why I am suddenly one huge blush. Mr. Pollard examines this maiden manifestation with the same intent interest he had devoted to me from the start. Yola and I use Eliza Dolittle's famous exclamation in unison: 'Not bloody likely!' He deals with his lamb chop unperturbed. 'All in the way of business, of course,' he says casually. 'We'd expect a demonstration.' Yola and I exchange a mystified glance. Her voice holds ice. 'What on Earth are you talking about?' He is enjoying himself, he affects surprise. 'Why, Mr. Bolling, of course. He wishes to purchase Miss Carstairs ' It is a small bomb. Even I stop eating. 'Are you trying to be offensive?' Yolanda is giving Mr. Pollard both barrels. 'The suggestion you have just made is not funny.' My blush has vanished. With sudden certainty I know Yola is afraid. We feel each other's vibrations. I too feel a cold hand upon my heart. James Pollard no longer seems a boy.
'No offense intended.' He waves airily. 'Business is a nosey influence. It is known that the delightful Euphemia has been purchased once. So why not twice? It's an honest approach.'
'Euphemia is not for sale.'
'Does she have anything to say about it?'
'No.'
'She really is a slave then?' His voice is eager.
'Mr. Pollard, you are a guest here because Roland Bolling knew my father. May we, please, talk of something else?' Their use of my full name made me feel like merchandise. I was actually scared of something I could not name. 'Go away, James Pollard,' I said as coldly as I could manage. 'All you do is get me into trouble. I'd never dream of leaving Yolanda. If she threw me out I'd come back. Whatever's between us is none of your business.'
'You enjoy your chains?' His voice is mocking.
'Go away.'
'And you'll enjoy your hundred strokes with a whip on your bare skin?' He was pushing hard.
'Oh stop it! Yola, make him go.' It was as though I had said nothing. His voice was suave as he turned to my Mistress: 'We were thinking in terms of seventy-five thousand pounds, Miss Harding. Money is terrible, you can't ignore huge sums. The silence was hard to bear. I dared not look at Yolanda.
'Cash, of course. Immediate delivery.' He was intent as ever. My darling is disturbed, her fear comes to me in waves. I realize there is something I do not understand. 'What do I have to say to stop this nonsense?' She asks. Her voice sounds tired.
'Just the single word, 'Yes'.' He says it as though no other word could possibly be used. She stares him in the eye. 'The answer is no. The discussion is ended. I mean it. No!'
'One hundred thousand pounds, Miss Harding.' I gasp. My darling seems to freeze. James Pollard calmly spears a potato. The atmosphere is electric. The cold hand clutches me more tightly. 'Why?' Yolanda puts all our puzzlement into the single word. He shrugs. 'You've a right to ask that.' His grin encompasses us both. 'Fairly simple really. Money is only tokens in the world of Roland Bolling, but Miss Carstairs is quite unique. He believes he can use her talents and her temperament to advantage.'
'How?'
'As a bribe.'
'Loan her out to some old lecher in return for a business advantage? Is that it?' He had the grace to squirm. 'Substantially yes, though you do underrate the charm of those she would divert.'
'Does she divert them in bed?'
'Primarily, no.'
'They would torture her?'
'You spread things a bit thick,' he complained. 'I am under the impression the dear girl is spiritually attuned to such a role.'
'I absolutely refuse,' I tell him firmly. He gives me his full attention. 'Your ankles are chained, your wrists are handcuffed, Miss Carstairs… ' His implication is obvious. I am a slave and have nothing to say about my disposal. The knowledge that he views me as such thrills me with an excitation I know well. I will not admit it to him, but I am what he believes. But with the thrill there comes the fear I sense in Yola. 'You'd keep me chained up in between tortures?' I enquire icily. James Pollard dismisses the whole conversation with a disgusted wave of the hand. 'We're snipping at each other. Suppose I've shocked you a bit. Working for Bolling I'm inclined to take things for granted. Sorry and all that. Should have wined and dined you a bit first.'
'But whatever made you suppose I'd sell Phemie?'
'Double your money. Nice profit.'
'How do you know-' Yolanda intercepts his involuntary glance at me. 'Phemie, you told him? Oh Phemie!' I have hurt my Mistress. I long to die.
'My fault. I made her drink too much,' James intervenes. I look at Yola, bereft, desolate, putting all my message of penitent love into my eyes. 'Add it to my list,' I implore contritely. 'I deserve anything.' I will not name a punishment before the male, but my Mistress will understand. Pollard laughs at us. I expect we look a dejected pair. 'Eat and drink a bit,' he advises cheerily. 'And before you toss me into the street figure it out for yourself: Beautiful girl wears chains at receptions and parties. Chains are for real. Beautiful girl is owned by a beautiful Mistress who paid a lot of money for her because of unusual circumstances-' He raised his hand to check protest, 'Yes, we know the story of the purchase. Nothing to be ashamed of. Then add to that the recent admission of a hundred lashes about to be administered to back and… well… to the person of said beauty. It does add up, y'know.'
'But it's our own affair! I'll admit we've got a bang out of how people are mildly intrigued by Phemie's chains. But what you are asking is pure presumption.'
'If I made you an offer to buy Castle Glynt you would not be offended by an honest approach.'
'That's different!'
'It isn't, y'know. Principle's the same.' I had become more and more aware of my chained feet and the handcuffs on my wrists. I wished I could shed them. Their prisonment of me gave validity to James Pollard's argument. The motions of the lunch table caused my handcuffs to glisten and clink. Another time I would have been proud of my skillful coping but now I longed to hide them in my lap.
'You're scared, aren't you?' He had sensed my disquiet.
'That means Miss Harding actually could sell you and you're nervous.'
'Any girl would be scared of what you want her for.'
'If you can contemplate this… this… I suppose it's a punishment for yielding to my blandishments yesterday. I don't see why Bolling's offer should appall. Sounds damn grim to me.'
'You can't he such an idiot as to fail to realize Phemie and I love each other?' Yolanda accused hotly.
'Can lesbian joy match fifty thousand pounds profit'!'
'That's beastly! Besides, I'm rich. I don't need your money.'
'You mentioned love. Does she love you while you're plying the whip?'
'Of course I do!' I exclaim angrily. 'I deserve to be whipped and chained in the dungeon. If any girl ever asked for it, I did.'
'Must guilt be present for the thrill to be sufficiently erotic?'
'Phemie, keep quiet! I'll deal with Mr. Pollard.'
'Call me James.' He was infuriatingly bland. I relapsed into sulky silence. Our guest intently examined my breasts. My Mistress marshaled her heavy artillery.
'Save the blast, Miss Harding. I'll take no for an answer.' James Pollard's voice was quite without rancour. But he added: 'For today.' He was again the nice boy over whom I had made an ass of myself the evening before. The cold hand and the fear receded. But Yolanda was breathing hard. I could tell she wished to be rid of him. James must have felt it too, he waited only for dessert and coffee before making his farewell. Left alone, I again became aware of being a slave girl in sad disgrace. Meeting Yola's hurt eyes I could manage only an inadequate: 'Oh, darling.' Suddenly I was enveloped in scented beauty. Yolanda hugged and kissed me in a frenzy of emotion that instantly drew its own response from me. Somehow I got my cuffed hands over her head so that I too could embrace. For several minutes we were locked together as one. What we did afterwards took much longer, it was terribly beautiful. You are thinking about forgiving and forgetting, aren't you! My slavery does not work like that. Lying replete on Yola's bed I felt her playing with my hair and heard the words now overdue: 'There's still your punishment, Phemie.'
'Yes, Mistress.'
