the hooks on the confining, tight silk.
Our eyes met.
The silk was then dropped to one side.
'Superb,' said Glyco.
She then reached to the white scarf on her throat and, beautifully, to the music, undid it one turn. She then, to the music, drew it beautifully, slowly, from her throat, and, gracefully, dropped it to one side. She wore, of course, now revealed, a close-fitting, gleaming slave collar.
She lifted her head, and, with her fingers, delicately indicated and displayed the collar.
She then stood before us as a barefoot, half-naked, collared slave.
Gorean applause, and murmurs of appreciation, greeted this aspect of her performance.
Our eyes met again.
She then reached with her right hand to her waist and undid the tuck in the silk which was wrapped about her hips. Slowly and beautifully then, to the music, with both hands, she unwound the silk, and then dropped it to the tiles.
'Superb!' said Glyco.
She then crawled to me, on her hands and knees, her head humbly down. Then, when she reached me, she lowered herself to her belly and, extending her right hand, touched me on the knee. She lifted her head. 'You are my master,' she said, 'and I am your slave, and I love you!'
'Superb!' said Glyco. 'Superb!' Those at the table, even including the slaves, Florence and Peggy, unable to restrain themselves, applauded. She who had been Shirley, too, now the slave of Aemilianus, applauded.
I took the small slave by the upper arms, and held her, half turned, on her side, near me. I looked down into her eyes. She was breathing heavily. She was shaken with emotion. Her eyes looked up at me, pleadingly.
The voluptuous slave of Aemilianus was now attending again to the lamps, this time restoring the room to its original illumination.
I then drew the slave more closely into my arms, and again regarded her, looking deeply into her eyes. I had never suspected that she would have performed as she had. I had, of course, specified to Lola that she was to be included in the entertainment, but never had I expected anything of the nature or beauty of what I had seen. That the girl had helped to serve the dessert course in display chains would, in itself, have fully contented me. Informed by Lola that she was to be a component of our entertainment doubtless the girl herself had suggested and devised this performance, abetted, of course, by Lola. Of many things in the performance, such as the restaurant, Lola could have known nothing. The idea of the performance, then, as well as most of the details involved in its presentation, must have been that of my little dark haired slave. It was a most beautiful gift which she had given me.
The room had now been restored to its normal illumination. The candle, blown out, and the white cloth, too, had been removed. I saw that Florence, flushed, kneeling behind Miles of Vonda, was biting at the back of his tunic, and putting her hands on his hips. 'Get back, Slave,' he said to her. 'Yes, Master,' she sobbed, and knelt back. She had been aroused by the performance of the dark-haired slave. I saw that Peggy, too, in her white tunic, was flushed. She was breathing deeply. It seemed she could not take her eyes from Callimachus.
I looked down into the eyes of the little slave. She looked up at me, pleadingly. 'Master,' she whispered.
'It is time to serve the liqueurs, Slave,' I told her.
'Yes, Master,' she whispered. She then rose to her feet and hurried toward the kitchen.
'Slave,' I called.
'Yes, Master,' she said, stopping, turning, and falling to her knees.
'You will serve as you are,' I told her.
'Yes, Master,' she said, and then, rising up, turned and hurried to the kitchen, there to render aid to Lola and the slave of Aemilianus.
A small whimper escaped Florence.
'Be silent, Slave,' said Miles of Vonda.
'Yes, Master,' she said.
'She is not the only one,' said Tasdron, jerking a thumb at Peggy, who, blushing crimson, put down her head, looking away from Callimachus.
'Ah,' said Glyco. 'The liqueurs!'
First from the kitchen, bearing her tray, came the voluptuous slave of Aemilianus. Behind her, too with her tray, came the little dark-haired slave. In a moment both were deferentially serving. The collared softness of the dark-haired girl well set off the metal of the tray, and the small, multicolored glasses and bottles upon it. It is not unusual, at a Gorean meal, where free women are not present, for one or more of the slaves to serve naked. At ruder meals, this makes it easier for one of the guests, should the urge strike him, to use them.
'A free woman!' suddenly exclaimed Glyco, startled.
I smiled.
From the kitchen there had emerged, in the robes of concealment, the figure of a woman.
The men, save I, rose as one to their feet, for Gorean men commonly stand when a free woman enters a room.
The voluptuous slave of Aemilianus swiftly knelt, making herself as small as possible, putting her head to the floor. The little dark-haired slave, too, swiftly knelt, also putting her head to the floor. Too, she shuddered, trying to cover her nakedness with her hands. Peggy and Florence, too, now had their heads to the floor. Slave girls, as I may have mentioned, fear free women, terribly.
The woman in the robes of concealment seemed timid, frightened. She approached the table hesitantly, diffidently. She did not understand, fully, what she was to do.
'A free woman is present,' whispered Glyco to me.
But I did not get up.
'You!' she suddenly said, from behind her veils, seeing Calliodorus, of Port Cos, captain of the _Tais_. 'You?'
He seemed startled. He leaned forward, as though he might peer through the veils themselves.
'You are Calliodorus,' she said, 'of Port Cos!' I had not told her, of course, that Calliodorus was to be a guest at our supper.
'You!' he cried, suddenly. 'Can it be you? No! It cannot be you! It cannot! Not after all these years!'
'It is I,' she said, trembling.
'Gentlemen,' said Calliodorus, huskily, 'this is the free woman, Lola, of Port Cos!'
Suddenly the girl, sobbing, wildly tore away her veils and the robes of concealment, revealing that she wore a slave tunic and collar. 'I am not a free woman,' she cried, throwing herself to the feet of Calliodorus, 'I am a slave girl!'
'And she is yours!' I cried.
Calliodorus, stunned, looked down at the beauty at his feet.
I rose to my feet.
She looked around at me, wildly. 'Master!' she cried.
'You are now his,' I said, indicating Calliodorus.
'Thank you, Master!' she cried. 'Thank you, Master!' She rose to her feet, and ran to me, falling to her knees before me and putting her head down to my feet. She kissed my feet in gratitude. 'Thank you, Master,' she sobbed. I was pleased with her pleasure. She was a superb slave, properly handled, and I was quite fond of her. She had served me well. I thought it not unfit that she be rewarded. Accordingly I had given her to Calliodorus.
She rose to her feet and ran to kneel before Calliodorus. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, her hands on his legs. 'Will you accept me, Master?' she asked.
'In Port Cos,' said he, 'long ago, I wooed you with all the honors and dignities to be accorded to the free woman. Well did we grow acquainted, and many were the long and intimate conversations in which we shared.' His eyes then grew hard. 'And in one of these,' he said, 'you uttered an unspeakable confession, acknowledging your slave needs.'
'I was so ashamed,' she said, turning her face away.
