Beware the Savage Jaw Chapter Three

Chapter 3: The Sun Dome

14.29 on the 30^th December 2024:

“This feels so good,” said Marcia, the red silk girl, as she swam to the side of the pool and treaded water as she reached for a glass of wine that I had placed discretely at the pool side. It was red wine of course. The white silk girl drank white wine.

Honestly, that was a thing that was expected of them.

Being a red silk girl, Marcia was entitled to wear a red one-piece bathing costume that left her arms, shoulders and legs bare. She was enjoying the heated water of the pool that was shaped like the sort of pool you might find in a forest clearing where dappled sunlight filtered through the trees. The pool itself was situated in a very impressive geodesic dome that extended out from Bear Crag mansion, connected by a transparent corridor of the same glass that was used to build the dome. The dome covered an area maybe two hundred and fifty yards in diameter and it was filled with Mediterranean trees and plants creating an ornate all year round garden protected from the harsh winter conditions that the coastline and islands of Maine typically endured. Stepping into the dome was like stepping into some enchanted Greek woodland where you might expect to find water nymphs frolicking beside rock pools. The designers had created forest paths that wound through the garden towards secluded groves and clearings where guests might find some privacy. The clearings also acted as shower areas as the tree branches above were fitted with discrete water pipes. Touching a glyph on one of the trunks resulted in warm water trickling down from above and you could literally stand under the trees, washing yourself clean. Scallop like shells fitted to the lower branches contained a supply of eco-friendly bathing and grooming products. There were even birds inside the dome, flying in and out of the trees, chirping for the benefit of the guests. Soft ambient music came from hidden speakers somewhere within the dome itself.

And because the dome was transparent you could see the reality of the weather conditions outside on the island as you enjoyed the snug Mediterranean conditions inside. Rain hammered down on the outside of the dome, water running down the surface in fierce streams and rivulets. If anything the weather was getting worse, which would make the sea crossing for the remaining guests even more unpleasant than it had been for Montague, Moorcroft and the girls.    

The dome could open at the top and retract into underground slots during the warm spring and summer months, but during the colder, wetter part of the year it provided an idyllic sanctuary to the left hand side of the mansion.   

The silk girls had hurried to the pool as soon as they had been allowed to do so by Montague, for permission to bathe meant they were allowed to remove their corsets. Yes, the silk girls wore corsets too. Corsetry was now considered an essential part of a respectable woman's underwear, and going without a corset was tantamount to not wearing knickers or a bra. The corsets I had seen worn by the silk girls were far higher quality than mine, but just as fierce in their tightly boned constriction. Ironically the corset worn by the white silk girl was rendered pointless by the fact that the loose cut of her shift dress meant that the fabric was loose enough to conceal the hourglass effect of the supporting under garment. Nevertheless Montague insisted his white silk girl was tightly laced into a white corset from the moment she was ready to dress for the day. I noticed also that the white silk girl was actually locked into her corset. Maybe Montague wanted her to remember that she belonged to him, for the laces at the back of her corset went through a small steel back buckle and this buckle was then locked in place by a small sterling silver padlock engraved with Montague's initials. The key to that padlock was kept by the red silk girl and it was one of her tasks in the morning to fit the corset around the white silk girl and lock her in it. Similarly when the girls were undressing for bed with Montague, the red silk would then unlock the white silk. As far as I could see the equivalent red silk corset that Marcia wore did not have a similar clasp and padlock arrangement.    

I imagine the degree of tightness employed by the red silk girl when fastening the white silk's corset varied depending on what she thought of Samantha on any given morning. No doubt the white silk girl routinely had to endure a very tightly strung corset indeed.

Samantha lay on a lounge bed close to the pool side. She had been in the water earlier and was now reading a glossy magazine. Being white silk she was dressed rather more modestly than Marcia. She wore a bathing suit of the style often worn by Muslim women. It was a two piece arrangement of soft white lycra decorated with vertical side panels of a slightly darker white and a wide rounded crescent shape of a similar shade around the neckline. The two piece garment consisted of lycra pants that came to about the upper calves of her legs and a loose lycra tunic top with three quarter length sleeves. That was about as immodest as she was permitted to be in mixed company. But still it was a relief from wearing the steel boned corset, Victorian heeled lace up boots and hobble skirt of her day time wear. Resting by a side table next to her sun lounger was a silken wrap that she could wear over her bathing suit if leaving the pool side. It was long sleeved with billowing fabric to her wrists and hung to just below her knees. And it was white of course. A sash belt allowed it to be gathered and tied shut.    

The girls had changed in a small Greek style building close to the pool which acted as a changing room for women. A similar one for men stood next to it.

Marcia sipped a little of the wine before she turned onto her back in the water, kicked out from the side of the pool and did a backstroke across to the other side where she then turned round and butterfly stroked back to the wine glass.

“Jackson said he’ll be taking us on a walk around the island when the rain stops,” she said.

“I can’t wait,” said the white silk girl with a trace of sarcasm. She continued to read her glossy magazine. From where I stood I could see she was reading an article on Paris fashions that she probably would never get the opportunity to wear.

“There are some caves on the west of the island. Smugglers used to use them in colonial times.”

“I hope he doesn’t expect me to wade through some dank caves,” said Samantha as she turned the page. “I don’t have the shoes for it.”

“Oh, I would so love to see your pretty white clothes stained with mud,” said Marcia as she took the wine glass again. “Just a small grass stain on your knee would be a start.”

“Shut up, Marcia.”

The red silk laughed softly as she raised herself out of the pool. She stood dripping water as she motioned me over with a snap of her fingers and a simply worded command: “Towel me, maid.”

I came over to her with a fluffy red towel and began to dry her body as she drank some more of the wine. She seemed oblivious to my ministrations and I wasn't sure whether she wanted me to dry her hair or not. When I hesitated she quickly added. “All of me.” I finished towelling her and then combed her hair straight against her back. She walked over to the sun lounger sat beside Samantha and plopped down onto it with a satisfied smile. “One thing we can both agree on, it’s heaven to be out of the corsets for a few hours.”

“I’m trying to read,” said Samantha rather sharply.

“Jackson will want us ready in his room before midnight tonight,” Marcia said. “He’ll be drinking brandy with the other men after dinner so we will have a little time to ourselves before he retires to bed.”

“Well, make sure he takes a tablet in time. It was embarrassing last night when I couldn’t get him hard,” said Samantha, apparently not caring that a contracted maid could hear any of this.

“I could have got him hard,” said Marcia. “Had I been allowed to.”

“He drinks too much brandy before bedtime,” said Samantha. “That’s the only problem. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” said Marcia as she lay on her back and gazed up at the surface of the geodesic dome with the heavy rain patterns pouring down it in all directions.

“Just give him the fucking tablet. Put it in his brandy if you have to.”

“If I remember.” Marcia sighed and stretched like a cat. “You could ask him to take a tablet yourself, you know.”

“And you know I can't do that. It's not allowed.”

“Well then, I suppose you'll have to hope I get round to doing it. Or you'll be struggling with Mr floppy again won't you? You know what they say about white silk girls who can't arouse their companions night after night?”

“You bitch,” said Samantha as she glared at the red silk.

The possibility of a full blown argument receded when Lord Peter Moorcroft entered the sun dome from the connecting glass corridor. He wasn’t in a good mood as he locked eyes on me.

“There you are. I couldn’t find a fucking maid anywhere in the house...”

“There are only two of us, Sir, and I’ve been here with…”

“I don’t care.” He held up his mobile phone. “I need the password for the wi-fi system. I can’t get a fucking signal otherwise. I need a fucking signal! Jesus Christ, isn't that fucking obvious! I have businesses to run! This isn't just a holiday for me!”

“The guest access is ‘steelworlds’ - all lower case, Sir.” I watched as Moorcroft tapped the password into his wifi settings. He was dressed in a pair of tailored shorts, navy blue in colour, a short sleeved white polo neck top, beach sandals and a private member's boating club cap. He looked like the sort of preppy individual who might have just stepped off a yacht on the south coat of France. All he needed was the arms of a soft woollen sweater draped over his shoulders. The password must have worked because he then seemed a little calmer. His eyes seemed to light up when he saw the white silk girl on her sun lounger.

“Samantha, isn’t it?” he said as he strolled forward. “I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself properly. Lord Peter Moorcroft at your service…” he held his hand out expecting Samantha to extend her own hand so he could kiss her fingers. Instead she gazed up at him with a bored expression and didn’t move in the slightest.

“You can’t kiss my fingers, Peter, I’m not wearing gloves.”

“Oh.” He seemed taken aback by that, but surely he knew he would only be permitted to kiss her fingers if they were encased in white kidskin gloves. I watched as he moved the white silk wrap from the stool like table and sat down there next to Samantha, laying the wrap over the left arm of the lounger instead. Samantha sighed in irritation.

“What do you want?”

“You’re very beautiful,” he said, rather boldly, for this was a white silk girl after all.

“I know,” said Samantha in a bored tone of voice.

“I should be getting my own white silk very soon,” said Moorcroft. “The request has been made. I have the right connections.”

“Good for you.”

“I just thought you should know,” pressed Moorcroft. “That I’m important enough to have my own silk girls soon.”

“How lovely.”

“You probably thought I was too young...”

“I’m going for a swim,” said Samantha suddenly as she rose from the lounger and stepped towards the pool, much to Moorcroft’s annoyance. I watched as she stood beautifully in a graceful diving position and then lanced her slim body into the deep end, surfacing with equal grace. With long strokes of her arms she began to swim lengths of the pool while we all watched.

“I’m impressed,” said Marcia after a while. “Even if she isn't.”

“What? Oh.” Peter looked round at her. “Thank you.”

“Rest assured you haven’t experienced pleasure in bed until you have known the attentions of white and red silk together.” She gently touched Moorcroft’s knee and then slid her fingers away with a sultry smile.

“I've… I’ve already been shown a catalogue of available silks,” he said as his attention remained distracted by the sight of white silk gliding softly through the water.

“Mmm, choosing your silks is part of the fun. You get to meet them in the flesh, you know. You usually have up to six sets to choose from. You spend fifteen minutes with each set of girls before you have to choose.”

“Fifteen minutes with each set of girls...” said Moorcroft with interest.

Marcia laughed softly. “There's no touching, I'm afraid. Tsk. You bad, bad boy... But you can ask them anything. And I mean... anything. You may find decision making difficult. They will each try very hard to be chosen.” She lay on one elbow as she spoke.

The conversation was suddenly interrupted by the overhead thrum of rotor blades and the sight of a helicopter passing over the top of the geodesic dome on its way to the landing pad out past the garden maze at the back of the grounds.

“More guests,” said Marcia as she clicked her fingers and pointed at her empty wine glass. “More claws of the mighty Kurii. How very...” she smiled and licked her red lips as she gazed at Moorcroft, “exciting...”