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I guess I expected a fancy place but I was still amazed. I looked out the limousine windows at trees and more trees--a veritable forest on both sides of the road. We had just passed through iron gates and I was sure we were on the grounds.

The woman was wealthy--that was for certain. She had flown me all the way from NYC in her own private jet. This was all new to me--I'd never experienced anything like it--and all because she liked one of my paintings. I looked ahead out the limousine and at last saw the house. Or castle, or mansion, or chateau, or whatever you call it. It was beyond anything I'd seen before.

The limousine stopped at the front door. From there I couldn't actually tell how large the mansion was--I could see some of it off to the right but couldn't see how far back it went. The chauffeur retrieved my bag, walked up to the front door and opened it for me.

The front hall was huge--certainly larger than my apartment or even the house I grew up in. A woman in a maid's outfit approached and took my bag from the chauffeur and put it on the floor to the side. "Hallo" she said and I had the impression that she didn't actually speak English. She was pretty. The chauffeur left and I stood there with the woman. She just stood there, not looking me in the eye, but looking unconcerned. Or maybe she looked a little nervous--I couldn't quite decide.

Double doors to the right opened and I turned to see another woman enter.

She entered and walked up. As she approached, she said "Welcome; Come with me." Her English was perfect and without accent but something still told me she was French. She glanced at the maid who picked up my bag and walked out of the room. She turned and waited for me to follow, then led me back through the double doors she had arrived in.

She was wearing a suit--an incredible suit; I knew it was absolutely the best. She was tall and had black hair which hung down to the middle of her back and had a slightly severe expression though she was very beautiful. I judged her to be a little older, perhaps thirty five. We walked through another large room and then another. The rooms were lavishly furnished. More and more rooms and no sign of when they would stop. It vaguely reminded me of walking through an up-scale furniture store or perhaps a museum. We finally emerged into a long corridor. Its walls were plain white and it was large: wide, and very long, and the ceiling was high and had skylights. I'd been glancing at the art work as we passed through the rooms and noticed a huge abstract on the right wall of the corridor up ahead. When we passed it I looked up at it and almost gasped--I'd have sworn that piece was in the hands of a museum. We just walked on, our footsteps echoing up and down the corridor. The woman didn't say anything at all but just kept walking and I followed. We finally turned and walked into a room only to pass through it to another room and another. I couldn't believe how big this mansion was--it was beyond comprehension to me. We had passed a few maids at work along the way but hadn't seen anyone else. These rooms were different from the ones we'd passed through earlier--the first rooms had had a traditional feel about them and these mostly had lower ceilings, walls painted white and more modern furniture--a more stark feeling.

Finally we stopped in a room where a woman was seated on a couch. The room was large but the furniture, a couple of chairs and a couch, were gathered in a little circle in the middle around a little coffee table. One wall was completely glass, revealing a very green garden in a little courtyard. The woman looked up at me and smiled. She had light brown wavy hair that fell to her shoulders and wore a white blouse and dark skirt.

"Good afternoon, please sit down," she offered and waited until I was seated. I sat in one of the two chairs and the woman who brought me sat in the other. "I am Beatrice Moreau and I will guess that Juliette did not introduce herself: she has been my secretary forever. I am so glad to meet you at last." She was absolutely beautiful and I was so glad to see her--

something about the other woman, Juliette, had made me nervous.

Beatrice Moreau looked to be about my age, perhaps even a little younger.

Her voice--she definitely had an accent though her English was perfectly clear. Juliette had picked up a silver teapot and was pouring something, tea I suppose, into two cups. I noticed that Beatrice Moreau already had a cup in her hand. "I hope you had a pleasant trip," she offered. Juliette added cream and sugar to the two cups. I never have cream or sugar in tea, but I didn't mention that.

"Fine, thank you."

"I have been so excited waiting for you, to meet the artist," Beatrice went on. Juliette placed the cup in front of me and took the other one for herself. "As you must know, I adore your painting."

"Thank you," I said, feeling tongue-tied and not very witty. Juliette was holding her cup and saucer in her hand and I realized I was the only one who wasn't. I felt clumsy and wondered if I could manage to pick mine up without spilling it. I did my best.

"I feel that I have found a secret that the world has yet to discover."

Beatrice's slight French accent mesmerized me, probably preventing me from blushing too much at the praise she was giving me. "You must tell me who bought your earlier works. I will find a way to get them. Forgive me, but are you tired from the journey?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Good, but you let me know when you are feeling weary and Juliette will show you to the room. And I have to know: have you finished another painting?" She was positively glowing. It was all like a dream and I briefly recalled my normal life in my studio. Juliette just sat there, sipping her tea. I felt I should be too and lifted the cup to my lips. As sweet and milky as it was, it didn't really remind me of tea, but didn't bother me as much as I thought it might. "I assure you that I will pay you well for it," she continued. "Have you visited France before?"

"No Ma'am."

She laughed in response to my answer, "Please call me Beatrice," she said, still laughing. "I apologize; this must all be very strange to you."

"Yes, it is...uh..."

"...Beatrice. Go ahead and say it, to please me." She smiled again. She was so beautiful when she smiled.

"...Beatrice." She smiled again and I felt a little like a circus animal doing tricks for a reward. *Say 'Beatrice' for the audience*.

"You will feel comfortable with me before you leave; I can assure you of that," she went on. Juliette had put down her cup and saucer. So had Beatrice Moreau, I noticed and I put mine down too. While she was speaking Juliette moved the cups onto the silver tray and picked up the tray and carried it away. She left it on a small table that in the corner next to the window and returned to her seat. "It has been a long time since I invited an artist here, and I plan to enjoy it. Are you sure that you are not fatigued?"


"Very well, but I will send you to the room before too much longer. But before then perhaps you can tell me about the piece that you are now working on."

I usually don't talk about what I am working on and I thought for a moment about whether I should break the rule for Beatrice Moreau. I was inclined to talk, but it struck me that if I did, I'd be changing myself to encourage her to buy my paintings. That made me feel wary, but my thinking was interrupted by the sight of a woman entering through the door by the table, picking up the tea tray and leaving again, closing the door behind her.

Quiet as the woman had been, I was caught off guard. I'd stared at her. It was her clothing: she was wearing a plain long dress--the material was sheer, like a nightgown's. And when she'd been in front of the window, it was obvious from her silhouette that she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath! I must have sat there for a second with my mouth open, wondering if I were remembering correctly. "You seem intrigued by the girl," said Beatrice. I suddenly felt so embarrassed--but it was so weird and had caught me by surprise. What did Beatrice think of me? I sat there tongue-tied. "You can have her," she added.

"W... What?" I stammered.

"I will have her sent to your room. She is a gift." I was shocked. Of all the surprises of the day, this one left me feeling the most out-of-it. What did she mean?

"I... I'm not lesbian."

"Then do not make love to her," she said and giggled, "But I will wager that before three months are completed that you will try it with her just to see what she can do."

"Months?" I said weakly, wondering what she meant.

"You will have her with you every day, always ready and willing, and the temptation will simply overwhelm you. But I will guess that you will yield to temptation tonight!"

"Have her? In New York?"

"Yes, she is yours! Do you not like her? I have others..."

"What do you mean *mine*?"

"Your slave, to do what you tell her, naturally."

"Slave? You must be joking."

"Joking!" She laughed some more. "Yes, I like to laugh, but she is your slave. Did you not always wish to have a housemaid? Or to have a roommate who gives you all the money she earns every week?" Juliette just sat there and didn't say anything.

"How can she be my slave?"

"Simple. You tell her what to do and she obeys."

"I... she's *your* slave?"

"I gave her to *you*."

"You have slaves?"

"Many. Would you like to see more? Would you like another? ..."

"But how can you *do* that? Do you lock them up?" I didn't know what I should be doing. This conversation was ridiculous in a way and a part of me told me I should not be there. Where could I go?

"Oh no, only when they are naughty. They like to obey."

"They do?"

"Yes, is that not so, Juliette?" Juliette gave a little half smile and nodded her head ever so slightly.

"Where... do you find them?"


"People who *want* to be slaves?"

"Oh, they do not *want* to be until I train them. That is a little unpleasant at first, but then it is all right."

"Train them?"

"Oh yes. I have Bridgette who is very good with the new slaves.

Tomorrow I will show you how she does. Is the girl OK? Or would you like to see some other slaves to choose from?"

"I don't want a slave."

"Of course you do. Juliette, have Bridgette bring some girls here to show our guest. You may have your choice of all the slaves. Or any of the girls that you see working here. Did you see one that you like?" Her smile had a wickedness that I hadn't noticed before.

"Listen, I can't do that. Uh, are the maids slaves?" I couldn't help myself--I wondered what it would be like to own a slave.

"No, but they will be. Anyone who works for me will eventually be trained. If you choose one, we can begin their training tomorrow."

Juliette made a noise--the first thing I'd heard from her since she asked me to follow her at the front door. Then she leaned over and talked to Beatrice in a low voice, in French. She kept talking for a while but I watched Beatrice and she didn't show by the slightest gesture that anyone was talking to her--she just continued looking at me in her friendly way.

Juliette started talking louder and more excitedly, then suddenly stopped and the whole room was completely silent. Beatrice still hadn't taken any visible notice of her. Suddenly Juliette stood up and kicked off her shoes and darted out of the room. It all was so weird, I felt my sanity was leaving me. Beatrice calmly picked up a telephone and said a couple of words in French. Then she put down he receiver and faced me.

"I did not intend to train Juliette for a few more years, but now I have no choice. Would you like Juliette?"

"Juliette?" I answered weakly. This was too strange.

"She will be ready in about two weeks--no more than three. Do not worry, the unpleasantness is over after the first day--then she will be willing even if not yet enthusiastic. You can use Juliette tomorrow night if you like. You can watch the beginning of the training tomorrow. Or if you wish to be wicked, I can have her brought to you for tonight, *before* the training begins." Her smile looked so sly. This beautiful woman in front of me: talking about slave training!

"No... no thank you." I tried to think of those slaves: trained until they like to obey? What would I do alone in a bedroom with a woman who wanted to obey me?

"OK, but tomorrow you will tell me about the girl. And choose a second one too." I felt almost trapped. It was the most ridiculous position to be in, having a slave pushed on me. It was all so strange: this wealthy woman and these women who loved to obey her. Slaves. Juliette being trained.

"But we digress... we were talking about your art."

"Uh, yes."

"Were you going to tell me about your new painting? You are shy, are you not? Listen, I have a good idea: I have an art studio that is not used: why do you not come here and work just for me? I will pay you a salary that you will like."

I froze, my mind and my heart racing. This was *Beatrice Moreau* I was dealing with. I chose my words carefully: "I'm very flattered, but... I'm afraid I *need* the freedom to choose my own projects."

"I will let you choose them. So it is settled."

I opened my mouth to protest, but ended up staring at her knowing, inviting smile. She was so beautiful. That's when I should have spoken up.

Right then. But I couldn't manage to say a word.

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