Heller (35 page)

“Sounds fun,
but you don’t wish for them to visit the tourist attractions while
you conduct your business? I understand they have never been to
this city before? There are some wonderful attractions, including
the zoo, the harbour, galleries, museums, and of course the
fantastic shopping. I would be very pleased to escort them around
safely.”

The wives
collectively raised hopeful faces to their husband at my question.
He crushed their hopes without even acknowledging them.

“Certainly
not. They will maintain the Lord’s work during our stay, not serve
the false god, Mammon.” Five sets of eyes lowered, disappointed,
but not surprised. They were used to the hard bastard after all. He
continued. “I want your presence with my wives at all times. I’m
not anticipating any trouble, even though I’ve suffered harassment
in the past. I don’t want to appear aggressive or alarmed. It would
be my preference for you to blend in with my wives.” His eyes
scanned my body, lingering on my legs and lips with scathing
distaste. “More than you currently do.”

“Would you
like me to dress more casually? In jeans?” I offered.

“No, you will
still look too different to them. I want you to dress as my wives
do. Then you won’t seem so noticeable.”
No way on earth
, was
my first reaction. I looked over at the wives again. They were so
old-fashioned, drab and submissive. “Mr Heller said I could have
the arrangements that best suited my needs,” he reminded me, with a
hint of something disagreeable and domineering in his eyes.

Oh, did he
just? Well, Heller wasn’t the boss of me!
I thought angrily,
and was about to open my mouth to argue. Oh, hang on. He
was
the boss of me. Damn. I agreed with little eagerness. The Pastor
furnished me with a look that I couldn’t read, but it set my
hackles rising.

“Ladies,
please escort Miss Chalmers next door and help her change.” They
made moves to quietly leave his room, when he called out. “Sarah.
Stay behind please. I feel as though you didn’t quite grasp the
metaphorical meaning of my sermon this morning. I would like to
instruct you further on the matter.”

Sarah was the
youngest wife. “Yes, Husband,” she answered timidly and obediently
returned to the Pastor, while the rest of us streamed next
door.

Their room was
slightly larger, but no less shabby than the Pastor’s, containing
two double beds.

“You all sleep
in here?” I asked in surprise.

“Yes, Miss
Chalmers,” answered Mary? Elizabeth?

“Please call
me Tilly. But there are five of you?”

“One of us
must stay with our husband during the night. The other four of us
remain in this room.”

Eew!
It
was as if he had his own harem.

It seemed as
though I’d be relegated to sleeping on the lounge for the few
nights I was with them. I tested it with caution and could feel
inner springs poking through uncomfortably.
Just great! Just
brilliant! Thanks a bunch, Heller
.

I made them
reintroduce themselves to me again, memorising their faces. Mary
was thirty-seven and was plain with an unattractively large mole on
her left cheek, but lovely gentle brown eyes; Elizabeth was
thirty-two and was plain with watery protuberant blue eyes and
surprisingly sensuous lips; Rebecca was twenty-eight and almost
pretty with large dark brown eyes, lush black eyelashes and a
delicate mouth; Hannah was twenty-three and had beautiful clear
skin and startling blue eyes, but a concerning vacant look in her
eyes; and then there was little Sarah, who was only nineteen, with
glossy black hair and a sweet heart-shaped face. She was the wife
still next door.

“Sarah is our
husband’s favourite at the moment. She is always getting further
instruction from him,” complained Rebecca.

“Yes, it’s not
fair,” agreed Hannah. “I didn’t understand anything he said this
morning, and yet he blesses Sarah with extra attention. Again.” She
sulked.

“Now, now,”
soothed Mary, the mother hen of the clutch. “It’s only natural that
he needs to give Sarah more instruction at the moment. She is the
youngest of us and the newest wife.”

“Our husband
is not only instructing her,” contended Elizabeth. “They’re having
relations. Well, that’s what always happens when
I
have
extra instruction with him.” She looked ashamed at her boldness,
but also a little smug for a fleeting moment.

“Yes,”
explained Mary patiently, ignoring Elizabeth’s pride. “But the
relations are part of the instruction. They illustrate the very
sinful nature of relations, as our husband is always teaching us.
Unfortunately, Sarah must be a very poor learner and needs to be
taught quite frequently about how sinful relations are. I wouldn’t
be feeling jealous of her for that reason.” She glanced around the
other women, gently daring them to contradict her.

“I see what
you mean. When you put it in those words,” conceded Hannah.

I bit my
tongue so hard during this exchange that it started bleeding. They
fussed over me when the blood trickled from between my lips. I ran
to the bathroom, waving them away, insisting it was nothing,
rinsing and spitting in the cracked powder blue vanity bowl. I took
advantage of my bathroom break to close the door, pulling out my
phone. The bathroom was ugly with floral rose pink wallpaper, a
blue bathtub, blue toilet and patterned blue and pink crazed vinyl
that was severely cracked in places showing its age. I sat on the
closed toilet to ring Heller. He answered straight away, still
driving back to the Warehouse.

“Matilda? Is
everything all right? Have you forgotten something?”

“I’m miserable
already,” I complained plaintively.

He wasn’t in a
tolerant mood. “What did I tell you? You’ll do it with a
smile.”

“But Heller,”
I moaned, “He rotates his poor wives to share his bed every night.
I can’t do this. Have some mercy.”

“Matilda!” His
voice was showing patent signs of becoming angry, so I hung up on
him, spilling out everywhere with plenty of angry myself.

In my absence,
Mary had rummaged in her suitcase and handed me a hideous dress
made out of stiff cotton, with a nausea-inducing pattern of roses
entwined in a trellis that was repeated regularly on the cloth. I
snatched it from her ungraciously, not even saying thanks, still
angry with Heller.

“This is my
prettiest dress, Tilly,” she said humbly, her eyes anxious when she
noted my annoyance. “I hope you like it. I made it myself with
material and thread I paid for with my own money. I don’t have a
lot of my own money, so I only wear it on the most special
occasions.”

Well, I’m sure
you can imagine just how low I felt right at that moment.

“It’s very
beautiful, Mary,” I lied. “But shouldn’t you save it? It’s far too
precious to give to me to wear. I’m not good with nice clothes and
I’ve ruined a lot already this year. I’m a bit reckless and I would
just die if something happened to this beautiful dress. Nobody’s
ever given me something so special to wear before and I’m feeling
nervous about taking it. Don’t you have a dress less important for
me to wear?”

She glanced
down, red flushing her cheeks, ashamed for a minute, before facing
me again with a determined smile. “Why no, Tilly. I don’t have much
of a wardrobe, and I’ll need all my ordinary clothes for our public
appearances here. This is the one dress I can spare the most. And
our husband was most insistent that we give you a dress. We don’t
want to displease him. And none of the other wives has a special
dress to spare.”

Damn my big
mouth! I thanked her prettily and determined there and then to send
her some money to replace the dress, because I just knew something
was going to happen to it. No, forget that, thinking of the
mean-mouthed Pastor taking the money for his own purposes. I would
press some cash, some American cash, into her hands as we parted.
It was the only way she could use it for herself. But how on earth
was I going to get my hands on some US dollars though, stuck in
this dump? I’d have to ask someone for a huge favour, and by
someone I certainly did not mean my dreamboat of a boss, the
Ill-Tempered One, but someone sweeter, more amenable. I smiled
suddenly.
Daniel!
I’d call him first thing in the
morning.

I proceeded to
take off my jacket and blouse in front of them, not bothering to go
into the bathroom. I was surrounded by married women after all.
Where was the danger? The women’s eyes goggled with interest at the
sight of my lacy push-up bra.

“That’s real
interesting underwear,” Rebecca noted with almost overbearing
curiosity. She wasn’t alone in the room in that level of
inquisitiveness, all the wives pressing in on me for a closer
look.

“It’s a
push-up bra,” I explained. “It makes your breasts look bigger.
Improves your cleavage.” And I showed them. There was a buzz of
excited chatter among the women.

“But Tilly,
you already have a very nice bosom. Anyone can fathom that just by
casting their eye over you. Why would you want your breasts to look
even bigger?” asked Rebecca again, genuine puzzlement on her face.
“Surely that would only encourage men to look at you in a lustful
manner?”

“Yes, that’s
the whole point.” There were four gasps of disbelief.

“You
want
men to look at you in lust?” asked Elizabeth, aghast at
the thought.

“Some men.
Sometimes.” I pulled off my skirt and again there was great
interest in my lacy panties.

“They’re so
pretty,” said Mary. “Why would you wear something so pretty when it
will only be hidden under your clothes?”

“They make me
feel feminine. I love to wear them. I love to think of a very
special man discovering them for himself one day.” Heller suddenly
flashed into my brain. My brain then crushed the thought
mercilessly. He was my boss, for God’s sake! I wouldn’t be showing
him my lacy knickers anytime soon.

The concept of
wearing clothes for personal pleasure was clearly unknown to them
and a disbelieving chatter rippled through them again. I suspected
that I would be the topic of many a conversation for a good while
after this visit was over. I slipped the horrible dress over my
head, and Mary did up the back zip for me. I went to the long
cracked mirror tiles glued to the wall and looked at my reflection.
Yuck! It hung like a circus tent on me, except that it was too
short, my wrists and ankles poking out, as I was much taller than
any of the wives. I took hold of the cloth of the dress and pulled
it back behind me, making the dress tighter against my body,
emphasising my curves.

“That looks
better. You should make these dresses tighter. You all have lovely
figures and should show them off a bit more.”

“Goodness,
Tilly! Our husband wouldn’t allow that,” Mary insisted, but she
stood in front of the mirror and pulled the material of her dress
tightly against her body as well, giggling ashamedly at the result.
They all took turns to do the same, all with the same gales of
guilty giggles.

I sat on a
chair while Elizabeth plaited my hair for me. It wasn’t anywhere
near as long as the other women’s, but she was able to give me a
fairly neat plait. I tied the brown headscarf over my hair and
contemplated myself in the mirror. I looked a sight and smiled at
my reflection. If only Heller could see me now!

I went into
the bathroom to remove my heavily applied makeup. It was a bit
crowded in the bathroom with the five of us, but I didn’t have the
heart to ask the other four women to leave. I was the most
interesting thing that had happened to them for years.

“Our husband
doesn’t allow makeup,” warned Hannah, as she watched me wipe away
my mascara.

“Yes, but I’m
not one of his wives, am I? So I don’t have to do what he says.”
That concept was revolutionary to them and they discussed it
heatedly for a while as I continued to clean my face, before
deciding that I was correct. I didn’t have to do what he said.

“Do you do
what Mr Heller says?” enquired Elizabeth.

“Sometimes. If
I’m in the mood. Depends what he wants.”

“Are you
having relations with Mr Heller?” asked Rebecca breathlessly. “He’s
very . . .” Her vocabulary failed her at that point. The other
wives nodded enthusiastically, agreeing with her unspoken but
unmistakable judgement on Heller’s incredible very-ness.

“No! He’s my
boss. It’s not a good idea to have, um, relations with your boss. I
don’t have a boyfriend at the moment, but I hope to have one again
soon, and I can tell you ladies that I plan to have relations with
him as often as possible.”

“You want to
have relations?” Rebecca queried.

“Oh God, yes!
I’m desperate for them.” They were shocked by my blasphemy.
“Sorry,” I apologised.

Mary was
puzzled. “You enjoy relations?”

“You better
believe it, sweetheart! I can’t wait to have them again. I’m going
a bit crazy without them, to be honest. It’s been such a long
time.”

“But our
husband teaches us that righteous women never enjoy relations. They
are a burden for women to suffer for their sinfulness so that they
may please their husbands and bear their children.”

“All I can say
is if you’re not enjoying relations, then your husband isn’t doing
it right,” I declared firmly. “When it’s done properly, relations
are equally satisfying and pleasurable to both men
and
women.”

They urgently
wanted to discuss this radical idea further, but Sarah arrived back
in the room then, and the conversation turned to more general
matters. Sarah had not enjoyed pleasurable relations with her
husband and appeared downcast. The others kindly pressed her on her
troubles.