The Slave World (2)

(2): The Counter Earth

“What's a Gor?” I wrote the word down in my notebook, or at least tried to because the crappy ballpoint pen didn't work. I scratched it across the page repeatedly trying to coax some of the dried up hardened ink onto the page and then gave up in frustration. “Just a moment – sorry about this.”

I opened the top drawer of my desk and rummaged around through the contents for another pen. There was the usual crap: paper clips, a stapler, some highlighter pens, a couple of chocolate bars, a multipack of strong peppermints, a city guide book to Prague (I really mean to go there some day), tampons, two unused boxes of condoms (don't ask), packets of Nurofen, some spare sealed packs of M&S knickers for emergencies (black, cotton, plain, simple, comfortable to wear), lipstick tubes (mostly colours I don't really use), dried up mascara, a couple of broken eyeliner pencils but of course no pencil sharpener, envelopes, stamps, writing paper, but yeah, no pens.

“You don't have a pen, do you?” I knew this didn't really look very professional.

The beautiful, ridiculously well dressed and impeccably groomed Miss Rebecca Miles nodded, opened her luxury handbag and passed me an expensive fountain pen. Of course it would be an expensive fountain pen. I twisted off the top and said thanks.

“So there's been a Gor?”

Rebecca sighed and gazed out of my crummy office window.

I must get it cleaned soon.

“They have been coming here for decades,” she said in fear.

“Who?”

“Please, Caitlin, what I'm going to tell you is going to sound incredible, preposterous even, but I need you to keep an open mind and believe me. I have no proof of any of this, but I know it's true. No one will believe me. I'm left alone to wait for the night when they come for me. Have you any idea what it feels like to be in a city surrounded by millions of people, but to feel absolutely helpless and unprotected?”

It was a really good fountain pen. I drew a few squiggles on the page to test it out. Really clean lines. I wondered whether she'd let me keep it?

“You mentioned a book shop?” I said, hoping to coax some semblance of chronological fact out of all this.

Rebecca nodded. “I read a lot. I studied English at Exeter University and in recent years I've been...” she blushed a little now, “interested in a series of pulp paperbacks from the 1970s, written by an American philosophy professor. They're not exactly literature, but, well... this is a bit embarrassing to talk about.”

“Why?” I noted down 'pulp paperbacks' and '1970s'.

“I suppose they have controversial erotic elements.” She blushed again.

Oh-ho, so the beautiful Mis Rebecca Miles likes to get a bit heated with an off the shelf volume of chick-lit erotica? It seemed to be the thing these days ever since Fifty Shades of Grey came out. Posh girls seemed to love their illicit handcuff and spanking stories.

“No need to be embarrassed, Miss Miles. I'm not here to judge you,” I said as I secretly judged her a little bit.

“I haven't been with a man,” she said, perhaps offering me too much information.

“Okay.” I didn't necessarily see the relevance for this statement, but a good PI doesn't do or say anything that makes the client feel foolish. I was surprised though. I put her in her early twenties. She'd mentioned university and by the look of her there would have been no shortage of offers. Perhaps she had religion. There are a lot of really pretty girls who come from Jehovah's Witness families.

“That surprises you, doesn't it?” she asked.

“No. There are lots of good reasons why you've not had sex yet.” I wrote down 'virgin'.

“I've... wanted to... and came close several times, but... it's never felt right...”

I wrote down 'sexual anxiety'.

“I suppose you have?” she said as she looked at me.

“Beg your pardon?”

“You must have had a lot of boyfriends. You're pretty. You must have had sex a lot?” There was almost something disapproving in the way she said that, as if she thought certain types of women put it around a bit too easily. As if she thought by looking at me I might be one of those kind of women.

“This really isn't about me, Miss Miles,” I said with a polite smile. “I'm currently single, if you really want to know. And yes, I've had sex before.”

“I thought so,” she sniffed. “It's so easy for some women.”

'Bit of a bitch' I scribbled on the page.

“These books...” I suggested to try and prompt her along in her story. I was glad I charged by the hour.

“They are sometimes referred to as the Chronicles of Counter Earth; the Gorean cycle. Gor is the planet they are set on.”

“Sci-fi?” I said as I scribbled 'sci-fi books' on the page.

“Well, not really, I suppose maybe... it's a primitive world where men still fight with swords, the society analogous with the period of the Roman republic. It can be brutal but also beautiful. Men on Gor are real men, while women are expected to be feminine. They have to be feminine. The men will have it no other way.”

I changed 'sci-fi' to read 'crap sci-fi'.

“I can't say I've heard of these books. Can you explain their relevance?'

“The books have been out of print for a long time. There are some ebook versions you can now buy, but I like to have the originals. The covers are better. I don't see why I should have to put up with inferior copies of anything. The originals can be hard to locate in good condition. I discovered there was a specialist bookshop in London that had some of the books listed in Near Fine condition. I decided to visit and buy them.”

“Go on.”

“The bookshop was closing early when I arrived. I was annoyed of course. I had travelled some considerable distance to look at the books and the man running the store was closing up at lunch time. I told him that was no way to run a business.”

Oh brother...

“He was rather abrupt with me, and told me I would have to come back tomorrow as his shop closed on Wednesdays at lunch time. I may have made a few choice remarks as to his surly demeanour and poor customer service which only made him worse. But then a strange thing occurred. When I happened to mention I had come to look at his vintage Gor books, he suddenly seemed interested in keeping the shop open for a while.”

“Were they particularly expensive?” I could imagine the prospect of a hefty sale could persuade the guy to stay open just a little longer.

“Not really. They are hard to find in good condition but they're not especially valuable. He had five of the volumes on offer, each one marked at twenty pounds. I already had two of them but I desperately wanted the other three. He asked me how interested I was in Gor. The question was a little embarrassing. I had hoped he wasn't familiar with the books himself, as obviously there is an underlying sexual theme throughout the stories. I probably blushed and squirmed a bit, knowing that he knew what lay within the pages. It turned out he knew a lot about Gor, the counter earth, and he was pleased to see, in his own words, a beautiful free woman taking an interest in such things.”

I wrote down 'suspicious creepy book seller'.

“Free woman?” I raised an eyebrow.

“It is a term on Gor for a woman who isn't a slave. A slave on Gor is known as a kajira. The pen mark on my thigh is the mark of a kajira...” she blushed again.

Here we go... I thought to myself as I scribbled down 'BDSM fantasies'.

“And then he told me he was currently in the process of acquiring a new book collection which included many near mint copies of the American editions of the Gor books which are very hard to obtain over here. I grew excited at the thought of acquiring these for my book shelves. I had obviously arrived at the right place at the right time if I could buy them before any other book collector did. I told him I would be very interested in these other volumes.”

Now she paused to gaze out of my office window again.

“He said they were already spoken for. I was livid! These books are really hard to find in the UK. I asked him who had expressed an interest and how much they were prepared to pay. He replied that it wasn't so much the price, but rather that he wanted to ensure the books went to a good home. Someone who truly appreciates the world of Gor. I assured him that I was precisely that kind of woman. That seemed to interest him. He asked me a few basic questions about the world, questions I was able to answer easily from my reading of the books that I do own. I passed all his questions! He seemed impressed. And then he asked me if I knew how a kajira kneels before a man.”

I said nothing but just looked at her.

“This was... unexpected...” Rebecca flushed as she recounted that. “I said I did. I do know. The instructions in the books are very clear, vey detailed. It is almost as if they are written from first hand accounts. He asked me to show him. Of course I said no! How dare he!”

Yep, definitely 'creepy book seller'.

“So you left?” I suggested.

“No... not quite. I wanted those books. Luckily I was wearing trousers that day; white straight leg crepe-style trousers by Roland Mouret with seamed pockets and pressed creases. I wore them with a pretty printed blouse and patent pumps. It made what I was about to do easier. He said he would reserve the books for me if I demonstrated how a kajira might kneel before a man. I knelt then, sitting on upturned heels with my back straight, chest out, belly in, and my head up. My thighs were open, widely spread and my hands rested upon my thighs, palms down. It is how a kajira kneels.” She couldn't look me in the eyes as she told me that.

“Okay...” I felt like pouring myself another vodka but decided to hold back.

“He smiled and said it was good that some women on Earth knew how to kneel correctly before a man. I felt ashamed and quickly rose, realising a madness of some sort had gripped me. I told him I shouldn't have done that. I told him to forget I had done that. I was about to leave, feeling angry with myself when he simply said, 'the books will be yours'. I turned back just as I was about to leave. I was surprised but also pleased. He took my details, my name, my address and my phone number. He said he would be in touch very soon.”

“And you think this man has been stalking you?” I said.

“Not as such. I think that by visiting him I have stupidly brought myself to the attention of the slavers of Gor.”

“Slavers... of Gor?”

“Caitlin, please, everything I am about to tell you now is true, no matter how incredible it might sound.”