Dangerous (18 page)

“What’s your impression of her so far?” His eyes twinkled.

How to answer? Was it a trap? He had been Val’s mentor, a fact which still boggled me, and she’d presumably learned some of her style from this suspciously affable man. Yet he radiated a disarming sincerity. I couldn’t imagine him whipping anyone.

“She’s, um, challenging,” I said evasively, recalling the events of the last evening, my humiliation, my rage.

“Vee is that. She’s always been something of a—”

But he was interrupted by a thin, haughty waiter who asked if we wanted anything to drink. We both declined, preferring to wait for Val.

“She’s quite proud of you, Koishi.”

I could only smile coyly, and avert my gaze downward.

“Val showed me your digital paintings. You’re a talented woman.”

I looked up. “Really?”

“I’m especially curious about the painting with the doll. Was it based on something she told you?”

“No, Si—um, no. More of a guess on my part. She doesn’t talk about herself at all.”

“And how did she respond?”

I shuddered, recalling the atomic fury it had caused.

“I thought so,” he said.

“I—I mean,
this girl
was a bit shocked by her reaction.”

He noticed my stumble over the pronoun but made no comment.

“At any rate, a girl with your abilities simply must consider a showing. I’ll be happy to make a few inquiries, if you could produce another three or four pieces.”

This was completely unexpected. “It’d be an honor…I mean, assuming Val lets me use the ones you’ve seen.”

“That’s three times now you’ve used first person,” he said gently. “Val is a stickler for rules, and I’m guessing this is a new one, hmm?”

I looked down and nodded guiltily. I’d heard a trace of Val in his chastening; maybe he really could whip people.

“Good girl. Now…as for getting permission to use the paintings, leave that to me. Vee is far too vain to pass up that kind of opportunity.”

I sensed my window of opportunity closing. Val was sure to appear at any moment, and put an end to any chance to learn more about her past from this charming, enigmatic man.

“Why did she react so badly to the doll painting?” I asked on sudden impulse, almost in a whisper.

He was preparing to answer just as Val arrived.

“Forgive me. There was a dreadful accident on the 101,” she explained with some annoyance, as we rose in greeting. I was surprised to see Val hug her old mentor with genuine warmth.

She appraised our seating, and turned to the hostess. “I’m afraid this table just won’t do. Have you something more private?”

“No, Madame, all the tables are reserved.”

But of course the restaurant was not even close to full. Val slipped the woman a fifty and said, “Perhaps if you were to check for a cancellation?”

The hostess nodded surreptitiously. “We may have an open table in the other room, Madame. Come this way.”

I no longer needed Val’s cue to heel, and did it naturally. We were taken to a smaller dining room, vacant but for two other parties who dined quietly. Evidently Val found it much more suitable, and we arranged ourselves with Milton and Val facing each other, and me on Val’s left, as before.

The accident, Val reported, had been a three-car pileup at the worst possible place: the three fast lanes at the 101-405 interchange. Emergency vehicles were just arriving as she squeaked past. One of the cars had actually flipped upside down to land resting on the guard rail. “It must have been quite a collision,” she said with bright eyes. “I expect you just missed it on your way here, Koi.” I was glad of that.

My time spent with the menu, earlier in the day, proved useless as Val ordered an array of items for both of us, and our wine. And for our appetizers…how did I know she’d order escargot? I shuddered. Meals with Val were always an adventure.

Once the waiter had gone Val took a moment to study me, and I was forced to lower my gaze, on the pretense of arranging the napkin upon my lap. At length she spoke:

“I trust my doll behaved herself, Milton.”

He assured her of my good conduct.

They spent the next few minutes engaged in the usual pleasantries while I listened, mouse-quiet. Val’s hair was up in a rather tight bun, and she looked elegant, if a bit severe, in smoke-gray slacks and vest over a white blouse.

Again I was struck by their easy friendship as they discussed current events in the Middle East. They both knew quite a bit on the subject, and seemed to share an unspoken set of political assumptions which left me utterly in the dark.

Then the wine arrived, and our appetizers. The snails, six of them to a plate, sat before me in a most revolting display. Earlier I had resigned myself to suffering through them, but now I quailed. Val used the tiny fork to pop one into her mouth and watched me with dark amusement.

“Is there a problem?” she prodded.

“No Ma’am,” I lied.

“They’re quite delicious. Do try one,” was her honeyed command.

I found no refuge in Milton’s kindly gaze. I fished one out of its shell with the tiny fork. Try as I might, I couldn’t force it closer to my lips.

“They grow cold quickly,” Val said.

As the fork rose, so did my bile, and it was all I could do to keep from gagging. It looked horrid, a small curl of unspeakably nasty mental associations, smelling faintly of garlic. It stopped about six inches before my mouth and would not go higher.

The people at the nearest table, about twenty feet away, observed my struggle with scarcely-concealed interest.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” Val said in velvety black tones. “Shall I embarrass you further?”

“No, Ma’am, I—”

“Enough.
Eat.
”

It didn’t taste as bad as it looked, but gah, the texture! You might describe it as slimy portobello mushrooms, sautéed in a garlic-butter sauce. But the inescapable fact that I was eating slugs made it difficult to swallow. Somehow I managed.

“I see you’ve forgotten my rule about pronouns,” said Val.

“This girl is sorry,” I said with lowered eyes. My cheeks grew hot.

“Open the top button of your blouse,” she said quietly.

I set down the miniature fork and obeyed with unsteady hands.

“Now the second, for your rebellious behavior.”

There were only a dozen buttons on my blouse. I didn’t like this game.

“Are there any other infractions I should take into account?” she asked of Milton.

My heart froze.

“She did slip once into first-person,” Milton lied convincingly, and I felt a rush of gratitude. Losing only one button was far better than three. As it was, I still displayed a fair amount of skin—but not as much as I might have.

I tried not to think of the television show
Face Your Fear
during those five remaining bites. I was sweating by the last one, but finally the ordeal was over with no more buttons lost.

Surely she wouldn’t go further with it, and risk our ejection from the restaurant. Then again, Val had a fondness for extremity. And Milton seemed wholly unfazed by the whole affair. Perhaps he’d even taught her such things, I couldn’t guess.

The point of the evening was the reunion of these two friends. Unlike the dinner with Millie, I was not expected to wait upon Val tonight, only sit quietly and speak when spoken to. And aside from the peril of the blouse buttons, Val appeared to have laid no traps for me this time. That was worrisome.

They spoke briefly of old friends before diving into a discussion of books I’d never heard of, let alone read. I listened with a growing sense of inferiority and was glad they never asked my opinion.

Presently, however, the conversation turned to the subject of me.

“Has she met Millie?” Milton wondered.

“Yes, a few times,” Val answered. “They can be quite amusing.”

“I should think so,” he laughed. “This one is green, but better behaved. What’s her motivation?”

“She comes from a mixed marriage. Military American father, Japanese mother, each strict in different ways. Koishi learned to associate closeness and intimacy with discipline, but she also has a naturally submissive nature. She certainly took to me readily enough.”

“You gave her a task before taking her on?”

“You know me too well, my friend. Of course.” To me she said, “Tell him how you proved yourself.”

My voice was a bit hoarse as I answered quietly, remembering protocol. “This…this girl jumped out of a plane.”

Milton’s laugh was smooth as fine whiskey.

“I’d like to point out,” Val said, “Koishi jumped a second time of her own volition.”

“Did she now? Impressive.” But Milton looked squarely at his friend with a hint of concern. “Y’all be careful. Most people can’t go where you lead, Vee. Watch that temper of yours.”

“I’m well aware of my faults.” I heard irritation in her voice. “In any event, I have high hopes for this particular doll. She’s yet to refuse a request.”

(But oh, how close I’d come on several occasions.)

“Put your hand over that candle, dear,” said Val, a bit petulantly.

Her command triggered a riot of conflicting impulses within me. Obedience was nearly automatic, owing to the effectiveness of Val’s training. But I was still recovering from last night’s shocks, so when I extended my right hand two inches above the candle’s flame, it was to impress Milton, not Val.

The warmth on my palm quickly turned to pain. It was an effort to keep from snatching my hand back. My eyes fixed on Milton, as if to say
look at me, see how well I receive my abuse.

He reached across and moved the candle to his side of the table, out from under my trembling hand. “This is pointless, Vee; she obviously loves you. And if you must hurt her, spare her hands. She’s an artist after all.”

The test over, I folded my hands on my lap and fought the urge to look at my stinging palm. It hurt, though it had only been there for a few seconds.

But Val was pleased despite Milton’s disapproval, and her petulance gave way to pride. After inspecting my hand and finding no sign of injury, she began to dote on me like a mother. I still hadn’t forgiven her for last night, yet I found myself relenting, against my will.

On his next visit, our waiter feigned indifference to my partially-opened blouse. But I grinned when I caught him sneaking peeks. That, the wine, and Val’s new maternal mood emboldened me. I made a game of it, sitting straighter and thrusting out my chest when I pouted and asked for more ice water. The poor fellow was forced to stand beside me, with a clear downward view. His hand shook as he poured, and an electric sense of power coursed through me.

This game did not escape my Keeper’s notice, of course.

“Shameless whore,” Val scolded when he was gone. “That little display will cost you another button.” But she was smiling, and I knew I’d pleased her.

By now my state of undress was beyond anything that could be called tasteful. When the couple at the nearest table paid their bill and stood to leave, they shot me disapproving glances. Later I spied the hostess in a hushed discussion with the waiter at the far end of the room, as if arguing over how to handle the situation. But they seemed intimidated by Val’s powerful indifference, and nothing came of it.

At length Milton raised the question of my having an art showing.

“Of course,” Val said. “I’m happy to promote her talents.”

“There’s an art exhibit in Houston, in June. I know the director, and I can probably get her work admitted, if she has another three or four pieces by the middle of May.”

When Val asked, I assured her this was a realistic deadline.

“Very well, then. But I should offer you something in return, Milton. Would you like to borrow her for a weekend? You can do anything you like with her.”

I gasped. Not at the boldness of her offer, but the thought of being loaned as casually as a book. It was frightening. And deeply, shockingly arousing.

“Come to think of it, I do have a use for her. Can you spare her in two weeks? That will be the twenty-second and twenty-third.”

“She’s yours.”

And that was that. I would just have to postpone the dental appointment I had scheduled for that weekend.

“We can discuss particulars later,” Milton said. “We wouldn’t want to spoil her surprises, don’t you agree? I promise to return her unmarked.”

The vast unknowns of this situation knotted my stomach. I didn’t even know what state he lived in.

We ate in silence for a few moments.

“Are you still domming that girl, Carly?” Val wanted to know.

Milton nodded. “Yes, though less often now. I’ve only seen her a handful of times this year.”

“I don’t know why you waste your time with her.”

“You were a bit hasty in passing judgment on that one, Vee. You shouldn’t have let her go.”

“I don’t have time to coddle dolls, Milton. Carly was a lazy, self-absorbed brat.”

“She required a different approach. A bit of patience. Perhaps if you listened to more Baroque and less Industrial…” Milton chided, gently.

But Val didn’t take the bait, and only gave a
hmph
.

“Promise you’ll take good care of this one,” he urged. “I don’t want to hear you’ve left her sobbing in a bathroom like that poor girl Ava. Koishi is a rare find.”

“So long as she behaves, I’ll keep her.”

§

The final surprise of the evening came after Val paid for the meal. The staff’s sour looks left no doubt as to their eagerness to see us gone, as several departing guests had evidently registered quiet complaints about my immodesty. I noted, however, that Val added a jaw-dropping tip to the bill, effectively silencing their objections. Still, she was not above a final parting shot as we stopped just inside the front door, on our way out.

“Good heavens,” Val exclaimed with feigned exasperation. “One might think you people had never seen a woman’s breasts before.”

And with that, she pulled open my half-unbuttoned blouse, giving the entire establishment a good view. I know I blushed deeply as hot blood sang in my ears.

“Vee, you’re about as subtle as a tactical nuke,” Milton laughed. “Let’s go before you flatten the place.”