The Slave (35 page)

Alex crossed over to Robin and touched her
shoulder. “Good luck,” she whispered. “And welcome.”

Robin’s “Thank you, ma’am,” was barely out
before Alex turned to leave.

And then she was alone again with Chris. On
one side of her, a trainer was stroking the slave with the
tension-filled body. Someone else was sobbing.

Chris sighed and his mouth curled up into a
little smile. “You have just been approved of,” he said softly.
Robin nodded.

“
Then there’s nothing else to say. Be
a good girl.” And he leaned forward, took her hair in one hand, and
kissed her, hard, like the kiss of a long-lost lover.

And then he let her go, and walked away
without another word.

* * * *

The slaves would not be present for the
bidding upon them. For the time during the auction, the man who
managed the slaves of the auction house came in and told them that
they could stretch out. Other slaves hurried in with little cups of
water, and warm, wet cloths to wipe the “merchandise” off. Robin
felt tearfully grateful, but she did not break her instructions to
remain silent.

It was another one of those inhumanly long
and impossibly short periods of time. When the manager came back
and ordered them to get back into their proper positions, Robin
could swear that the sense of anxiety and anticipation had actually
become a light mist, permeating the entire room.

When the doors opened, they could all hear
the sounds of light applause, and the strong voice of the regional
director thanking people for coming.

The first person in the room was the
television newsman. With a wide grin on his face, he almost ran to
the stand with the twins.

The white-haired man stopped in front of
Robin and she felt a wave of panicked nausea, but he merely shook
his head and continued walking.

People continued to fill the room, and more
congratulations and good wishes were filling the air. On her right,
the businessman with all of the rings and markings was locked into
a collar by a black man with long dreads and a lilting accent.
Robin saw the slave clamber down from the stand and prostrate
himself before his new master while others reached in to shake the
owner’s hand.

Across the room, it sounded like someone was
getting another taste of the paddle.

Some owners, Chris had told her, will want
to do something to demonstrate their mastery of you right away. Be
prepared for anything. Do not hesitate.

But as more people came in, few
stopped by her and no one came to claim her.
Oh dear
, she thought wildly.
No one bought me!
No one wanted me! I’m a failure! Chris will kill me!

And then, into her line of sight came a pair
of long legs clothed in Brooks Brothers splendor. A hand gesture
appeared before her eyes, and she snapped her head up to look into
a pair of bright blue eyes. Wavy, two-toned hair was expertly cut
so that it fell across a distinguished forehead, and a square jaw
set off a firm but sensual mouth. He was about 6’2”, slender and
graceful.

Gently, he took the sales chain from around
her throat, and replaced it with a gold chain not unlike the one
that Leon wore. He took a lock out of his pocket and locked the
ends together and smiled, showing a mouthful of straight white
teeth, practically gleaming against his tanned face.

I’ve been sold to Prince
Charming
,
Robin thought
. I’m swooning.

And then another man entered her vision. He
was slightly shorter, heavier, and had long straight brown hair,
which was gathered at the back of his neck into a ponytail. He was
also elegantly dressed, although in a more flamboyant manner; he
too had a tan. He was sporting a pink triangle tie-clip, and two
gold hoops in one ear.

“
I don’t know what I’m going to do
with you, Eric,” he said, touching Robin’s chin and shaking his
head. “Of all the things! What the hell are we going to do with a
woman?”

“
You’ll see,” Eric said, patting Robin
on the head. “She’ll fit in just fine, sweetheart. You have to
trust me on this one.” And then he leaned over to kiss the
brown-haired man.

I’ve been sold to Prince
Charming
,
Robin thought again.
And he’s gay.

“
I don’t care if they charge you
double, just get it in the air tonight and in my hands tomorrow,”
Robin demanded, slamming her hand down on the desk for emphasis.
“This is the age of technology! Express it! Messenger it! But get
it here, or my ass is in a sling, do you understand me?”

Literally
, she thought, pausing as the
exasperated clerk rattled off air shipment numbers at her.
Very
literally.

When she hung up, she sighed and checked the
bill of lading again. Somehow, those jerks back in New York had
managed to ship the entire set of Hopi household pottery except for
the all-important mortar and pestle assembly that had made the set
so noteworthy. And it wasn’t just any ordinary acquisition here,
but a gift, from her masters to Jimmy’s parents, whose wedding
anniversary was tomorrow night. Eric had spent hours going through
catalogs with her, trying to find the right thing. Jimmy didn’t
much care. His parents would love anything, he had sighed from time
to time. But Eric was ever so conscious about appearances. He
wanted everything perfect.

Like he was, for example.

Down girl. Behave.

If I can get it here in the
morning
, she
figured,
I
can get it messengered to San Diego, or take it there myself. God
knows the folks would be happy to see me.
She giggled out loud as she flipped
through her battered old Rolodex for her travel agent’s
number.

The last time she had made the short flight
into San Diego, the old man had greeted her like a daughter and
insisted that she stay for barbecue and Sangria. Jimmy’s parents
were old California and old money. They were both bilingual and
Berkeley educated, and considered themselves very hip. Certainly
they loved their gay son and his fabulous lover. But they didn’t
know that the young and good-looking staff that their son and
son-in-law maintained to run their business and keep their handsome
house in order were all slaves. When mom and dad came to visit,
everyone got to get dressed for the weekend.

Dad had even mentioned to Robin that “he
never found such polite young men as those who worked for his
kids.”

“
They’re not like I was when I was
their age,” he chuckled. “Why, I was quite the bohemian,
disrespected my parents and teachers, smoked dope, and ran amok.
Couldn’t tell, could you?”

“
No, sir, I guess I couldn’t,” Robin
had agreed.

“
Well there you go! Just like those
boys! Sir!” He shook his head. “Now why don’t you just call me
Jack?”

Because your son would take my
hide off if he found out
, Robin thought cheerfully. “It must have been the
way I was raised, sir.”

The pottery would look wonderful in their
wide living room, with the wall of windows overlooking a wooded
hill. Robin decided to let the messenger pick up the whole set and
bring it down. She still didn’t know if Eric or Jimmy had any plans
for her tomorrow, and it was always better to be cautious with
them.

Raul came in, his bare feet slapping against
the stone tiles. He put a stack of mail on her desk and winked at
her. “New books from those auction houses in London and something
in Japanese. Did you get the missing piece?”

“
Yes.” Robin grabbed at the catalogs
and grinned with delight. “Oh great! Here’s that sword collection
that Jimmy wanted to look at. Maybe now we can match that piece he
got last year and make some money.”

Raul shook his head in wonderment. “I dunno
how they had the time to do all this stuff before.” He bent over
her desk to look at the photos of Japanese and assorted eastern
weaponry. His body was fluid and graceful, a swimmer and a dancer,
done in cream-heavy coffee. He often wore Speedos when doing his
housework, especially brightly colored ones. They suited him much
more then nakedness, emphasizing his long legs and tight stomach
and cupping the cheeks of his ass. Today, it was orange, with black
racing stripes.

“
They didn’t,” Robin muttered. And it
was true. Before they had purchased her, their acquisition of the
various artwork and collectibles that they, their friends, family,
and clients all wanted were obtained in the catch-as-catch-can
method. Eric was the primary collector in the house. He loved
sculpture, and three-dimensional pieces of artwork that he could
touch. He also loved ancient erotic art and literature that
mentioned or depicted homosexuality. One of his oldest pieces was a
section of plastered wall from an archeology dig that had Greek
graffiti on it saying, essentially, “Priscus fucked Lucanus
here.”

Jimmy, the securities genius, didn’t have
any special love, although he did like to be aware of some items
for their investment value. What he liked to do, now that he had a
full time buyer to do his bidding, was use her to pick up special
gifts for his clients. They were constantly showering him with
things he couldn’t use or didn’t want, and Robin got the job of
discreetly getting rid of those as well. Or at least putting them
away, cataloging them, and knowing when to pull them out just in
time for the client to see them when invited over to dinner.

It had been a very interesting year.

* * * *

Jimmy and Eric did not stage any special use
of her before leaving the auction. In fact, they were very low key,
accepting complimentary comments and best wishes from several
people before getting Robin’s clothes and telling her to wait in
their car. While she sat alone in the limousine, she watched people
streaming out of the great old house, and even saw Grendel, Alex,
and Chris leaving together. She was still somewhat shell-shocked.
Luckily, she did have enough presence of mind to curl her legs
under her on the floor just before her new masters reached the car.
They slid into seats without making any comment about her position,
so she assumed that she did the right thing.

“
I’m Eric Parese and this is my lover
James Appleton,” her “Prince” said to her as the car began to move.
“You belong to the two of us now. Have you a professional
wardrobe?”

Robin opened her eyes wide in astonishment.
That was the last question she had expected. “Um yes, master, I do.
It’s in storage.”

“
You’ll have to get it out. There’s no
reason for me to duplicate it.” He looked at his watch and then
back at her. “We were going to leave tomorrow. Will you be able to
get your things packed by tomorrow evening?”

“
Yes, sir.”

“
Good.”

And as if to deliberately frustrate her, he
had leaned back into the leather seat and closed his eyes for the
rest of the ride back into the city. Jimmy had just gazed out the
window. Robin knew all the proper forms for asking if she could ask
a question, but there was no way in heaven that she was going to
start now. It had been a long day.

Back at the wonderful hotel they were
staying in, she slept on the couch in the outer room instead of at
the foot of their bed.

It wasn’t until she had lugged her suitcase
and garment bag back to them and they all made it to the airport
(where her collar did not set off the metal detector) that Eric
finally told her where they were going. California.

To the hills north of Los Angeles to be
exact. Not near the beaches, but where they could have a little bit
of property and privacy. Jimmy had snorted―privacy and a one hour
commute to the edges of the city. But between Eric’s work as a
model and Jimmy’s mostly at-home financial work, they never made it
into the city more than twice a week. They both stayed with friends
or at hotels when they had to do extended projects, and tried to
make it home as often as possible.

And who could blame them? Home was a
paradise, with a spacious, sunlit designer main building, a Jacuzzi
that sported a view of the rolling hills and the mountains in the
distance, a small swimming pool, and three men who lived to fulfill
their every need.

There was Raul, the house manager and
general handyman; he was also the cook and the mechanic, and the
preferred sexual partner for Eric when Eric wasn’t doing Jimmy.
Then there was Carl, who at thirty-seven was the oldest member of
this youthful household. He assisted Jimmy and acted as a
secretary, bookkeeper, and social secretary, and had been Jimmy’s
slave before Jimmy and Eric got together. And then there was Jeff,
another easterner like Robin, who was the all-around houseboy and
gofer and lowest on the household pecking order. Even Robin had a
better standing then he did, although not at first. She had to earn
her way up.

Despite their well-off backgrounds, or
perhaps because of them, her masters were cautious consumers. Every
member of their house did double or triple duty, and everyone was
expected to be able to step in for someone else if a crisis
occurred. The male slaves were as surprised to see Robin as she was
surprised to be purchased. At first, she didn’t seem to fit in.
There was no job that was left undone to anyone’s knowledge, and
there was no way to slip her into the scheme of things erotically.
The masters showed no interest in suddenly picking up girls; why
buy one? She was an intruder in their all-boy atmosphere, a cog in
their fantasy paradise. At the beginning, they seemed to do all
they could to make her understand that she was unwanted and
unwelcome.