Companions of Gor: Chapter Five

 

 

“Simon, why are we walking through this city quarter? I can’t imagine any fine dining establishment can be found hereabouts. This is the sort of quarter where I would send Ramon to hire common ruffians without any scruples, if I wished work done that I could conveniently disavow.”

 

The Lady Cassandra had a point. Our City Walker was leading us down streets that frankly had seen better days. Since coming to Vonda I had frequented the fine dining establishments in the centre of the city, where we ate and drank in ornate gardens with painted wall frescos and the pleasing sound of caged song birds, not to mention demure kajirae in modest white tunics who served delicious food amongst the colonnades. Now however, we were walking down, well, shall we say dangerous, seedy streets?

 

It didn’t help that Cassandra looked fabulous in scintillating gowns of radiant colours, as she always did when we went out for the evening. She was obviously incredibly wealthy and important. She stood out like a neon sign and would attract unwanted attention from criminals. 

 

Not that I was worried for our safety. We had Ramon and another guardsman, Kesper, walking beside us. Both wore the scarlet of warriors and they had swords at their side. No one was going to try their luck with us, of if they did, they would soon be dead. Rather, my concerns were that the café I was conducting Cassandra to would prove to be some run down establishment of the sort she would never frequent, and consequently she would be in a foul mood, refusing to eat and demanding we go home. I really should have checked out in advance the café that Sansapina had told me to visit as part of my plan. It hadn’t occurred to me that the building she used to entrap unsuspecting females for her assessment purposes might be in such a dismal location. But then I suppose if it only served that purpose, she was hardly going to purchase a ridiculously expensive property. The woman didn’t seem rich enough to waste money like that    

 

“I think it best if I choose where we eat out in future,” said Cassandra in an acidic voice. She brushed aside my hand and scowled at some peasants who looked at her as if she was a Sunday roast.

 

“It was meant to be a pleasant surprise,” I said.

 

“Well, congratulations, Simon, this certainly counts as a surprise. Very well done.” 

 

“Looking for some fun, Lady?” shouted a man from a doorway as he rubbed his crotch suggestively. “Come inside and we’ll show you a good time!”

 

“Kesper, kill him for me, please,” said Cassandra, without even turning her head. 

 

“Of course, Lady.” Kesper drew his sword and advanced on the man who quickly turned tail, ran inside and shut the door with a loud bang. Moments later we heard the sound of a heavy bar being slid in place.

 

“Make a note of the address, Kesper, and come back tomorrow to burn it down.”

 

“Certainly, my Lady.”

 

“That was a joke?” I suggested as we walked on, guided by our City Walker.

 

“What was?” asked Cassandra.

 

A city walker, I should add, is a man you hire to escort and guide you through the city. Few Gorean streets have road signs and so it can be hard to find your way around unfamiliar areas. Cassandra of course knew the finer streets very well, but I knew little of Vonda. It made sense then to hire a city walker when you travelled. He, like a London taxi driver, would have ‘the knowledge’ and would ensure you got where you needed to be quickly and safely. He also carried a lantern on a long pole, illuminating the streets as we passed, for it was early evening and growing dark. Gorean streets rarely have street lighting – only the finest streets can afford such a thing, for the cost is levied on the property owners. Most of the city grows dark at nightfall, except for light that spills out from paga taverns and the like. This makes paga taverns seem like places of welcome sanctuary to passing men, and of course they are. 

 

Sansapina’s instructions had been characteristically brief, precise and to the point. I was to announce to Cassandra that I had chosen a café for dinner that night. I had been given the address and the time we should dine. During the meal I was to ensure she had wine. Wine, she said, breaks down the complex barriers a free woman has placed around herself all her life, and allows the true woman to emerge. It is also said that even a single glass of wine makes every woman a slave. 

 

I was then to launch my next surprise, that I had booked a romantic room with soft cushions and scented candles above the café for us to spend the night, rather than march back through the streets in the dark at some late hour. This room would be the special entrapment room that Sansapina used to observe the responses of a free woman through a piece of glass that appeared to be a mirror on our side, but was clear glass on her side. I was a little nervous at the thought of my sexual prowess being watched by Sansapina too, but I couldn’t see any way to avoid that. 

 

To add authenticity to the arrangements, I had asked Mikos to meet us at the café under the pretext that it would be a dinner in which I could introduce Cassandra to my new friend. He was going to bring the Lady Trublia with him, so the meal would resemble a meeting of couples. Mikos was happy to help out, and was in fact curious to meet my Lady.

 

“It will be interesting to observe her first in a social setting,” he had explained. “I may have observations of my own.”

 

I had been curious about the entrapment chamber, and had asked Sansapina for more details.

 

“En-suite room above café. There are two doors to room. One is obvious from landing that leads downstairs. Other is hidden behind tapestry with bolt on other side. Tapestry door leads to hidden stairwell down to dark, damp basement. Basement has tunnel to slaver house close by.”

 

“Interesting. So you also use the room for abductions?”

 

“No. We not thieves. We are professional caste.” Sansapina seemed offended. “We not, as saying go, shit on own doorstep.”

 

“Then why the secret passage?”

 

“Do I ask your business? Must I produce heavy bosk whip and teach you manners?”

 

I let the subject drop. I noticed that Sansapina did actually have a heavy bosk whip hanging from a hook close to hand. I didn’t think she ever actually worked with bosk, though. 

 

Sansapina made a valid point of course. Readers of Emma’s rather lurid tales might be forgiven for assuming that the caste of slavers will pounce on any free woman that they find, bundling her off through secret passages to be branded and enslaved. Nothing could be further from the truth! The Caste of Slavers is heavily regulated and operates to honourable standards. Within any given city it is a respectable business, and they certainly do not go around kidnapping attractive women after dark. In many ways they operate as used car dealers might, buying available stock cheaply and selling it at a higher price. You wouldn’t accuse a second hand car dealer of roaming the streets, stealing expensive cars for their showroom, now, would you? Most of a slaver’s stock comes from outside the city walls – women taken in wars or other conflicts, and of course existing slaves from other cities. They may have women from Vonda in collars, but if so these women have been legally enslaved by a magistrate with the full due process of law behind the enslavement. Women can be enslaved for all manner of reasons, such as running into debts they cannot pay, or lewd behaviour in public, unbecoming a free woman. But in every case a magistrate pronounces the sentence. Slavery is often seen as an adequate punishment for a number of crimes, where the equivalent for a man might be death. Why kill a beautiful woman when you can put her in a collar instead. Gor actually has a low population of slaves – barely 2% of women wear collars, and so there is an unrequited demand for more. I personally feel that figure should be 10% at least to satisfy current demand, but free women might have other opinions. 

 

Let us suppose you had abducted a wriggling female and you brought her to a slaver house, gagged, bound and hooded. You couldn’t just ask the slaver to brand her and write up ownership papers. The slaver is a respectable business man and he would want to know who the woman is, where you obtained her, and what her pedigree might be. If you were unable to satisfy him that she was a legal acquisition, he is likely to question the woman himself. If the woman claims to be a citizen of Vonda, taken by force, the slaver will make investigations to check on this. If it is proved that the woman is speaking the truth, she will be freed and the man will probably be put to death by impalement. 

 

Sometimes this honest practice of checks and balances can be abused deliberately to make a slaver house seem nobler than it actually is. There was a case in Vonda many years ago of a slaver who paid a free woman to pretend to be abducted, so that the slaver could then declare that she had been taken illegally. A big show was made of having the woman freed and the slaver house used this contrived incident to demonstrate how very public spirited they were, and they were congratulated on their honest approach to acquiring legal stock. Sadly their ruse was somehow found out. The public of Vonda were very angry. The woman was of course then genuinely enslaved for her part in the deceit and the slaver house had to close down when the owner was hounded out of the city by an angry crowd of men with sharp sticks. The remaining stock of slaves were put up for auction and sold off cheaply. Goreans do not like having their feelings manipulated.  

 

So, yes, slaver houses do not operate secret rooms where they seize free women and drag them off to be branded and trained. It just doesn’t happen, except in the scribblings of some far-fetched erotic writers. These lurid romantic fantasies are available from any book seller in Vonda and prove surprisingly popular in terms of sales. It is said that many free women buy such books, provided they have innocent enough titles, such as “Lady Candice’s Ordeal’ or ‘The Testing of a Free Woman’, and avidly read them for the spicy erotic passages in which the heroine finds herself in some ridiculous encounter with a despicable slaver with oiled moustaches. Book sellers turn a polite blind eye to the purchases. They of course know the type of content, but for the sake of the woman’s blushes, refrain from commenting as the purchase is made, often alongside one or two other books of a far more innocent nature, such as books on embroidery. That women go about heavily veiled makes it easier for them to avoid the public embarrassment of purchasing such novels. They can hurry home, the book concealed in brown paper, confident that the book seller cannot tell anyone that Lady Esapona buys such spicy literature on a regular basis. 

 

The most popular writer of such ‘spicy’ romances is probably ‘Prospero’ though that may be a pseudonym and not his true name. There are even wild rumours that Prospero might in fact be the pen name of a Free Woman of the Scribes, but such a suggestion is absurd, for no free woman would dare to write such books. 

 

As an aside, I have found no trace of any such books in Cassandra’s library, though I remain curious as to whether she may have a secret shelf somewhere that opens only to the turning of a hidden catch. I cannot rule out the possibility. The Lady does enjoy reading, but I have never caught her reading anything other than a respectable volume. Nevertheless, I continue examining the library for hidden switches. 

 

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In the days following my use of Cassandra, she had been happier than usual. I knew this wouldn’t last, but the day after our satisfying encounter, she had been in a particularly good mood and hadn’t beaten a kajira even once. I saw a girl forget to kneel quickly enough as she appeared and Cassandra had made no mention of it. 

 

Over breakfast she had been particularly complimentary about me, though had refrained from commenting on the sex explicitly, just that she was happy we were growing so close as a couple. She had been particularly happy to be touched throughout the day, and I did so frequently, marvelling at the way she would smile at me and, if we were alone, kiss me gently with a shiver of pleasure. 

 

Her orgasm had done her good. She was a happier woman for it. 

 

The subject of Anya came up of course, and Cassandra graciously conceded I had the right to buy and keep the slave. 

 

“I don’t like the little slut, but I will not insist you sell her.”

 

That was just as well, for I had no intention of doing so.

 

“But she is not to enter our bed chamber again in future!” said Cassandra with firmness of voice. “That really is a red line. If you must couple with the slut, please find another room. There are plenty of them. I do not want her leaving her stinking scent on my sheets.”

 

It was a fair enough request and I conceded for the sake of harmony. I would use Anya in a room at the other wing of the villa. 

 

“Do you…” her voice was hesitant, as if she had been building up to ask me this, “plan on using her often?”

 

“Not really,” I lied. “I have you, my beloved. How can she compare?”

 

Cassandra eyed me suspiciously. I don’t think she quite believed that. She isn’t stupid. She knows she can’t compete with a kajira in the bed room. 

 

“I want you to share my bed at least three nights a week,” she declared with a firmness of voice. That was a significant demand, for the Gorean week has only five days to it.

 

“Two nights.” I suggested.

 

“Very well.” I think Cassandra had expected that, and so had asked for a day more than she thought she might wheedle out of me. It was a good arrangement for her. Some free companions might go two weeks without sharing a bed with their man at night. 

 

“Did you enjoy last night, beloved?” I asked.

 

“Yes, I suppose,” said Cassandra, as she refused to meet my eyes. “It was pleasant enough.”

 

“Is there anything I did last night that you particularly liked?” I enquired. “For future reference?”

 

“Please don’t be vulgar, Simon,” she snapped. “I am a free woman. That is not an appropriate question at the breakfast table.”

 

I dropped the subject.  

 

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And so we continued on our way to the café on Broon street. It was, as I had feared, a grim back alley of sorts, that can only be accessed through a narrow archway that led into a courtyard surrounded by heavy looking doors with iron plates over what I presumed were eye slits. There was no welcoming array of street lights or the sound of pleasant laughter coming from well-lit windows. It seemed the sort of courtyard you might use for a fatal stabbing, if you couldn’t be bothered to move the body afterwards. 

 

“This really is beyond belief,” declared Cassandra. She stepped carefully with her sequinned slippers, for the cobbled courtyard had what seemed like lumps of excrement lying to one side. She swept round in a flurry of delightful skirts. “This has to be one of the worst evenings of my life, and I was a prisoner on the Larl of the Thassa, remember.” 

 

“Let us give it a chance,” I suggested. 

 

“I want to go home, Simon.” From somewhere we heard a scream echoing through the narrow, empty streets. 

 

“Let us just knock on the door and at least see if Mikos is here. That would be polite.”

 

“Fine.” She crossed her arms. “But you are not seeing your slut for the next three days. That is the least you can promise me to make up for this. Well?”

 

“We shall talk about this later.”

 

“No. We shall talk about it now!” 

 

I knocked on the heavy wooden door that I presumed belonged to the café. The door was opposite a stable door, which was what I had been told to look out for. Just five ihn later, the door opened and I immediately smelled the scent of delicious cooking. To my utter surprise, the door opened on a beautifully lit interior – a snug room full of glorious couches set around low tables, with soft dappled lighting, silken drapes and soft cushions. The contrast with the grim street outside couldn’t be more abrupt.

 

Cassandra peered inside, as surprised as I was.

 

The owner, a portly gentleman with a splendid looking turban, welcomed us inside and indicated a set of couches around a table where I could see Mikos and the Lady Trublia were already seated. The interior was candle lit with glowing lanterns, and an array of indoor plants that added to the overall charm.

 

“Simon!” Mikos called us over. “As you can see, we have the place to ourselves tonight. The service will be as excellent as the dishes.”

 

Cassandra remained wary as she allowed me to walk her to the table. Her eyes flitted towards Mikos and then to the veiled Lady Trublia and then suddenly back to Mikos again. “Introduce me,” she whispered urgently as she gazed at Mikos. 

 

“Mikos, this is the gentle Lady Cassandra Assante,” I said, “my love, my life and my pride.”

 

Cassandra stepped forward and curtsied before the man. I hadn’t seen her do that very often with strangers. 

 

“Tal, Sir,” she said, lowering her eyes.

 

“A pleasure, indeed,” said Mikos. He indicated his own woman. “Lady Cassandra, may I present Lady Trublia? Please, join us both.”

 

We sat down opposite the couple as the kajirae in the room began to prepare for our meal. 

 

“Veils?” enquired Cassandra, of Trublia, after we had made ourselves comfortable.

 

“Veils,” Trublia agreed after a moment’s thought. This was a dramatic moment that I had expected, for we had talked about it in advance. Both Mikos and I shifted slightly where we sat, in anticipation of our mutual women now unveiling themselves at the table in front of one another, and of course us. It is a momentous thing for a free woman to reveal her features before a man for the first time. The social rules are complex, but broadly speaking such a thing can and does occur in an intimate social meeting such as dinner in the presence of a friend of the woman’s companion. By removing her veil, your woman is essentially declaring that she feels safe, that she trusts you that your friend is a gentleman, that you wouldn’t have introduced him if he was otherwise, and that she is then going to do you the greatest courtesy a woman can possibly do, by agreeing to face strip herself to your friend. The situation is made easier if your friend has brought his own woman to the table, too. The women will generally come to silent agreement with a meeting of eyes. ‘We are both veiled women’, they will seem to say. ‘We are both meeting a friend of our companion for the first time. I will do this, if you will’?

 

Mikos breathed softly as he viewed Cassandra. I too gazed with pleasure at the unveiled Trublia. There was silence for a moment as we admired each other’s Lady. Both women looked nervous. In Gorean society the unveiling was as dramatic as an Earth girl being seen naked by a man. What would the men think? What would they say?

 

Courtesy is of course expected, even if the woman turns out to be a bit plain. Thankfully that wasn’t the case with Trublia, and it goes without saying it could never be with Cassandra. 

 

“Lady Cassandra,” said Mikos. “My friend is a lucky man indeed to have such a gentle beauty on his arm. Your charms are evident, and you do me great honour to share them so.”

 

Cassandra smiled, relieved that she had passed muster. Not that there was any doubt she would.

 

Now it was my turn. “Lady Trublia, I am entranced. I knew Mikos would not disappoint me in his choice of Lady for the evening. Rarely have I seen such serene charm in a woman. You do him proud, seated beside him so.”

 

Trublia beamed a smile and pressed her cheek to Mikos’s shoulder. The moment was over and now the women might relax. 

 

I gazed again at Trublia’s lips and imagined what it might be like to crush them brutally with a master’s kiss. They were full, ripe and seemed delicious. 

 

“And so, Lady Cassandra, when Simon mentioned I would be introduced to you, I felt compelled to bring a present.” He placed a small rectangular box on the table, tastefully adorned with tissue paper and ribbons.

 

“What is it?” asked Cassandra. She leaned forward a little, her hands resting on the table.

 

“Black wine beans. Freshly roasted. Exquisite flavour.” 

 

“Oh!” Cassandra was genuinely surprised in an excited way. Black wine beans are a luxury indeed on Gor, and until men like Mikos began importing them from Earth, they were in very short supply and prohibitively expensive to all but the very rich. I watched as my Lady unravelled the gift ribbon and removed the tissue paper. She had the smile of a small child as she lifted the lid, put her nose to the open box and inhaled the coffee bean scent.

 

“Oh, Mikos. Thank you! I love black wine.”

 

“The beans are among my finest,” he said.

 

“They are,” said Trublia. “He gave me a box too on our first day together. Though mine was a little bigger…”

 

Cassandra’s eyes flashed momentarily at Lady Trublia.

 

“It is the same size,” remarked Mikos to Trublia. “The boxes are the same size.”

 

“I think my box was a little bit bigger…” she said, pressing the point with a smile.

 

“Your box was square. Hers is rectangular. They are the same volume.”

 

“Oh. Well. I suppose. If you say so.” Trublia smiled pleasantly at Cassandra. Cassandra smiled pleasantly back at her.

 

“What a lovely gown,” remarked Cassandra as she regarded Trublia’s exquisite dress for the evening. “Last season’s design, I believe?”

 

“Last season is still in fashion,” said Trublia quickly in alarm.

 

“Of course it is,” said a smug looking Cassandra. “Of course it is.”

 

“Ladies, please,” said Mikos with a chuckle. “Let us have none of that.” He stroked Trublia’s hand. I in turn touched Cassandra’s arm. “We are here for a delicious supper.”

 

The Ladies smiled at one another across the table like pedigree Siamese cats sitting on opposite fences to one another, staring each other down.

 

“Far be it for me to steer the conversation,” said Mikos, “but I thought I should let you beautiful ladies know you have something in common. You are both avid readers.”

 

“Really?” said Cassandra. She turned her attention to Trublia. “What are you reading at the moment?”

 

“A moving love story: ‘The Rose Bloom Enlightened’ by Andre Pathos. The romantic imagery is so exquisite. It will make you swoon when you read it. And yourself?”

 

“Taciturn’s treatise on the third Salnerian League conflict. It’s the pre-eminent study on the military tactics of the time, with special consideration paid to the use of Tercio formations in conjunction with shock cavalry.” Cassandra smiled sweetly. “I am affiliated to the caste of warriors. It’s a high caste, as you know. I believe you are the daughter of a shop keeper? How lovely.”

 

“Lady Trublia is the daughter of a very wealthy merchant, Philos of Vonda,” said Mikos before Trublia might throw a cup of water in Cassandra’s face. 

 

“He controls the grain imports to Vonda! You’d all starve in your soft beds without him!” snapped Trublia.

 

“Shall we order some wine?” I said quickly to change the subject. “Mikos tells me they have a spectacular Valerian white?”

 

“Aged for at least twenty years in a cool cellar, the vines hand cultivated by none other than Trubert of Ti.” said Mikos. “You won’t be disappointed, Ladies.”

 

“Yes, I could do with some wine,” said Trublia, relaxing back down a bit. “It sounds lovely!”

 

“If it’s the one I think, I have a case in my own cellar,” said Cassandra. “It will do.”

 

The Valerian wine of Ti arrived – two bottles in fact – and Cassandra insisted on tasting it before it was served. My Lady has a very sophisticated and cultured palate and can recognise grape varieties in a blind tasting seven times out of ten. I have nowhere near that expertise. Back in England I rarely if ever bought a wine that cost more than ten pounds, and I only ever shopped for wine in supermarkets. No doubt Cassandra wouldn’t have used those wines even for mouthwash. 

 

She was the picture of elegance and refinement as she took a small measure of the wine, rotated her glass to air the liquid, lifted it to her nose for a moment and then tasted it. 

 

“It is acceptable,” she remarked to the kajira serving us. I notice she barely even looked at the girl.

 

With that accolade in place, we each received a full glass of the wine. I recalled Sansapina’s instructions that it was important that Cassandra drank feely tonight. That of course wasn’t a problem, as Gorean free women tended to drink more than their Earth counterparts, to alleviate boredom in the evenings, if nothing else. I watched with a smile as Cassandra lifted the glass to her lips. Yes, my beloved, enjoy the wine, and later I would enjoy you in the special room upstairs. 

 

“Oh, I so love this wine, Mikos!” said Trublia. She touched the back of his hand tenderly. “You are so knowledgeable about so many things!”

 

“I try,” he chuckled, “but it seems I have a demanding audience tonight.” He nodded towards the Lady Cassandra.

 

“I know what I like,” she said with a smile as she patted my hand, possessively. 

 

“I agonised over the wine choice earlier today, knowing of your palate,” said Mikos. “If I had disappointed you, I would have been ashamed and humiliated.”

 

“You did well,” she said with a warm and genuine smile and an incline of her head. “You can relax.”

 

“Thank you,” said Mikos with a grin. “I feel I’ve just won a race.”

 

“Oh, yes, Simon tells me you own a stable.”

 

“I do. Just the two tharlarion, but I’m building the stable up.”

 

“I must see them sometime. I ride from time to time. My brother taught me.”

 

“Side saddle, I suppose?” said Mikos.

 

“I know how to ride as a man, too, should the need arise. My education from my brother might surprise you.”

 

“You are a remarkable Lady,” said Mikos. “As are you, my dear,” he said, turning back to Trublia who had stiffened slightly, hearing all these compliments directed to Cassandra. “The hours flash past when I am with you. There is never enough time.”

 

“He is so lovely,” said Trublia as she allowed her hand to be stroked. “I am so smitten!”

 

“How delightful,” said Cassandra with a raising of an eyebrow that only I caught. 

 

We were served a series of exquisite dishes, my favourite being the smoked parfit fish in salma leaves. The ladies ate delicately, taking small morsels from their plate and never finished any of the dishes. This is not a sign of disapproval, but rather a common habit when ladies dine together. Neither Lady wishes to be seen as a glutton by the other, and so they take correspondingly small portions, always watching one another to ensure that the other woman doesn’t eat less than she does. This competitiveness doesn’t extend to the drinking of wine, for which no limits seem to apply.

 

“You can eat more than that, my dear,” said Mikos as he observed how little of the crab truffle Trublia had touched.

 

“Oh, but it is so filling!” she exclaimed, though eyed it with frustration. The crab truffle was as delicious as the smoked parfit fish and I ate all of mine. The ladies were undoubtedly as hungry as we men were, but they had to hold themselves in check to appear more feminine than one another.

 

“It is,” agreed Cassandra, as she played hungrily with hers with the prongs of her fork. When she thought I wasn’t looking, she popped another small sliver into her mouth and sighed softly.

 

“Leave some room for the next course,” I joked and saw her jump a little where she sat. 

 

“Oh, let Cassandra be,” said Trublia with glee. “She can’t resist gobbling the crab.”

 

Trublia had eaten less of the crab than Cassandra had. Score one point to Trublia.

 

Cassandra took a drink of wine to calm her feelings and refused to touch the delicious crab dish again.

 

By now musicians had assembled in the café and were playing soothing and somewhat romantic music while we dined. The music was light, pleasant and unobtrusive, but the effect was remarkable. Combined with the wine, it made Trublia nuzzle Mikos with her cheek, and Cassandra reached for my hand under the table and stroked it softly. With a shy gaze she turned to smile at me and licked her lips. Quite remarkable.

 

That was about as close as a ‘come on’ I had ever experienced from Cassandra. I put my hand on her knee under the table and heard her gasp. Trublia was quick to look up, sensing something shameful taking place. She gazed at Cassandra suspiciously, and I removed my hand so as not to embarrass my woman. 

 

Later, Mikos and I made some excuses to leave the ladies together while we took some air outside. This is customary in a meal together, for it allows women to talk softly between themselves for a while without men listening in. It also permits us to talk about them.

 

“Well?” I asked as Mikos and I drank small glasses of sharp liquor in amongst the garden trellis behind the café. 

 

“I can see the attraction.,” said Mikos. “As far as free women go, she’s a desirable catch.”

 

“Yes, and she comes across as very dignified, don’t you think?”

 

“She does,” he agreed. “Very good composure. She’s loosening up a bit as she drinks though. You are in for an interesting night, I think.”

 

“And you? Trublia looks easy tonight. At the race tracks… did you?”

 

Mikos laughed. “It was my intention to, but she genuinely fell asleep. A bit off putting really. She woke three hours later looking very flustered. She didn’t seem to know where she was or why she had been asleep in all of her gowns. She shrieked when she realised her hair was a mess. I decided to bide my time and simply escorted her home.”

 

“A true gentleman,” I said, laughing.

 

“I may put her to use tonight. Sansapina has offered me the use of the stables opposite the café if I need them. We’ll see. I’m in no hurry. There’s always Aimee.”

 

“That is a very hot Cosian slave you have. I hope my Anya will develop the same way.”

 

“Hmm.” Mikos drank some more of his liquor. “Slaves are delightful, aren’t they, Simon?”

 

“Absolutely. I don’t think I could live without them now. Can you imagine a life with just free women?”

 

“Unthinkable,” he said with another laugh.

 

We returned inside and smiled to one another as we observed the women talking together in a low voice across the table. As soon as they saw us they stopped talking, suggesting it must have been a topic not for the ears of men.

 

“Ladies,” said Mikos, sitting down again. “I see you are getting on much better than before.”

 

Cassandra shrugged. “We were talking about men.”

 

“We share some similar views,” said Trublia with a soft smile.

 

“Ah, we leave you alone for just a few ehn and already your sharp tongues dissect our wicked natures.”

 

“Very wicked natures,” agreed Cassandra, but she touched my hand as I sat back down. “We have agreed that men are like wild animals until they are suitably tamed. Women should always be wary of them.”

 

“True,” said Mikos with a laugh. “Who knows what we have in mind for you all?”

 

“A steel collar, probably, in your fantasies,” said Trublia with a degree of scorn. “I wish you didn’t have a slave.”

 

“Ah, Aimee. The girl has her uses.”

 

“Uses!” said Trublia with a deep sniff of disdain. “I was just telling dear Cassandra here about how you dote on that slut. You pay her more attention than you do me!”

 

“And I too was telling my dear friend, Trublia, about your little Anya,” said Cassandra. To the surprise of Mikos and myself, the two ladies reached out and held one another’s hands as they spoke. “We are united in this at least.”

 

“Yes, well,” said Mikos as he poured each Lady some more wine. “Slaves serve a useful purpose. They serve certain male desires that would not be appropriate to inflect on free women.”

 

“Beastly desires,” said Trublia.

 

“Beastly,” agreed Cassandra. 

 

“We wine and dine you lovely Ladies, in extreme comfort, and suddenly we’re beastly?” Mikos gave them both a pained expression.

 

“We remain suspicious of your dire motives until our dying days,” said Cassandra as she drank her wine. 

 

A delicious goose liver parfait arrived and I saw the ladies gaze hungrily at it. Slowly, eyeing one another suspiciously, they brandished the smallest of their forks and took a tiny little morsel each which they placed in their mouths. A look of bliss was obvious as they savoured the taste. Then they both gazed at one another again and seemed to silently count to a number in their heads before they dared to take another taste. Meanwhile Mikos and myself tucked into our own dishes.

 

“Really good,” I said as I dabbed at my lips with a napkin. “I could eat another of those.”

 

“And I,” agreed Mikos.

 

The ladies pushed their plates away after a few small tastes. “So filling!” said Cassandra.

 

“I couldn’t even eat as much as you,” agreed Trublia.

 

“I think you did,” remarked Cassandra.

 

“Well, I think someone was using a bigger fork than me,” said Trublia in a teasing sing-song voice.

 

“Ladies,” said Mikos again, trying to broker peace once more, “have some more wine.”

 

And so they did, happily taking two fresh glasses of a new wine that had been brought to the table, this time from a vintage south of Corcyrus.

 

Cassandra pronounced the grape as being Grenache, and when we checked, it turned out she was right. The Grenache wine we drank had flavours of raspberry and strawberry with a subtle white pepper spice note. “Aged for ten years, I think,” she remarked. We checked again and found she was right. 

 

“I am impressed,” said Mikos.

 

“Thank you, Sir,” said Cassandra, and to my amazement she gave him what I think was a brief flirtatious gaze. If I wasn’t mistaken, her eyes lingered suggestively for several seconds before she looked away. Mikos had noticed it too. It was shameful behaviour! I felt annoyed as I considered this. No doubt it was the effect of the wine, and the fact that Mikos was a handsome enough man, but even so. She was my companion, and to look at a man knowingly for several intense seconds. Well, you can imagine my surprise at this.

 

Mikos nodded towards me, signifying he had noticed too. 

 

Gradually the evening drew to a natural close as we polished off a sweet fruit desert with a small pudding wine. 

 

“Time I took this Lady home,” said Mikos. “I don’t think she should drink anymore.”

 

“Oh, just one more glass,” said Trublia, pouting. “It’s not that late.”

 

“You have a habit of falling asleep after one more glass,” said Mikos gently. “Let’s take you somewhere comfortable to rest your head tonight. Come along, Lady Trublia.” He helped her up and, after watching her steady herself with a wobble, escorted her with a firm arm around her waist to the door of the café leading outside into the darkened street. 

 

I recalled Mikos mention the offer of the stables opposite the café, and I wondered whether he might steer the drunken girl there rather than convey her back to her home as she expected. Perhaps her bed for the night might be one of rough straw, rather than her usual soft couch. Perhaps she might find her slim wrists quickly tied to a slave ring, and her beautiful clothes stripped away, putting her ready for use. I considered checking the stable later on when I had finished with Cassandra. If Mikos was there, he might appreciate another liquor after his fun was concluded.

 

“Your friend is nice,” said Cassandra once he was gone. She touched her hair with one hand and gazed at the now closed doorway leading to the outside street. She sighed. “We should invite him to our villa for dinner one night.”

 

“Oh?” I kissed my woman softly on her cheek. 

 

“I like to entertain, and it is only right that I am there to support you in cultivating new friendships in Vonda.” She gazed wistfully at where Mikos had previously sat. 

 

“And your opinion of the Lady Trublia?”

 

Cassandra’s eyes darkened. “She was looking at you all evening! Making those doe like eyes at you!” 

 

“Really?” I seemed surprised and I genuinely was. The truth was, I had been gazing at the lovely Trublia quite a bit, and particularly her lips, but I hadn’t noticed any meaningful gazes back from her. 

 

“I know her sort! But you’re my companion. She can’t have you!” hissed Cassandra as she gripped my arm. “I’ll see her dead first. Accidents can happen in a crowded market place…”

 

That alarmed me. “Beloved, I think you’re imagining things. You’re my woman.”

 

“Say that again, dearest Simon,” said Cassandra as she changed from defensive rage to a needful look.

 

“You’re my woman, Cassandra. Trublia is a dried husk of bread compared to you.”

 

“And how do I compare to a slave? To your filthy slut!” She seemed angry again as she thought of Anya.

 

“The kajira? Why, you are a thousand, million times above her in status. A free woman is priceless.” I had chosen my words carefully.

 

“When are you planning on having that slut again?” she said bitterly.

 

“I really don’t know. There are no immediate plans.”

 

“Chain her in the stables. Please, Simon, chain her in the stables! Do that for me!”

 

I smiled and kissed her cheek softly. “You are so very beautiful tonight. Your dress is gorgeous.”

 

“Oh!” Cassandra leaned into my kiss. “Do you think I’m beautiful, Simon?”

 

“The most beautiful woman on Gor,” I said. 

 

“So there are Earth women you prefer to me?” She said, homing in on a technicality. 

 

“You would turn heads on Earth,” I said. “Earth girls are shallow and of no consequence.”

 

“Anya is from Earth, isn’t she?”

 

“I suppose she is. As I said, of no consequence.”

 

“I think I’ve drunk a lot of wine, tonight, Simon,” she said as she snuggled into my arm. “Mikos kept the bottles coming. I can feel my head spinning.”

 

I smiled. She was drunk now. Good. “When you lean into me like that, Cassandra, I get quite excited.”

 

“Oh!” She gazed up at me with a smile. “How excited?”

 

“Excited enough that I can think of nothing but you.”

 

“It is a long journey back home,” she said. “Will you still be excited when we return home?”

 

“There’s no need for that. I have a surprise for you, beloved. I have booked a romantic suite of rooms for us upstairs. We don’t have to go out into the dark tonight.”

 

“Upstairs?” Cassandra gazed up at me with her lips parted, and blinked slowly, not quite comprehending this.

 

“A little love nest where we can kiss and touch one another to our heart’s content.”

 

“I think I’m a little drunk, Simon…” Her brow furrowed with concern.

 

“How lovely it will be to hold you gently upstairs in our bed for the night, kissing those tender lips.”

 

“Oh!” Her breathing grew a little excited. 

 

“Come, let’s see what our bed chamber looks like.” I stood up and took her left hand to lift her from the dining couch.