Steel World Inc. Chapter Fourteen

 

We walked through the house in silence for a few minutes as Miss Madison led me to a flight of stairs that led into the basement levels of the building. We were venturing into an area that seemed to be out of bounds to the party guests, and I noticed a couple of security guards dressed in smart suits loitering, ever watchful, at the entrances to the basement.

 

We were both stopped short and a hand scanner was passed up and down our bodies to presumably detect for concealed weapons. Neither of us carried anything of the sort, of course, and so we were then swiftly waved through.

 

“Where are we going?” I said as we reached the bottom of the stairs which led into a wide open room that resembled a hallway.

 

“To see Karl Magnus. He asked to speak to you.” Miss Madison turned round to face me. “Let me be absolutely clear, Simon. I am not at all happy with the way you spoke to me earlier.” Her eyes blazed with self-righteous fury. Back at the office, seated across her desk, I would no doubt be scared right now. But here in this place, here where men seemed to be the dominant sex, here where I sensed different rules applied, here I didn’t feel scared, and that surprised me.

 

I smiled at her, which seemed to take some of the fury out of her expression. “And how did I speak to you earlier, Miss Madison?”

 

“You were disrespectful! I am your manager. You had thoughts of me in a collar.”

 

“So I did.” I smiled again. “It was a compliment of course. I think you would look beautiful in a collar.”

 

As soon as I said that I felt astonished that I was actually able to say the things I did with such confidence and self- assurance. I felt supremely confident tonight, in my sharp suit, in this male dominated environment, after having experienced pleasure at the hands and lips of sweet Puta. I could never have imagined yesterday speaking this way to Miss Madison! She would have scared me with just a glance. 

 

“You will regret this,” she hissed. “I am your manager!”

 

And still her threats didn’t worry me. Why? Well, she had said Karl Magnus seemed to like me. And I sensed Karl Magnus didn’t care much for the opinions of women in authority. 

 

We walked down a short corridor beneath the house and approached another guard who stood beside another door. Again our bodies were scanned for metal, and then we were permitted to pass on through.

 

Miss Madison insisted on entering first, with me trailing behind her, as if I was some assistant holding her folders.

 

I entered a wide open lounge area that had a sunken floor in the centre; around which there was a three sided sofa in a u-shape – each sofa side being eight feet long. The middle space in the sunken area was tiled with a mosaic pattern reminding me of ancient Rome. There were a couple of small ornamental tables there, and curiously, two solid iron rings set into the tiled floor, each with its own coiled loop of chain. A set of three short steps on the fourth side of the sunken area permitted access. The depth of the area was only the height of the sofas. 

 

Seated in that area were two men. The first was Karl Magnus – the bearded man with dark hair I had encountered at the club on Thursday night. The man whose thug had punched me to the ground twice. 

The other man seemed to be a guest. He had that look of a rich, powerful man, and was dressed accordingly. From his face I put him at maybe forty years old, though he looked a very fit forty years, with light, sandy coloured hair, designer stubble, and a lean, toned looking body in his tailored suit. The other thing about him was that he had the sort of features that made him anonymous in a crowd. The sort of man who might easily observe proceedings without drawing undue attention to himself unless he wanted to. 

 

“Emily, thank you for bringing our young guest,” said Karl Magnus as I entered.

 

Emily? I turned and regarded Miss Madison who seemed suddenly embarrassed that I had heard her first name. No one in the office knew it. Emily. I looked at her again and enjoyed her discomfort. Emily Madison. 

 

Magnus rose from his couch and waved me to join him. “Simon, I’m glad you accepted my invitation last night, and tolerated the mysterious manner in which it was served. Come. Join us. This, by the way, is Mr Willard Frick of Pittsburgh.”

 

“Good evening, boy,” said Mr Frick in a deep American accent. He regarded me with steel cold eyes, despite the polite greeting. 

 

I walked slowly towards the short set of marble steps, surveying the rest of the room. There was an open alcove passage that led presumably into a side room, but there were no windows anywhere to be seen, obviously enough because we were deep underground. The room seemed to be very secure, possibly even bomb proof. Around the sides were antique display cases containing all manner of things one might find in the British museum – things of antiquity, including a selection of very old looking weapons. I also noticed selections of chains and whips hanging at various points, and on one small antique table, a couple of spare steel collars with keys.

 

“Good evening, Sir,” I said as I descended the steps. Miss Madison followed close behind me. 

 

Emily.

 

I liked the name. It was very feminine. It suited her. 

 

“Mr Frick has flown over for the party,” explained Karl Magnus as he motioned for me to take a seat. “We’ve been discussing business, as Mr Frick shares my preference for conducting such things in person.”

 

“Always best to look a man in the eyes,” remarked Frick as he looked me directly in the eyes. I felt uncomfortable meeting his gaze but I did my best to match it. He smiled, recognising, I think, that I was no match for him in that department.

 

“I’m a steel man,” he said as I sat down. “The Fricks have been in steel for five generations, and had connections with Andrew Carnegie.”

 

I nodded. I had heard of Andrew Carnegie, of course. 

 

Miss Madison was at pains to take her seat at the far end of the sofa, well away from me. She smoothed the back of her long dress as she sat down and refused to acknowledge my presence.

 

“Did I miss much, Mr Frick,” she asked politely as she leaned forward. Now she smiled brightly in a rehearsed manner, for she was the hostess tonight and had responsibilities to ensure that her rich, important guests enjoyed the finest hospitality on behalf of Steel World Inc. She reached with her right hand and picked up a glass of wine from the low round table to her side. There were traces of pink lipstick on the rim, suggesting she had sat here earlier before being sent to find me.

 

“Just some male banter,” remarked the American. “Nothing a Lady should hear.” His eyes regarded her now, and in particular her bare shoulders. 

 

Miss Madison took a small sip of her wine. She appeared to be drinking very little, no doubt wishing to project an image of demure sobriety before these men. I had the impression that neither man might approve of a woman matching them glass for glass in their drinking.

 

“The girls will be ready for you to view in about half an hour,” she remarked as she toyed with her glass. “We have some beauties tonight.”

 

“Good. “ Mr Frick placed his hands together as he continued to regard Miss Madison. “I’ll be using the usual private airfield. They need to be loaded discretely before six this morning. No delays are permissible.”

 

“That’s not a problem,” said a smiling Miss Madison. “Once you’ve approved the cargo, I’ll have them shipped straight out. We have a secure van on standby.” She brushed some hair from her face with her left hand. I noticed Mr Frick regard her slim wrist and its graceful motion. 

 

“Emily runs the international despatch operation, amongst other things,” remarked Karl Magnus. “And she has a good eye for girls.”

 

“I haven’t been disappointed yet,” said Mr Frick. “But no brands, as per usual.”

 

“Of course.” Emily crossed her legs at the knee in her long gown, revealing the stiletto heel of that sparkling shoe. It was a lovely fluid movement. “I’ve given instructions that the girls are to remain unmarked.” Her lip curled into a smile again. “We don’t get many men who like to arrange their own markings.”

 

“I have a ranch down in Montana – the Lazy F. Come and visit if you’re ever down that way, Miss Madison. We’ll show you a real good Rocky Mountain welcome. Yes, we will. I used to brand the calves by hand when I was young. Never lost the habit. It’s like riding a bike.” Frick picked up a glass of whisky and sipped it, as Karl Magnus sat back and simply listened to the conversation. “You make a connection with a kajira when you handle the branding yourself. You look deep into her eyes as she struggles helplessly, aware the branding iron is inches from her thigh, and there’s nothing she can do about it. There is more communicated at that moment between master and slave than you can possibly imagine. Besides, I like the mark of my own branding iron.”

 

“Of course. You use the cattle pens at the Lazy F, don’t you?”

 

“I do. We rope them in with the young calves, when I’m overseeing the Spring roundup, when we send the finished steers off to the stockyards and prepare the new calves: vaccinations, ear tagging and branding with the Lazy F mark. Same process for the collared fillies, Miss. The girls spend six weeks being trained on the ranch before they’re shipped to my house in Pittsburgh. They sleep rough, chained to posts, unless they want to beg to share the blankets of the cowboys. Most do after a couple of nights, because the evenings can be chilly way up in the Rockies. My kennels in Pittsburgh can house up to twenty at a time.”

 

“Quite an impressive operation, but then your family have been loyal supporters for generations. We do appreciate it,” said Miss Madison.

 

“Kind of you to say so, Miss, and yes, loyal we have been.” Frick placed the whisky glass down on the table and cracked his knuckles, one hand at a time. 

 

“Would you care for a drink, Simon?” asked Karl Magnus, as he now leaned forward. “Whisky? Wine?”

 

“Wine would be nice,” I said.

 

“Sadly we don’t have a kajira serving down here tonight,” said Magnus, apologetically. “You would have enjoyed the experience, but the demands of the party mean all our girls are busy in the pleasure alcoves upstairs. We’re a bit short handed.”

 

I nodded.

 

“I believe you’ve spent some time there yourself,” he said with a smile.

 

“I have.”

 

“Good. I wanted you to sample what the Steel Worlds can offer. You enjoyed yourself?”

 

“I did.”

 

Magnus nodded once more and then turned to regard Miss Madison.

 

“Emily, be kind enough to pour and serve our young guest some wine from the bar.”

 

I could see this request rankled. “Do I have to?” she asked.

 

Magnus said nothing for a moment. I sensed he wasn’t pleased that his request had been questioned like that. “We have no kajirae present. You are a free woman amongst men, so least in status here, and you are therefore expected to serve our guest with drinks. Do you have a problem with that?” 

 

“Least here?” She rankled at the suggestion. “I am his manager. If anyone serves drinks it should be Simon.”

 

“You are his manager, but you are also a woman amongst men. A woman serves at a man’s table, whether she is slave or free.” Magnus placed his hands together and looked at her. “Men do not serve women at the table.”

 

“Very well.” She rose, annoyed. I noticed that Frick’s eyes narrowed at her outburst. She shook her head in a motion that suggested passive aggressiveness, and barely looked at me as she said, “red or white, Simon?”

 

“Red please.” I glanced at Magnus and at Frick, and I had a curious feeling that this was perhaps a test. Were these men watching my reaction? It was obvious I had been summoned here because they were considering offering me something – a promotion, perhaps? Miss Madison had casually mentioned that my determination on Thursday night had impressed the man. So was this a test? A test to see if I was perhaps management material? That I could be forceful, like them?

 

“It’s a shame,” I said, as Miss Madison turned towards the bar area, “that I’m unable to observe and enjoy the serve I would normally have been offered tonight. I was just wondering…”

 

Magnus and Frick said nothing. They simply watched me, waiting.

 

“Perhaps the talented Miss Madison could offer a small demonstration of what I might normally see?”

 

If looks could kill, I’d now be dead. Miss Madison turned, one hand on her hip, and looked at me with utter contempt.

 

“How dare you,” she said. 

 

“Sounds reasonable to me,” said Frick as he leaned forward and gazed at her. “It’s something the boy needs to see if he’s to be introduced to Gorean ways. You know how to perform a basic serve, Miss Madison?”

 

I could sense her holding her tongue as Frick seemed to be a rich and influential guest here. “Well, yes, but it’s certainly not appropriate. I’m a Free Woman. I shall deliver drinks in the manner of a Free Woman, not the way a…” Her lips curled. “Kajira would.”

 

For a moment Frick and Magnus regarded one another, perhaps coming to some mutual consensus as their eyes met. And then Magnus turned back to regard Miss Madison. “That is of course true.” He leaned back and I saw Miss Madison now visibly relax. She threw me a contemptuous glance. See? She seemed to say. I am in control here. Not you. 

 

Magnus gestured in a conciliatory fashion with his open hands. “I apologise if I have offended you, Emily.”

 

Miss Madison sniffed. She had won. She had demonstrated the power of a Free Woman. “You overstepped yourself, Karl. What would you have thought of me if I’d agreed?”

 

“True.” He nodded. “I overstepped myself. I was perhaps too concerned that a hostess should ensure the hospitality of her guests. Will you forgive me?”

 

“I am offended. There are limits. Limits for a Free Woman. I shall simply bring Simon his wine as a Free Woman might. We shall talk about this later.”

 

Magnus nodded again. “Your six monthly review is coming up soon, isn’t it, Emily?”

 

“Yes.” She shook her hair in an offended manner. “What of it?”

 

“And with it, the decision on your next shot of the stabilisation serum?”

 

I saw Miss Madison’s eyes narrow now. She seemed a little more anxious. “Yes. I didn’t receive the last one…”

 

“No you didn’t. That poor showing on the matter of the Oxford consignment.”

 

“That… that wasn’t my fault! I planned everything! Co-ordinated everything perfectly!”

 

“Yes you did. No one else assisted. So the blame is yours alone.”

 

“I mean to say, I did everything right. There were Priest King agents. You know there is a hidden cell of them snuffling around in London. They may be cut off from the resources of the Sardar, but they remain a thorn in our sides.”

 

“But still,” said Magnus. “The full responsibility in Oxford was yours?”

 

“Yes.” She clenched those slender little fingers into futile fists. How small those fists were. How feminine. “I didn’t receive my shots because of it!”

 

“No. Those are only awarded for operational success.” Karl turned to regard Frick. “You’re a connoisseur of women, Willard. How old would you say Miss Madison is?”

 

“Hmm.” He leaned forward and regarded her carefully. She turned her head again, understanding she was in a sense being assessed. “Late twenties, at first glance. Apparently late twenties, but the little Missy is wearing full makeup. Tch. So it’s reasonable to shave off some years to reflect how she might appear bare faced and scrubbed clean. Maybe superficially twenty seven with the makeup, but probably thirty three without.”

 

Miss Madison continued to look agitated. I could tell she would have preferred Mr Frick not to know that the makeup stripped several years from her appearance, and that she might naturally be twenty seven, but then Mr Frick was apparently a connoisseur of women.

 

“She’s forty three, with a physical body age now of thirty three,” said Magnus. “She’s had six shots to date – giving her two cumulative years regression apiece, but lost the effect of one shot due to the Oxford debacle when the serum wasn’t renewed.”

 

“I heard about that. She was in charge?”

 

“She was.”

 

“I read the report. At least five lapses in basic security that I could see.”

 

“I only identified three,” said Magnus.

 

“With respect, you don’t have my eye. You don’t fully understand Earth society.”

 

“True.” Magnus deferred to that assessment.

 

“That’s why we’re so useful here. We see things you don’t.”

 

“The Priest Kings knew what they were doing,” said Miss Madison, anxiously. “The execution of their plan was flawless. I was caught off guard.”

 

“You failed,” said Magnus, simply enough. “Do you miss being thirty one?”

 

“Yes!” she cried, clenching her small fingers into frustrated fists again. In truth I didn’t follow all of this, but I could just about comprehend that there must be some excellent beauty treatment that Miss Madison, and possibly other female managers, might receive as a regular bonus for good work. Something along the lines of collagen or Botox? Though Miss Madison’s face had none of the paralysis common to women who abuse collagen and Botox. And possibly the treatment reversed gradually unless it was kept up to date? Two years at a time?

 

“The vanity,” said Frick. 

 

“I don’t want to be old!” she snapped. 

 

“But still, your next six monthly review is close to hand?” said Magnus.

 

“Yes!” There was look of desperation in her face. 

 

“You are hoping for a shot of the stabilisation serum this time, to bring your features back down to thirty one, as they were before your last review?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Magnus smiled. “But then there was the matter of the Sussex operation three months ago.”

 

Miss Madison’s face paled. “That… that… the men I assigned were incompetent!”

 

“The men YOU assigned,” said Magnus. He tapped the arm rest of his sofa with his fingers and gazed briefly to the side. “I’ve been considering your review.”

 

“Please. I don’t want to lose another two years. That would be thirty five…”

 

“Thirty five, so very different from thirty one, or…” Magnus paused, “even twenty nine?”

 

“Twenty nine!” I could see hope now in her eyes. To be twenty nine! Not yet crossed over into her thirties! What woman would not want to appear twenty nine, in preference to thirty five?

 

“If you were to accommodate Simon with a demonstration, I could perhaps ensure that your mistakes are overlooked this time, and in a spirit of gratitude, authorise a double shot of the serum.” He paused, possibly dramatically. “Four years. Administered next week?”

 

“Four years?” She could hardly believe it.

 

“The choice is yours. You are a Free Woman.”

 

“I will demonstrate.”

 

The men glanced at one another again, as if comprehending something between them. Magnus slowly turned back round. “To be clear, you will serve Simon his wine in the manner of a kajira, for a double shot of the serum?”

 

“Yes.” She shrugged. “If I must.”

 

Magnus nodded and sat back on the sofa. Her decision seemed to confirm some thoughts he had been having recently. 

 

Miss Madison walked quickly up the steps and moved to the bar where she poured a beautifully engraved goblet with wine. Then, walking gracefully, she began to return to the sunken area, intending to offer it to me in some prescribed fashion that only minutes earlier might have embarrassed her, or any Free Woman.

 

“Surely this is a poor demonstration,” I said to Frick in particular. 

 

“How so, boy?”

 

“Would the girl serving me be dressed in an expensive evening gown?”

 

“No, of course not,” said Frick. “You’re quite right. She would wear a brief tunic and be barefoot.”

 

I sensed Miss Madison stop at the top of the steps in surprise. What were we saying?!

 

“Perhaps Miss Madison might oblige?” I said to Frick. “For the purpose of the demonstration, that is all?”

 

Frick nodded. Magnus was careful not to say anything, or offer an opinion. He simply watched me.

 

“Karl, please, you can’t expect me to…”

 

“Go into the side room, Emily,” said Magnus. “You’ll find some spare tunics there. Put one on and then return to us to demonstrate your service.”

 

There was a choked sob from her throat. She looked flustered.

 

“I’m his manager…” she said.

 

“Of course,” said Magnus. 

 

Their eyes met, and Miss Madison looked away. Then she moved back to the bar, replaced the glass of wine and slowly walked through the open arch to disappear into the adjoining room.

 

“Interesting,” said Magnus as he gazed at me. 

 

I was beginning to think I was right. This now was a test of sorts. Frick too was watching me. 

 

“Did I tell you that Simon was knocked down twice by Reynard?”

 

“He was?” said Frick.

 

“The club on Thursday night. The young man doesn’t know how to fight, of course, but to his credit he got up both times and didn’t back down. He was protecting the honour and virtue of a Free Woman who shares his Home Stone.”

 

“That’s something,” said Frick, nodding. “Good for you, boy.”

 

“There is an irony here, of course,” said Magnus to Frick. “Girls who own nothing, not even the steel collar locked around their necks, they have the most precious gift of all for free – the full stabilisation serum that needs never be renewed. Girls such as Emily who have everything a modern Earth girl can realistically achieve, can only receive small, temporary doses in return for operational success.”

 

Frick nodded. “Sussex was an operational mess, too.”

 

“It was,” agreed Magnus. “This hasn’t been Emily’s best year.” 

 

“You must be fond of the filly, then. I wouldn’t put up with that level of mess in Pittsburgh. You’re not turning soft, are you, Karl?”

 

Magnus said nothing. He gazed silently at the low table where Miss Madison’s glass of wine with lipstick around the rim sat, neglected.

 

The minutes seemed to tick by slowly. No one spoke. We simply waited.

 

And then there was a motion within the alcove arch. Miss Madison lingered there, hesitating, seemingly nervous to emerge.

 

“Is there a problem, Emily?” asked Magnus, without looking up.

 

“The tunic. It’s so very brief!”

 

She sounded flustered, nervous, no longer quite so confident and commanding.

 

“In your own good time,” said Magnus.