Sunday

My right foot was definitely too cold. That foot was disturbing the layer of warm satisfaction that enveloped the rest of me. It must have slipped out of the bed covers so I started to reach down to adjust them, while trying not to actually wake up. No. I couldn't — there was a weight on each shoulder, a weight that I mustn't disturb and, now I thought about it, these were not my covers...

It came back to me, and I carefully opened my eyes. The weight on each shoulder was a head: blonde on the right and chestnut on the left, and attached to each head was a warm soft body with arms and legs, and it seemed that most of these were wrapped over me. So, improbable as it seemed, last night was not a dream.

I rested my head back in the slightly musty folds of the old curtains and closed my eyes again. Cautiously, so as not to wake them up, I gently stroked the silken cushion shapes under each hand and luxuriated in the feel of naked skin enveloping me. Memories were shifting in my head. Had I really done that to Penny? And she, she could not have done that with Annie! Then both of them at once! I grinned to myself. Only five days since my birthday, and I would never in my wildest dreams have seen myself here, now, with these two. Then who would have guessed Penelope Jones had such a hot dirty side to her? Even as a virgin, she was a wildcat. Christ knows what she would be like with a little experience under her belt.

Virgins, I mused. Not much of my virginity left. Annie should have been one. Liz had mostly been one. Madeline, of all people, actually was one! I wondered if that was still true. I hoped not. And I wondered how Charlotte had got on in her hunting.

Something stirred. I stretched and looked up. The left hand head had eyes that were open, gazing at me.

"Good morning Master" said Annie, her sweet face grave as it sometimes was.

"Morning, Annie" I whispered, smiling, but for once she did not return the smile. Perturbed, but not quite sure why, I gently shook Penny's shoulders, and was rewarded with a sleepy heart-warming smile from her. Her kiss was even nicer.

Getting up was a pleasant task of unwrapping velvet curtains from smooth naked limbs and helping sleepy girls to find their underwear. My pecker was worn out, and I was still glowing in the happy exhaustion of someone who has been shafted to a standstill, but oh, so much beautiful girl flesh! The tantalising delight of covering up those delightful private places that been so openly at my disposal all night long!

The only little cloud in my sky was Annie's expression. She remained distracted the whole time, until I had to stop her, dress in hand, to ask her what was wrong. She stared at me for a second, and then just threw herself to the floor with a soft cry, while I looked on in astonishment.

Where this had come from, I had no idea. To my irritation she took up the submission posture, with her head bowed so low her forehead was actually touching the floor.

She moaned, "Master, I have been so bad".

"Oh, no, not all this again," I exclaimed. "If you want me to use the crop, just ask, all right? I really don't mind!"

"No, Master, this is terrible. It's not a discipline thing. This is a ... selling me away thing ... and I will never see my Master again." There were tears in her eyes and the catch in her breath was real. This was actually serious.

"Annie" I stroked the side of her face, hidden in her hair. "Just say it. You can trust me to be fair, whatever has happened."

"But, Master, I have betrayed you," whispered Annie, her voice breaking. "I wanted to stay with you so much, and Miss Penelope is so beautiful that I knew you would go for her. What if she turned me away ... and she said... huh ... I just couldn't resist the idea of belonging to both of you, but..." I realised with horror, that she was scarcely holding back her sobs. "So last night... huh ... when she suggested..."

"NO!" interrupted Penny, and I looked over at her in surprise.

"But I must tell him, Miss!"

"No, I must tell him" returned Penny, in a voice both quiet and determined, and before my surprised eyes, she too lowered herself to the floor and took up the same posture as Annie.

She had only dressed as far as panties, suspender belt and stockings, which of course made her look just sexier. As she knelt there, hands behind her back with her cute buttocks on her heels, and her so spherical breasts pushed out in front by her posture, I could not help staring despite my bewilderment.

"James, I am kneeling to apologise, and to ask you to blame me, not your collarmaid."

A bizarre thought struck me. It wasn't just collars who were taught these positions, it was wives as well. If I married, this is how a wife might kneel for me. I couldn't help it, despite my aching balls I was getting aroused yet again.

"Last night, at the end of the ball, you may have noticed I took her to one side." I heard Penny continue with determination, but I was not concentrating on her. I was thinking; that I could handle this, no, that I wanted to have this; that I really could have a girl sitting in just that position because convention demanded it of her for her husband.

I pulled my attention back to what Penny was saying, and nodded, but of course she could not see me. I sat down myself right in front of her, and lifted up her chin so she had to look in my eyes. "Do you know how ridiculous this is, and how sexy you look like that?" I told her, smiling into her frown.

"This is serious, James" she insisted, but I could see the corners of her eyes lifting.

By now I had swung my legs around her, shuffled forward and tucked my ankles behind her back. My wedding tackle was just in front of her, almost touching her knees. "So," I whispered, leaning in to kiss each corner of her mouth in turn, "You will have to tell me in a serious voice, then."

"Oh, you are impossible!" she grumbled. She was still maintaining the formal posture, hands still locked behind her back, but now her knees were against my balls and she was gently banging her forehead on my shoulder. Annie watched us, mouth open, and I winked at her.

"Look, it's just ... you know the first thing any new wife does is to get rid of his collarmaid? She'll want to get her own, maybe not quite so pretty," she looked up and frowned at me "and certainly with different loyalties!"

I nodded. I didn't know, but nothing would surprise me about how the female species worked.

"So I made Annie a proposition, that if she helped me, you know, get you interested, then I would keep her on if I won."

"Won what?" I was becoming intrigued, in spite of myself.

"Won you, of course!"

"What, for..." My jaw dropped as wheels turned in my head until the penny dropped. "So all the time ... and when I thought I was seducing you..." I broke off, chuckling.

"James! We are trying to be contrite here, and you are not helping!" snapped Penny.

I controlled my amusement. "So, when did you decide to set your sights on me? It seems, Miss Jones, that once again you are doing the asking. Indeed, many would construe this as a Proposal of Marriage!"

Her face had the strangest expression as I teased her. Then it hit me. She wasn't joking. She wasn't joking, and was it so silly? After all, Liz wanted me to marry well, and I could hardly do better than Penelope Jones!

Liz! I had not thought of her since yesterday, and somehow I knew that if I had any idea of what was good for me, she had better not find out about last night. But she had told me that I needed to get married.

Then the images, no, the feelings, of this night just gone swam back into my head, and I realised that I could not do it. Not to Penny, not to Liz and not to myself. A week ago, I would have described Penelope Jones as the ultimate trophy wife, but now something inside me knew that if she were in my life then it would not be as a figurehead. I could not put her in a sham marriage, and Liz was not going to go along with anything else. Oh, hell.

Heart sinking, I disengaged myself, and stood up. She looked up into my frowning face. "James?"

I couldn't look at her. "No. I'm sorry, Penny, I can't do it." My voice sounded as leaden as I felt.

"But I thought ... oh ... Oh, of course." She stood up to get herself together, and gathered random clothes in one hand. "Right then. Um ... I'll just..." She turned away. Her back was towards me, and huddled in the corner she was as far away from me as it was possible to get in an eight-foot room. She struggled with a petticoat in an uncoordinated way, and I could see that her hands were shaking. God, how many hours ago was it, that I'd promised I would never hurt her?

"Penny, let me explain."

"No, no, I understand. Silly of me, don't know what I was thinking of. Let me just..."

"Boss!" broke in Annie "The fone!" What could she mean? I had left my fone in the dressing room. Any way, what good was a fone without a screen? But now she was talking disjointedly, as if to someone else not me. "He is perfectly alright, Sir ... We are in the cleaners store on the ground floor ... At the end of the corridor behind the main hall ... Yes, of course, Sir!"

I looked at her carefully, her head cocked, listening carefully to some invisible silent person. It was all too much to take; she had finally flipped. "Annie," I said cautiously "are you alright?"

" ... Yes Sir ... See you soon Sir ... And Sir, ... thank you so much Sir" She stopped gabbling, and looked up at me to beam in triumph. "It was your Father, on my collar fone! It works!"

It took a few moments to work it all out. My parents had become concerned over our absence this morning, and after searching the more obvious places, had eventually come looking for us in the dressing room. There they had found my fone and plugged it in. They had been scrolling down the contacts list to see who I might be with, when they came across the entry for Annie. More out of curiosity than out of hope they had tried it, and Bingo! They were going to be here in two minutes.

"Come on everyone, time to get dressed!" I called, and there was a flurry of clothing as we raced to get ready.

It was more like three or four minutes than two, and it took another three or four minutes to drill out the damaged lock from their side, which was just as well. When the handle turned and the door finally swung open, we were standing side by side, and looking quite presentable. Both my parents were there, and when they rushed in and hugged me I could not help hugging them back. The Geoffrey was also there, standing with the drill swinging from its hand looking awkward but grinning inanely.

It was after the greetings and garbled explanations that I noticed Mother look around and sniff, and I realised what she could smell. The warm fug of a small room that three people had slept in, the odour of busy bodies, and ... sex. The reek was unmistakable, now the fresh air from outside provided a contrast. She looked at me with raised eyebrows, and I grabbed her elbow to drag them out of there. "Come on, let's get you all home" she concurred, the corner of her mouth lifting as she glanced at me.

I was stunned. Was this the mother I knew? Because as she closed the door and jiggled it shut behind us, she and I were facing away from the others, and she smiled and gave me a completely unambiguous wink.

With five of us in the back of the limo we had to fold out the rearward facing seats, the ones of the back of the partition to the driver's compartment. The glass window was open, so Geoffrey would have been able to hear everything, but my parents had never bothered much with "not in front of the servants." Mother started on us first of course, but unusually, Father kept interrupting and our story was a mess of conflicting questions and interruptions until we all let Penny get on with telling the tale from the beginning. She was much better at it than I would have been, although she did inflate my part in it completely out of proportion. It was quite embarrassing hearing someone else relating what I had done last night, as if I was some kind of hero.

Father had some very explicit questions about the whole thing with Murdoch. "Who was standing there when he got the gun out of the car? Did you notice? Could you get me names?"

"Gussie Fink-Nottle, for one, and I think Roberta Wickham was there. My Mum would know," replied Penny after thinking about it.

"We must make sure Marjory is all right!" cried Mother.

"More useful to find out if Cribbens and Burke escaped without permanent damage," muttered Father to himself. He carried on. "You realise what this means, James. Sheriff Murdoch is going to have an interesting time explaining all this. You know the rivalry between the Guards and the Sheriffs Department. The Guards never were keen on letting the rozzers have live handguns, and this will have played right into their hands. I am going to make a few fone calls when we get back, and I might want you to explain your story to an acquaintance of mine."

We were back before we knew it. Mr. and Mrs. Jones were waiting in the drawing room, having come over while looking for Penny. Mrs. Jones was none the worse for wear, although the two goons had escaped Scott-free despite my father's prediction. There was more cheerful chaos as the explanations and interruptions were repeated. Father and Mr. Jones immediately got into a huddle in one corner, and then tried to use the drawing room screen to fone someone.

But the girls and I had a different shock in store � there on the screen was the front page of the Hertfordshire Tattler, featuring, guess what � myself, in full swing on the dance floor last night! With more interruptions and congratulations I managed to get the gist of the spread, featuring the latest hot fashion sensation � "Beau Brummel", as introduced at the Coming Out Ball of Mr J Pilsbury and Miss P Jones, complete with clips of Annie looking smoking hot. It was only now, on the screen, that I saw the effect of what we had done.

Take an actual woman, with real breasts and figure, wrap her in sheer clinging silk to show off the curves, and then put a collar and chain on her. She was like a tethered goddess, but it was her expression that sealed it. Just as well she did not always look at me like that!

And watching myself was even more disorienting. It was as if a handsome stranger had borrowed my face, and was striding around the Cricklewood ballroom with a trail of broken-hearted debutants in his wake.

The picture was completed with the interviews of a couple of young debs, hastily rearranging their hair and smoothing down their plain petticoats in a poor imitation of Annie's amazing dress, exclaiming in surprise "Didn't everyone know about the new Cricklewood scene?" I was pleased to see they got a good shot of Petunia actually looking quite sexy in just her slinky white slip, and explaining how the trick was to come in a ball gown with quick release fastenings so you could whip it off at the just right moment.

Best of all, was the commentator's disapproving voice, decrying the latest shocking behaviour of young debs, while the camera wandered laviscously over the body of the half dressed girl with the rope around her neck, kneeling at the feet of her man. Pretending to be a collar was going to be the daring social trick of the season. They had fuzzed out the girl's face 'to protect her identity' (for which read � add dramatic impact) but I recognised the ornate braided rope, and the white tablecloth. It was Madeline.

Mother shooed Mr. Jones and my poor father out to his study so she could use the drawing room screen connection to fone Mrs. Haversham, and Mrs. Jones crowded at her side.

Me? I just stood there bemused, and let it all flood around me. It was funny how you needed something like last night to appreciate home. The smile on my face was completely unwarranted, and I could not take it off.

Then, through the babble of Mrs. Jones in full flight, Mother on the fone to Mrs Haversham, and the audio still blaring out the commentary, Annie interrupted me by clutching my elbow. "Boss," she hissed. "He's here!" I was about to tick her off for being obtuse but one look at her stricken face silenced me. Filled with curiosity and a little alarm, I allowed her to drag me over to the window, where together we peered out at the back garden.

When she pointed him out I could see him clearly. There, in the bushes, was the dark ruffled hair and ugly visage of Murdoch himself. "What the hell is he doing here?" I asked Annie, rhetorically, my mind racing. There was only one way to find out. "Tell my Father," I instructed Annie, and I headed for the back door.

What was he trying to do? Was he still armed? Of course, he was presumably trying to get at me, or — more likely — Annie! Killing or even injuring a gentleman would have big repercussions. But if some collarmaid were to get hurt, what sort of investigation would there be? Very little, and if anyone got into trouble it would be me. A cold fury started to fill me as I carefully opened the door.

I was not careful enough. He had been watching for any movement and saw me straight away. I almost ducked back in and hid behind the door, but then thought � damn it. My days of hiding from this bully were over. Opening the door wide, I marched out into the open.

Of course he still had the revolver. He raised it in front of his scowling face and pointed it at me. The two of us stood, frozen, perhaps two dozen yards apart

Oddly, while part of me was full of blind fury, refusing to back down from this piece of shit, some other part of me was running on overtime, coldly calculating the odds. He looked a mess. Some was what we did to him last night, but the hours since then had not been kind to him either. It was too far to be an easy shot, and I knew he was a hopeless marksman. Now I needed to keep him occupied, without letting him get away or hurting someone.

"Put it down, Vince." My voice sounded remarkably calm as I slowly stepped towards him. "You haven't hurt anyone, yet. Nothing your dad can't patch up. But if you pull that trigger..." All the time I was slowly walking, no strolling, towards him. This was where it got dangerous. It was too far for me to reach him, but close enough for him to hit something. But I just knew that coward as he was; he was planning on hurting the girl, not me. If he had really wanted to shoot me he would have tried already.

The cold part of me was busy counting something. One in the car park ... one in the outer door ... one in the corridor ... two in the storeroom door ... one at the other people ... six! Now, what were the chances that he had actually checked?

"What's it all about, Vince? You don't like me. I don't like you. Why don't we just settle it now? Take a swing at me! You know you want to." I was almost up to him by now, and he had stepped out of the flowerbed onto the lawn. I could see him actually thinking about it. The barrel of the gun drooped a fraction.

I lunged and slapped it out of his hand. It was amazing that such a desperate move worked, and the sting of the metal on my fingers galvanised me. I dived after it as it flew across the grass, and reached it miles before he did.

I was up again like a jack in the box, while he was still grovelling on the ground, stretched out full length.

"Hold it right there, Vince." I growled. "The tables seem to be turned now, don't they?"

He rolled over on his back and stared at me with wide eyes. "Come on, Pilsbury. Let's be reasonable." His voice did not sound the way it used to, in those days so long ago, back in school.

"Reasonable, Vince? You tried to shoot me. Tried quite hard. Then you tried to shoot someone I am very fond of, and I take exception to that."

"You wouldn't kill me. You haven't got it in you. You aren't any keener to end up in a collar than I am." The words should have been delivered in a voice of cold arrogance, but instead they trailed off into uncertainty. He couldn't stop me from hearing the fear in his voice. I was reminded of the way young Emily had sounded, with her head twisting under his hand on that desk lid, still not believing what was about to happen to her.

It was very cold in that garden. Cold, and still.

"Kill? Oh, no Vince, not kill. But a little accident, while the two of us were tussling over that gun you stole?" I moved right over him. The safety was already off, and as I cocked back the hammer, it made a quiet clunk. It was a solid, satisfying sound. "Whereabouts, now. Foot? Ankle? The knee caps are supposed to be particularly painful and difficult to rebuild."

As I spoke, I shifted the barrel and moved the aim slowly up his leg. I kept going past his knee and his eyes widened in horror as I trained it on his groin. "Of course the real trouble is that you have been letting your prick lead you around. Maybe I should bring it down to size for you."

His face went white as he stared, immobilized, at my finger wrapped around the trigger. I tightened it slowly, letting him see the tension in my knuckles. "Say goodbye to your balls, Vince" I whispered, and pulled.

Looking back on it, I always liked to think that I flicked my aim aside at the last second � that if there really had been one last bullet in the chamber, it would not actually have hit him. I liked to think that. Whether I really did it in time we will never know.

At the empty click of the hammer, he gasped, and fell back. I dropped the gun and let my shoulders sag. Looking up I suddenly saw the crowd of people, lined up outside the door. Everyone had come out of the house and they were standing watching the drama.

I glanced back down and kicked the sole of his boot. "Well, here he is." Then I sniffed, and stared at him harder. "Oh, god, he's shat himself. He's all yours." Suddenly I was completely exhausted. Shaking my head I walked back towards the house, through the wall of faces, past Father telling the Geoffrey to get a rope, right into Mother's anxious hug.

"Don't ever..." she shook her head, "don't ever do that again."

I laughed, and even managed to stop it before it became hysterical. "If it ever looks likely, you have my full permission to sit on me." She managed a wan smile and hugged me tighter. I returned it with interest before finally letting her go. "Come on," I said, passing her my handkerchief. "We had better get presentable."

She blew her nose like a trumpet, shook herself, and right before my eyes, transformed back into the society hostess I knew and loved. "What we all need is a good cup of tea. Back to the drawing room, everyone!" she called brightly, and bustled off to organise things.

I paused at the study door on my way past. Father was on the fone again. Around the door I could just see the screen. He was talking to the image of an imposing man in a black uniform, with a face of white whiskers. "Yes, right here in the back garden! ... No, I don't think Murdoch will abandon the boy. He may be a cold-hearted bastard but blood is thicker than water ... Yes, I agree. It would be better if we just offered him the chance to disappear quietly ... That's a nice touch. How quickly can you arrange a Banishment? ... How about Wales? He and the Welsh deserve each other." There was the quiet laughter of a private joke shared.

I slipped away, unnoticed. I would ask Father when everything had settled down, but right now it did not sound as if we were going to have to worry about either Murdoch again.

The drawing room was crowded once more, with everyone back in from the garden. There were too many voices talking at once and I was too tired to make the attempt to sort any of them out. Then suddenly, amongst the shifting bodies, I was face to face to Penny and everything else in the room faded.