The car hummed comfortably. It did not seem to touch the road. The landscape flashed by. So did age old trees and even older houses. It drove through crumbling villages and past endless knee-high walls that were meant to protect them from a dive into the lake.

The twilight had a golden touch. The sun had already sunk behind the mountains, but the sky still held on to the light. It painted a myriad of feathery clouds in a shade of apricot.

Angique sat in the corner of the tan leather seat. She had her legs pulled under her. She wore a black silk dress that clung to her body. It seemed simple. The top was straight with narrow lace straps. Her left leg showed almost to the pale top of her thigh. There the dress fell open because of a deep slit. She wore no stockings and had kicked off her backslung heels. They lay on the floor.

Kristie sat next to her. She held knees together. Her back was very straight. Her fingers played with the tiny purse in her lap. She wore a dress of silk similar to Angique's. But hers was a very light blue and it seemed closed at the throat. When she moved one would get a look into a deep slit. It exposed part of her cleavage, way down her bra-less tits. The hem of the dress did not begin to cover half of her thighs. It failed to meet the lace top of her white sheer stockings. She wore patent leather heels in the colour of her dress. And she was extremely nervous.

"Don't be nervous, sweetheart", Angique purred. She laid a hand on her arm. "They will all be very kind, truly."

"I am not used to this, Mistress", Kristie said with a very timid voice. "I don't know a thing about etiquette or how to dine the European way. I'll get drunk surely and that will make me do silly things. I have never worn a dress like this or even shoes like these." She let out a silent sob. She almost tore the delicate purse in two. "I am so afraid I will let you down!", she squealed and buried her blonde head in Angique's dress. She sobbed her heart out.

Angique rolled her eyes. She patted the golden curls.

The girl did not stop sobbing. She even started to cry. Angique grabbed her shoulders. She janked her up until the streaked, miserable face was in front of hers. Then she screamed, at the top of her lungs: "STOP THIS, YOU FOOL!!"

Kristie stopped her wailing at once. Her body shook with frustrated sobs. Her eyes opened wide. Her lower lip trembled.

"Cut this out, you sorry little idiot. Would I ever ask anything of you that you could not deliver? Is this how you regard me? How you thank me for taking you away from your miserable life? I hate this, this way you degrade yourself. Stop it! Stop distrusting me, you ungrateful bitch. Look at yourself. Look at your smeared face. Look at the running mascara, the snot dripping from your nose. STOP IT NOW!!"

To underline her words she shook the girl severely. She made her free tits bounce inside the dress. The blonde curls danced around her face.

The girl was in shock. Her lips moved. They were glossed over with tears and snot. Little squeaks escaped her panting chest. Her hands fluttered like pale nestlings not knowing how to fly. Then she sniffed. She pulled the back of her hands over her nose and eyes. They left streaks of make up. Her eyes sparkled in a dramatic frame of ruined mascara.

"I... I am so sorry, Mistress", she whispered. Her voice was hoarse. It still choked on the afterquakes of her emotions. "I... I let you down... I am not worthy... I..."

The wet slap rang through the car. It made Kristie's face snap aside.

"WHAT did I tell you, you damn nitwit?" Angique's green eyes blazed. She pushed her face into the girl's. "What did I tell you not a minute ago about diminishing yourself, you dumb little ass? Not worthy, you say? Do you doubt my judgement, you insolent cunt? Do you think I would even waste a second on unworthy fools? Do you suggest I would choose an unworthy girl to become my creature? Do you think you know better? Well??"

Angique had pushed her face forward with every screaming word. She forced Kristie back into her corner. She ended up with her head pressed against the window. Her eyeballs ran amok inside their sockets. They were two panic stricken mice cornered by a bloodthirsty cat. The blush of the slap ran diagonally over her face. She half-heartedly tried to protect it from the fearsome fury.

To her utter dismay she noticed how a gush of urine left her quaking pussy.

A minute of silence passed. It was the kind of silence that makes holes in time. It was void of more than sound alone. Caught in a halo of panic Kristie imagined that she could smell her piss. Then she felt two warm, soft hands cup her face. A slow tongue licked the salt off her skin. It lapped up the sweat of fear, the tears of despair. And the mascara of a long since ruined make up.

That was when Kristie broke down for real. Angique held her tight and allowed her to destroy a priceless dress. The black haired woman shhhh-ed and clucked. She cradled the blonde girl. And she hummed an age old lullaby.

The crying subsided. She knocked at the window pane that separated them from the driver. As it slid down she asked him to U-turn. He should take them back to the Villa to refresh themselves and change.

The restaurant lay below the corniche. It straddled an inlet for boats that had been hewn into the living rock. It went by the un-Italian name of Chez Pierre. The owner was of French origin. The place was the former boathouse of a villa higher up in the hills. It had been enlarged and rebuilt into a modest, but very tasteful restaurant. The entrance was at the top of a few steps. It was set inside a portal overgrown with vines and bougainvillea. To the right was a spectacular terrace. It stretched out, overlooking the lake below.

Pierre himself greeted them as they reached the steps. He was a tall dark man. He had a gallic nose and quick, mischievous eyes. He greeted Angique in rapid French. Then he took her pale hand into his. He grazed a kiss over its backside. Kristie prepared herself for a greeting. She extended her hand. But the man totally ignored her. He lead Angique inside. Kristie hesitated for a second. Then she followed with a mute sigh.

Both women had changed into dresses similar to the ones her emotional breakdown had ruined. Her own was a sky blue silk with a precarious decolleté. It would only hang on to her nipples as long as she kept them excited. That seemed the easiest task of this evening. It would take her the rest of the night to get used to not wearing anything under it at all.

The hem of the dress, like the first one, hardly reached down half her thighs. If she pulled at it enough, it might reach the elastic lace at the top of her white stockings. Which of course was a very unwise thing to do. Her shoes were the same as before. They had embarrassingly high heels and gave hardly any support. They made her wobble at every step.

In front of her Angique walked with an easy sway. The black lustre of her ankle long gown cascaded down the curves of her body. She chatted lightly with the dark man. He led her by the elbow.

Ah, how she admired this woman. Would she ever be able to belong to the world she lives in? This world of grace and elegance? My, how she'd melted to nothing in her embrace. How the emotions had taken away her breath. They had made her cry like a baby.

Even now she felt the relief. God, it took tons off her shoulders. The catharsis had pulled her up like a drowned swimmer from a deep ocean of misery. It left her to shiver on a beach of silvery sand and radiant sunshine.

Kristie shook her head. She took a deep, shaking breath. Then she followed the couple into the restaurant proper. The place was lovely. It had white washed walls and a high wooden ceiling. It was shored by ancient beams. Huge bouquets of flowers stood everywhere.

Most tables were occupied by elegant people. They were gorgeously dressed Italian women and men in immaculate summer suits. Lovely waitresses glided around as if on roller skates. A tall blonde waiter immediately captured her gaze. She felt a hot blush rise from her exposed cleavage. Her skin rubbed utterly naked against the clinging silk.

Pierre took them up a few steps onto a low balcony. A round table was set for two. On bright white damask linen everything seemed to sparkle. The light of tall white candles lit up the china, the silver cutlery, the crystal glasses. The dark man slid back a chair for Angique to sit down on. Then he left, leaving Kristie to stand in flustered uncertainty.

Angique took the menu. It lay beside her plate. She opened it and concentrated on its contents. All the while Kristie stood. Her head was aflame. She looked out over the restaurant below. She was totally bewildered by what might be expected of her.

Should she take the initiative and sit down? Or would that enrage her Mistress? Would she, on the other hand, not be even more enraged if Kristie kept standing? Minutes passed. As they ticked on Kristie got more and more overwhelmed by her dilemma. She bit her lip to keep the damn tears back.

Then Angique looked up. She frowned her eyebrows.

"Sit down, silly girl. Don't keep standing there."

With a sigh Kristie sank down onto the dainty rococo chair. Right then the blonde young god approached. He served them both a flute of pink kir royal. He also carried two small eggs in tiny silver cups. He set one in front of each. "L'amuse gueul, madame. Bon appétit." And he left. He not once let on that he had seen more than one person at the table.

Kristie tried to smile. The skin of her face seemed to have lost its elasticity. She hummed a little hum. She made it seem accidentally.