't you ever confide in us, tell us about your work?' 'Ah!' I opened my eyes, shuddered. I'd almost drifted away. 'Gotta go to sleep now,' I said. 'Two can sleep better than one.' 'Michael, you're a treasure. But it's no good tonight.'
I lay still and silent under the soft thick white bedspread. I stared at the thin tissue of cotton lace that made the canopy of the bed. Okay. They had to send him down there. All right. Couldn't stop picturing him as he'd been in the receiving hall. Ten times as good, locking as his pictures, no, a hundred times. And blue eyes, yes, real first-class blue eyes, and the body U.S.D.A. Prime for certain. But it was the unshakable dignity, the way that he just stood there and took all of it, like Alcibiades in chains. Cornball, Lisa, try to sleep. Okay, he deserved it, three days in the lavatories. But did I deserve it, three days until he came up? I hadn't had five minutes alone with Richard since then to tell him what I thought of him, or five minutes without thinking of Elliott Slater cleaning tile floors on his hands and knees. Right after it was all over, I'd locked myself in my office and wrapped up correspondence that had been lying around since last year. Purchase orders, medical forms, bills, new equipment designs, approved, filed, sent out, whatever ... Promised to talk to the pony trainer tomorrow.
Then the usual dinner with the new members, answering questions, leading little tours around the grounds. Mr. Jerry McAllister was very happy. Everybody was very happy. Maybe even Elliott Slater was happy. Who knows? In fact, First Night was going splendidly as it always did, and nobody would give a damn if I just disappeared. And now what? Staring at the canopy above me, as if that little moment of drifting off just now in Mike's arms had never occurred. Memories again. Bits and pieces of the past floating around me, faces about to take shape, voices about to speak. Listening to the breeze through the open doors, the rustle of the leaves. Don't think about him. It isn't like they sold him off to a foreign land. And don't think about the memories either. But how can you stop them? When you go over the past like this, it's as if you think you can change it, put it in