The Totems of Abydos (28 page)

“I shall not listen to this sort of thing,” Brenner informed her.

“It disturbs you?” she asked.

“Yes!” he said.

“But you will still stay the night?” she asked, anxiously.

“Yes,” he said.

“You would prefer the blonde?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

“You do find me attractive?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Even though you suspect it may be immoral to do so?”

“Yes,” he said, angrily.

“It is not immoral to do so,” she said.

Brenner shrugged. He supposed that was true.

“It is even natural to do so,” she said, “I would think, assuming that I am attractive, and that you are sensitive to such things.”

“One supposes so,” said Brenner. It was all he could do to refrain from leaping up, seizing her, crushing her to him, bruising her lips, and flinging her to the bed beneath him, to ravish her.

“A woman prefers to relate to a male who is more intelligent than she,” she said. “This does not mean we think that we are stupid, or anything. It is rather merely that we prefer, no matter how intelligent we are, for the male to be even more intelligent. That is a difficulty faced by some highly intelligent women, to find a male to whom it is appropriate, and natural, for them to subject themselves.”

“I see,” said Brenner.

“To be sure,” she said, “the crucial matter is not really intelligence, particularly in a narrow sense, but the wholeness of the relationship, and her needs. In the human species, males, if not crippled, are dominant. There are in our species, as in all others, dominance/submission ratios, and, in ours, as in several others, a significant sexual and psychological dimorphism between the sexes. In our species, as in many others, the female cannot be fulfilled without, in one way or another, in effect, being in the power of the male. To be sure, there can be various pathological substitutes for the male, such as a myth, another woman, a movement, a religion, the state, and so on, but these are always ultimately inadequate. Accordingly the crux is the domination which she requires. And thus, for example, even slaves who doubtless upon some occasions are far more intelligent than their masters, squirm beggingly, pleadingly, helplessly, rapturously, in their arms, owned in a sense far deeper than those to which experts in property law are accustomed. To be sure, the ideal is that she shall be, or know, or sense herself to be, less intelligent, at least in a full, generalized sense of intelligence, than he within whose sphere of domination she finds herself.”

“I see,” said Brenner.

“And I,” she said, “not only in the narrower senses of intelligence, but also, more importantly, in this larger sense of intelligence, accept you as my master.”

Brenner did not respond to this. Although he certainly did not regard her as stupid, but, rather, indeed, as of extremely high intelligence, he did not, in virtue of their interactions, and his sensing of them, feel inferior to her. He was intellectually, if not ideologically, comfortable with her. He regarded himself, indeed, in some subtle sense, as her master. Certainly it was clear that she belonged at the feet of someone, and perhaps someone such as himself.

“But it is not my intention to disturb you,” she said. “Rather let me reiterate my gratitude that you will remain the night, and for the liqueur, which is much more appreciated than I suspect you can understand.” She smiled at him. “I can still taste it,” she said.

Brenner wondered if he kissed her, if he, too, might taste the liqueur, its syrupy, ruby sweetness lingering on the softness of her lips.

“Is there anything that I might now do for you,” she asked, “any way in which I might serve you?”

“You are prepared to serve me?” asked Brenner.

“Of course,” she said. “I am a female.”

Brenner regarded her, standing there, by the door.

“May I serve you?” she asked.

“No!” said Brenner. “No!”

“Then, if I may,” she said, “and you have no further need of me, I think I shall retire for the night.”

“It is early,” said Brenner.

“But if you have no further need of me?”

“Of course,” said Brenner. “You may retire.”

“Thank you,” she said, approaching him.

“What are you doing?” he cried. He stepped back, quickly, frightened.

She had come to kneel before him, and had put her head down , to his feet. She looked up at him. “It is customary,” she said, “that we exhibit deference to the clients of our contract holder, before retiring.”

“What was it your intention to do?” he asked.

“To press my lips to your feet, to kiss them, thus, in one of many ways, exhibiting deference,” she said.

“Do not do so!” he said.

“Yes, sir,” she said. She stood up, near the bed.

“What are you doing!” he cried.

She looked at him, puzzled. “I am preparing to retire,” she said. “I am removing my silk, that it not be soiled.”

Brenner sat down in the chair. He looked away. He heard a rustle of silk.

“May I have the use of a sheet?” she asked.

“Certainly,” he said.

He heard a sheet drawn from the bed. In a moment then, he understood that she was lying beside his chair, to the right, between the chair and the bed. She would be to the left of the bed, as one would face its foot.

He heard the movement of the sheet, a tiny noise, and the sound of her body, lying to his right, almost within reach.

“Are you naked?” he asked, not looking.

“I have the sheet,” she said. “It covers me.”

“Aside from that?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said.

He still did not dare to look at her. He found the thought of her lying there, naked, within the sheet, on the dark, hard, polished boards of the floor, disturbing.

“You do not care to look at me?” she said.

Brenner did not answer.

“Have I been displeasing?” she asked.

Brenner did not answer.

“There are instruments in the room which may be used in my subjugation,” she said.

Brenner was silent.

“What is it you fear?” she asked.

“Nothing!” said Brenner.

“Do you fear you will be tempted to call me to your side in the night?” she asked.

“No,” said Brenner. “No!”

“I would have to obey you, you know,” she said.

“Do not even speak so,” he said.

“Do you fear rather that it would be I, that it would be I who might approach you in the night,” she asked, “piteous, begging, perhaps even daring to touch you?”

“You?” said Brenner.

“Yes,” she said, “I.”

“That would be absurd,” he said.

“It is not absurd,” she whispered.

Brenner clenched his fists.

“You may prevent that,” she said, “by gagging and chaining me, and putting me where I cannot reach you. I will then be unable not only to reach you but even to beg for the assuagement of my needs.”

“Sexual needs?” inquired Brenner.

“Of course,” she said. “And in the profound and holistic sense in which a woman has such needs.”

“Such needs do not exist,” said Brenner.

“Is that why the home world must go to such lengths to deny them, to thwart, and suppress them?” she asked.

“You may have the bed, of course,” said Brenner.

“It is I who am under contract,” she said, “not you.”

“I shall sleep on the floor,” said Brenner.

“The bed is for the client,” she said, “and for me, only upon his sufferance.”

“I can order you to its surface,” he said.

She was silent. Brenner gathered that he could, indeed, do so.

“Please get into the bed,” said Brenner.

“Yes, sir,” she said. He heard the sound of the bed, receiving her slight weight.

“Please look upon me,” she said.

Brenner turned about. She was small on the large bed, kneeling on its surface, the sheet clutched about her.

“The bed is large,” she said. “There is much room. We can both lie upon it. We need not touch. You can bind and gag me, if you wish.”

“It is early,” said Brenner, uneasily.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I will sit here, and think,” said Brenner.

“May I have permission to leave the bed?” she asked.

“Of course,” said Brenner.

“May I beg to sleep upon the floor?” she asked.

“I suppose, if you wish it,” he said.

She moved gracefully, with a silken movement from the bed, and went to the wardrobe. Brenner refused to watch her at the wardrobe. He heard a tiny noise, as of a glass stopper removed from a bottle. A sudden fragrance, subtle but insinuative, indefinable, exciting, permeated the room. He heard the stopper replaced in the bottle, and the bottle returned to a shelf. She, and this scent, approached, and then she, half sitting, half lying, was again at the side of the bed, to Brenner’s right.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“What have you done?” he asked.

“I have freshened my perfume,” she said. “We often do that, when we have a guest.”

“It is a different perfume,” he said.

“Yes,” she said.

“It seems you desire to appeal to many senses,” he said.

“Of course,” she laughed. “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Even though I am a free woman?” she asked.

“I do not understand,” he said.

“It is a perfume of slaves,” she said. Then she snuggled down on the boards.

Brenner was alarmed. The perfume was heady, and the understanding that it was a slave perfume made him almost scream with need.

“You torture me,” he said.

“I am doing nothing,” she said. “I am just lying here. You may beat me, if you wish.”

“A cuffing might do you good,” he said, angrily.

“Quite possibly,” she said.

“I think you would make an excellent slave,” he said.

“If I were a slave, I would hope so,” she said, “as I would wish to live.”

Brenner growled, angrily.

“I may one day be a slave,” she said. “It is my understanding that that is a common fate for women under contract.”

“Perhaps,” said Brenner.

“If I were a slave,” she asked, “would you like to own me?”

“No!” said Brenner, angrily.

“You are apparently not ready to retire,” she said.

“No!” said Brenner. How absurd seemed the thought of trying to rest, let alone getting any sleep, lying there in the darkness, with that perfume in the air, understanding its meaning, knowing the proximity, and the nature and femininity, of the woman who wore it.

“I gather,” she said, “that with one such as you I may do much what I please.”

“For the moment,” said Brenner, carefully.

“I am not accustomed to being treated with such lenience,” she said.

“If you are going to be up,” he said, “get dressed!”

Quickly, clutching the sheet about her, she rose up and went to the wardrobe again. He did not, of course, watch her, as he was a gentleman, so to speak.

“I am dressed,” she announced.

Brenner regarded her, stunned.

“Cover yourself!” he said.

Laughing, she put the sheet again about her. Beneath it now she wore not the yellow silk, but another, a clinging, diaphanous scarlet silk. Her shoulders and belly were bared, and her left thigh. Her breasts were beautiful, sweet and full, in a soft halter of crossed silken bands. The drape of silk, open on the left, was low on her belly. It swirled about her ankles.

She sat on the floor, her knees drawn up, her back against the side of the bed, near him, the sheet wrapped demurely about her. She even tucked it more closely, more modestly, about her. This irritated him. She looked up, smiling. He could see her bared feet, and ankles, beneath the sheet. On her left ankle was the chain, and disk. He would have liked to have looked more closely at that. He did not do so, of course. He turned his eyes away.

“It is warm in here,” she said.

That was true. It probably had to do with comfort zones somewhat other than those which those of Brenner’s species might regard as optimum.

“With one such as you, it is true, is it not,” she asked, “that I may do much what I please?”

“Of course,” said Brenner.

“May I not then remove the sheet?” she asked.

“If you wish,” said Brenner, angrily.

“Surely it does not matter,” she said, “as you do not look upon me.”

Brenner kept his eyes away, angrily.

“And as you are of the home world,” she said, “it cannot matter anyway. One such as you, a true person, of the home world, merely accidentally male, anatomically, would scarcely notice such a thing. It would be meaningless to him.