Chapter 2

They drive off, into the night. She lies back on the smooth leather seat and, turning her head, looks at Him from behind her green eyes.

"Are you still willing?" He asks her.

"Do you have to ask?" She answers." Have I ever denied you anything?"

He does not respond. He concentrates on the road, but his engorged member belies his apparent sang-froid.

She smiles. Her hand caresses His arm. She can feel His muscles under the fabric of His dark blue blazer. She is happy; she has had three years of happiness with Him. That is enough for a lifetime. It will end today, she knows. She also knows it will not be fast, and it will not be pleasant, for her. She planned it this way.

She remembers well. Three years ago, she sat on the stage, while another girl, another goddess, also dressed in white, performed her final act for Him. That one was taller than her, with brown hair and brown eyes, larger breasts, curvier, fuller hips. She had also prepared herself, and prepared her act for Him. Like her, she had scripted her offering. Like her, she met with the woman who would succeed her. A gorgeous brunette, and arranged the show. Her final offering to His pleasure.

They arrive at the mansion. On His arm, they enter the stage. A few couples, no more than five or six, sit around the stage. The stage is brightly lit. A large screen TV hangs over the stage.

They stand in the center of the stage. She kisses His lips, one last time. He hugs her closely. Then they part. He sits at on a large overstuffed leather chair, on the first row. She stands, proudly, in the center of the stage. The new girl, the brunette, approaches Him and takes his blazer. He sits and the brunette lights his cigar and pours him a large scotch, Glenlivet, his favorite. The brunette then enters the stage too. She is modestly dressed in a brown skirt and cream colored blouse; there must be no doubt about who is the prima ballerina in tonight's tragedy. They both hug and kiss, to a great ovation from the crowd. Sisters for a night.

Moody music pours from loudspeakers; the music is dark, Nox Arcana, or similar.

She strips off her white dress and hands it to the brunette, who lays it on the side.

Clad only in her bra, thong, garter belt, stockings and sandals, she dances to the music. She approaches the center of the stage. In its center, a white sheet covers a large object. On a table, a three tailed whip. She picks up the whip and approaches Him. She shows Him the whip. He touches it, examines it, examines the tails, and notes the shards of glass and metal embedded in the braided leather. He nods His head in admiration and approval.

She dances away from him, and tours the spectators, showing them the whip. Her body is now covered by a light sheen of sweat, her nipples, erect strain against the flimsy fabric of her brassiere.

She dances back to the center of the stage, and in one fluid motion rips away the white sheet revealing, in the center of the stage, a marble statue.

Priapus, stands, nude, with his arms held high, in front of him. From each hand hangs a chain, with a cuff on it. From his groin, the erect god sports a huge penis, unlike any ever sculpted in Rome. It is not of marble but of steel. It is huge, 14 inches long, its sharp tip is two inches wide, but quickly flares to four in diameter. Its surface is covered with sharp steel barbs. The audience gasps in unison, and then breaks out in thunderous applause. They all stand as they cheer her:

"Brava!" They repeat.

She has eyes only for him. He stands also. His face is drawn; he did not expect this. He smiles at her, and claps his hand in applause.

A large man now enters the stage. He is clad only in a red loincloth. He is a giant, seven feet tall, his chest, massive, like an ox; barefoot he dances into the stage, spinning his ebon frame, in sync with the music, which now has changed to African or perhaps Haitian drums. The beat is hypnotic, and the audience sits again, silent.