'It's more of those wheels within wheels I told you about, love,' James explained as I sat beside him in the familiar car. 'A bit of political wrangling has entered into this one. Fact is, Bolling is curious about you. Any man has to be curious about a girl who's pursued and kidnapped the way you have been. He wants to use you once for his own amusement and once as leverage with some Johnny who can do him a favor. Then back you go to his Nibs.' It was all too much! I'm only human. He gave me a sideways look, uncertain. 'That's if you want to go back?'
'And if I don't'?'
'There's always me, love.' He got the message from my eyes. He turned the car into a lay-by, stopped the motor and took me in his arms. He felt very good and smelt the way I remembered. I discovered I was crying great floods of tears on to his jacket. He was the same wistful boy I had loved upon the moor. He patted me gently on a bare shoulder and buried his face in my hair and let me cry myself out.
'I haven't any clothes on,' I said absurdly when the tears were past.
'You haven't, have you!' he agreed amusedly.
'I forgot. I just walked out with you.'
'A shameless hussy.'
'Well, it's all been a bit much. After all-'
'Terribly thoughtless of me, love, you should wear something,' Gently but very firmly he handcuffed my wrists behind my back. 'Picked 'em up off the chair, y'know, where that woman left 'em.'
'I'd be lost without them, darling.'
'I knew you'd be pleased.' His old grin was back again.
'Fact is, I brought a pair of my own along, just in case.'
'My ankles are slender, they'll probably fit,' I said demurely. We both laughed. I got soundly kissed. We were back where we had been before. At least we were on the surface, or perhaps in a sense of wishful thinking. But the weight of emotion thrust upon me in the past days was heavy in my mind. Yolanda and Azzam were tugging at me from different directions, and now James! In different ways I loved them all. But to each I was a captive specifically their own. Right now, I was securely handcuffed by this glorious boy who professed to love me with his own male brand of adoration, The handcuffs might be no more than a joke or tease. Probably he would remove them instantly if I asked… probably! I knew I ought to ask so as to find out. But for the life of me I could not bring myself to do so. I told myself it would show a lack of trust. But I was scared to find out. Those handcuffs, on or off, had become symbolic. Wryly, I admitted to myself that wearing them gave me a constant erotic thrill. Quite hopeless, aren't I!
'You don't mind about Bolling, darling?' Actually I did mind. I was tired of being tortured by people I did not love. I had faced the fact that had it not been for the fire that burns constantly between my legs, my misadventures since meeting James that night at Yola's reception could have been shockingly traumatic. Some of them had scared me half to death anyway.
'Of course I mind, It's an odd distinction to be wanted because I get a wet puss after six of the best or wearing these handcuffs.'
'Say the word and I'll take you back, love.'
'It's too late. Azzam has committed me, and if we're going to be married you need Bolling's goodwill. I don't see why you can't keep your job with him if I put in these couple of sessions with rampant and sadistic males. If everybody's satisfied then it's worth a bit of pain.' James squeezed me. 'You're wonderful, Phemie.' He tensed, 'But there's still your return to the Sheik. If you go back to your slavery with him there's no wedding bells. If you don't go back there's no job.'
'We'll open a hot dog stand,' I said with more courage than I felt. James pensively started the motor. Bolling was better than I expected. Large and intense and alive. A girl always feels good in pampered luxury; Bolling had it. I almost disappeared into the soft upholstery of the huge chair. 'We won't remove those handcuffs, if you don't mind,' he decided conversationally.
'I love wearing them, Mr. Bolling.' It was half truth and half sarcasm. He eyed me with approval. 'You have a lovely figure, Miss Carstairs.' Then added: 'Quite remarkably decorated.'
'I didn't love much of that.'
'Ah! Now, how about a drink?'
'You'll have to feed it to me, y'know. I've got no hands.'
'How charming!' He was pleased with me.
'I took a very large sip and looked up into his eyes. 'Am I going to need this?'
'Frankly, that's what I'm curious about.' His smile was disarming. 'I've heard all these stories that infer Torquemada would extract nothing from you but a smile of delight?'
'I'll disappoint you. I manage the preliminaries very well, but after that I scream. With someone I don't like I scream from the word go.'
'With me?' I had to like him. I winkled. 'With you there will be a delay in the vocals.' He gave me another drink. I knew he was enjoying me, but the look I got now was quizzical. 'I'm a novice, y'know, Miss Carstairs. I'll rely on you for guidance. Do we start out with me giving you a sound whipping, do I hang you up by your toes. Do I get a hot iron? Is there a formula?'
'People seem to like whipping girls,' I explained brightly. 'That's what happens to me mostly. All those other… er, nice things are a bit of a bother for them. I've never had the hot iron. I'm sure it would be beautiful to have in suspense, but I don't think I'd want it any more than I'd want a tattoo.'
'Interesting! You can contemplate the pain but not the permanent blemish?'
'Yes, I suppose that's it. You're not going to brand me, are you?' His grin was reassuring. 'I must not send you home damaged. There's a gentleman's agreement. But I'm puzzled: all those whipmarks and you so blithe and cheerful'?''
'Isn't that why you paid all that money, Mr. Bolling?'
'I'd feel a bit of a cad to put any more on you.' I kept silent. There was something in his voice. He looked at me in frank apology.
'Fact is I'm not going to inflict any of these arcane delights on you at all. For my money it's a waste of a nice girl.'
'You wish to make love to me, Mr. Bolling?'
'Of course! Who wouldn't!' He brushed the thought aside with an impatient wave of the hand. 'But with you I'd see it as sacrilege. You're out and beyond that.'
'Thank you, but I'm not really, y'know.'
'Miss Carstairs, I have a confession. I'm not going to do anything to you at all.' I waited, expectantly but without hope. 'I have a daughter.' Here it came!
'Dina is only twelve. She has persistently exhibited traits…'
'And I'm to be her guinea pig! Can I have another drink?' While I gulped, and gulped again, he radiated his charm so that I wished it was him I had to please. I looked up doubtfully, 'I've never been the plaything of an adolescent, Mr. Bolling.'
'Dina will seem more than her age. I need to know how she will react to you and you to her, In short, I need to know if I have a problem.'
'Suppose she kills me finding out!' Roland Bolling laughed. 'You may even like her.' He pressed a button.
'You're really beautiful. Daddy said you would be.' Dina Bolling's entranced gaze flickered up and down my nudity.' I had risen at her entry and her father's exit. I felt silly, and wished I had my hands.
'I expect you're old enough that your breasts and vagina are fully developed, They're quite lovely, Euphemia — that is your name, isn't it?' Dina was lovely herself. I realized I was seeing one of those rare flowers that blossom early and forever. She was a youthful Eve or Aphrodite, Her poise was inborn. She laughed a delighted girl's laugh. 'You like me too, don't you.'
'You'll have to tell me what you want me to do, Dina.'
'I want to explore cruelty and sexuality, Euphemia. I won't use those other names.' She grinned confidingly. 'I'm trembling with eagerness. You're so… so… female! Those are whipmarks, aren't they?'
'Yes. I've been whipped a lot lately.'
'Is that a hint to me not to! I'll do what I want with you, y'know. I say, why are your arms-?' She turned me swiftly about, 'Oh darling, how simply marvellous! You're handcuffed.'
