The Dark Side of the Moon

(Edgewater #4)

by BadSquirrel

Part One

"Holy crap!" Sarah compared the address in her notes to the brass plate on the elaborate wrought-iron gate. "This can't be right." On the other side of the gate was what could only be described as a mansion complete with pillars. It was huge. The idea of driving her battered Celica up to that monstrosity for a job interview was daunting.

Sarah knew in a flash that she would never be hired. Servility was just not in her nature and her defiance usually manifested itself verbally. Accepting that she would be turned away, Sarah decided that this might be her only chance to see the inside of a house like this. She pulled up to the call box and pushed the Talk button.

"Yes?" The voice was an almost sub-audible bass and stretched the limits of the small speaker's abilities.

Clearing her throat, she said, "My name is Sarah Wylie. I have an appointment for a job interview."

The gate began to swing slowly inward. "Parking is available to the left of the house. You will be met at the front door."

Sarah stifled a laugh. "Thank you." She'd be lucky to make it through the front door. Somebody was sure to come out and tell her that she was not what the owner had in mind and would she please get her piece of crap car off the estate.

She drove slowly, enjoying the landscaping. It was impossible to tell how much acreage was contained within the stone walls, but every inch of what she could see was carefully tended. The lawn could have graced a world class golf course and the trees appeared to have been groomed for effect. Off to one side was a charming little gazebo in the midst of flowering bushes. Sarah shook her head. She could have easily spent most of the day exploring the grounds alone.

She parked next to an expensive looking black Mercedes just for the fun of it. Her little red Toyota looked especially pathetic, and she wondered if the owner of the Benz was watching out a window to see if she was going to dent the door. Sarah was grinning when she stepped out of her car. This had ceased to be a job interview and instead became a farcical adventure.

Figuring her purse would be safe, Sarah left it in the passenger seat of her car and headed for the front steps. The house was much larger than it appeared from the road and it loomed over her as she walked between smooth marble columns.

The door opened before she could knock, and the open space was filled with the biggest, blackest man she had ever seen. At five foot five and 126 pounds, Sarah was dwarfed. He had to be closer to seven feet tall than six and she estimated his weight at well over 300 pounds. He wasn't fat by any means. His shoulders and chest were straining the seams of his black suit, but his hips were comparatively slim. His head was clean-shaven, and he was so obviously meant to be threatening that Sarah couldn't help but giggle. She might have been intimidated but for his warm, liquid eyes.

She put her hand out. "Hi. I'm Sarah Wylie."

His hand swallowed hers and his voice rumbled more impressively than the gate speaker had allowed. "Mr. Crisp is expecting you, Miss Wylie."

"Oh, please," she laughed. "I just got here. I can't be in trouble already. Call me Sarah."

The big man smiled back. "Very well, Sarah. My name is Pete. If you'll follow me?"

Sarah stepped past him into the house and froze. "Wow." It was too much to take in all at once. A massive chandelier hung twenty feet or more above the tiled floor and a long, curved staircase of dark, polished wood ran along one wall. Antique tables with vases, figurines and flowers seemed to be everywhere. Prominent on one wall was a very old photograph of a nude woman blown up to near life size. As beautiful as the model was, Sarah was too overwhelmed by the opulence around her to really study it. "Wow," she repeated.

Rooms opened off to the sides of the entryway and Sarah went to the closest one. She stood in the open door and glanced around what looked like a living room. Not any living room she had ever been in before, granted, but she could imagine people sitting in it and visiting after dinner.

"Mr. Crisp is waiting," Pete rumbled behind her.

Sarah jumped to his side and let him lead the way. "Are you the butler?"

His chuckle reverberated off the walls. "In a manner of speaking, yes."

"I've never met a butler before," Sarah admitted. "Do you like your job?"

He nodded. "It's the best job I've ever had."

"What do you do when you aren't answering the door?"

Pete smiled down at her with his even white teeth. "I coordinate the staff and take care of scheduling."

As unlikely as it was, Sarah asked, "So, if I get hired, you'll be my supervisor?"

"Marginally, yes."

Sarah kept one eye on the rooms they passed and the other on Pete. "Why aren't you the one doing the interview?"

He just smiled at her and stopped at a door. He knocked twice and opened it. "Your interview is here, Mr. Crisp."

"Show her in."

The voice was smooth and in the high tenor range. Sarah stepped inside and halted in confusion. A tall, slim woman was coming around the side of an ornate desk to shake her hand. She was dressed in slacks, shirt sleeves and a sweater vest and her hair was brutally short, but Sarah knew instantly that she was looking at a woman. She took the offered hand in her own and knew she was right from the softness of the skin. "Mr. Crisp?"

"Miss Wylie."

"Sarah," she corrected automatically.

"Sarah, then. Thanks, Pete."

"You're welcome, sir." The big man quietly left the room and closed the door.

Mr. Crisp pointed at a chair and Sarah used the time getting comfortable to rearrange her perceptions. If Mr. Crisp wanted everyone to think she was a man, it was none of Sarah's business. Besides, rich people were supposed to be eccentric, weren't they? It could even be that Mr. Crisp was transgendered. Maybe he used to be a woman. Sarah relaxed. That had to be it and, as such, it would be inappropriate for her to continue to think of him as a woman.

"You have a beautiful home," she said as Mr. Crisp sat.

"Thank you. Perhaps, if things work out, you'll get a tour." Mr. Crisp opened a file on his desk and looked at it briefly before sitting back. "Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"

Sarah nodded. "I'm an only child from a small town upstate and I'm a senior at the University. I'm majoring in Small Business Administration." She didn't know what else to say so she fell silent.

Mr. Crisp hesitated a moment. "I did a little checking," he said evenly. "You're an honor student currently ranked fifth in your class. You won a 'full-ride' scholarship on academics. Very impressive."

"Thank you," she said for lack of anything better to say. She hadn't known her ranking and it surprised her that she was so high.

"Why did you choose Business Administration?"

Feeling like she had nothing to lose, Sarah told the truth. "I want to be in control of my life. I don't like feeling that I don't have choices and I don't like being bossed around. I tend to shoot my mouth off and if I want steady employment, I'll have to be my own boss."

Mr. Crisp smiled. "That sounds reasonable. May I ask why you aren't in a sorority?"

"I'm here to get an education," Sarah explained. "There are certain advantages to being a member of a sorority down the line, but I decided I didn't need the parties and the frat boys taking time away from my studies."

"Why are you looking for work?"

Sarah folded her hands in her lap. "I'm tired of living in the dorm and trading my spare time working in the student union for meals. It's easy and convenient, but it lacks privacy, and it makes me feel dependent. I graduate next summer, and I'll be totally on my own for the first time. It seems to me that my future would be best served if I can get a foot out the door while I still have some security to fall back on. There won't be any place to go when I graduate, and I'd just as soon be ready." Mr. Crisp was nodding with seeming approval. "I found your ad for a housekeeper posted on the job board outside the student union. I was interested primarily because of the flexible hours, the room option and the generous salary."

"You're very straight forward," Mr. Crisp said.

Sarah shrugged. "I don't have anything to lose. I can afford to be."

He cocked his head with interest. "Why don't you have anything to lose?"

Sarah gestured to include the house. "I can't see myself fitting in here, can you? I'm sorry to be wasting your time like this, but I really wanted an opportunity to see the inside of your house."

Mr. Crisp leaned forward. "Why wouldn't you fit in here? Why do you say that?"

"I'm not the servant type," Sarah admitted. "I have problems with authority."

Mr. Crisp laughed easily. "I don't need a servant. I need a housekeeper. If you aren't interested, I'll get Pete to show you around. If you are, I have some more questions."

Sarah suddenly realized that she was being awfully flippant to a prospective employer and she straightened up. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Sarah. I like your attitude and moxie is a job requirement. I just need to know if you're serious about getting a job."

"Very."

"Okay." He leaned back over the file and studied it. "I see you turned twenty-one last month. Congratulations." He grinned up at her. "Did you go out and get drunk?"

"No," Sarah admitted. She neglected to say that the friends she had were not the kind of friends she could go drinking with. They were her study buddies only. "I did buy a bottle of wine, but I haven't opened it yet."

"Saving it for a special occasion?"

Sarah grinned. "I forgot to buy a corkscrew."

Mr. Crisp chuckled. "I take it you don't have a drinking problem then."

"Not at the moment."

"Drugs?"

"I've never felt the need to do drugs."

"Good." He turned a page. "You're carrying a very full load of classes. Are you going to be able to juggle school, studying and work?"

"Absolutely. I started working at fourteen in a burger stand and managed to win a scholarship at the same time. The last three years have been almost too easy."

Mr. Crisp flipped through a couple of pages and pulled one out. "Jimmy's Burger Shack. He gives you a stellar recommendation."

Sarah frowned. She had only called for an appointment yesterday. The fact that Mr. Crisp already had a file on her was a little disconcerting. "Where did you get all of that information? What does it include?"

"I believe I mentioned on the phone yesterday that I would do a security check. The recommendation was received by fax only this morning, and the rest of this was taken from the Internet." Mr. Crisp went page by page and handed each to her as he read them off. "You've never had a ticket or an accident. Your credit is good, if sparse. This is your transcript from the University and this one is from your high school. Near perfect marks all around. In high school, you played tennis, belonged to all of the academic clubs, and you were captain of the chess club, but you haven't joined any groups or extracurricular activities at the University."

"I thought this information was private," Sarah said.

"Nothing is private anymore," Mr. Crisp replied. "It's scary, isn't it?"

Sarah nodded. "It's not that I have anything to hide, but it is a little scary." She handed the papers back to him reluctantly.

"Do you have any objections to housekeeping?" he asked.

Sarah shook her head. "It's not what you do for a living that matters. Only that you take pride in doing it well."

Mr. Crisp closed the file and leaned back in his leather chair. "Do you have any questions?"

Sarah blinked. "Are you seriously considering me for the job?"

"Yes."

Leaning back with a sigh, Sarah put her mind to it. "I need to know more about the job. How many hours; which days; how flexible-that sort of thing."

"I have a handful of rooms upstairs that need to be cleaned after parties. In a normal week I'd need your services on Saturday, Sunday and Monday, but occasionally the party lasts all weekend and you'd only work after the party ended. My guests do a lot of the cleanup themselves. Your job would be to make sure it's done right. It's very detailed work and-depending on how many guests I've had-can take anywhere from two to eight hours per day to complete."

Sarah nodded. "What's the salary?"

She almost choked on her own spit when Mr. Crisp named a figure. "Of course," he continued, "that amount drops by a third if you elect to live on the estate. But it includes all of your utilities and cable and such. Pete has all of those details."

"I'd be living here in the house?"

"No. There are cottages out back." Mr. Crisp waved at the roof over his head. "They are nothing like this, of course, but they are clean, comfortable and, if you wish, fully furnished."

Sarah couldn't believe her luck. She briefly wished she could start the whole interview over. "What exactly is the nature of the parties? I mean, this seems a little too good to be true."

Mr. Crisp steepled his fingers. "Here's where it gets a little tricky."

Sarah waited for the bad news.

"I've interviewed four people for this job so far. All were students, by the way. You seem to be the most likely candidate. I'd be happy to show you the cottage that's currently available and allow you to talk to some of my employees to ease your concerns. But before I can discuss the job particulars with you, I'll need you to sign a confidentiality agreement. It does not bind you to any obligations in regard to the position; only to the information I need to provide you with regarding your duties here. If you decide to accept."

Sarah felt suddenly nervous and unsure. "A confidentiality agreement?"

"Yes. Would you like to read it?"

Sarah nodded, and a simple form was handed to her. It seemed pretty straightforward. She couldn't discuss Mr. Crisp, his employees, the guests or any activities of the house with anyone except those people. It also had a clause specifically releasing her from the agreement if she were to witness any illegal activities. That last bit eased some of her fears. "I've never had to sign one of these before. Did the other applicants sign them, too?"

"I didn't offer them the chance."

"Why me?" She couldn't help asking. "You've hardly asked me anything."

Mr. Crisp smiled at her. "As I mentioned before, I like your attitude. You have spirit. I like that in my employees. If I wanted people who would run around kissing my butt, I could have them by the truckload, but that kind of person usually tends to stab one in the back at the earliest opportunity. I'd rather have staff who aren't afraid to speak their minds: people who can think for themselves. People who stand up for themselves."

Sarah looked down at the paper in her hand. "How likely is it that I'll see something illegal?"

"Not very," Mr. Crisp said easily. "Privacy is highly valued here. That clause helps to ensure that my guests will be on their best behavior."

Curiosity prompted Sarah to sign the paper. Mr. Crisp's signature was all but unreadable. He ran it through a fax machine and gave her the copy.

"So, what's the big secret?"

Mr. Crisp picked up a pen and began weaving it dexterously through his long fingers. "How do you feel about BDSM?"

"What's BDSM?"

Mr. Crisp smiled with one side of his full mouth. "Sadomasochism. Dominance. Bondage. Submission."

"Um." Sarah tried desperately to think of a casual response and came up empty. "I don't think it's legal for you to ask me something like that."

"It's not," he admitted. "Your sexual proclivities are none of my business. But the question is relevant. How do you feel about it?"

Sarah didn't want to appear as young and naive as she felt. "I suppose I don't really have an opinion as yet. Everything I know about it has been gleaned from television and veiled reference and I've learned to take that kind of information with a grain of salt." She swallowed nervously. "If participation in S&M is a part of the job, I'd like to know up front. I don't want to waste any more of your time."

Mr. Crisp nodded as if pleased. "Participation is not required and, in fact, is generally discouraged amongst my staff. I hate to go to all the work of hiring and training good people only to have to train their replacements when they decide to become players."

"Players?"

Mr. Crisp stood up and moved around the desk to sit on a leather love seat. He crossed one long leg over the other and set a boot to swinging idly. "I make a portion of my home available to select members of the community who wish to indulge in scenes of BDSM with other like-minded people. We like to call each other 'players'." He was watching Sarah intently. "Such a mild, almost lighthearted word for the degenerate, morally reprehensible things we do together, don't you think?"

Sarah turned in her chair to face him more directly. "If that's how you feel about it, why do you allow it in your home?"

"It's not how I feel," he clarified. "It's how society teaches us to feel about it. Pain is perceived as bad, so those who engage in it for sexual reasons must be bad. Maybe our brains perceive pain differently and it feels like pleasure to us. More likely, we are all budding serial killers or rapists. Some think that we must have been abused as children and are incapable of giving and receiving love and tenderness to each other because we are emotionally handicapped. Perhaps we worship Satan. There are as many reasons as there are people. I'm sure you have your own preconceived notions."

Sarah wasn't sure why she was going to come out, but her instincts were screaming for her to do it. "It's not really my place to judge. I'm perceived as a pervert myself because I'm a lesbian, so I'm inclined to embrace those who are different. If for no other reason, then for the moral support. I will admit, however, that...BDSM... makes me a little uncomfortable."

"That's perfectly understandable. I appreciate your honesty."

"So." She had expected more reaction to her coming out, but he didn't seem to have any feelings about it either way. "The job is cleaning up the rooms after they play?"

"Yes, it is. Are you still interested?"

Sarah couldn't help a grimace. "Are we talking about blood and fluids everywhere?"

Mr. Crisp smiled gently. "It's not as bad as you think. You will come in contact with a variety of bodily fluids, but most of the time you won't be aware of it. Bloodletting is not allowed here, and condoms are required. If you take the job, you'll be trained to clean safely-not only for the benefit of the players, but for yourself as well. Everyone is screened every three months for sexually transmitted diseases and so far, we've been extremely fortunate. Our continued safety will rest almost entirely in your hands. That's why it pays as much as it does. People’s lives will count on you and your attention to detail. Are you up to that kind of responsibility?"

Sarah took a moment to consider. She knew the responsibility was not an issue for her. She had worked with people's food for years and had taken it very seriously. This wouldn't be much different. Her concern was that she was going to be exposing herself to a very different kind of life and she had to be concerned with how it would affect her future. Would it work against her at some point? The money was great. If the house were any indication, the cottage would be more than good enough. She was only twenty-five minutes from school, and she couldn't beat the hours. But was she willing to clean up after a sex club? How would that look on her resume? Everything else about it was perfect.

Taking a deep breath, she smiled at Mr. Crisp. "I'll be very good at this job. You can't afford to let me get away."

"Excellent," he chuckled. "But, before you decide, let's take a walk. You should see the rooms you'll be cleaning, and I expect you'd like a look at the cottage."

Sarah had to trot to keep up as Mr. Crisp led her back to the entry hall and up the grand staircase. "I'm sorry if I was a bit belligerent earlier," she explained to his back. "It's just that I saw this house and I got it in my head that you would never hire me and I got defensive."

"No offense was taken," he said easily. Stopping at a set of doors, he considered her seriously. "This will seem frightening and intimidating to one who's never seen it before. I assure you that everything that takes place here is consensual. No one is forced to come here, and no one is ever prevented from leaving. You are completely safe here. If it will make you feel more comfortable, I'll stay out here and let you look around on your own. I tend to make people nervous."

Sarah smiled up at him. "It's sweet of you to offer, but I'm not afraid of you."

One of Mr. Crisp's eyebrows jerked upwards in surprise and he nodded. "Very well."

At first glance it was just a large room. Sarah made it about three steps inside before the bottom dropped out of her stomach and all of her hair stood up. Maybe it was the high ceiling that made the room look larger, but it was at least seventy feet on a side, if not more. In the center of the room was a sitting area with couches and love seats and that was the first thing Sarah saw. Once inside her eyes were drawn to other things.

Along the edges of the room was an odd array of devices. Work out benches, medical exam tables, gymnastic vaults, small tables and things she didn't know the names of filled up all of the empty spaces any normal room would have. Everything had cuffs, straps and tie-downs on it. It was perfectly clear to her what it was all for.

On the walls there were pictures of people in bondage and every imaginable kind of paddle, whip, cane and crop. In spite of being terrified, Sarah could appreciate that this was probably an impressive collection. Intimidating was a very mild term for what this room made her feel.

"Breathe, Sarah." Mr. Crisp's voice was low and gentle, but insistent. "Deep breaths. In through your nose and out through your mouth."

Suddenly aware that she was hyperventilating, Sarah shook the tension from her arms like drops of water and dropped into a breathing exercise she'd learned doing yoga. Born with a great deal of flexibility, she had started yoga on the advice of a high school gym teacher. She had kept at it because it made her feel good mentally as well as physically. Sarah started each day with a meditation/exercise ritual, and she fell into the proper breathing patterns now with ease. Closing her eyes, she invited calm and balance in and expelled fear and conjecture.

"That's it," Mr. Crisp said quietly. "Nothing is happening and you are perfectly safe. You can leave whenever you like, or you can stay for a while and look around. No one will touch you or harm you in any way. You are in control here. Very good. Take your time."

He soothed her like he was talking to a frightened animal, but Sarah was too grateful for the sound of his voice to be insulted. "I'll be okay," she said in a shaky tone.

"Of course you will. You're doing just fine. I know it's a bit of a shock seeing this for the first time. It's meant to be as intimidating as possible. That's how we like it, but it makes it hard to prepare you for it. Even when you think you're prepared, it reaches into your primal mind and triggers things you haven't expected. What can I do to help you? Do you want to step outside for a minute? Would you like to sit down? May I offer you a sports drink or some juice?"

Sarah took a very deep breath and let it out slowly. She opened her eyes and headed for one of the love seats. "If I could just sit down for a moment."

"By all means."

Sitting helped a lot. She felt better almost immediately. Mr. Crisp handed her a small carton of orange juice a few seconds later. She felt a little embarrassed now. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to freak out."

He perched on the edge of the couch opposite of her with a grin. "You didn't freak out," he said. "I've had people I was interviewing throw up, pass out, run screaming and dissolve in tears. By comparison, you handled it extremely well. Much better than I expected, in fact. I thought you'd be a crier, but I was wrong. I freely admit that I'm impressed."

Sarah tried to laugh and an odd, strangled sound came out. "Are you trying to make me feel better?"

"Is it working?"

He looked like a kid trying to charm his way out of trouble. "Yes."

"Good." He slid back on the couch and crossed his legs again. He appeared to be totally at ease and in control.

Sarah drank half of the juice before realizing she had opened it. The tart/sweet taste cleared her senses. "Thanks for the juice."

"You're very welcome. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Sarah rolled her head around on her neck. She couldn't sit there forever. "May I wander around a little bit?"

"Absolutely. And don't be afraid to ask questions."

Looking at the room again, Sarah noticed half a dozen archways in the side walls. Going to the first one, she looked inside and found a room with a platform type bed covered only by a white sheet, an easy chair and footstool, a pile of geometrically shaped cushions in a variety of sizes and eye bolts on and around everything. She assumed they were for tying things to. The second room was very similar. "These parties…I assume they’re…People get hurt?"

"You could say that, but not everyone plays with pain. It would be more accurate to call them fantasy parties. Players arrange carefully scripted scenes with each other to challenge their beliefs, to explore their hidden demons, to stretch their boundaries, plain old curiosity or because it feels good. They have fun with sex, pain, pleasure, drama, fetishes, exhibitionism . . . you name it-someone's done it here."

Sarah set a paddle on the wall to swinging with one finger and looked sideways at the handsome man on the couch. "Don't tell me these are just decorations."

His grin was naughty, yet sophisticated. "No, they're not."

One of the rooms Sarah found had an entire wall of shelves filled with dildos. She knew what they were regardless of the fact she'd never actually seen one. It felt like suddenly finding yourself in a room full of sleeping snakes. One false move and your whole life would change. The sizes, colors and shapes were a revelation. Sarah thought a dildo was a thing, but apparently, they were a class of things. Some of them even looked like glass! Others had knobs and pointy things on them that looked rather painful. A few were truly prodigious in size and made her stomach hurt just looking at them.

The opposite wall was a cabinet with a great many small drawers. Sarah pulled one open that said 'Alligators' and found what she'd always thought of as roach clips, except that these had some sort of black plastic on the teeth. It was a lot to take in all at once and her imagination needed some cooling down time before she started trying to understand, so she closed the drawer and backed out of the room. It would definitely take some time to get used to all of this.

"Are you doing alright?"

"I think so." There was an alcove on the back wall that held a refrigerator, a microwave and a sink. Beside it there was an unmarked door. "What's in there?"

"The cleaning station."

"Can I look?"

"Of course."

Inside was a room that finally made sense. Washer, dryer, dishwasher, vacuum, broom, duster, rags-these things she could understand. This room reduced all of what she had seen into terms she could deal with. This was about doing a job.

Out of sight of her prospective employer, Sarah rubbed her face vigorously and considered her situation. Great money, a place to live off campus, privacy and an easy job lay on one side of the scale. On the other was cleaning up after sex parties. She wanted all of the good things. All she had to do was find a way to deal with her preconceptions. She wouldn't be doing S&M. There was no shame in cleaning up after them and Sarah was leaning towards taking the job. Surely Mr. Crisp wouldn't tell any future employers exactly what kind of cleaning she would be doing. There was probably some fancy euphemism for it.

And then there was Mr. Crisp. She liked him. Maybe he was a woman and maybe he wasn't, but he was nice. It seemed like he had a good sense of humor. It might be fun to get to know him a little better. Pete looked like a fun time, too. Sarah might have some doubts about the nature of the work, but she had a good feeling about the people.

With a final cleansing breath, Sarah marched back to the love seat and sat down. "I think I'm okay with this. If you think I'm worth investing in, I'd very much like to be considered for the job."

Mr. Crisp smiled. It looked good on him. "No more questions?"

She was burning with questions, but she said, "Only work-related ones. I assume those will be answered if you hire me."

He nodded and leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees. "I take my duties as an employer very seriously. Of all the positions I have on the estate, this one has turned out to be the most difficult one of all. Some of the people I've hired for this job can't take it. Men and women, both. Several of them claimed that the activities that take place here leave a 'psychic stain'. I know it sounds terribly new age, but I happen to agree with them. Some people are more sensitive to the aura than others. They find it difficult to cope with and they start breaking down. They can't sleep and dread coming to the house. They feel sick and start losing weight for no reason. Some get angry and start taking it out on others. Other people go through a brief period of confusion and then they suddenly come to terms with it and everything is fine. Everyone has a reaction of one sort or another. You will, too. It's important to me that you understand a few things going in."

His face was dead serious, and Sarah could tell that he meant every word that he was saying. "First, if it turns out that you can't handle it, it's not a weakness in your character. It's a sensitivity of the heart. It's a good thing and you should not be embarrassed or ashamed by it. Don't let yourself become damaged emotionally because you're too proud to admit you need help. I'm available to talk whenever you need me. Second, I'm not heartless. If you can't do it, we'll either find you other work to do here on the estate or I'll help you find a job somewhere else that suits you better. You won't be put out on the street at the first sign of difficulty. You have my word. Third, as long as you do your best and honor the confidentiality agreement, you'll have a job here for as long as you want. But, if you put a word in the wrong ear or don't do your job well out of laziness, I'll fire you only minutes before I call my lawyers. I truly hope that I won't ever have to do that. If I thought it was at all likely, I would not be offering you the job. You seem like the kind of person we can trust."

Sarah nodded. It seemed to her that Mr. Crisp had just made a pact with her. If she did a good job and was loyal, he would look out for her and keep her best interests at heart. "It sounds like you take good care of your employees."

"If I expect them to be reliable, caring, honest and trustworthy, they have a right to expect the same from me. Money isn't enough. I need you strong, healthy and focused. If you're ever in trouble or in doubt, come to me. I'm not your daddy-I won't take care of you-but I can be a very good friend."

"Thanks."

"Let's go see the cottage."

Sarah stopped running to keep up about halfway to the cottages. She let him stride on ahead and looked around. Trees hid the cottages from the house and gave them the semblance of a neighborhood. There were four cottages together, and each appeared to be nearly as big as the house she had grown up in. White picket fences surrounded them and she could see parking beyond. Mr. Crisp was headed for the one third in line and she was delighted to see it had a porch and a small lawn. She wanted to dance with happiness. It almost didn't matter what the inside was like. It would be her own little place-well, not so little-and she could hardly wait to move in. She thought it would be worth cleaning anything just to be able to call this place home.

He waited for her on the porch with the front door open. "You walk too fast," Sarah teased as she went inside.

"Sorry," he grinned from the porch railing. "It's a tall thing. I'm not in a hurry. Take your time."

Sarah looked around in extreme contentment. It was big. The furniture was pretty and clean. It had a desk big enough to hold her computer. It had lots of outlets, places to hang plants and there was a brand-new mattress-still in the plastic wrapper-on the queen size bed. There was no art on the walls, but Sarah was glad of that. It would have felt like a hotel room otherwise. The bathroom had lush white towels and a claw foot bathtub. The kitchen was ready to cook in and the dining room had an oak table and chairs that looked new. As a student, she didn't have much more than what she could carry, so having kitchen and bathroom stuff provided was a godsend.

"What do you think?" He asked when she finally came back outside.

"My parents don't live in a house this nice." She hugged herself happily. "Are you really offering me the job?"

"Yes."

"I'll take it."

Mr. Crisp nodded. "Are you free tomorrow for a physical?"

"Classes don't start till next week. I'm free all day."

"Okay," he said on an upbeat. "Pending the results of your tests, you're hired. I'll set up an appointment for you when we get back to the house and give you the doctor's address. The results should be back by Thursday. Provided you're healthy, you can start on Friday. Does that work for you?"

"Oh, yeah." Sarah wanted to dance for joy.

~***~

The physical took almost two hours. She had expected to have her blood pressure and temperature taken and probably a blood test, but she was checked out head to toe. The only really uncomfortable moment was the pelvic and PAP.

"Wait a minute," she said when she was told to lie back for it. "How much information will Mr. Crisp be getting about this exam?"

Doctor Danby was in her early forties and rather dry looking. "Mr. Crisp is paying for the results only. The details, if they do not impact on your ability to perform the job, are not part of what he will be provided. Is there something you wish to talk about?"

Sarah flushed head to toe. "I'm a virgin," she mumbled.

The doctor smiled with compassion. "Do you mean to say that you have never had a sexual partner or that you are intact?"

Sarah tried to talk out of the side of her mouth as if she could somehow deny that she was actually speaking. "I'm intact."

The doctor patted her knee. "Good for you." She nodded at her assistant who promptly left the room. "Mr. Crisp will not learn this from us. It has no bearing on the job. Have you had a pelvic exam before?"

"Yes. It was horrible."

"This one won't be. I promise. No one in their right mind enjoys these, but there's no reason in the world why it has to be a nightmare. The speculum comes in several different sizes and my nurse will bring one that shouldn't cause you too much trouble."

Sarah almost cried in relief when it was over. It had been only marginally uncomfortable. The last one she had gone through had left her bleeding for most of a day. This one was nothing in comparison.

Waiting until Thursday to hear back was hard. Sarah knew she was healthy and free of disease and she did everything she could to prepare for moving. All of her things were packed. She already had all of her books and supplies for the next semester and had notified her advisor and the dorm mother that she would probably be moving out. With all of the new students arriving, nobody seemed to care much one way or the other.

She was propped up on her bed in the late afternoon skimming the course book for her Business Ethics class when one of the new freshman girls-apparently under the impression that they were all just one big happy family-opened her door without knocking and stepped inside. "You're Sarah Wylie, right?"

"Didn't your mother teach you to knock?" Sarah asked with indignation. "I could have been naked."

"Don't get all excited." This from an eighteen-year-old girl who probably still slept with a teddy bear clutched under her chin. "You haven't got anything I haven't got."

"Except manners," Sarah shot back. "What do you want?"

"Fine," the girl said dramatically as she backed out of the room. "From now on I'll just take messages and leave them on the board."

Sarah bolted off the bed and the girl squealed in fear before tearing off down the hall. Once in the hallway, she could see the payphone receiver dangling and she raced for it. "This is Sarah," she said.

"Good news," Mr. Crisp said brightly.

Sarah sighed in relief. "I knew I was clean," she said, "but thank God anyway."

"You haven't changed your mind, have you?"

"Are you kidding?" Sarah looked around the dorm and could only think about getting out. "When can I move in?"

"Now, if you like."

"I'll be there in an hour and a half."

"Do you need any help moving?"

Sarah laughed. "I'm a student. Everything I own will fit in the back of my car."

"I remember those days," he chuckled. "Pete will meet you when you get here and see you get settled. He'll go over policies and procedures and get your paperwork started. He'll explain everything. Do you need an advance on your first paycheck for food and gas?"

"Nope. But thanks for offering."

"You bet. The first couple of days you'll be training with Emily. She likes to start at 9 in the morning. She'll meet you outside the dungeon tomorrow morning. I don't usually have parties on Thursday night, but it's a special birthday event."

"Hey, Mr. Crisp?" Sarah hunched over the phone for more privacy from the busy hallway. "I can't thank you enough. Really. You don't know what this means to me."

"You're welcome, Sarah."

Sarah turned in a slow circle after hanging up and thrust her arms in the air. "You all can kiss my ass!" she yelled. "I'm outta here!"

She had all of her things in the car in seven trips and struggled to drive the speed limit to Mr. Crisp's estate. Pete gave her directions to the back gate and its code over the small speaker, then met her in the lot behind her new home. He helped her carry her things inside and they spent nearly an hour filling out forms for employment and the rental. He explained everything with great patience, gave her the house keys and her private phone number, shook her hand and left her alone.

Sarah didn't know what to do next. For the first time in her life, she was really alone. Sure, there were people nearby, but she was in her own space and subject to her own rules now. No one was going to bust in unannounced and everything would be exactly where she left it. Aside from hanging her clothes up, she was reluctant to put anything else away. Things would find a place as she needed them.

She hooked her computer up and spent some time getting her study area set up with the printer. The bed was the next project and she pulled linens and blankets from a hall closet and put it together. Aside from the occasional sexual foray into motel rooms, she had never slept in a bed so large. She lay in the center of the bed and tried to envision inviting someone to share it with her.

Sarah had never been in love. Her entire focus since the first week of high school had been on getting a college education and away from her parents for good. Sex was a very satisfying distraction when stress built to an uncomfortable level, but a relationship was out of the question. She had learned in high school to be very up-front about the temporary nature of her liaisons. Girlfriends wanted more of her time and energy than she was willing to give. There would be plenty of time for love when she had her life under control.

At this point, sex was something she engaged in when the need arose. If she couldn't take care of her needs on her own, willing partners weren't hard to find. She could spot the dykes in bars and coffee houses that wanted sex free of involvement and could pretty much take her pick. She insisted on safe sex, which sometimes brought things to a screeching halt, but with the right attitude and enthusiasm most women were willing to try it. It amazed her how ignorant most lesbians were about safe sex. They seemed to think that they were immune to STDs because they couldn't get pregnant by accident. What the one had to do with the other Sarah didn't know, but she was determined not to be a victim of carelessness.

She couldn't remember when she had figured out that she was a lesbian. It seemed like it had always been who she was, and it never occurred to her that she should question it. The subject had never come up with her parents. She had no idea if they knew but suspected that they wouldn't have bothered caring. They had been only marginally less excited about her going off to school than she had been. Sarah had never been close to her parents or them to her. They never came to Open House in grade school or to her school plays. They never attended anything that had been important to her. Their disinterest had stopped bothering her by the time she was ten. She had figured out by then that she was an accident and that they were only together because it was the 'right' thing to do. She had always known that they didn't love each other and were not particularly fond of her either. She hadn't spoken to them since leaving for college and sometimes wondered if they were even still together.

The doorbell rang and Sarah bounced off the bed. Her first visitor! She expected it to be Mr. Crisp, but there was a woman who looked like someone's grandmother on her porch with a big smile and a foil-covered tray. "Hi," Sarah said.

"Welcome to the neighborhood! My name is Maggie and I live next door. I thought you might like something warm to eat. Moving is such a bother."

Sarah could smell pot roast and potatoes as she took the tray. "It smells wonderful. Thank you very much." She glanced at her living room and back to her new neighbor. "Would you like to come in?"

"Only for a minute, dear. I know you're still settling in." Maggie walked inside and looked around. "Oh, good. They took down the awful pictures Tina had in here. Frightful things they were, too. She was very sweet, but Lord, that girl had the worst taste in art."

Sarah set her dinner on the dining table. "I'd offer you something to drink, but I think all I've got is water."

Maggie smiled and pulled two tea bags from her apron pocket. "Why don't you eat while it's hot and I'll make us some tea?"

Sarah didn't have much choice. Maggie made herself at home and Sarah pulled the foil from the tray to see what she had brought. It was pot roast with potatoes, carrots and pearl onions. There was also asparagus with a dollop of mayonnaise, buttered biscuits and a slice of apple pie.

The meat fell apart when she touched it with her fork and melted in her mouth. "Oh, Maggie, this is wonderful."

"Thank you, dear."

Sarah tasted each thing on the tray with perfect enjoyment. "This is absolutely the best food I've ever tasted. Will you marry me?" Maggie waved her off, but her round face held a pleased smile. "Do you work here, too?" she asked between bites.

"I cook for the Master."

Sarah grinned in incredulity. "The Master?"

Maggie shrugged. "Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but he is the Master of the house and the players."

"Does he prefer to be called that?"

Maggie snorted. "Lord, no! He hates it. Drives him completely crazy." She smiled with a definitely evil cast. "That's part of why I do it. He needs someone to keep him humble and I seem to have a knack for it."

Sarah laughed. "How long have you worked here?"

Maggie poured hot water into two mugs and carried them to the table. "Almost six years now. It doesn't seem that long really. Time changes texture as you get older."

"How did you come to work for Mr. Crisp?" she asked. "Don't take this wrong, but I'm surprised someone like you is willing to work for a man who runs a sex club."

Maggie patted her hand. "The Master didn't invent S&M, dear. It's been around since the beginning of time. Why, even I dabbled on the edges of it in my younger days. I admit I was shocked at first at how openly it was dealt with, but then-I've done some questionable things in my time.

"As to how I started working here?" She squeezed out her tea bag and set it on the corner of Sarah's tray before going on. "I worked as a secretary for nearly forty years in a construction company. I was all set to retire when the company up and went bankrupt. I didn't even see it coming. Personally, I think the son cleaned out the bank accounts and cooked the books, but I couldn't prove anything, and my pension was gone."

"That doesn't sound legal," Sarah objected.

"I didn't think so either," Maggie agreed. "But the lawyer I went to see said it was. I was already past retirement age so I knew I wouldn't be able to find another job, and even if I did, I wouldn't live long enough to earn another pension. I was left with Social Security and I knew I was going to end up in a rest home while I waited to die."

Sarah waved her fork in a circle to prompt her. "What happened?"

Maggie sighed. "I fell apart. I sat in the lawyer's office and started bawling. I didn't know what else to do. Everything I had worked for was gone and I felt more lost and afraid than I had ever felt in my life. I had no family or children to go to and the few friends I had weren't in positions to help. Security came and they carried me out of the office and left me in the hallway. I'm ashamed to say that I sat down on the floor and bawled my eyes out."

She smiled then and her eyes lit up. "Next thing I knew, a beautiful young man sat down beside me and let me cry on his shoulder."

"Mr. Crisp?"

Maggie nodded and there were tears in her eyes. "He listened to my story and asked me if I was a good cook." She patted her ample belly. "I used this as my reference, and he hired me on the spot. He promised me that I would always have a place to live and people who would care about me. He takes care of all my medical bills and sends me on a two-week cruise every year, plus I get spending money. I'd do anything for him."

Sarah smiled. It was a lovely story. "Is he a good person?"

"Probably the best person I ever met," Maggie said tenderly. "I know what goes on upstairs. I've seen people carried out the front door because they're too weak or too hurt to walk. None of that matters. The Master has a heart of gold and he shares it at the drop of a hat. He pays for everything, you know. The players don't pay for a thing."

"But," Sarah said with a hitch, "I thought that's how he made a living."

"No, dear. I still don't know how he got his start, but he owns stock in computer games and game systems now. He's very shrewd that way. No one knows how much he's worth, but I know he's not losing money. The players are his hobby, not his livelihood."

Sarah relaxed. She had been concerned that Mr. Crisp was running what amounted to a brothel and hadn't been sure how to reconcile it. Her conscience sighed with relief.

Maggie visited with her long enough for her to finish eating and then left her alone with a warning that she shouldn't feel obligated to feed a large orange cat named Marmalade if he should come to call.

All of the wonderful food made her feel tired, so she spent an hour soaking in her very own tub and crawled into her very own bed to sleep.

~***~

Sarah woke up shortly after sunrise and stretched in satisfaction. She couldn't ever remember sleeping so soundly. It was still early, so she made a quick trip to the nearest supermarket and bought enough basic foodstuffs to hold her over for a couple of days. Home again, she made a short pot of coffee and toasted a bagel.

She sat on her front porch to eat and started to fret about the job. Everything depended on her ability to handle it. In spite of Mr. Crisp's assurances, she expected outright carnage. All of the images she had in her head were extremely violent and she wouldn't be surprised to find blood spatters everywhere. By 8:40 she decided it was time to face her demons.

Maggie waved to her from a door she hadn't been through and she went to say hello only to find herself in the kitchen. Her new boss was at the table with a newspaper and smiled at her. "Good morning, Mr. Crisp."

"Morning. Are you ready to work?"

She nodded. "Definitely." She looked over at Maggie. "Thanks again for dinner last night. It was excellent."

"You're welcome, dear. Would you like some coffee?"

"I've already had some, thanks. How do I get upstairs from here?"

Mr. Crisp folded his paper. "I'll take you up. We need to get you some shirts as well." He leaned over to kiss Maggie's cheek before leaving. "Thanks for breakfast."

Their first stop was a small room that held supplies ranging from office products to cleaning solutions to sports drinks. He opened a cupboard and showed Sarah a variety of black shirts that all had STAFF printed in white on front and back.

"Take your pick. There are polo shirts, T-shirts, tank tops and French-cut T-shirts. Take five of whatever you feel comfortable with. If you ever rip one or it wears out, tell Pete and he'll set you up with a replacement."

Sarah went through them quickly, taking a variety of shirts in her size. "I haven't seen Pete or Maggie wearing these."

"They aren't a requirement really. They're more for your protection. In case there are ever players in the house, they identify you as mine-so to speak-and they know not to touch or harass you. I don't think Pete is in any danger for the obvious reasons and Maggie has been with me longer than most of the players. You, on the other hand . . ." his voice trailed off.

Sarah looked at him and saw that his head was cocked to one side and his eyebrows were drawn close together. "Me, what?"

He folded his arms. "Passions among the players run a little high in this house. Sometimes it affects judgment. Until I'm sure they all know that you're off limits, I'd appreciate it if you wore one of those in the house. Never assume there isn't a player somewhere in the house. Sometimes they come here just for a quiet place to visit."

"Okay." Sarah picked a French-cut T-shirt and laid it over a chair back. "Turn around and I'll put this on."

He turned around immediately. "By the way, call me Jordan. When people call me Mr. Crisp it makes me think my dad is nearby."

Sarah pulled her shirt off and dropped it in a chair. "Jordan, then." She pulled on a regular T-shirt and tucked it in. "I'm ready."

Jordan turned with a smile and indicated her shirts with a nod. "You can drop those off in the kitchen and pick them up after you finish working."

Sarah ran to the kitchen and left the shirts by the back door, then ran back to Jordan and followed him upstairs. Emily turned out to be a rather plain woman in her late twenties with the most vivid green eyes she had ever seen.

Jordan introduced them. "Emily, this is Sarah. Your replacement."

Emily smiled, and Sarah warmed to her. "Hi."

Jordan put a hand on Sarah's shoulder. "I'll leave you in Emily's capable hands. See you later, Em." He walked away and Sarah resisted the urge to watch him go.

"You ready?" Emily asked.

"I'm a little nervous," she admitted.

Emily took her by the hand. "Don't worry. I was nervous my first day, too. There's nothing to it." She opened the door and led her inside.

Sarah relaxed almost immediately. There was no blood. In fact, it looked almost exactly the same as when she'd been here before.

"How are you doing?" Emily asked.

"I had this terrible image in my head," she laughed. "I can handle this."

"Good." Emily squeezed her hand and let go. "First, last and most important is your safety. Come on. I'll show you what to do."

Boiled down to simple terms, all she did was basically dishwashing, polishing, dusting and vacuuming. The beds in the side rooms only needed a single sheet changed and there were towels to collect that had stuff on them Sarah wasn't ready to think about, but it all fit in one washer load. The hardest part of the job turned out to be handling the toys, but only because she was embarrassed by them.

At least she didn't have to collect them. There was a basket outside the cleaning room and all of the used toys were in it. Clamps and clips were in another basket and paddles and such were left on beds and tables. When Emily opened the dishwasher and started laying the dildos in it, Sarah laughed until she got the hiccups. It made sense, but the image was just so incongruous.

Emily showed her how to do everything so she understood the why as well as the how and it helped cement the job in her mind. "I think you'll do just fine," Emily told her when they were done a few hours later. "Monday is my last day, so if you have any questions, we've got a couple of days to address them."

"Why are you quitting?" Sarah asked as she tossed her latex gloves in the trash.

Emily blushed delightfully. "I'm getting married."

"Congratulations!"

"Thanks. I found a great guy and he's really good with my son. We're moving to Philadelphia in a couple of weeks so he can take over his dad's furniture outlet."

"That's great. I hope you'll be very happy."

Emily sighed. "I'm going to miss this place. I've been here almost a year and everyone is so nice. It's almost like a family if you let it be. Can I offer you a piece of advice?"

"Sure. I'll take all I can get."

"Don't let this get to you. Nothing that happens here has anything to do with who you are. And there's nothing to be ashamed of in doing this work. They're going to do it anyway. If you look at it right, there's nobility in cleaning up after them. You'll be protecting them from each other. You help keep them safe. Jordan keeps them in line-you keep them healthy. I've met some of them and they're good people. They work hard, pay their taxes and treat their children with love. Okay?"

Sarah nodded with greater understanding. "Thanks, Emily."

"No problem. Now," she reached into her pocket, "we picked up $65 in tips." She grinned. "I worked harder teaching you so I'm keeping $35. Starting tomorrow we'll split it evenly. Deal?"

Sarah thought this was more than fair and she pocketed her cash. "Do you make much in tips?"

"Oh, yeah. This is a sweet deal. Tips are under the table and it almost doubled my income. You're living here though. You'll make more in tips than you do in salary." She looked at her watch. "I've got to go. My son has a soccer game today and I was hoping to be able to go watch him play. See you tomorrow at the same time?"

Sarah thanked her again and headed for the kitchen. Maggie hustled her into a chair and put a plate of cookies in front of her. "How are you doing?" she asked with obvious concern.

"I'm fine," Sarah said. She looked up at the older woman curiously. "Is Jordan aware of how much Emily makes in tips?"

"I imagine so." Maggie poured a glass of milk and set it next to the cookies. "Not much escapes the Master's notice. Why?"

Sarah squirmed in her chair. "It's too much money for the job. Even without tips I'm making more than I need. Especially with all of my utilities taken care of. It makes me uncomfortable."

Maggie pulled out a chair and sat down. "Listen, honey. It's never a good idea to tell someone that they are paying you too much for doing a good job. The Master is paying you what he thinks a good job is worth. There aren't many employers out there who will think that way. Most pay what they can afford without sacrificing what they want for themselves."

"I suppose that's true."

"Have some cookies, dear."

~***~

Sarah had her new job down pat after the second day. She asked Emily a lot of "what if" questions about things she might encounter and felt she had a good handle on the nature of her employer's expectations. The rest of her time that weekend was spent settling in, tentatively exploring her new surroundings, and meeting a few of her co-workers.

Snooping around in the massive house was out of the question, so Sarah explored the grounds. Introducing herself to a groundskeeper named Leroy (a quiet nondescript, middle-aged man who called her ma'am), Sarah learned that the Crisp Estate encompassed 480 acres. A bit more than two-thirds of it was a virtual forest of alder and birch. Leroy showed her where to find the beginning of a trail that wound through it and warned her not to walk it after dark. According to the shy man, it was quite easy to become disoriented in the dark and become lost. He suggested that there might even be predators in it from time to time. Sarah wasn't sure whether or not to believe him, but a small measure of caution would not be a bad idea.

The rest of the property was very precisely manicured. While the forest drew her with its free-spirited wildness, the gardens and lawns around the house comforted her with their structured elegance. Everything was just perfect. It was unnatural in its precision, but it felt good to look at it all. Leroy told her that it took six full-time landscapers to maintain it. She could easily believe it.

A long, low building sat off to one side of the mansion behind some trees. Sarah cautiously wandered closer to see what it was and met Cirenio. A few years older than herself, Cirenio was a dapper Latino man with a pencil thin moustache and a ready smile. He was charming but didn't put any moves on Sarah. She liked him immediately. When she told him she was snooping, he took her inside the brick building for a tour.

It was Jordan's garage and the cars were lined up like they were in a showroom. Sarah counted nine shiny vehicles. She didn't know a lot about cars, but the ornamentation on each grill made them easy to recognize: Jaguar, Porsche, Hummer, Cadillac, Aston Martin, BMW, Rolls Royce, Maserati and Bentley. They were beautiful. Cirenio seemed to take personal pride in them. As the mechanic/chauffeur, it was his job to maintain them. With an excited air, he led Sarah to a shop containing an older sports car in the process of being refurbished.

Sarah wasn't particularly interested in the process, but she listened avidly as he explained what he was doing. Apparently, he had an arrangement with Jordan. There wasn't much to do in taking care of the other cars, so he rebuilt classic cars on the side. Jordan would buy old cars for him and pay for parts. When the cars were completed, Cirenio sold them and kept half of the money. He was proud of the fact that he had never lost money for Jordan and was planning to someday have his own shop and do nothing but restore old cars. Sarah was impressed with Cirenio's ambition and Jordan's willingness to help him achieve it. Not many employers would allow an employee to use company time and resources to pursue their own interests-even if there was profit to be made from it.

Marmalade introduced himself when she got home from her walking. Big and buff, the orange cat was sitting on her front porch with a large, dead rat at his feet. Sarah made a fuss over him and tried not to gag as she swept the rodent into a dustpan. Marmalade wound himself through her ankles as she walked his present out to the trash can. Securing the lid, she looked down at the purring cat seriously.

"I hope you don't plan on bringing me such things on a regular basis," she scolded. "Not that I don't appreciate the time and energy you put into it, but you don't have to impress me. I can see how strong and handsome you are." Leaning down, she scratched at the top of his head. "You can come visit me whenever you want, but no more presents, okay?"

"I see you met my cat."

Sarah straightened to see Maggie at the back of the house next door. "He brought me a gift."

"Did he now?" Maggie laughed. "Dead or alive?"

"Dead." Sarah grimaced. "Is he likely to bring me live ones?"

"He might."

She shuddered. "If he does, I'm calling you to come and handle it."

"Fair enough. I just made sun tea. Can I interest you in a glass?"

Sarah's first impulse was to decline, but she overrode it. "Sure. That would be nice."

Maggie's house was almost identical to her own in structure, but it was quite charming and homey inside. It had the organized clutter one usually associated with grandmothers and Sarah thought it was like being inside of an emotional treasure chest. She just knew that every single thing had a story or emotion attached to it.

"Make yourself at home, dear. Do you want sugar?"

"No, thanks." Sarah smiled at a picture of Maggie on the deck of a boat with a festive drink in hand. "I like your house. Everything is so pretty."

"Why, thank you, dear."

Running her fingers briefly over a yarn doll, Sarah took a seat on the sofa and let Marmalade curl up on her lap. "How many people work here?"

"On the Estate?" Maggie held out a tall glass of iced tea. "Fourteen, I believe."

Sarah ticked off mental fingers. "You, Pete, Cirenio, six landscapers-that makes nine."

"You makes ten." Maggie adjusted a lumbar pillow at her back and settled. "Then there are the three maids and Joey."

"What does Joey do?"

"He works part time taking care of the solarium and the inside plants." Maggie smiled fondly. "He's the sweetest thing. Joey is . . . a little slow, but he's a genius with plants. He works in the afternoons on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays."

Sarah nodded. "I may not meet him then. I'll be in school on those days."

They spent a very pleasant hour talking about Sarah's schooling and the co-workers she had yet to meet. Maggie invited her to eat dinner up at the big house, but Sarah declined. She wanted to enjoy cooking for herself and it seemed to her that an invitation to dinner should come from Jordan. Sarah went home feeling like she had won the lottery.

~***~

About two weeks after school started, the stereo in the playroom gave her an idea and she started recording her lectures. She played them back while she worked and it not only helped her comprehension of the material, but it also distracted her from thinking about what had gone on in the room the previous night. She rarely thought about the players after the first few days.

She seemed to run into Jordan almost every day, either in the house or on the grounds. He claimed to be pleased with her work but continued to express concern over her welfare. Even Maggie and Pete seemed to be watching her carefully and she began to feel a little impatient.

The first week of October, summer made a last-ditch effort to stay around and it warmed up for several days. On a Sunday afternoon after working, Sarah took a cheap novel and headed for the gazebo out in front of the house. With all of the bushes and ivy it was quite cool and she was delighted to find a small gurgling fountain set in the center. Stretching out on a wooden bench with her sweater under her head, she opened the book and started reading. She desperately needed some time away from school and she was completely engrossed when Jordan's voice startled her.

"May I join you?"

Sarah jumped up in surprise and looked over her shoulder. "Sure."

Jordan held out a tall glass of icy lemonade. "I thought you could use this."

"Thanks." She sipped it and realized how thirsty she was. She drank about a third of it and sighed. "That hits the spot."

Jordan sat down opposite her and pulled a small flower through the lattice to smell it. Sarah was struck by the femininity of the act and wished that she could talk about her suspicions. "It's all right for me to be out here, isn't it?"

"Of course." Jordan stretched his long legs out and smiled at her. "I saw you come out here from my office window a couple of hours ago. I thought you might be taking a nap, but instead I find you reading…" He cocked his head to read the title. "…A romance novel?"

Sarah blushed. "I needed to escape for a while. Pirates and a kidnaped princess seemed like a good idea."

"Your secret is safe with me," Jordan chuckled. "Is that a good book?"

"Better than most, I guess. All of these are pretty predictable, but this writer doesn't let you take much for granted. And her imagery is quite good. I know it's trash, but it's fun trash." Sarah grinned. "Do you want to read it when I'm done?"

Jordan laced his fingers behind his head and relaxed. "It's not necessary." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's nice out here. I don't get out of the house often enough."

"Winter is coming," Sarah pointed out unnecessarily. "There won't be too many more days like this."

"When it gets here," Jordan said in an easy tone, "there's a fireplace in the den. You're welcome to come in and curl up with a book any time. There's something very comforting about the crackling of a fire when there's snow on the ground."

"I'd like that."

With Jordan's eyes closed, Sarah grabbed the opportunity to study him. Male or female, his skin was flawless. She felt reasonably sure that a razor had never been used on his face and he didn't have an Adam's Apple. He also didn't appear to have breasts. She would have liked to put her hands inside his shirt to make sure, but she knew it was impossible. Her eyes dropped to his groin. It was hard to tell if there was a bulge or if it was just the way his slacks fit. From working with the toys upstairs, however, she knew it would be easy enough to fake having a man's genitals. Her gaze traveled back up to his mouth and she wondered if he was a good kisser. His mouth was perfect. She imagined his lips would be soft and sweet and she let herself fantasize about it.

Sarah looked away, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction her thoughts were taking her. Regardless of his true gender, Jordan was her boss, and it was completely inappropriate for her to think about him as a potentially desirable woman. She wasn't choosy about size, race, shape or dress when she went hunting for a sexual partner but sizing up her employer was out of line. Even if he had given any indication of interest, it was unethical in the extreme.

She wondered if it was time to go out to a bar and find a date. For some reason, the idea didn't provoke any response and she filed it away, intending to keep an eye on it and see if anything changed.

"You seem to be handling the job very well," Jordan said abruptly.

Sarah rolled her eyes and dropped her head back.

"What did I say?" Jordan asked.

She looked over at him and noticed how blue his eyes were. "I feel like everyone is waiting for me to have a nervous breakdown. 'Keep an eye on Sarah. She could blow at any minute.' Is it so hard to believe that I'm really okay with it?"

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"

"I haven't lost weight." She held up a hand and ticked off each point. "I'm sleeping better than ever. I'm doing very well in school. I'm not afraid of you or the room. I'm fine, but I feel all this pressure on me to feel something I just don't feel and it's frustrating. Everybody looks at me when I walk through the house like something terrible has happened to me and I just don't realize it yet. I don't think I'm being unreasonable when I say that I'm getting a little tired of it."

Humor filled Jordan's eyes. "Fair enough. I'll trust you then to tell me if any problems come up and I'll quit nagging you about it."

"Thank you." Sarah had to smile now that it was over. "Maybe you can do something about Maggie and Pete, too."

"Pete, yes, but Maggie is a law unto herself. Maybe you could cry on her shoulder or something and she'll feel like you've finally gotten through it."

Sarah laughed. "She's always waiting for me with cookies, like a little sugar is going to make everything all better. I went out through the side door once to avoid her and she followed me home."

"Do you want me to say something to her?"

"No. I like Maggie. It's kind of nice to have someone caring for me so aggressively. I'll get used to it."

Jordan dropped his hands to his sides and looked confused. "Cookies are aggressive?"

Sarah opened her mouth to explain her childhood and suddenly thought better of it. She doubted Jordan would understand and he would probably feel like she was deprived and feel sorry for her. Sarah closed her mouth with a snap.

He put his hands up. "Sorry. None of my business." He stood up and put his hands in his pockets. "I've got to get back to work. I'll let you get back to your book."

Sarah turned to watch him walk away. She felt like she had just been rude though she didn't know exactly how. "Jordan?"

He turned instantly and shielded his eyes from the descending sun.

"Thanks for the lemonade."

"My pleasure, Sarah."

His smile seemed completely genuine and she couldn't help but smile back. She lay back and closed her eyes, listening to the fountain and the chirping of birds. Her desire to read seemed to be gone and she allowed herself the luxury of doing absolutely nothing at all.

~***~

"What are you going to wear to the party?" Pete asked her after work about a week later.
"What party?"

"The Halloween party."

Sarah shook her head slowly. "No one told me about a Halloween party."

Pete smacked himself on the head with a meaty hand. "My fault. We have it every year and I forgot you wouldn't know. It's the night before Halloween at eight. You are welcome to bring family or friends. Everybody else will."

I don't have any friends. She hesitated as her inner voice made this announcement and she realized it was true. She shook her head more to clear it than anything else. "I have to study."

Pete looked disappointed. "It's only for a couple of hours."

Sarah felt embarrassed, and tears were threatening to make an appearance. She just wanted to get away. "I'll think about it."

She went home in a daze and tried to think of even one person she had ever confided in, one person she could ask to the movies or to a Halloween party. She came up blank. In that moment she realized how truly alone she was. She was friendly with a great many people because it was expected of her, but she had no one she could identify as her friend. Sarah curled up on her couch with a pillow and called her entire life into question.

She had always felt that she lived on the outside of society. Everyone else seemed to be gathered around the warm fires of family and friends and Sarah watched them from the cool shadows. She had assumed that it was her sexuality that set her apart, but now she wasn't so sure. Even with other lesbians she felt left out. Though, if she was honest, that wasn't a fair statement. She recognized now that many people had tried to get close to her over the course of her life. People approached her just to talk all the time. They inquired about her health, her opinions, and her plans, or just tried to make her laugh. Through it all, she was friendly but remote. She held people off and pushed them away until they gave up and she hadn't even been conscious of it.

Sarah's life over the past seven years had been devoted to finding a way up and out of her parents' apathy. She came to the realization that all she had done was pretty life up a bit for herself. Sure, she was getting a great education and she would be able to provide for herself in a much more comfortable fashion than her parents had, but in the end, she had adopted her parents' emotional poverty as her own. She had wanted to be nothing like her parents, and it turned out that she was exactly like them.

It had been understandable when she was a child because it was all she knew, but now she was an adult and responsible for her behavior. She had used her schooling to isolate herself. Even moving out of the dorm could be seen as an effort to drive people away. She finally understood that without affection and love in her life, she would be no different from that which she had focused on escaping. Her hard work would mean nothing if she didn't find a way to educate her heart as well.

She looked over her sexual history with shame. She had been insensitive and cruel to the girls she had bedded in high school. They'd all had to overcome their fear of rejection to seduce her, and she had walked away from them at the first sign of emotional intimacy. That she had given far more orgasms than she had received probably only made her rejection of them even more painful. At the time she felt that she had given enough. Now she thought she had probably done more harm than good.

What truly shamed her though, was how she had dealt with her needs since coming to college. It would not be far off the mark to say that she walked into a bar or coffee house and asked the patrons if anyone wanted to fuck her. She usually went with the first one to show a serious interest. She could not recall a single moment of intimacy with any of them. Most of them would reach for her as she began dressing, but all let her go when she thanked them for their time. Sarah wasn't sure that she had ever seen any of them as people. That's what made her feel ashamed now.

Her certainty that she would find someone to love when it was more convenient faded away and Sarah felt tears pricking at her eyes. After school there would be work and then she would be starting her own business and making it flourish. There would never be a good time and even if she did find someone, she didn't know the first thing about being close to people. A lifetime of this new loneliness stretched out before her and she started to cry.

Sarah wasn't good at crying. Her nose plugged up and her stomach ached. It made her feel angry and depressed all at once. On the one hand, she felt sorry for herself, but on the other she was angry that she was crying over something she had done to herself.

By the time she settled into sniffles, she was in a full-blown funk. She dragged herself into the shower in hopes that it would revive her, but it didn't. She pulled on a pair of sweats and slippers and went into the kitchen to eat lunch because it was her routine. Food just didn't interest her, but coffee sounded okay, so she started a full pot.

Sarah sat at the table with her head on her folded arms while it brewed and groaned at the knock on her door. It was probably Maggie with her infernal cookies, but she really didn't want company right now. She couldn't just leave her out on the porch though. She glanced in a mirror on the way to the door and thought she looked okay.

It was Jordan. "Pete has informed me that he forgot to tell you about the Halloween Party. I just came by to apologize and to?" his voice trailed off and he looked at her closely. "Are you all right?"

Sarah couldn't take it. "Yes. Thanks for coming by." She didn't exactly slam the door, but it was a near thing. She winced as soon as it closed. Here she was crying over not having any friends and she had just slammed the door in her boss's face. She put her forehead against the door with a sigh and her funk deepened.

"Hi, it's me," she heard Jordan say outside. "I think we hurt her feelings. It looks like she's been crying." There was a brief pause and Sarah went up on her tiptoes to look through the peephole. Jordan had his back to her and a cell phone to his ear. "I don't know. She doesn't want to talk to me. Maybe she'll talk to Maggie. I think I make her nervous."

Sarah felt like dirt. "No, you don't," she blurted out. She saw Jordan's head turn toward her a little and then he leaned back against her door.

"I think I'll wait for a bit and see if she changes her mind about talking to me." Jordan dropped his chin to his shoulder and Sarah knew that he was hoping she would continue to talk to him through the door. "She might feel like we deliberately left her out of the loop."

Sarah settled onto her feet and pressed her hands and cheek into the cool wood. "That's not it."

"I know you didn't, Pete. Mistakes happen. I didn't think of it either. Maybe she's upset for some other reason. Maybe she's a Jehovah's Witness."

Sarah sighed. "That's not it either."

"Maybe she's just too chicken to dress up and party."

Sarah snickered involuntarily. She still had tears in her eyes, but there was something sweet and dear about what was happening.

"I hadn't thought of that. She probably thinks some horrible sadistic bash is going to take place. Did you tell her there would be kids?"

Sarah folded her hands over her heart to contain the ache she felt. Jordan was quiet for over a minute.

"Well, then, I just don't know what it could be. Maybe she really does have to study. You know how hard she works."

Sarah spoke before her throat could close up. "I don't have any friends."

"I'll get back to you, Pete." There was a brief moment of silence. "Of course, you have friends, Sarah."

"No, I don't," she sniffed. "I don't have any friends. I never have." Tears ran down her face, but she felt too bereft to cry. "I've used studying to push everyone away and I don't have anyone to invite to the party."

"Maggie and I are going stag, too," Jordan said softly. "Maybe we could go together. We've been trying to be your friends right from the start. All you have to do is let us."

Sarah wiped at her face in an effort to get control of herself. She knew friendship couldn't be that easy.

"Can I at least come in and we'll talk about it?"

She almost said no, but if she wanted to change her life, there was someone on her front porch asking to be let in. She swiped at her nose with her sleeve. "Do you promise not to say I'm having a reaction to my job? Or that I'm imagining things?"

"Yes, of course."

Wiping tears away with the other sleeve, she opened the door. She couldn't look any higher than Jordan's knees. "Sorry I slammed the door in your face."

"I'm over it," Jordan said generously.

"Do you want some coffee?"

"Sure."

Sarah padded into the kitchen and pulled two mugs from the cupboard. Filling them both, she set them on the table. "Do you want milk or sugar?"

"I drink it black," Jordan said as he sat down. "My dad always said cream and sugar were for sissies."

Sarah sat down with one foot on the seat so she could hug her knee. "My folks said it was a waste of money and would make me fat."

"Have you ever watched Maggie doctor her coffee?"

Sarah smiled inadvertently. "I'm not sure why she bothers to put coffee in it at all. It's no skin off my nose if she wants to drink a cup of cream and sugar."

Jordan chuckled. "But she drinks tea straight. Go figure."

Sarah rubbed her face on her knee to scrub away any lingering traces of tears.

"Now, Pete doesn't drink coffee at all," Jordan added. "He claims it hurts his stomach, but he drinks a six-pack of Mountain Dew every day. It's a wonder he even has a stomach."

Sarah rested her chin on her knee and stole a glance at Jordan. He was completely relaxed and watching her patiently. "Sorry I'm such a mess."

"You're not a mess, Sarah. Some people get all blotchy when they cry. Their eyes swell up and their noses turn red and drip all over everything. It's very unattractive." His face was screwed up in distaste. "Trust me. I've seen every kind of tear there is. You still look relatively normal."

Sarah sniffed. "Thanks, Jordan," she said with amused sarcasm. "That means a lot to me."

"No one's ever said I didn't know how to compliment a woman," he said proudly. His attitude made her laugh and she started to relax in spite of herself. "That's better," he added. "Now, I seem to remember reading that you were Captain of the Chess Club in high school."

"I was," she admitted. "Do you play?"

"Now and then. Do you have a set?"

Sarah nodded and sipped at her coffee. "Why?"

"I'd like to see if you're any good."

Sarah raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "You want to play chess with me?"

"If you think you're good enough to take me on, yes."

Sarah went to get her set from the bedroom. As chess sets go it wasn't very remarkable, but it had been a graduation gift from her guidance counselor in high school and held some sentimental value for her. She set it down on the table as Jordan moved their cups. "I haven't played in several years," she warned.

"I'll take it easy on you," he promised. "Do you mind if I take black?"

"You don't want to flip for white?"

"Black fits my reputation better," he said casually.

Sarah squinted at him. "You do know that white goes first, right?"

Jordan snorted. "Please. I wasn't born yesterday. I have played before. I just like to be black."

Sarah set her pieces up by rote and moved the Queen's Knight out. She sat back with her coffee and waited while Jordan finished setting up his pieces. He moved his Queen's pawn out a single space and leaned on his elbows. "What did you mean when you said you don't have friends?"

It was easier to talk while concentrating on chess. She didn't feel like she was going to burst into tears. It was almost like she was talking about someone else. "Pete told me I could bring a friend and I realized I don't have any, that's all. If I wanted to go out to a movie, there's no one I would feel comfortable asking to go with me. I've never had someone I could just talk to. At first, I thought it meant that no one liked me, but I don't think that's true. I was sitting here thinking about it and I understood that I'm the one who pushes them away."

Jordan scratched at his ear. "Why do you do that?"

It helped that Jordan seemed more interested in the board than in her. She sighed. "Maybe it's because of how I was raised."

He put his fingers on a bishop and considered for a long moment before moving it. "Tell me about your parents."

Sarah studied the board. She couldn't figure out what Jordan was planning yet. "My dad worked in a plastics factory. He worked on the press line or something. My mom was a part-time waitress."

"Was?" He glanced up at her. "Are they dead?"

Sarah shrugged indifferently and moved a pawn. "I don't know. I haven't heard from them since I started at the University."

"Why not?"

"Because they don't love me." It didn't even hurt to say that. She had accepted that fact when she was ten years old.

"I find that hard to believe," Jordan frowned. "They must be terribly proud of everything you've accomplished."

Sarah stared at Jordan over her coffee cup and tried to decide on the quickest way to convince him of the truth. "Do you want to know what the last thing was that my mother said to me? 'You're not coming back, right?' My dad said, 'I get her room'."

Jordan's face was pale and hard. "Are you serious?"

"It's not worth getting upset about," Sarah said truthfully. "It's just how things were. It's your move." She waited for his eyes to move back to the board before she went on. "When I was ten, my mother spent a week at the end of the summer teaching me to cook and do my own laundry. My dad told me to stay out of trouble, to be home by ten every night, not get pregnant and keep my grades up. They promised me that if I didn't bother them, they wouldn't bother me. I've been on my own since then. It wasn't so bad really." She saw Jordan flinch. "My primary image of my parents is of them sitting on the couch with the television blaring. I think it was more real to them than I ever was."

Jordan leaned back from the board with both hands in his hair as if his head hurt. "Were they abusive?"

"No. I mean, they spanked me when I was too noisy or I broke something, but they never really hurt me." He relaxed with a sigh and leaned back over the board. "I cleaned up after myself and tried not to ask for anything and they let me do anything I wanted as long as I was quiet and didn't interfere with their plans. After I started making my own money, I hardly had to talk to them at all. I bought my own clothes and saved up for a car so they wouldn't have to drive me anywhere. Except for the noise of the TV, it was almost like living alone."

"Where did you get your drive? Your motivation?"

Sarah took one of Jordan's bishops. "The first week of high school there was a guidance counselor who asked me what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I asked him what he meant, and he asked if I would be content to have the same kind of life as my parents or if I wanted more. That's when I realized that I had a choice." She smiled at the memory of her epiphany. "He changed my life. I knew that if I wanted more, I'd have to do it all myself, so I asked him what I would have to do. Mr. Daniels and I mapped out all four years of high school in an afternoon, including my job and my extracurricular activities. I followed it to the letter and here I am. The only thing I didn't allow for was a social life. I didn't know I was missing out on anything, but I think if I don't figure it out, I'll be just like my folks."

Jordan moved a pawn. "You really don't have friends at school?"

Sarah shook her head. She was pretty sure she was going to win the game, but she couldn't figure out what Jordan was doing. Whatever his strategy was, she couldn't see it and it worried her.

"What about lovers?" he asked. "Surely you've had girlfriends."

Sarah blushed. "Yes and no."

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," he said quietly.

"It's just embarrassing," she admitted.

"You know what I do," Jordan said seriously. "Nothing you could tell me would make me think less of you. You must know that."

She brushed her hair behind one ear. "I've had sexual partners, but never a girlfriend. Whenever I need sex…I go to a bar and pick someone who looks as desperate as I feel and we…you know."

Jordan grinned. "You make it sound so easy. Most women want intimacy first. How do you get by that?"

She hugged her knee tighter, ashamed of herself. "I look for someone who looks…hungry. Someone who doesn't look at faces. I just go up to them and ask them if they want to have sex with me. Usually they do."

"That part doesn't surprise me," Jordan said as he moved his queen. "Aren't you worried about diseases or getting hurt?"

"I practice safe sex," she said. "I've been pretty lucky so far. I can tell if they're going to be trustworthy before we get to the motel room. If they make me nervous, I ditch them and try somewhere else."

"You should have someone looking out for you," Jordan said firmly. "It's dangerous out there."

Sarah dismissed his words with a flip of her hand and moved her own queen. "I'm careful. Don't worry about me."

Jordan was silent for a moment as he studied the board. "What about love?"

"I don't know anything about that. I think that's why I don't have friends. I don't know how to be close to?" Sarah frowned. "Why did you do that?"

He looked up in surprise at her tone. "Do what?"

"Your knight." She reached out and put her finger on the piece he had just moved. "Why did you move this here?"

"Because you were going to use your rook to take my queen."

"Probably," she admitted, "but I'm not after your queen. I'm after your king. By moving your knight, you lost the game."

"Don't count on it," he said with bravado.

"I guarantee it," Sarah insisted.

Jordan frowned. "How?"

Sarah used both hands to show him. "I move my rook here to check you. You have to move your king here and my bishop slides over here to checkmate you. By moving the knight out of play you made it easier for me. You saved me having to take it out. You've shortened the game by four moves."

Jordan scratched his head. "But you would have taken my queen."

Sarah grinned. "You don't know how to play, do you?"

"Yes, I do," he objected. "I moved all the pieces correctly, didn't I?"

She started to laugh. "I thought you had some brilliant strategy in the works, and I was looking forward to seeing it. But you didn't. All this time I was trying to protect myself from a surprise attack."

Jordan squirmed in his chair. "I did my best."

"I hate to tell you this, Jordan, but . . . you suck at chess."

He knocked over his king. "You played in high school, for crying out loud. I didn't think you'd be a chess master."

"I'm from a small town," she teased. "I didn't have to be that good to excel."

He grimaced. "You're saying I'm really bad."

"You are." She laughed again as Jordan tried to playfully kick her and pulled her other foot up on the chair.

Jordan smiled at her. "You do have friends, you know. You might not know what to do with us, but we'll teach you. You just have to trust us a little bit."

Sarah felt scared and excited all at once. "What do I do?"

"Just let us visit with you. We won't take too much time away from your studies. Promise me you'll come to the Halloween Party."

Sarah bit her lip. "I don't know what to wear."

"Ask Maggie for help. She'll love it."

She rested her chin on her knees. "Are you going to dress up, too?"

"Of course," he grinned.

"What are you going to be?"

Jordan twirled an imaginary moustache. "You'll see."

~***~

Sarah frowned at her reflection. "I don't know about this, Maggie. It seems awfully risqué for children."

"Don't be silly," Maggie said. "They'll think you're that princess in Aladdin. What was her name?"

"I don't know." Sarah wrinkled her nose at the odd feeling between her eyebrows where Maggie had pasted a red dot. "But I think she had black hair. I look like 'I Dream of Jeannie'."

"Stop doing that with your face, honey. Do you want it to freeze that way?"

Sarah put her hands over her exposed belly. "I'm practically naked."

"You look lovely, dear." Maggie was dressed as a clown and made Sarah smile every time she looked at her. "One last thing and you'll be just about ready."

Sarah thought she was ready, and she jumped as Maggie put a sticky finger in her navel. "What are you doing?"

"Harem girls have jewels in their belly buttons." She picked up a round blue jewel and carefully pushed it into place.

Sarah gasped as the sensation shot straight through to her clitoris. "No, no, no!"

"Yes, yes, yes," Maggie replied. "I know it's weird. You'll get used to it and you won't notice it. Trust me. The costume won't be complete without it."

"But it feels so . . ." erotic. She just couldn't say it to Maggie's face.

"Hold it there for a minute."

Sarah put her fingers on it and thought she might die of embarrassment. Maggie turned away and she experimentally pushed on it to make the feeling more intense. She pretended nothing was happening when Maggie turned back around and used tiny safety pins to hide her bra straps inside the skimpy top.

"I still say it's a mistake to wear a bra with this."

"There are going to be children, Maggie."

Maggie squinted into her face. "If there weren't, would you go without it then?"

"No," she said in horror.

"Then stop throwing them in my face. If I had your body, I'd walk around naked all the time."

Sarah snorted in disbelief. "I sincerely doubt that."

Maggie stepped back and pointed a finger at her sternly. "Don't think you know everything about me just because I'm old, Little Miss Smarty-pants."

Sarah blushed. "Sorry."

Maggie went back to work. "You know that picture that hangs in the main hall?"

"I love that picture," Sarah admitted. "I can't walk by it without staring."

Maggie smiled happily. "Thank you, dear."

Sarah stared at her in dawning comprehension. "That's you?"

"Don't look so shocked, dear. It's unbecoming."

"Sorry. Doesn't it bother you that everyone can see it?"

"Hell, no!" Maggie laughed. "I'd paste it up on a billboard if I could get away with it. I was gorgeous. Turn around."

Sarah obeyed. "I could never do that."

"That's too bad." Maggie worked at the back of her top. "You should be proud of the pleasure you give to others' eyes. People like looking at you. This thick blond hair, your perfect figure, your blue eyes-you're very beautiful. Okay! I think we're ready." She moved Sarah's hand and poked at the jewel.

"Don't do that," Sarah whispered.

Maggie cackled. "Gets you right where it counts, doesn't it?"

Sarah's ears were only moments from bursting into flame. "Yes!"

"It's a real sapphire, you know. I asked the Master for it."

"You didn't!" Sarah was mortified.

"Relax, dear." She shook out a cloak and threw it around Sarah's shoulders. "He doesn't know what I wanted it for."

She wondered all the way to the big house if Jordan would know how it made her feel and what she would do if he poked at it, too. The very idea made her weak in the knees and she found herself almost hoping he would.

He had taken to coming to her house on Tuesdays for a game of chess and Sarah had begun looking forward to it. He always took four of her chess pieces before the game started 'just to make it fair', but she beat him anyway. She had wondered if he was letting her win just to make her feel good, but his playing was too abysmal to believe that for long. She didn't understand why he kept playing if he kept losing, but she liked talking to him.

He talked just enough about himself that Sarah didn't feel like she was monopolizing the conversation, but she still didn't know that much about him. He had liked his parents, she knew. She could tell by his eyes that he still missed them. They had died of cancer within two years of each other about ten years earlier. He had no siblings, but he did have some cousins that weren't really a part of his life.

Mostly he talked about past and present employees as if they were his real family. She wondered if he would talk about her someday with other people and what he would say.

There were about forty people in the house, about a third of them children. A safety gate had been put up on the stairway that led to the playroom and a banner with ghosts and pumpkins had been draped over Maggie's picture. Easy listening music was playing somewhere in the background and everyone was laughing and talking. Sarah had to smile at the variety and ingenuity of the costumes.

Maggie took her cloak before she could stop her, and Sarah covered her belly protectively. "It's too late to hide," Maggie whispered. "You can spend the evening cringing, or you can drink some wine and enjoy it. How do you want to remember this when you're old and can't get away with it anymore?"

Sarah elected to relax. She didn't know most of the other employees very well, but everyone was very friendly and they included her in their conversation as a matter of course. She met wives and husbands, and their scampering children were pointed out to her.

Pete stepped out of one of the sitting rooms with a stunning woman on his arm. She was almost as tall as he and easily as dark. Sarah thought she looked like an African Earth Goddess, especially since both of them were wearing what she assumed was traditional African garb. They were phenomenal and she was drawn to them like dirt to white slacks.

"You two look fabulous!"

Pete bowed to her with a smile. "Thank you. You look yummy."

Sarah giggled at his choice of words.

"This is my fiancée," he rumbled. "Amanda, this is Sarah. I told you about her."

"I remember," Amanda said peacefully. Her voice was like musk trapped between the sheets and Sarah's collarbones seemed to evaporate. "I believe Peter said you didn't have the sense to be scared of big, black men."

Sarah smiled. "His eyes are too beautiful for him to be scary."

Amanda looked pleased and she held her hand out. "Should I worry that you'll try to steal him away from me?"

Sarah put her hand in Amanda's and tried not to squeak. "No. But you might be in trouble." Amanda laughed with her whole body and Sarah felt like she had done a good thing. She grinned. "I hope you two will have babies. They'll be magnificent."

"All in good time," Pete chuckled. "All in good time."

A thin, silver stripe appeared over Pete's massive chest and he stepped back. Sarah followed it with her eyes to a black gloved fist and realized she was looking at a sword.

"What have we here?"

All of her awe at Amanda slithered into the cradle of her hips and her mouth went dry. Jordan was dressed entirely in black. He lowered the foil point to the floor and struck a pose. Sarah let her eyes drink him in. She was helpless to do otherwise. He wore knee-high black boots and tight black leather pants. A long-sleeved black satin shirt was tucked in at the waist and a cape all but swirled at his back. He had a dark moustache and goatee that did nothing to hide his full mouth and a mask that covered the upper portion of his face. A wide brimmed hat topped it off. His mouth held a crooked grin and Sarah wanted to melt at his feet.

"Zorro," she croaked.

He laughed. "How do I look?"

"Pretty damn good," she said before she had a chance to think better of it.

Jordan took her hand and pressed his lips softly to the back of it. "You look exquisite."

Sarah felt her entire body blush.

His eyes found the sapphire and it was almost like he touched it. "I wondered what that was for."

Sarah looked into his face shyly. "It feels weird."

"I know." His eyes said that he really did.

A small tow-headed boy dressed as a vampire slapped Jordan on the leg and took off squealing. "Come back, you scoundrel!" Jordan yelled. "Face me like a man!" He winked at her and smiled at Pete and Amanda as he excused himself to run after the boy, sword in hand.

Amanda's look was penetrating and Sarah went in search of something to drink before the dark woman could see things better left private. The wine was very good and she drank several glasses before she realized she should probably be careful. The boundaries of her flesh seemed to be dissolving and everything was funny. Cirenio and his wife, Connie, were telling a cute story about their son when Jordan joined them.

He waited until they were done and spoke with them briefly before taking Sarah's arm. "Would you like to dance?"

Sarah had watched him dancing with other women over the last hour and a half and knew she would never be so graceful as he was. She tried to sober up. "I don't know how to dance like that."

"Yes, you do," he said confidently. "You just don't know it yet." He took off his gloves and tucked them in his pocket. He hadn't taken them off all night and Sarah was lost in wondering why he had taken them off now when he stepped into her and his warm hand settled low on her back. Her lungs emptied themselves as he pressed into her and she looked up into his face. "I know how to dance," he said softly, his perfect mouth only inches from Sarah's thanks to the high heels she wore. "You don't have to do anything. Just feel. I will tell your body what to do and it will be beautiful."

Sarah couldn't feel her legs as he lifted her arm to his shoulder and held the other gently out to the side. Her heart thumped painfully and she yielded to him. Everything beyond his face became a blur of movement and she let it all fade away.

"I love your costume," he said quietly. "Are you having a good time?"

"Yes," she breathed. "I'm a little drunk, I think."

"You're doing fine," he crooned.

"I've never been drunk before," she admitted. His breath smelled like warm cinnamon and Sarah breathed it in.

His hand on her back held her more tightly and his breath tickled her ear. "You're safe, little one. Everything is all right now. Just relax and let me dance with you."

Sarah rested her temple against his cheek and closed her eyes. She felt like she was in a dream. Their bodies fit together in a way she had never encountered before and she felt at peace. It might have been frightening to her at any other time, but Jordan was her new friend and dancing with him was the most perfect thing she had ever experienced. She felt protected and cared for and beautiful all at once. He seemed to be inside of her skin with her and she found it both comforting and exciting.

Jordan came to a gradual halt and his hand rubbed the small of her back softly. "Thank you, Sarah. That was lovely."

She opened her eyes and he stepped back. "That was so easy," she said in wonder.

He smiled at her. "Thank you for trusting me."

Sarah took a deep breath as his hands left her. "You look good with that sword. Like you know how to use it."

"I do," he nodded. "I studied fencing in college. I'm really not that good, but I know enough to make it look like I am." He pulled out his gloves and began to put them on. "I think it makes me look dashing. What do you think?"

Sarah wanted to tweak his moustache. "You're very handsome and you know it."

He gave her a courtly bow with one hand on the blade's hilt and a smile on his lips. "You are too kind, milady."

Someone came up to talk to Jordan and Sarah slipped away to find a bathroom. She felt a little dizzy and she decided not to drink anymore. She didn't have to work in the morning, but she would still have school and she wasn't interested in finding out if hangovers were as bad as their reputation.

She ate a little from the buffet table and smiled at the children who followed Jordan around like he was the Pied Piper. When she unexpectedly broke into a jaw-splitting yawn, she found her cloak and worked her way to the door. She looked over her shoulder as she slipped out and saw Jordan's eyes following her. She smiled at him and his answering grin warmed her all the way home.

~***~

Snow finally fell about a week before Thanksgiving. It started shortly after she had gone to bed, but she hadn't noticed until she got up to make herself some warm milk. She wrapped herself in a heavy blanket and took her milk out to the front porch. It was still and quiet, but there was a whispering hiss as the flakes settled to the ground. She sat in the darkness and opened herself up to the beauty of it.

Sarah had been inexplicably happy of late. She was afraid to question it for fear it would go away, but she couldn't just let it be either. She thought it might be that she felt like she had found a home. A place where she belonged. She'd only been working for Jordan for three months, but it was hard to imagine being anywhere else.

She knew her feelings were primarily because of Jordan. She finally had someone she could call her friend. It was a little odd at times because he was also her boss and her landlord, but his friendship was the most important thing. There were a great many things she wished she could ask him-the least of which was his gender. It just didn't seem as important as it used to. It didn't matter whether he was a man or a woman. He was Jordan and that was enough. She would have liked to ask her friend why he didn't have a girlfriend, but she could never ask her boss.

She also couldn't talk to him about the dreams. Sarah dreamed about dancing with Jordan almost every night. All they ever did was dance, but she would wake up with the feel of his hand in the small of her back, his breath warm on her neck, his body fitting into hers like he belonged there. A few nights earlier, she dressed to go out with every intention of finding someone to ease her sexual needs, but she gave up after the second bar. No one had looked at all interesting to her. The dream that night was particularly vivid and she woke with an aching heart. She knew that the people you dreamed about were really manifestations of your own psyche and that it wasn't really about Jordan, but sometimes it sure felt like it was.

Maggie's cat, Marmalade, squeezed through the posts of her porch railing and Sarah reached out to him with a smile. "What are you doing, big guy? How come you're not in snuggling with your mother?" He walked up her chest and rubbed his face on hers and Sarah scratched the top of his head. He was surprisingly dry except for his feet and when she held open her blanket, he crawled inside, kneaded her lap a few times and curled up to sleep.

Even such a simple thing as a cat sleeping on her lap was a new and wonderful thing for Sarah. She wondered if maybe she could get a cat of her own, but she didn't know the first thing about taking care of one and how much time they needed from their owners. She decided to think it over for a bit before asking Jordan if it was okay.

With her hand buried in Marmalade's fur, she sighed and went back to reminiscing. Her parents had been on her mind a lot recently. It seemed like the happier she got, the more they nagged at her. It had been almost three and a half years since she had seen or heard from them and she didn't even know if they were alive and healthy. She had to wonder if they were even still married. They had not been good parents, but they had been all she'd known.

She felt sorry for them. They led such dreary, invisible lives and she wondered if she would ever see them again or if they would just pretend that they had no connection at all. Neither of her parents was over forty yet. They had been just teenagers when she had been conceived and it occurred to her that both were young enough to start over. It was even conceivable that her mother could still have children.

"Wow," she said softly as that possibility registered with her. They could also have gotten divorced and remarried. That opened up the chance of half-siblings. If her parents started a new family, either together or separately, it would be like Sarah had never existed. If she were not part of their new life, there would be no evidence that she had even been a part of their old one.

Would they be better parents the second time around? She shuddered to think of little siblings and what it would be like for them growing up as she had. She wished a happier life for them, but if they had one it would make Sarah feel somehow responsible for the loneliness of her own childhood. She hoped that whatever form of birth control her parents had used for the first eighteen years of her life was still in use. It was hard to imagine that they ever had sex at all, but she knew they must. She prayed that if they had divorced and remarried that their new spouses had more life and compassion to share with children.

She couldn't decide if she wanted to know or not. What if they were dead? How would she feel about that? Would it please her if they had finally found happiness? What if they were still sitting on the couch together watching other people's lives on television? And what would she do if they were sick or injured and needed her help?

Her past was a gaping black hole inside of her that made her newfound happiness seem rather precarious. She wondered what she would have to do to heal it. The hushed tranquility of falling snow and Marmalade's purring in her lap gave her no answers.

~***~

When Jordan and Maggie learned that she had nowhere to go on Thanksgiving they had insisted that she spend it with them. Sarah had eaten until she felt drugged. It was only the three of them, but Maggie had cooked enough food for an army. There were five kinds of pie alone. Even just tasting everything once was enough to fill her up, but Maggie had kept pushing food on her. When none of them had been able to eat another bite, Jordan led the way to the den and stoked the fire. Maggie stretched out on the sofa and Sarah sat on the hearth with Jordan.

"What are you thankful for?" Jordan asked Maggie.

"Well, it's nice to still be alive, especially since I got rid of that bunion on my foot." She reached for an afghan that lay across the back of the couch and Sarah stood up to help her cover her legs. "Thank you, dear."

"How about you, Sarah?"

She went back to the fireplace and sat down. "I'm grateful that I'm not still in the dorm. I love my house and my job." She hunched her shoulders and stared at her feet. "And you guys are pretty great."

"Aren't you sweet?" Maggie crooned. "You're pretty great, too."

"I'm thankful no one got hurt this year," Jordan said. "And that Maggie and I have your company today. It's nice to spend the holiday with people you care about."

Sarah glanced at his face to find him smiling at her. What he had just said was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her. Her eyes filled with happy tears and she hoped that they didn't start running down her face and embarrass her.

Maggie spoke from the couch. "Did you ask her about Christmas, yet?"

"Not yet" Jordan admitted. "If you don't have any other plans, we want you to have Christmas with us. Usually it's just Maggie and I, but we talked about it and we hope you'll celebrate with us."

Sarah wiped away the tear that escaped. "What do I have to do?"

"Do?" Maggie asked. "The Master and I usually get each other a little something, but you don't have to do anything."

"Please don't tell me your folks didn't celebrate Christmas," Jordan pleaded. He looked genuinely distressed.

"We did," Sarah reassured him. "I always got a new winter coat or socks and underwear. Sometimes I even got books." She smiled in memory. "One year I got a pair of skates. I used to sleep with them because I was so happy to get them. They never bought me toys so it was a real treat." Maggie and Jordan were both staring at her without expression. "What?"

"No toys?" Maggie asked in a disbelieving voice.

Sarah hesitated uncertainly. "We didn't have a lot of money. I needed clothes more than toys."

"Did you have any toys?" Maggie asked.

Sarah was feeling embarrassed about her family and being grilled about it was making her feel worse. "Please, I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Maggie opened her mouth in protest, but Jordan stopped her. "Enough, Maggie. She said her word." Maggie sniffed and settled her head snugly on her pillow.

Sarah looked at him in confusion. "What word?"

"It just means that you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he said without looking at her. "Don't feel obligated to spend a lot of money. And don't eat first. I always make breakfast."

"Okay. Do I have to work that morning?"

Jordan sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "We have to come up with a better system of letting you know what's going on. Everybody else works at about the same time so they talk to each other. You hardly ever see anyone, so no one is telling you what everyone else knows."

Sarah leaned back against the warm bricks. "What did I miss?" Jordan leaned back as well and pulled one knee up. He rested an arm across it and let his hand dangle. She thought it was a terribly sexy pose and berated herself for noticing.

"The house is closed and everybody is on paid vacation from December 23 to January 3. Maggie and I will still be here and you're welcome in the house whenever you like, but we're it. Except for New Year's Eve," he added. "There's a party for the players and select members of the community that night. A regular kind of party. If you want to work, there's a bonus."

"What kind of work?"

"Probably walking around with a tray of hors d'oeuvres. Pete's in charge of that and he's just now starting to work it out. If you want to work let him know. You'll have to wear a uniform and he needs time to order it."

"It won't be anything really outrageous will it?"

Jordan grinned. "Nothing like your Halloween costume."

Sarah grimaced. "That wasn't my fault. I didn't have any choice."

Jordan raised an eyebrow in feigned shock. "Are you telling me that one little old woman got the better of you?"

Sarah glanced at Maggie, but it looked like she was asleep. "She bosses you around all the time and you're The Master. I'm just the chambermaid."

Jordan slapped his knee and hooted.

"Sh," she warned. "You'll wake her up."

"Relax," Jordan said, still laughing. "Maggie can sleep through tornadoes. She won't hear a thing. Just wait till she starts snoring."

"That's a mean thing to say."

Jordan's eyebrows lifted. "I give it about five minutes. Prepare to be impressed."

They waited in silence, all eyes on Maggie, and in less than five minutes the first snore escaped. Sarah's smile grew wider as the snores grew louder and she finally couldn't help but laugh. She wondered why she had never heard this at home. Maggie didn't live that far away and it seemed that she should be able to hear her at night.

Jordan was laughing, too, and he grabbed her hand to pull her out of the room. "It's not safe to stay in the room very long. You could get hearing damage."

"I guess that's why Marmalade scratches on my bedroom window at night."

Jordan closed the library door. "What do you want to do?"

Sarah rubbed her belly. "I'm too full to do anything strenuous."

"Me, too, but I feel like if I don't do something I'll slip into a coma." He stretched until he creaked. "What do you usually do on Thanksgiving Day?"

"Study," Sarah answered honestly. "The dorms are pretty quiet on holidays so it's an excellent time to concentrate. Living alone has been great for my schoolwork, you know. No one is playing loud music or crying over their boyfriends or trying to borrow my clothes. It's always quiet."

Jordan chuckled. "I lived in the dorms, too. I'm sorry to say that I was the rowdy type. I didn't do as well in my studies as you're doing in yours."

"You've done all right for yourself since then," she pointed out.

Jordan shrugged, but there was a hint of irony in his eyes. "It appears that way, doesn't it?"

It was tempting to question his tone, but Sarah didn't want to pry. "You know, I never did get a tour of your house. I want credit for not snooping around on my own."

This brought a smile back into Jordan's eyes. "I'd be happy to show you around. Come on."

Sarah had become accustomed to the sheer size of the house in its exterior dimensions, but her mind had not been capable of grasping how many rooms such a structure could contain. Jordan had rooms for everything. Library, den, study, a home theater that could seat twenty, a music room with a gorgeous grand piano, a fully equipped gym, a bar complete with pool table, formal and informal dining rooms and living rooms, even a ballroom big enough to host a high school dance. There were no less than four guest suites. Each one had a living room area and basic kitchen in addition to the required bedroom and bath.

Throughout, the decor was classy, yet gave the appearance of simplicity. Nothing was overdone, but then, nothing was underdone either. Sarah was impressed. "You have good taste," she remarked.

"Oh, I didn't decorate this," Jordan said. "I paid someone to do this. I have the decorating sense of a toad. All I did was pay the bills."

The last room Jordan took her to was Sarah's favorite. It had been obvious from the outside of the house that Jordan had a solarium, but the reality of it was breathtaking. Sarah entered a warm green jungle of trees, ferns and ivy with a gasp of awe. The room was huge and very little of the walls showed through the climbing plants. The tiled path wound through and under branches and fronds to a waterfall that emptied into a pool large enough to support a small school of brightly colored fish.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

Jordan ducked under a branch and stepped around a large rock. "There's a couch back here if you want to take a break."

Sarah followed and fell into one corner of the old, overstuffed sofa. "This would be a great place to read."

Jordan sat down at the other end and stretched his long legs out. "It is. Feel free to come here whenever you like. Pete eats lunch in here almost every day and in the summer I sometimes sleep here. You can see the stars and the water sounds make it very peaceful and comforting." He chuckled. "We tried having frogs out here one year. They sounded great, but they kept escaping into the house. Maggie found one in the kitchen once and had such a fit we had to catch them all and set them free."

Sarah could see it in her mind, and she laughed. "I wish I could have seen that."

"It took weeks."

He was so relaxed that Sarah felt safe in asking, "When you don't sleep here, where do you sleep? I didn't see anything that looked like your room."

Jordan hesitated. "I sleep downstairs."

Sarah visualized all that she had seen. "I didn't see any stairs."

"Just because you can't see them, doesn't mean they aren't there."

She could tell that Jordan wasn't going to be more forthcoming. Sarah pretended to write a note on her hand. "Don't ask Jordan where he sleeps," she read aloud. "May I ask you a rather personal question?"

Jordan had half a grin on his face, but he thought it over before answering. "I reserve the right not to answer, but you are free to ask."

"Why don't you have a girlfriend? You're smart, rich, handsome and you have a good sense of humor. You could have any girl you want. It seems like some woman should have snatched you up already."

Jordan chuckled. "I don't snatch easily and I'm pretty choosy. There aren't that many women interested in me in any case."

"I find that hard to believe," Sarah snorted. "Most women are dying to meet someone like you."

Jordan sobered. "They don't see me. They see what they think I am and what I have. I'd rather be alone than with someone who doesn't really love me. How come you don't have a girlfriend?"

Sarah hugged herself protectively. "I've got to focus on school. I won't get a second chance with my education and a girlfriend would distract me."

"Sounds like an excuse to me," Jordan argued. "What's the real reason?"

Sarah's automatic defenses kicked in. "That is the real reason. Are you calling me a liar?"

"Yes. You gave me the justification that protects your real reason. Something else is behind your eyes and I want to know what it is."

"Why?"

Jordan turned a little and stretched his arm along the back of the couch. "I'll tell you what: answer my question honestly and I'll answer any question you have with equal honesty. What do you say?"

Sarah brushed her hair behind her ears and pulled her knees up. Jordan was asking her to bare her soul, but he was offering to do the same. She considered it for long moments. "You'll answer any question without getting mad?"

"You have my word," he nodded.

"Okay." Sarah had learned young how to distance herself from her feelings. She let go of any personal involvement in what she was going to say and took a calming breath. "I'm afraid that there's a reason my parents couldn't love me and that if I had a girlfriend, she wouldn't be able to love me either. I don't want to risk my heart only to learn that no one can love me."

"Oh God." Jordan slumped and his eyes were filled with compassion. "You are not unlovable, Sarah. Just because your parents were . . . "

"Do I get to ask my question now?" Sarah interrupted.

Jordan put a hand over his eyes for a second and murmured something inaudible. He took a deep breath and straightened. "Go ahead."

A million questions begged to be asked, but only one would do. "Why do you pretend to be a man?"

A collage of emotion drained the color from Jordan's face. "You think . . . I'm a woman?"

Sarah knew in that moment that she was right. She reconnected with her emotions in an instant and wondered if she had gone too far. "You said I could ask you anything. I answered your question honestly."

Jordan lay back on the couch and covered her face with both hands. "Jesus! I didn't expect . . . How did you know? Did I make a mistake?"

Sarah relaxed. "I always knew. The first second I saw you I knew. How could anyone not know? It's so obvious."

Jordan abruptly scooted closer and looked into Sarah's eyes as if searching for something. "But how? How do you see a woman when everyone else sees a man?"

Sarah could feel Jordan's body heat and it made her heart beat faster. "You haven't answered my question. Why do you do it?"

Jordan struggled visibly with impatience. "It's complicated."

"Of course it is. Tell me anyway."

Jordan spoke with difficulty. "I look like a man no matter what I do. All my life I've been defending my gender. When I was four, a woman in a grocery store told my mom that she should cut my hair or people would think I was a girl. My mom said, 'He is a girl'. I know it was only a slip of the tongue, but it describes my entire life. I got tired of explaining myself. Letting people believe I'm a man is just easier, and I don't have to deal with their anger and confusion. It also gives me more authority when dealing with the players. They're more likely to obey my rules. When people find out I'm a woman, they usually think I've had a sex change. It makes me feel like a freak. I love being a woman. There isn't even one tiny part of me that wants to be a man, but I'd rather be thought of as a man than as some sort of monstrosity."

The insight into Jordan's life was painful and Sarah put a hand to the ruggedly handsome face before she could think about it. "You're not a freak."

"You're not unlovable."

Sarah pulled her hand back, but the feel of Jordan's smooth cheek stayed with her. "You don't have a girlfriend because she'll find out the truth."

"Something like that." Jordan's color was returning, but she looked uncomfortable. "It's my turn again. How did you know?"

Sarah fought the urge to touch her again. "I honestly couldn't tell you. I just did. It was very confusing. Pete kept calling you sir and you looked so butch and handsome, but I knew you were a woman anyway. I had to train myself to think of you as a man, but I never believed it. I thought for a while that you might be transgendered, but it didn't feel right."

Jordan slowly stood up and put her hands on top of her head like she was trying to keep it from exploding. "I forget sometimes, you know?"

"Forget what?"

"What I am. Who I am. I'm surrounded by people all the time and it's like I'm invisible. My reality isn't real. I'm a construct in my own life. I tried to make myself easier to understand and only succeeded in making it impossible for anyone to know me."

"I know you."

Jordan bent over and started laughing. When she finally straightened there were tears on her face and she wiped them away with trembling fingers. "You can't know what a relief this is for me. After all this time, to be able to be myself with someone. To know that I'm not invisible…it's like being able to breathe again."

Having the truth out in the open hatched a new batch of questions. "Is it my turn to ask another question?"

Jordan chuckled. "Go ahead."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-four." Jordan dropped back onto the old sofa with a grin. "Go on. I know you're dying to ask me all kinds of things."

Sarah was no fool. She didn't need to hear the offer twice. "This isn't where you grew up, is it?"

"No. My childhood probably wasn't much different than yours. At least, financially. My dad drove a garbage truck and my mom sold Amway products. We did all right, but we weren't rich."

"You're rich now," Sarah pointed out. "How did you do it?"

Jordan stretched her legs out and crossed them at the ankles. "Investing, mostly. I had a small windfall in my senior year of college and a buddy of mine convinced me to invest in video game development and computer animation technologies. It was rather scary to risk it, but he turned out to be right. Over the years, he's done very well for himself handling my money."

It seemed rather crass to ask how much money Jordan had, so Sarah picked up on something else. "What kind of windfall?"

Jordan's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I want to answer that just yet."

Embarrassed, Sarah pulled back. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm just a little embarrassed by it. Ask me something else."

There was something else that Sarah really wanted to know, but she was a little nervous asking. "Um . . . How do you hide your breasts?"

Jordan ran her hands over her flat chest. "I went to school with a guy who creates special effects for movies. He makes special vests for me. Would you like to see it?"

Sarah sat up straighter, surprised that Jordan was going to show her. "Yes."

Jordan's fingers made quick work of the buttons on her shirt and pulled it open. She stopped to undo her cuffs and pulled her shirt off completely. Arms wide, she turned to face Sarah.

It appeared to be a contoured beige T-shirt. Except for the color and texture, it looked exactly like a man's chest and biceps. Sarah could see what looked like ribs and muscles. "How much of that is you?"

"None," Jordan answered. She put a hand over a pectoral muscle. "This is the thinnest part, but it's still thick enough that I rarely feel anything underneath it. All together it adds almost seven inches to my rib cage. I'm actually quite thin. My friend had to design something to make my chest look larger and my hips smaller. Knowing that I would be wearing these for a good long time, he made the chest thinner so it would hold my breasts instead of compressing them. He didn't want me to end up with empty bags when I got older." Jordan blushed. "I probably shouldn't have said that."

"May I touch it?"

"Sure."

It was uncanny how real it felt. It was soft on the surface, but it was firmer underneath without being stiff or hard. Feeling it through a shirt was like touching real skin. Under her fingertips it felt like nylon. "It must get hot."

"Hot I can handle. It's the itching that drives me mad. Sometimes I think I'll go crazy if it doesn't stop and it's usually when I can't take it off."

Sarah sat back. "Now that I know, I'd be happy to scratch your back any time you need it."

Jordan reached for her shirt. "Thanks for the offer. I may take you up on it."

Sarah felt closer to Jordan now than she ever had before. Her heart felt like it was swelling and needed release. "I like you," she blurted out.

Jordan looked up from buttoning her shirt with a wide smile. "I like you, too."

Elation made Sarah feel silly and reckless. "Will you teach me to dance?"

"Ballroom dancing?"

"I've never felt anything like it," she explained. "Ever since Halloween I've been having dreams about it almost every night. Do you think I could be good at it?"

There was a strange look in Jordan's eyes. "I think you'd be a natural. It would be an honor to teach you."

Sarah bounced in excitement. "When?"

~***~

It was snowing heavily when Sarah left her last final exam of the semester, but the sense of freedom she felt made it seem like spring. Fourteen days stretched out before her-days in which she hoped to spend as much time as possible with Jordan and Maggie. Christmas was only days away and she still didn't have her gifts, but now that classes were over, she could concentrate on shopping.

All of Sarah's spare time over the last weeks had been spent in Jordan's arms. She was steadily improving in her dancing lessons, but it was having Jordan's body pressing hotly into her that Sarah secretly craved. Just last night Maggie had said they looked beautiful together. It certainly felt that way to Sarah. Dancing with Jordan was far more intimate than sex had ever been with anyone else. She didn't feel whole unless she was within the circle of Jordan's arms. Maybe it was wrong to indulge in secret sensual pleasures with her employer, but Sarah couldn't give it up. It felt too good, physically and emotionally, for her to even consider pulling back. Not having any experience at dealing with intimacy left Sarah completely defenseless to it. As terrifying as it was, she was addicted heart and soul.

Part of what she had come to find so exciting about dancing was learning to let go. In order for Jordan to lead, Sarah had to surrender control to her. Her entire life had been about taking control in order to be safe. To voluntarily relinquish control into Jordan's keeping made the dance incredibly erotic. The more she surrendered, the better they were together.

Sarah's hands were half frozen by the time she scraped all the snow and ice from her car windows and headlights. The snow was falling thickly, and she quickly jumped in the car to get the windshield wipers going before all her hard work was obliterated. The battered Toyota didn't have a heater-it had died several years before-and Sarah blew on her fingers to warm them up. Not having a heater meant that moisture collected on the inside of her windows when it was cold. She worked for several minutes with a small squeegee and an old rag to make it possible to see.

Conditions were bad on the road. The streets were slick and treacherous with all the new snow, but it was the poor visibility that made it particularly hazardous. Sarah drove slowly, avoiding the highway. Taking the streets through town would take longer, but it would be safer, and help would be easier to come by if she got stuck.

Sarah was waiting her turn at a stoplight when all hell broke loose.

Part Two

She hurt. That was the first thing she knew. Everything hurt. Even her hair. Sarah opened her eyes cautiously and even that was painful. She didn't recognize where she was. This was not her room. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried again. Individual elements came together and she realized she was in a hospital. There was a television high on the wall beyond the foot of her bed. Sarah could see an IV bag beside her, and she could hear the steady beep of some sort of monitor.

Moving her head or her eyes was out of the question. She just knew that it would be agonizing. Sarah's mouth was cracked and dry, not to mention that it tasted like an old gym shoe. She tried to wet her lips with her tongue, but it didn't help, and something was wrong with her tongue anyway. She whimpered at the pain of moving it.

"Sarah?"

Jordan's worried face was suddenly above her and Sarah's fears eased. "Hurt," she managed to say thickly.

"I'll bet you do," Jordan said with a relieved smile. "You're okay. I promise." She looked away for a moment and then reached up to tenderly brush Sarah's hair with long fingers. "We've been waiting for you to wake up. I'm calling a nurse to have a look at you. Don't try to move just yet, okay?"

Sarah tried again to wet her lips. "Thirsty."

Jordan turned quickly and then pressed an ice cube to her lips. "They said you could have ice. Is that better?"

It was heaven. Maybe not as satisfying as having a real drink, but it sure felt good. Sarah studied Jordan's face as she tasted the melting water on her tongue. The older woman looked tired and ruffled. "What happened?"

Jordan's face tightened. "What do you remember?"

It was too hard to remember. Now was difficult enough to comprehend. Before was impossible. Sarah closed her eyes and concentrated on getting as much moisture into her mouth as possible. Someone came into the room and Sarah trusted Jordan to handle it.

"She's awake," Jordan said. "She's talking and she's thirsty."

Fingers pressed into her wrist and Sarah opened her eyes to find an attractive nurse leaning over her. The ice cube was taken away as the nurse looked into her eyes.

"You are a very lucky young woman," the nurse smiled.

"Don't feel lucky," Sarah muttered. The words didn't come out clearly, but she didn't care. She felt Jordan's hand slip into her own and she weakly gripped it. "Home," she said clearly. "Want to go home."

"That's a good sign," the nurse said. "Let's see how you're doing and then the doctor will discuss that with you."

It was a brush off and Sarah knew it, but there wasn't much she could do about it. By the time her blood pressure and temperature had been taken, she could feel that she was going to fall asleep again. Tipping her head slightly to catch Jordan's eye, she pleaded, "Stay?" Her eyes closed and she began to drift as her friend's lips touched her forehead.

"Sleep, little one. I'll be right here."

The soft words were like a lullaby and Sarah fell asleep to them.

~***~

She really had to pee. The screaming of her bladder was responsible for waking her the second time. Sarah remembered where she was and now she suspected why she was there. It had to have been a car accident, which struck her as rather ironic since she clearly remembered having her foot on the brake.

Sarah still hurt head to toe, but it didn't seem as bad now. Or maybe her body had become used to it while she slept. Whatever, she had to get up and find the toilet. One arm had an IV in it, so Sarah used the other to move the thin covers back.

"Whoa," Jordan's voice erupted. "Where do you think you're going?"

Sarah stifled a groan as she turned towards the edge of the bed. "Gotta pee."

"I don't think you're supposed to be up."

Using the bed rail, Sarah pulled herself into a sitting position and waited for the dizziness to pass. Nothing appeared to be in a cast. Her left knee was quite sore though. Sarah pushed the blanket further away and took stock. It was bruised and a little swollen, but if it wasn't in a cast, it was probably okay. "Can I walk?"

"I don't know."

The pain in the back of her head was bad. Sarah slowly lifted her chin and looked at her employer. "I have to pee. Now. Help me?"

Jordan looked at a loss for a moment and then shrugged. "Yes, ma'am."

The bed rail came down and Sarah slid her legs off the side of the bed with effort. One hand on the IV stand and the other clutching Jordan's arm, she put her feet on the floor. Feeling so weak was the worst part. It actually felt kind of good to be moving, even if all she could manage was a drunken shuffle. Her knee was definitely sore, but it was functional. Well aware that her ass was hanging out the back of her gown and unable to care, Sarah made it into the bathroom and onto the toilet. Just as Jordan closed the door, she let go of her bladder and groaned in perfect relief.

"You all right?"

Sarah relaxed with a sigh of contentment. "Oh, man. You have no idea how good this feels."

Jordan laughed on the other side of the door. "Don't bet on it."

Sarah leaned back against the toilet as her bladder emptied. "I was in some sort of car accident, wasn't I?"

"Yes. Do you remember any of it?"

Sarah replayed the moment. "Not really. Just a lot of noise and a jolt." She moved her tongue around experimentally. "I think I bit my tongue. It kind of hurts. Everything hurts."

Jordan mumbled something.

"What?"

"Nothing. Let me know when you want to get up. I'll help you."

Sarah sat there longer than necessary just because it felt good. When she was ready, Jordan came back in and helped her up. Turning to the sink to wash her hands, she got a look at her face in the mirror and gasped. "Is that me?"

"Temporarily," Jordan nodded regretfully.

Sarah gently touched the bruising around one eye. Both eyes were blacked, a bandage covered her nose, and her bottom lip was split and swollen. "I look like I lost a fight."

"In a manner of speaking," Jordan said softly.

"How bad am I hurt?"

"Not very, considering the accident."

There was a bandage behind her left ear and Sarah poked at it cautiously. "What's this?"

Jordan looked away from Sarah's reflection. "Maybe we should get you back into bed and then talk."

Worried about Jordan's evasiveness, Sarah let herself be put back into bed. Finding the controls, she raised the back as high as it would go so she was sitting. Her little excursion had left her shaky and light-headed, but it was just weakness and would pass. Jordan held a glass of ice water for her and Sarah sucked greedily at the straw. Having water in her belly made her realize she was hungry, but that could wait. "Tell me what happened. Please?"

Jordan sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "Well, I'm sorry to say that your car was completely destroyed."

There were different levels of 'completely destroyed' when it came to cars. Most newer cars were considered 'totaled' after a ten mile per hour fender bender because the frame was designed to absorb and deflect the impact from the passengers. The Toyota had been built in the days when cars were built to survive accidents instead of people. As long as the frame and the engine were sound, it could be rebuilt. The question was whether or not it would be cheaper to buy a new used car than to fix the Toyota. "Maybe I can pay Cirenio to fix it."

Jordan shook her head slowly. "You don't understand. It's a total loss. I don't think there are even any parts from it that could be used on another car. Cirenio took a look at it and he suggested a closed casket burial."

"That bad?"

"Yes. But don't worry about that right now."

Sarah felt a pang of grief. "I've had that car since I was sixteen. It was never really a nice car and it had a lot of problems, but it was mine."

Jordan nodded sympathetically. "Cars can be replaced, Sarah. You can't. It kept you alive when the chips were down. There's no better epitaph than that."

She knew that Jordan was right. The car had done its job over the years. It might even be fun to look for a newer car. One that had a heater sounded like a good place to start. She had been saving her salary and a good portion of her tips for the last several months, so she had money. Maybe she could get Cirenio to help her look for a new vehicle.

Taking another drink, Sarah let her head sink back into the pillow and some of the pain eased. "When can I go home?"

"A day or two, at least. We'll know more when the doctor comes by later."

Sarah was starting to feel drowsy again, but she didn't want to sleep just yet. "I hurt, but I'm not hurt that bad, am I?"

"Not nearly as bad as you could have been, but there has been reason for concern. You seem to be doing much better than we expected though."

Sarah shifted her head a little and studied Jordan's face. "What did you expect? Why was there concern?"

"Maybe you should wait and let the doctor tell you," Jordan suggested.

"I'd rather hear it from my friend."

"Okay," Jordan said slowly. "You banged up your knee. They did an MRI, and the results were good, but they think it will need a brace for a few weeks, just for the support. You've got a lot of deep tissue bruising, especially on your torso, and they've been watching for internal bleeding and clotting, but so far, you're doing fine. You were wearing a lot of layers of clothing and they think that may have prevented more serious damage. It certainly prevented you from getting cut by the broken glass." Jordan sighed and went on. "It's pretty much a given that you've got whiplash. You'll probably get one of those collars later on. Your head took the worst of it though. You broke your nose and cracked your left cheekbone. You also hit your head hard enough to cause bleeding in your brain. They had to go in behind your ear to relieve the pressure. You were having seizures."

Sarah thought she should be more shocked than she actually felt. Mostly she just felt numb. Her hand crept back to the bandage behind her ear. "They did brain surgery?"

"Oh, it wasn't that extensive. They just drilled a little hole to let the blood out. The surgeon said you stopped having seizures right away. They had to shave a little of your hair away, but with your hair down, it won't even be noticeable. You really are very lucky to be alive and in as good a shape as you are. I'm betting you'll be back on your feet in no time."

Sarah closed her eyes and let all of the new information percolate. It was very strange to wake up and find that important things had been happening to her while she wasn't aware. "How long have I been here?"

There was a hesitation before Jordan answered. "Four days."

The world tilted crazily and Sarah felt lost. Four days? How could four days of her life be gone forever? It didn't make any sense. Days don't just disappear without some sense of time passing. One day, maybe, but not four. It put her out of step with the rest of the world. Sarah couldn't help her tears.

"Ah, don't cry, little one. I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I missed Christmas," she lamented.

"No," Jordan soothed. "We wouldn't have Christmas without you. We'll have it when you feel better."

Embarrassed by her tears, Sarah covered her face with an arm. "I don't have presents for you yet."

"We don't care about that, little one."

"I care," she wept. Jordan was touching her uncertainly, like she didn't know what to do, and it only made Sarah feel worse. "You guys are so nice to me and I don't even have presents to give you for Christmas."

"What have you done?"

Maggie's familiar voice cut through the room and Jordan jumped up from the bed. "Nothing. I was just filling her in, and she's upset about missing Christmas."

"Men," Maggie barked in disgust. "Go make yourself useful somewhere. Lift something heavy or find me some decent coffee. Go on, now. I'll handle this."

Sarah surrendered to her tears as Maggie sat down at her side and gently pulled her into a warm embrace. No one had ever held her like this and as frightening as it was, it felt wonderful. It was the kind of thing a parent was supposed to do, and Sarah let herself indulge in it.

"That's it, sweetie. You just cry all of it out. It'll make you feel so much better. Everything is going to be okay now."

Maggie's soothing voice droned on as she gently rocked Sarah tears and eventually the tears quieted. She felt empty and boneless. It was a rather nice feeling. Maggie was so warm and soft.

"You had us so worried," Maggie said quietly. "I can't tell you how happy we all are that you're okay."

"I missed Christmas," Sarah whispered. She just couldn't let go of that fact.

"Well, Christmas missed you too, honey. The whole day was just ruined because you weren't awake to celebrate it. I vote we reschedule for New Year's Day. It's not much of a holiday anyway. It could use a little sprucing up. How does that sound to you?"

"Okay," Sarah agreed gratefully. Maybe now she would have a chance to buy presents for the two of them. "Sorry I cried all over you."

"That's what shoulders are for, dear. Now, let me have a look at you."

Sarah was laid back on the bed and Maggie's hands checked her out. It was comforting to feel fussed over.

"Lord, girl. You look like hell."

It was not what she expected to hear, and it struck her as funny. Sarah laughed as well as she could without making her split lip hurt worse. "You're not supposed to talk to patients like that."

Maggie blew a raspberry. "It's an old woman's prerogative to tell the truth. You do look like hell. Fortunately, it will all heal, and you won't have any scars. Maybe a little one behind your ear, but your hair will grow over that. The Master had one of the best reconstructive surgeons in the country in to have a look at you. He said you wouldn't be able to tell you'd ever been in an accident once you've healed."

Sarah sighed. "I'm never going to be able to afford this."

Maggie raised her eyebrows. "What are you talking about? The accident wasn't your fault, honey. The fool who did this to you had insurance. You don't have to pay for anything. In fact, you'll probably end up with enough money from the settlement to buy a new car and still have a hefty chunk to put in the bank."

Sarah felt an extraordinary relief. She hadn't considered that.

"Jordan even got you a temporary lawyer, until you could pick one for yourself. Although Melanie Schultz is very good. I'm not sure you can do better in that department. If you decide to let her handle the case, she'll do very well for you."

"It feels weird to hear about everything that's been happening while I slept."

"I'm sure it does, dear."

"What else have I missed?"

Maggie fussed with the thin covers, tucking and arranging them around Sarah. "I'm not sure where to start."

Sarah covered one of Maggie's hands with her own. "At the beginning. Please, I need to know everything."

Maggie stilled and seemed to come to a decision. "What do you remember of the accident?"

"Nothing, really."

Apparently, the man who rear-ended her thought that having a four-wheel-drive pick-up meant that he could drive the posted speed limit regardless of the conditions. Coming up behind her, his brakes had been less than useless on the icy streets. Slamming into her rear end at forty-five miles per hour, Sarah's car had been catapulted into the intersection. The other drivers on the road had been driving much more cautiously but had been unable to avoid her. Two other cars (one from each direction) had spun her around, one right after the other. To top it off, a semi-truck went into a jack knife trying to avoid the free-for-all and his trailer had come to a stop on top of Sarah's car, pinning it underneath.

To make matters as bad as they could possibly get, the semi was hauling gasoline and the accident had caused a serious leak. In spite of the snow and slush on the streets, it was a highly dangerous situation. The tiniest spark would have turned the street into an inferno. Sarah's car was pinned in such a way that rescuers were initially unable to reach her in order to learn if she was alive or dead. The opinion on the scene was that she could not possibly be alive inside the wreckage. Still, there was a sense of urgency to be sure. The problem was finding a way in without using heavy equipment and possibly setting off a firestorm.

Not long after rescuers arrived on the scene, an officer called the Toyota's plate number into dispatch to see if they could find out how many people might be trapped inside. When the Estate's address was reported back, one of the firemen recognized it as Jordan's place. He was one of Jordan's players. Using his personal cell phone, he called Jordan.

"The Master was frantic," Maggie emphasized. "I've never seen him quite so out of control. Of course, we were all just scared out of our minds for you. And then, to get there and have your car pointed out to us . . . just a tangled jumble of metal under that truck." Maggie wiped a tear from her eye. "I just broke right down and cried. I just knew you were dead. I think we all did."

It sounded like a TV movie of the week. Sarah was fascinated. "I was still in the car when you got there?"

"Oh, yes. It was about a half hour later before someone finally got an arm inside the wreckage and said you had a strong pulse, and it was over an hour after that before they managed to get you out. There was blood all over your face and you were limp as a rag doll. They wouldn't let any of us ride with you in the ambulance. When we got here, they were taking you up to surgery because you were having seizures. Lord, we were terrified."

Maggie took Sarah's hand between her own with a sigh. "There's something you need to know. Jordan would keep it a secret, but I don't much agree with that."

"What is it?"

Maggie looked very sad. "While you were in surgery, the hospital suggested that someone contact your parents."

Sarah got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "They’re not here, are they?"

"No, dear."

She sighed with relief. "Thank God." Then she considered the implications. "Did Jordan talk to them?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"Well," Maggie began primly. "After he stomped the phone into the ground, he sat down and cried like a baby."

It was hard to imagine that, but if it was true, it made Sarah feel really good.

"The Master won't tell me exactly what they said, but we've talked about it and we've decided that since you don't have a family, we're keeping you."

"Keeping me?"

"Your parents might not want you, but we do. No matter where you go or what you do with your life, we will always want to be a part of it. It's unfortunate that it took this accident to make it clear to us how dear you've become, but we know now and we've no intention of letting you slip away. We are your family now. If you'll have us."

"But, you hardly know me," Sarah blurted out in shock.

"Don't be silly," Maggie scolded gently. "I don't need to know every single thing about you to know that I love you. There isn't one thing about you that I don't find utterly adorable. If I'd ever had a daughter, I would have counted myself the luckiest mother alive if she had been exactly like you. There's something seriously wrong with your parents if they don't feel the same way. I just can't imagine it. Maybe they're aliens or something."

Sarah's heart ached with the sweetness of the offer. It was terrifying to say it aloud, but she really wanted to. "I love you too, Maggie."

The old woman's smile was brilliant. "That's the best Christmas present you could ever give me, honey."

Jordan came back while they were hugging. "I brought your coffee, Maggie. And the nurses said Sarah could have Jell-O. I wasn't sure what kind you like, so I brought a selection."

The large hands were cradling a half dozen small containers and Sarah giggled. "I'm too hungry to care. I'll eat them all."

With Maggie's help, she only managed one before she felt full. The mood in the room was light and playful, even when a nurse came in and displayed some ire over not having Sarah's urine to measure and test. She was quite stern in explaining how important it was to follow the rules and scolded Jordan severely for allowing Sarah to walk on her bad knee without supervision. All three of them burst into laughter when she left the room.

Sarah's doctor came by while they were imitating the nurse. Short and round with beautiful East Indian chocolate skin and an unpronounceable name, he very efficiently gave her a thorough exam. Doctor Raj (as he suggested they call him) started with her eyes, ears and memory. It was a little hard for Sarah to understand his thick, musical accent, but he made himself clear enough. He even made her get out of bed and walk around. The nurse brought a knee brace and Sarah was pleased at how much better it made her leg for walking.

Doctor Raj also gave her a soft neck support, but laughingly told her that all it really did was remind her to take it easy. It made Sarah feel claustrophobic, so she took it off and told him she would remember. The IV was removed from her hand and Sarah asked the question she was most anxious to learn the answer to.

"When can I go home?"

"You are needing a CAT scan, young lady. We are first thing doing it in the morning. If all is good, then we are talking about it. Before you are going home, you must be eating, and your bowels must be moving. This is very important for showing that your insides are properly behaving. You understand?"

It was very hard not to laugh. "I can't go home until I poop. Got it."

"Very good. I come back tomorrow and tell you how the testing is."

Sarah looked at her friends when they were alone again. "Thanks for everything, you guys. Really."

Jordan inclined her head graciously. "You're welcome."

"I'm fine if you want to go home. I'm probably just going to sleep anyway."

Maggie raised an eyebrow to their employer. "You should take a break. Go home and take a real shower. Get some sleep. I'll stay with her for a while."

"I'm okay," Jordan insisted.

Sarah frowned. "Have you been here the whole time?"

Jordan shrugged. "It was nothing."

Her first thought was that Jordan had been wearing the thick vest for four days straight. Even if she had taken showers or sink baths over that time, she had still been putting the same vest back on each time. Only a true friend would subject herself to such a thing. And a true friend wouldn't allow it to go on any longer than absolutely necessary. "We both know that's not true," she said gently. "You've endured enough discomfort on my behalf. Thank you from the bottom of my heart but go home and get out of those clothes. Please."

Jordan scowled. "Oh, all right. But I'll be back for the night shift. Can I bring you anything?"

"Ice cream," Sarah teased. "And some sweats. Maybe a teddy bear or something. How come I don't have any flowers? Aren't I supposed to have flowers? And balloons? Don't you people know anything about visiting someone in the hospital?"

Jordan shook her head with a rueful grin. "I don't know what I was worried about. There's nothing wrong with you. I'll see you two later."

Maggie was studying her as Jordan left. It made Sarah a bit nervous. "What?"

The old woman shrugged casually. "Just enjoying the way you have with the Master."

"I don't have a way with him." Sarah adjusted her blanket. "We're just friends."

Maggie sniffed. "Well, if you want to go home, you've got bowels to move. More Jell-O?"

~***~

Jordan came back at nine that night in blue jeans and a leather jacket. It was not her usual attire and she looked really hot. But what made Sarah smile was that her boss had brought all of the things she requested. "You didn't have to do that," she said after hugging Maggie goodbye. "I was just kidding."

"That's what made it fun. Eat this before it melts."

Sarah dug into the Chocolate Chip ice cream with relish. It was her favorite and it felt really good in her mouth. "Yum," she said between bites. "I like the flowers."

"I wasn't sure what kind you like best, so I got a mix."

"They're really pretty."

Jordan tied the balloon bouquet to the foot of the bed and sat down in a chair. Running her hands through her hair, she relaxed. "Thanks for making me go home. I feel much better now. I didn't realize how grungy I felt."

Sarah stuck the spoon in her ice cream and reached out for Jordan's hand. "I can't believe you actually stayed with me the whole time. Thank you."

"I'd have gone crazy not being here, little one. You don't have to thank me."

There was no way to express how much it touched her, so she tucked the little brown teddy bear into the crook of her arm and went back to eating her ice cream. "I met the lawyer you got me."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. I hope you don't feel like I stepped on your toes."

"Not at all. She's kind of intense. Is she one of your players?"

"No, but I've heard good things about her from some of the players. She used to work for an insurance company while she was studying for the bar. She understands how they work. She'll get you every possible dime she can."

"And then take a third of it."

"I know. It doesn't seem fair, but it's the going rate."

"It's a good scam." Sarah sucked on a small chunk of chocolate until it dissolved in her mouth. "Which one did you talk to? My mom or my dad?"

Pain flashed across the blue eyes. "Maggie told you."

"Don't be mad at her," Sarah said quickly. "I had a right to know."

Jordan covered her face with both hands and then dropped them into her lap. "I don't think I believed you, you know. All kids and parents go through rough times. I just assumed that yours was a little rougher than most and hadn't worked itself out yet."

Sarah smooshed her spoon through the softening ice cream. "I like hearing you talk about how great your parents were, but I don't understand it. I don't have any frame of reference for what you tell me. It just sounds weird to me."

Jordan stood up and went to the window to stare out at the night. "I spoke with your mother, but I could hear your dad in the background. All they cared about was making me understand that you weren't on their insurance anymore. I offered to pay for a flight so they could come see you and she wanted to know why they would want to do that."

It sounded about right to Sarah. She could almost hear her mother's whiny voice. "What else?"

"That was it."

"Which part of that made you so upset that you crushed your phone?"

Jordan sighed, and her shoulders slumped. "I told them you were in surgery and that we didn't know if you were going to live, and your mother wanted to know if you had any money they were entitled to as next of kin."

Sarah shook her head with a smile. "Now, that sounds like the parents I know and love."

A low growl erupted from Jordan and her hands smashed down on the windowsill. It shocked Sarah to the core and she realized that this really was distressing to others. It was exactly what she had come to expect from the people who had raised her, but she hadn't realized that it could upset people. Setting her ice cream to the side, Sarah eased out of bed and went to stand beside her friend. "Don't be upset, Jordan. I'm used to it."

"Can you even conceive of how wrong that is? It's no different than saying that you've gotten used to having a knife stuck in your heart. What they've done to you is . . . it's a perversion, Sarah. It's evil. It's worse than evil."

All she could think of was to make the pain in Jordan's face go away. Acting on instinct, she reached out to hug her friend. The taller woman gathered her in gently and began to rock from side to side. "I'm sorry you had to call them," Sarah whispered.

"No," Jordan said. "I'm sorry. Sorry that you had them for parents when you deserved so much better. Sorry that my temper got away from me. I just . . . you're such a good, sweet woman, Sarah. I don't know how you got that way, but the thought of anyone hurting you eats at me. It makes me crazy. I want to hurt them for what they did to you."

Sarah smiled into Jordan's neck. Maybe it was wrong, but it made her feel good to hear that. "Maybe I should introduce you to them. They would really hate you. A woman who dresses as a man and runs S&M sex parties out of her house? It would probably give them hives."

Jordan's snicker was encouraging.

"The icing on the cake would be telling them that I clean up after those parties," Sarah added. "We'll make sure to mention that the dildos are dishwasher safe. That would send my mother over the edge for sure."

Jordan laughed outright. "What would they say if they knew you were mooning half the city?"

Sarah's hands flew back to close her gown. "Oops. We can't have that."

Still chuckling, Jordan reached for the sweats she had brought. "Maybe you should put these on and get back into bed. You're far too active for someone who almost died a few days ago."

"The key word there is almost. I'm not going to let a headache and a twisted knee suck all the fun out of Christmas break."

~***~

When she was wheeled out of the hospital the following afternoon, there was a stretch limousine waiting for her. Every single one of her co-workers was inside. Jordan had clearly not known that they were coming and the fact that all of them wanted to be there to see her made Sarah cry. She hadn't been aware that they even liked her. She showed them most of her bruises and they talked about where they were when they found out.

Sarah learned several things on the ride home that Maggie and Jordan had not told her. There had been media coverage of her rescue and one of the maids promised to show her the recording of the news broadcast. Newspapers had covered it as well and Pete told her that he had saved them. The bigger surprise was that all of her co-workers had donated blood in case she needed it. Maggie told her now that the players had done the same. Altogether, a little over two hundred people had donated blood in her name. It was staggering that so many people had made the effort. Aside from her co-workers, Sarah understood that it had been done for Jordan's sake and not her own, but it was still impressive.

The next twenty-four hours were a blur. Sarah's headache had grown to devastating proportions on the ride home. It served to remind her that she really did have to take it easy. As soon as she could sit up without feeling nauseous, Sarah took a long, leisurely bath. Maggie helped her wash her hair and shave her legs. She felt very nearly human afterwards and took her pillow and teddy bear out to lay on the couch.

Jordan was at the big house dealing with setting up the New Year's Eve party and Maggie was cooking something for dinner when Pete brought her the newspapers that covered her story. He read them to her in his slow rumble. Several other people had received minor injuries in the multi-car accident. Sarah studied the pictures carefully. "Where's my car in all of this?"

Pete pointed at the back end of the tanker. "Right there. About halfway between the back tires."

It was hard to tell exactly where it was in the grainy photograph. It was very strange to think that when the photo had been taken, she was in there somewhere. "Where is my car now?"

"On a tarp in the garage."

"Can I see it?"

Pete frowned at her. "I think not today. It will be there when you feel better."

There was no hurry. Sarah handed the papers back to the big man. "Thanks for showing them to me."

"No problem." He looked like he was making a decision.

"What is it, Pete?"

Pulling a clipping from his pocket, Pete unfolded it and looked at it before handing it to her. "I thought you should have this."

Everything receded as Sarah studied the candid photo. Jordan was crouched on her heels in the snow, one hand covering her mouth. There was naked grief in her eyes. It must have been taken during her rescue. Sarah accepted that Jordan kind of liked her, but this . . . it suggested that Jordan's feelings were stronger than Sarah knew. No one looked like that for just anyone.

When she looked up, Pete was gone, and Maggie was looking at her intently. Sarah didn't know what to say.

"What do you see?" Maggie asked.

"I don't know," she stammered. It couldn't be true. "He's a very sensitive person. He was worried about me."

"I think it's more than that, dear."

In denial, Sarah threw out the only defense she could think of. "I'm a lesbian."

Maggie's smile was fleeting. "I think we both know that your sexual orientation is not the hindrance you want me to think it is."

Sarah gasped in shock. "You know?"

"I'm old, sweetie. Not blind. I've always known."

"But…"

"It's no skin off my nose if the Master wants me to think he's a man. He carries it off quite well, don't you think?"

"Yes, but . . ."

"The real question is how you feel about him. Do you love him?"

It wasn't something Sarah was prepared to think about. That Maggie was even asking was a shock. "If you know, why do you say him?"

"I respect his right to live the way he chooses. This is America. The land of the free and the home of the brave. The Master is both. It is hard to remember sometimes not to get my pronouns mixed up. It's the real reason I call him the Master. It helps to cement his gender in my mind. How long have you known his true sex?"

"From the first moment I saw him," Sarah admitted in wonder. "Then, on Thanksgiving Day, I asked him outright why he was pretending to be a man."

Maggie cocked her head with interest. "What did he say?"

She started to answer and then changed her mind. "You should ask him yourself, Maggie. You should tell him that you know. He was relieved when he found out I knew. He feels invisible. Like no one knows who he really is. I can't imagine living a life where I couldn't be myself in my own house. I think he wants that to change, but he doesn't know how. He's afraid, I think."

"Men," Maggie snorted. "Even when they're women, they're dumb as rocks. I don't care what he is. I love him no matter what."

"Tell him that."

Maggie's eyes narrowed. "You love him too."

Sarah giggled nervously. "He's my friend, Maggie."

"Don't lie to me, girl."

Accepting that she was going to be hounded if she didn't come clean, Sarah sighed. "I don't know what I feel, okay? Besides, it would never work."

"Why not?"

"First off, he's a lot older. He doesn't want some kid fresh off the farm. He needs someone closer to his own age. Then, he's stinking rich and well-connected. He had lunch last week with an Assemblyman, for crying out loud. He needs a woman who is at ease in that world. I don't have any money or class. I'm not even out of school yet."

"Is that it?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"I don't think so. But I notice that there's one very important thing that you neglected to mention. The one thing that would convince me that it's impossible for the two of you to love each other."

"What's that?"

"The dungeon."

Sarah was speechless. It was the perfect foil to the possibility of a relationship with Jordan and she had never thought of it. Not even once. In fact, maybe it was a little strange that she accepted the dungeon as fully as she did. It was part of who Jordan was. Sarah might not have any idea what Jordan actually did in it, but the dungeon would be a part of any relationship Jordan were to have. How did she feel about that? Oddly enough, it didn't terrify her. Probably because she knew so little about it. If she knew what went on in there, she would likely run screaming into the night. Could she be a part of that lifestyle? Did she want to be? She just didn't know.

"I have some books if you want to read them."

Sarah blinked at Maggie's words. "What?"

"When I first moved here, Jordan gave me some books to read to ease my mind. It wasn't what I thought it was all about. I'd be happy to loan them to you. In fact, you can have them. I'm not likely to read them again."

Sarah colored in embarrassment. "Um . . . sure. Thanks."

"I'll go get them."

Over the next two days, Sarah's bruises faded dramatically and there were times that her headache disappeared completely. She had to be careful, or it came right back, but it was a definite improvement. It gave her the courage to approach Jordan about the party. "Is it out of the question that I work?"

Jordan paused with a broccoli spear halfway to her mouth. "You mean, tomorrow night?"

"Yeah. I know my face is still pretty messed up and I might not be able to work very long, but I'd like to at least try."

Maggie reached across the corner of the table to pat Sarah's arm. "I can loan you the money, dear. You don't have to work."

"It's not the money," Sarah corrected. "I just want to see. I've never seen a fancy party before. I understand if you don't want the guests to see me like this. Maybe I could help in the kitchen or something."

"The way you look is not an issue," Jordan said firmly. "My primary concern is that you do not overextend yourself. If all you really want is to watch, I can probably arrange that. We could set up a video feed right into your tv."

Sarah knew she should feel grateful for the offer, but it wasn't what she wanted at all. To say that, however, would be very bad manners. "Thank you."

Jordan set her fork down and wiped at her mouth with a napkin. "You want to be there? Is that it?"

Sarah tried to smile. "No, that's all right. It makes more sense for me to watch from here."

"I hate it when you do that. Thank god you don't do it very often."

"Do what?"

"Give in." Jordan folded her arms. "Tell me what you want, Sarah. I'll make it happen."

Irritated that Jordan was calling her out on backing down and embarrassed to be on the spot, Sarah tried another tack. "I don't want to be a problem. You don't have to make special arrangements for me."

Maggie unobtrusively left the table and Jordan pushed her plate away to lean her elbows on the table. "You're not a problem, little one. I'd like you to be there. I just didn't think you'd feel up to it. I'll think of something you can do that won't tax your strength and still let you watch all you want. Pete has your uniform. It would be a shame to waste it."

"Are you sure?" she asked hopefully.

"Positive. Don't ever be afraid to tell me what you really want, Sarah. If I have to say no, I will, but I'll always take your requests seriously. Asking for what you want doesn't make you a problem. How else are you going to get what you desire?"

"There's something else," she added reluctantly. "I still need to go shopping for Christmas presents. I don't have a car and I'm not sure I can drive yet."

Jordan slapped a hand to her head. "Of course! I can't believe I forgot that. It won't do for Maggie or me to take you, will it? I'll have someone pick you up at ten and take you anywhere you want to go. Will that work?"

Sarah nodded and wiped at a tear. "I appreciate it, Jordan. Thank you."

"What are you gonna get me?" Jordan asked with a grin.

It made Sarah chuckle. "I don't have any idea. I'm open to suggestions."

"I like toys and electronics. The whole point of Christmas morning is to have fun. Make me laugh and I'll be in hog heaven."

Maggie came back in with dessert. "If you shop for a fourteen-year-old boy, you can't go wrong."

"That sounds about right," Jordan laughed.

~***~

Wiped out by shopping, Sarah took an afternoon nap. When she woke up, Jordan had figured out what Sarah would do at the party that night. She had a digital camera and printing dock for Sarah and wanted her to wander the party, taking pictures of people. As the picture card filled up, she would download to the printer. At the end of the night, guests would be able to pick up their pictures and take them home.

"They're not going to look professional," Sarah protested.

"All the better," Jordan grinned. "They're not supposed to be art. Think of them as party favors. I'd much rather have candid shots than posed ones. If a couple asks to have their picture taken, by all means, do it. Otherwise, just wander the party and shoot whatever strikes your fancy. I have no expectations about what you'll get. Just have fun with it."

It actually sounded like a lot of fun to Sarah. She spent an hour with Jordan, figuring out the camera's bells and whistles, and making sure she understood the printing dock. Jordan had enough photo paper for 1,000 pictures and ink cartridges to spare.

Cradling the expensive camera in her hands, Sarah asked, "Are you sure you don't mind my bruised face hanging out at your party?"

Jordan reached out to tuck Sarah's hair behind an ear with a gentle touch. "Don't worry, little one. You look great. Besides, most of the people coming tonight gave blood for you. I think they'll take pleasure in seeing that you are alive and well. You may well find yourself the recipient of many smiles and good wishes. If you watch the others working the party, you'll see that I do not encourage them to be invisible. Feel free to interact with the guests. It's New Year’s Eve. Try to have a little fun, okay?"

"All right."

"Now, the guests will start arriving at eight, but I don't expect the party to be in full swing until about ten. That's when I'll want you to start taking pictures. You know the guest suite by the solarium?"

"Yes?"

"It's set aside for everyone working the party. If you need to lie down or get away for a few minutes, that's where you should go. There will be food and drink there. You're not on the clock, Sarah. No one is. Do what you can without causing yourself pain or discomfort. If all you do is take one picture, that's fine. There's no pressure and no expectations. Understood?"

Sarah smiled. "Yes, Master."

Jordan rolled her eyes. "You're spending too much time with Maggie."

Sarah spent the afternoon taking pictures around her house, making herself comfortable with the camera's operation and learning how to use the flash most effectively. It was neat that she could look at the pictures on the little screen and delete them. It was much better than a regular camera.

For once, she had time to herself. Ever since coming home from the hospital, she had not been alone, even at night. Maggie was around all day, cooking and cleaning, and Jordan had been sleeping on her sofa. Not that she was complaining. Having people around who cared so strongly for her was novel and exciting. Sarah could hardly get enough of it, even if it did occasionally make her feel greedy and selfish.

She spent her time wrapping gifts and taking a hot bath. While she was shaving her legs, she thought of something else she could give Maggie. It was an odd thought and she mulled it over carefully. It came out of the memory of Maggie saying that her love was the best gift she could get.

When Sarah was in kindergarten, she had made a clay cast of her hand. All kids made one at some point or another. She remembered how excited she had been taking it home to give to her mother. It had been used as an ashtray less than five minutes later. Sarah had been crushed. Waiting until her mother's attention had been elsewhere, Sarah took it back. All these years, she had kept it safe and hidden. It was the sort of thing that only a family member would keep. Offering it to Maggie to keep would be like accepting the woman as her family.

But would Maggie see it that way? Would she understand what Sarah meant by it? It was terrifying to consider taking that risk again. Dressed in her robe, Sarah got the box it was in from the closet and went through it. It was only a shoe box, but it had everything she had managed to save from her childhood. Report cards, the few school pictures she had gotten over the years, a little red dress she had worn as a baby, a first-place ribbon she'd won in a sixth-grade science fair for a display she'd done on magnetism, her graduation announcement, the tassel from her cap, plus a few other things that had been important to her at some point. All of the things a parent should treasure.

After careful consideration, Sarah decided Maggie was worth the risk. And if she was going to do it, she might as well go all the way. Using the last bit of holiday paper, she wrapped the entire box. Even if it turned out to be a stupid move, at least she could console herself with the fact that she had been willing to try.

At six, Pete called to say that he would pick her up at seven to bring her up to the house. Sarah protested that she could walk, but Pete would have none of it. Hanging up, she got the garment bag from her closet and opened it. She had not seen what she was to wear before and was pleased to find black slacks, a crisp white shirt and blue bow tie. Everything fit perfectly, but she was at a loss at how to tie the bow tie and put the cufflinks in her sleeve cuffs. She fiddled with them for a while, but they just didn't make any sense. There was also a little bag of tiny cufflinks and she couldn't for the life of her figure out what they were for. Giving up, she put on a pair of black shoes and stuffed all of the extra parts into the pocket of her coat. Someone at the house would have to help her with that stuff. Combing her hair back into a ponytail, Sarah checked to make sure that the still healing scar behind her ear would not be visible. After considering it, she decided not to wear the knee brace. As long as she wasn't twisting or crouching, it didn't give her any trouble. It should be fine for the party.

Pete arrived right on time in an electric golf cart. Pulling on her coat and slipping the camera strap around her neck, she joined him on the front seat. "Hi. I'm going to need help with all of the doodads that came with the outfit."

"No problem," Pete rumbled. "You'll want to hang on to my arm. Can't have you sliding off into the snow."

The ride was kind of fun. He didn't drive fast, but the cold wind bit into her cheeks in a most refreshing way. She was surprised that he drove her around the house so that she could go in the front door. It wasn't busy inside really, but there was an air of excitement nonetheless. Sarah looked around to see the changes. The first sitting room to the right had been turned into a cloak room. One of the maids was arranging things to her liking and sent a smile Sarah's way.

Music was coming in fits and starts from the ballroom and she headed there to see what was happening. It was fabulous! A stage had been set up in one corner and several men were working on arranging the sound system. Large floral displays filled up empty places along the walls and reflective ribbons with crystal stars on the ends hung from the ceiling. They were slowly twisting in the circulating air and it filled the room with rainbows. The overall effect was charming. This was not going to be an artsy-fartsy party. People were supposed to have fun.

The formal dining room was beautiful. The chairs had been pushed back to the wall and an incredible array of food decorated the table. The candlelight made it even prettier. Several caterers in their white jackets were checking the burners and arranging trays just so. Sarah smiled at them in passing.

Maggie was in charge of the catering service. Sarah found her playing Mistress of the Kitchen and had to grin.

"Don't cut right on the counter. Use that cutting board. That one right there. And you! Don't you have anything better to do than stand there? Go make yourself useful. Sarah! There you are! Why are you only half dressed?"

Sarah held out the extras. "I didn't know how to use them. I need help."

"I'll show her."

Missy, one of the house maids, was at her elbow with a shy smile. One look at Missy's outfit told Sarah that the little cuff things went in the buttonholes of her shirt. Maggie shooed them out of the kitchen and Sarah followed Missy back to the entry way where she got a lesson in cuff links. Missy showed her how to button her shirt correctly and put the little black studs in. Ultimately, they were useless, but they looked kind of cool when they were in.

"We'll have to find a guy to do your tie," Missy admitted. "I just can't get the hang of it."

"Okay. What are you going to be doing tonight?"

"Carrying a tray. Food and champagne mostly. At least I won't have to be stuck in one place. Last year I did the coat room. I got some good tips, but it wasn't much fun. You're going to be taking pictures?"

"Yeah. I'm kind of nervous about it."

"You'll do fine. It sounds like fun. Maybe I can do it next year."

Sarah looked around at the people hustling to and fro. "Where's Jordan?"

"I haven't seen him yet. He'll do a walk through pretty quick though. He always does."

Missy ran off to check on something and Sarah decided to take some before shots. It took her a few tries to figure out the best way to take pictures in the ballroom. She deleted the dark pictures and was surprised to see Amanda come into the room dressed like the other employees. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Amanda gave her a cat-like smile. "It has its advantages. I get to be at the party of the year with my fiancé and make a little money." She reached out to tilt Sarah's face to the light. "You look much better than you did in the hospital."

"I don't remember seeing you."

"I'm not surprised. You were in a coma at the time, and I didn't have a chance to see you again. I had to leave town to see my family for the holidays. I just got back yesterday. I'm very glad to see you well."

"Thanks."

"Let me help you with your tie."

Sarah couldn't see how it was done, but Amanda made quick work of it. It felt a little tight, but Amanda said it was supposed to feel that way. They both turned at the sound of Jordan's voice and Sarah's mouth fell open. She was beautiful. She was wearing a perfectly tailored tuxedo that accented broad shoulders and slim hips. Sarah had to admit that Jordan made a stunning man. She had the vigorously handsome face and a preternatural grace. GQ was missing a bet not having Jordan on the cover. Jordan's cummerbund was the exact shade of rich blue as everyone's bow ties and it made Sarah feel like she somehow belonged to the commanding woman. It was a very safe feeling.

"Let me hear how it sounds," Jordan ordered to the sound crew. Auld Lang Syne rolled out of the speakers and Jordan cocked her head to listen for a moment. "Turn it down a notch," she called out, nodding at the result. "Excellent. Thank you."

Sarah remembered to breathe as Jordan left the room without noticing her. "Wow."

"Yes," Amanda said in a sibilant hiss of appreciation. "He's very handsome. Charming, too."

Sarah felt a wave of jealousy. She knew it was foolish. Amanda was in love with Pete. It was ridiculous to see her as a threat to something she could never have for herself except in dreams. "He's not like most men," she said to make conversation.

Amanda's smile returned with a twinkle of her big, brown eyes. "I believe it's safe to say that he's not like any man."

Sarah found herself with her mouth hanging open again as Amanda glided away. Did that mean what she thought it meant? Did everyone know about Jordan except Jordan herself? As far as she knew, Maggie had not come clean yet about knowing. Maybe she should warn Jordan. Who knew how many others were onto Jordan's secret?

Sarah was taking pictures of the food table in all its glory when Jordan finally found her and spoke to her.

"Shouldn't you be resting?"

Being up close to Jordan's elegance was disturbingly arousing. Sarah had to swallow to find her voice. "I just wanted to practice. And it's so pretty."

Jordan smiled at her. "I'm only teasing you, little one. Just don't wear yourself out too early. Pace yourself. You look nice."

Sarah glanced down at her clothes and then checked to make sure they were alone. "You look amazing."

"Do I?"

"Very hot," Sarah elaborated. She was pleased at the blush that crept into Jordan's ears. "I suggest a big stick to beat off all the women who'll be after you."

Jordan lowered her voice. "When you're a man, a big stick only attracts them."

It was Sarah's turn to blush, and she couldn't help glancing at Jordan's crotch. It usually wasn't easy to tell if Jordan was wearing something there, but it was tonight. Her blush deepened as Jordan softly laughed. The only safe thing to do was change the subject. "I need to talk to you later. It's not urgent, but it's kind of important."

"Let's talk now."

A caterer walked through the room and Sarah shook her head. "It can wait. Besides, aren't people going to be arriving soon?"

"All the good people are already here. But I suppose I should get ready to do the welcoming thing. Go lay down for a little while so I don't worry. Please?"

She didn't want to go lay down. She didn't want to miss a single minute. But Jordan was right. She didn't have the stamina yet to last the whole night. "Since you asked so nice . . ."

"Thanks," Jordan straightened her tux and raised an eyebrow. "I really look okay?"

The touch of insecurity was endearing, and Sarah couldn't resist unnecessarily adjusting the tall woman's bow tie. "It should be illegal for you to be so sexy."

Jordan gave her a kilowatt smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Sarah stepped back with another appreciative look. "Go do your thing. I'll see you later."

~***~

To Sarah's surprise, she actually did sleep for a little while. Throwing some water on her face and grabbing a quick bite to eat, she followed the beat of the music with a sense of anticipation. It was everything she had imagined it would be. There were a couple of hundred people at least and all of them were dressed to the nines. Most of the men were wearing tuxedos (though none as well as Jordan) and the women were decked out in evening gowns. Everyone she could see was wearing jewelry of one sort or another. Guests clustered in large and small groups, talking and laughing with each other. Some were dancing and others were eating and drinking. It was like finding herself in a movie. Any minute, Fred and Ginger were going to put on a performance.

She wandered aimlessly for a bit, unsure how to start. Then, a couple, not much older than herself, stopped her.

"You must be the one who was in the accident," the good-looking man said.

"Yes, I was," she answered politely. "Would you like your picture taken?"

"Sure."

"It's amazing that you're already up and around," the woman added. "I'm glad."

Sarah smiled. "Me, too." She took their picture, checked the small screen to make sure it looked good and told them they could pick it up later by the front door.

After that, she had a hard time keeping up with the demand. Almost everyone had something to say about her recovery. When the camera's internal memory was full, she slipped into the cloak room and started the download. Since she was going to be there for a few minutes, she offered to keep watch while the maid in charge slipped out to the bathroom and got something to drink.

The pictures were coming out well. Studying them gave her a chance to see how she could take even better ones.

The second round of picture taking was even quicker and on the third round, she started taking random candid shots, trying to capture people she hadn't already photographed. Using the zoom, she even got a few shots of Jordan working the crowd. At thirty-four, Jordan really wasn't that old. In fact, more than half the guests were older. But Jordan was most definitely in command. She was the presence that everyone wanted to bask in. Their smiles were brighter and their expressions more vivid when Jordan was near them.

It was the women that made Sarah crazy. They were all but panting and drooling after Jordan. Casually stroking her arms, putting a hand on her chest while they laughed at something she said, using the crush of people to accidently bump into her: one woman even pretended to wave to someone with one hand while the other squeezed Jordan's ass. It was pathetic.

There was one tall, svelte redhead who seemed to be hovering around Jordan like a moth to a flame. She kept slipping her hand into the crook of Jordan's arm like she belonged there. It didn't take Sarah long to see that Jordan was repeatedly excusing herself from the woman's company. No sooner would Jordan be involved with another small group of guests, than the redhead would insinuate herself back at Jordan's side and Jordan would be off. She should have found the whole thing funny, but Sarah wanted to take the woman outside and roll her around in the snow. Somebody needed to give that woman a clue. Preferably with a hammer.

When the novelty of having their pictures taken wore off a little, Sarah found herself able to concentrate more on selecting and composing her shots. She wanted to take some pictures that captured the ambiance of the event. Beyond isolated opportunities to use someone else's camera to take one shot, this was the first time Sarah had ever explored photography. She felt like her inner eye was opening. It was almost like she had never really looked at anything before. With the camera in her hands, she was looking at facial expressions, body language and surroundings in a way she never had before.

Amanda joined her as she took pictures of a woman dancing. She was happy and carefree and there were a half dozen men behind her with appreciative smiles on their faces. Sarah showed the best picture to Amanda proudly. "See those guys? I'll bet she doesn't know that they're enjoying how she dances. Do you think she'll like this picture?"

"It's very good, Sarah."

It was good. Maybe the best picture she had taken all night from a technical standpoint. Not that she thought it was professional quality or anything, but it made her want to learn more about the art form. Maybe she would make two copies of it so she could keep one.

Pete came up with a brief kiss for his fiancé and nodded hello to Sarah. "It's 11:30. Now would be a good time to clear the memory on that thing. Jordan does a toast before midnight and the balloons will come down. You don't want to miss it."

Sarah looked up at the ceiling of the ballroom and noticed the nets full of balloons for the first time. "Cool. Thanks, Pete."

She rushed off to print the pictures, making extra copies of the dancing woman and several of Jordan. Those she slid into the drawer of an end table with the hope that no one would find them before she could take them home.

The ballroom was crowded when she went back in. Sarah was too short to see over all the bodies. Slipping along the wall, she crawled up on a chair that had a good view of the stage just as Jordan stepped onto it and took a microphone from the deejay. Cheers broke out from the collected guests and Sarah got a great shot of Jordan's embarrassed grin.

"All right, all right. Settle down. Time is short and I have a lot to cover."

Her boss was a natural on the stage. She was relaxed and at ease. Sarah would have been tongue-tied and probably vomiting.

Jordan slipped her free hand into a pocket and lifted the mike. "First, I'm very glad you all could come and celebrate the New Year with me in my home. Not only does everyone look fabulous, but it’s also a real pleasure to be around people who know how to have a good time."

About half of the crowd hooted and clapped for that observation.

"Before I pour the champagne and make the toast, there are a couple of things I wanted to say." Jordan paced a few steps and her demeanor sobered. "As most of you know, we narrowly avoided a tragedy last week."

Sarah lowered the camera. Jordan would not do this to her. Her stomach clenched in nervous dread.

"One of my employees was in a terrible accident. It gives me great pleasure to report that she is well and strong."

There was more applause and some of those nearest to Sarah gave her beaming smiles. Her skin was cold.

"She is alive to celebrate with us tonight because of four men. I'd like to introduce them to you."

Sarah was too relieved that she wasn't going to be dragged up on stage to hear their names. She did notice, however, that one of them was the first to have his picture taken.

Jordan stood to one side of the shuffling men and spoke in a quiet voice. "These men spent nearly two hours, under a truck, in a snowstorm, in a rain of gasoline, cutting and peeling their way into a car to rescue the woman trapped inside. Knowing that the slightest spark would set off a massive explosion and fire. It could have been anyone of us and they would have done the same. Some would say that it is their job and that they get paid for it. I say that not one of them makes in a year what I spent on this party."

Jordan looked around at the silent room. "They don't do it for the money. They do it because they are heroes in every sense of the word. I would like to take this opportunity to thank them, and their families, for the daily sacrifices they make on behalf of this community."

Tucking the microphone under one arm, Jordan started the clapping. It quickly rose to a thunderous cacophony. Sarah joined in enthusiastically and then stopped to take some pictures. She was alive because of those men. They didn't know her (or anything about her) and still they had done everything they could to save her. They were heroes.

As the cheering slowly wound down, Jordan gave each man a handshake, exchanging a few quiet words with them. Lifting the microphone, she rounded on the crowd. "Apparently, I'm not allowed to give these men anything in gratitude. I'm kind of pissed off about that, so here's what I'm going to do. There's a punch bowl on the bar over there. I'm asking all of you to donate as much as you can to the Fireman's Fund. If you haven't got your checkbooks, write an I.O.U. I'll cover it until you can get it to me. When the party's over, I'll match whatever you've put in there. For those of you who think I've got more money than any one person should have, here's your chance to hurt me."

There was a lot of laughter and some teasing about having waited for the day. Jordan bantered with them for a few minutes. Sarah could see some people writing checks where they stood. It touched her heart that Jordan would do such a thing because of her. It was sweet and generous.

The firemen jumped down and were promptly backslapped and congratulated. Jordan waited for a moment and then spoke again. "Another thing. As of yesterday afternoon, 239 people have donated blood on behalf of my employee. Most of them are here in this room." Jordan's voice broke and she visibly struggled for control. "I cannot tell you what it means to me. Fortunately, she didn't need it, but that you wanted to help . . . I will never forget it."

"Let's do it every year," someone called out.

"The Christmas blood drive," another yelled.

Maggie's voice rose over the hubbub. "They need blood all year long. Not just at Christmas. You can give blood every three months."

Another woman's voice cut in. "What if we had one of those mobile collection trucks come while we had a potluck? It would be a party and a donation drive all at once."

"It would be like the Elks or the Eagles," a man pointed out. "They do that sort of thing. We could do it, too."

Jordan put a hand up. "Let's table this discussion for the moment. It's worth looking into and we will. My point in bringing it up was to say thank you to all of you for caring. It was the last thing I expected, and it touched me deeply."

"After all you do for us, it was the least we could do," a man called back.

Jordan nodded once. "Well, I do not take it lightly." She glanced at her watch and smiled. "Let's get the champagne flowing, shall we?"

A giant tower of stacked champagne glasses was carefully wheeled over to the stage and Pete set a case of bubbly next to Jordan's feet. Sarah took a lot of pictures of the pouring. She'd never seen champagne cascading into glasses like that before and it was wonderfully fun. Jordan took the one from the top and people started passing glasses back through the crowd. Even Sarah got one.

At two minutes to midnight, everyone had a glass and Jordan took a deep breath. "The coming of the new year is a time of hope. Hope that things will be better in the days ahead. I've been giving that a lot of thought over the last several months. It seems that no matter how big and bright our hopes and intentions, the universe rolls along exactly as it always has, giving us sorrows along with joys. There always seems to be a war, or a natural disaster, or a new disease or financial reversals. I fully expect the new year to challenge us in ways we can't possibly expect. So, I am not going to offer you hope for a better year. It will be what it will be. What I hope is that-this year-we will be better. No matter what comes, let us be stronger. Let us have more compassion. Let us be more tolerant. More honorable. More patient. Let us give more than we take and love more than we hate. Let us rise above our faults and embrace our virtues. Let us give to our adversaries the forgiveness we routinely give to ourselves. My toast to the New Year is that we all become the best that we have within ourselves, and then share it with the world. To us!"

Sarah raised her glass with every other person in the room. "To us!" The champagne tickled her nose and she sneezed. As Jordan counted down the final seconds, Sarah prepared to take more pictures. Everyone yelled, lights flashed, balloons gently fell, Auld Lang Syne poured out of the speakers, and the New Year started right on schedule. Sarah got a picture of Pete dipping Amanda for a kiss and another of Maggie hugging Jordan. Almost everyone was kissing and beginning to dance. It was beautiful and lonely until she caught Jordan staring at her. Their eyes touched across the crowded room and Sarah felt her heart swell in her chest. She didn't feel so lonely anymore. Her best friend was right there and thinking about her. Needing to share some of what she felt with Jordan, Sarah put a hand over her heart and smiled. Jordan smiled back and mouthed something at her.

Confused, Sarah held her hands out to indicate she didn't understand. Jordan pointed to her watch and flashed all ten fingers. Sarah nodded that she understood ten minutes and mouthed Where? Jordan had to try three times before Sarah saw the word solarium. She nodded again in agreement and began moving in that direction. It was good that Jordan remembered that she wanted to talk to her. Taking pictures along the way, Sarah was all but invisible as she slipped down the south hallway and stepped into the solarium. The quiet was a tangible thing, the waterfall sounds only accentuating the sudden stillness. There was just enough moonlight through the windows to show her the path. Sarah stepped softly through the silvery fronds and sat down in a corner of the couch to wait. Laying her head back to alleviate the distant throbbing of a headache, she sighed.

She would have to go home soon. Her body was signaling that she had done enough and it was time for some recuperation. She couldn't be sorry, though. She had been allowed to see a beautiful party and watch Jordan at her suave and debonair best. Jordan's toast had been lovely. There were times when the older woman had a real gift for words. And that business with the Firemen's Fund. Offering to double it? It was classy. It warmed Sarah's heart to know that Jordan would do such a thing in gratitude for Sarah's life. She would probably have done it no matter which employee it had been, but Sarah wanted to think it was just about her. It was a harmless fantasy.

She heard the door open and close, and a moment later, Jordan was standing before her in the moonlight. "Happy New Year," Sarah said cheerfully.

"Likewise, little one." Jordan took off her jacket and lay it over the arm of the couch. Then she took off the cummerbund and began pulling her white shirt from her slacks. "Remember when you said you'd scratch my back if I ever needed it?"

Sarah stood up with a grin. "I remember."

"Good. I've got this spot that's been bugging me for about three years."

It took a couple of minutes to get her shirt open and for the sound of a zipper to release under her left arm. Sarah slipped her hands inside the thick vest at the small of Jordan's back and reached up. She wasn't nearly as sweaty as Sarah expected, but she was very warm. And soft. "Where is it?"

"Higher. More. Towards the right. There."

Sarah smiled as Jordan groaned in relief. "Harder?"

"God, yes. As hard as you can."

Digging her fingernails in, Sarah started on the trouble spot and then spread out. It seemed like scratching a small itch nearly always made everything itch. She might as well do the job right. Jordan's right leg lifted off the ground and began to twitch. It looked so much like Thumper that Sarah dissolved into helpless giggles.

"I'll double your salary if you don't stop," Jordan moaned.

"You don't have to pay me for this," Sarah said, still laughing. Moving her arms deeper under Jordan's clothes, she started at the shoulders, vigorously scratching until she'd covered every inch of Jordan's long back. Then she lay her hands flat on the warm skin and began rubbing away the fire it must feel.

Jordan had both hands on a branch above her head and the intimacy of what she was doing struck Sarah. All she had to do was slide her hands around the slender body and her hands would be full of the breasts she had never seen. It mattered not at all how big they were or how they were shaped. She wanted it so bad she could hardly breathe. Sarah knew she should stop, but she didn't want to.

"You have wonderful hands," Jordan said in a low tone. "You have no idea how good that feels."

Her heart pounding a staccato rhythm in her throat, Sarah licked dry lips. She had never felt a desire so large or specific before. It was wonderful in an out-of-control addictive sort of way, but it was terrifying, too. She needed to step back from it before she did something foolish. Pulling Jordan's shirt down, she moved to the couch and sat down, hiding the trembling of her hands under her legs.

Straightening her vest, Jordan turned with a smile. "Thanks, Sarah. I really needed that."

"Any time," she said without any feeling in her mouth.

"I'd better get back to work," Jordan said with obvious regret.

Sarah was surprised. "Is that what it feels like to you?"

"Pretty much." Jordan began the process of reassembling her clothes. "It's not a bad job really, but I can't relax out there. Everyone wants or needs something from me. You wouldn't believe the business deals that are being made out there tonight. They all want me to invest with them in one sure fire scheme or another. Those that aren't focused on business are arranging play dates in the dungeon. There are a lot of non-players here and they're not supposed to talk about it, but they do anyway. I'm glad they're having fun, but I'll be glad when they go home."

Sarah lay comfortably on the couch watching Jordan dress. It was incredibly hot. "That redheaded woman wants you bad."

"You noticed that, huh?"

"She's been chasing you around all night. Is she stupid or what?"

Jordan grinned. "Greedy."

"Have you tried telling her no?"

Unzipping the trousers, Jordan carefully tucked the shirt in. "In polite terms, yes. Her daddy is the Mayor. I don't want to be too rude."

"Is she one of the players?"

"No."

"Good."

The cummerbund was next and Jordan adjusted it precisely. She was pulling on the jacket when Sarah remembered what she needed to tell her. "Oh, I almost forgot." Sarah stood up and adjusted the bow tie. "Maggie knows. I think Amanda does, too."

Jordan frowned. "About me?"

"Yes. Maggie does for sure. She told me a couple of days ago. I told her she should tell you, but she hasn't, has she?"

"No. Are you certain?"

"Positive. I believe her exact words were, Men, even when they're women, they're dumb as rocks. She doesn't care, Jordan. Honest."

"Why hasn't she ever said anything?"

"Because she doesn't care what you are. She loves you no matter what. I wasn't going to say anything. It's kind of between you and Maggie, but if Amanda knows, too, I thought someone should tell you. I swear, I didn't slip up and let the cat out of the bag."

"I believe you, Sarah. Maybe I'm not as good at this as I thought."

"I don't think that's it. Maggie's been with you for years. She sees you day in and day out. I would be surprised if she didn't know. And Amanda . . . do you ever feel like she's reading your mind when she looks at you? Every time I talk to her, she looks at me like she can see everything I think and feel. I really like her, but it's kind of a weird feeling."

Jordan had a slight crease on her forehead and her eyes were far away.

"They don't care," Sarah added again.

"Some will." Jordan drew her eyes back to Sarah. "I don't worry so much about the players, but there are a lot of people who will only care that I deceived them. Pete's been with me for almost five years. What is he going to say? Hell, what is the Mayor going to think?"

It was a dilemma. "Maybe Pete already knows. Surely Amanda would have spoken to him about her suspicions. And does it matter what the mayor thinks? What could he do to you? Is he your friend?"

"Hardly. I personally can't stand him, but it's good for the players that he's here."

Sarah didn't really understand that. "Is it good for you that he's here? What do all these people do for you that you should sacrifice so much for them? Why do you…"
She halted abruptly. It was not appropriate to talk to her employer this way. Sarah dropped her eyes. "I'm sorry, Jordan. I shouldn't question you like that. It's none of my business."

"Why do I what?"

"Never mind." She started to turn away, but Jordan's hand caught her arm and pulled her back. Gentle fingers lifted her chin firmly and she had to look into Jordan's face.

"Finish your question, little one."

Her first impulse was to decline, but Jordan was serious. Not angry that Sarah could see, but she appeared to really want to hear what she was going to ask. "Why do you care so much about giving other people what they want and so little about what will make you happy? Are the two things so different?"

Jordan thought about it for a minute. "Maybe not."

That simple admission eased some of Sarah's nervousness at being so bold. "You don't do that with me, do you? Be what you think I want instead of being what you want to be?"

Jordan's smile was wry. "Actually, I'm more myself with you than I've been with anyone in a long time."

Sarah grinned in relief. "Good."

"In fact, there's something I want to give you."

"Christmas is in the morning," Sarah reminded her.

"This won't wait."

Sarah's heart stopped beating as warm hands cupped her face and full lips descended. Soft and tender, Jordan's lips lingered for a few seconds and then were gone.

"Happy New Year, little one."

She was speechless. Her lips were thrumming like a tuning fork. Her knees shook and her skin flushed with heat.

"Don't walk home in the dark," Jordan ordered calmly. "Tell Pete when you're ready and someone will drive you home. I'll pick you up for Christmas at ten. Good night, Sarah."

Alone in the dark, she put trembling fingers to her lips. Jordan kissed me! She kissed me! Am I dreaming? Why would she do that? It's the New Year tradition. That's all. You're supposed to kiss someone to start the New Year. Oh, God, I can still feel her lips. One little kiss should not make me feel like this: weak and achy and breathless. I am in so much trouble.

~***~

By morning, Sarah had convinced herself that it was nothing. Jordan was just being sweet or something. She was like that. It was ridiculous to think it was anything more than that. Jordan would never be interested in her that way. It would be best to just pretend it never happened and go on with her life.

Shuffling out to make coffee, Sarah got a big surprise. There were three gaily wrapped presents sitting on her coffee table. They had not been there when she had come home from the party the night before. It made her a little nervous to realize that someone (probably Jordan) had come into her house while she slept, and she had not heard. Checking the tag on the largest box, she found a note claiming the gifts were from Santa Claus.

Sarah snorted. Santa, my ass. Still, it was kind of cute. Curious, Sarah tore off the paper and gasped. It was a seventeen-inch flat screen computer monitor. The next smaller box was a brand-new computer, and the smallest box was a laser jet printer. Her current computer was so old that she couldn't buy programs for it anymore. All it was good for was typing her school papers and playing solitaire, and barely even that. It had the memory of a mayfly and she couldn't go online with it. The new one had enough speed and memory to fly the space shuttle.

Sarah dropped onto the couch and stared at her windfall. She couldn't accept it. It was far too large a gift for her to feel comfortable with. She would have to make Jordan take it back. Lord, it hurt to even think about that. She needed a new computer. It was on her list of things to get as soon as she could afford it. She had enough money saved to buy one now, but she was really enjoying watching her savings balance grow. She didn't want to dip into it just yet. Sarah doubted the cost of the computer even made a blip on Jordan's spreadsheets, but that wasn't the point. Just having Jordan in her life was all she really wanted. Letting the powerful woman get away with such extravagance would be like selling her friendship. Besides, Sarah knew she could never give to Jordan what Jordan could give to her. It wasn't fair.

The computer pleaded to stay with her while she made coffee and took a shower. It argued with her while she dressed and sniveled while she put on the knee brace. It tried cool logic as she waited for Jordan to arrive. Sarah hardened herself to its persistent voice.

Opening the door to her employer's knock, Sarah blurted out, "You have to take it back. It's too much."

Jordan raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Take what back?"

Sarah waved a hand at the boxes. "That. I can't accept it."

"Wow." Jordan stepped inside with a twist of her long body and leaned closer to study the boxes. "Very nice. Who's it from?"

"As if you don't know."

Jordan straightened with a frown between her eyes. "I don't. You think I gave you this?"

Now she was just confused. "You didn't sneak this in here while I slept? With a note from Santa?"

Jordan grinned. "As much as I would like to take credit, you're on your own with this. But I think it's bad luck to refuse a gift from Santa."

"I don't believe in Santa."

"Apparently, Santa believes in you."

"Are you sure you didn't buy me this?"

"Hey, don't look at me. I wanted to buy you a car, but Maggie talked me out of it. Something about you needing to be independent."

Sarah's eyes widened. "You were going to buy me a car?"

"It's not like I can't afford it." Jordan tipped the computer box back and read the specifications. "I'm glad now that I didn't, seeing how upset you are by this. Do you like Belgian waffles?"

"Excuse me?"

Jordan let go of the box and stuffed her hands in her coat pockets. "I thought I'd make them for breakfast. With strawberries and whipped cream."

"Yeah, sure. Sounds good." Sarah wasn't sure what to think. She had been so certain that Jordan was responsible for the computer. Maggie was the next logical choice, but it was doubtful she knew much of anything about computers. Not to mention that the old woman would not have been able to sneak the boxes into Sarah's house. She would have needed help. Maybe Pete, or even Cirenio.

Christmas had been set up in the empty bungalow beyond Maggie's. Between the two of them, they carried Sarah's presents over. Jordan asked about the brace and Sarah assured her that the knee was fine, only a little sore, and the brace was just a cautionary measure.

"So, what did you get me?"

Sarah grinned at her friend. "You're just going to have to wait and see."

"Ah, come on," Jordan whined playfully.

"You're a little hard to shop for, you know. You have everything."

"I don't have everything."

"Okay," Sarah conceded. "But you have the means to have whatever you want. If you don't have it, it's a safe bet you don't really want it. That made shopping quite a challenge."

Jordan made a face. "You got me a tie."

Sarah laughed. "No, I did not get you a tie."

"Aftershave?"

Sarah squinted up at the taller woman. "Do you need aftershave?"

"Hardly," Jordan answered with a grunt.

She couldn't pass up the opportunity to tease. "All right. I got you a year's supply of tampons."

Jordan looked surprised and then suspicious. "You did not."

Sarah shrugged. "I figured it was one of those things that are kind of hard for you to acquire gracefully."

Jordan shook the gifts in her arms as if checking. "Liar."

"You got me," Sarah giggled. "But, if you ever need me to buy you stuff like that, let me know. I won't mind."

Jordan gave her an affectionate look. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Christmas carols were playing, and Maggie met them at the door with eggnog. Sarah could smell the brandy in the drinks when she leaned in to kiss the old woman's soft cheek.

"Merry Christmas!" Maggie beamed. "Why don't you put those under the tree."

It was beautiful. Sarah had grown up with tired red balls, bits of tinsel and white lights on the tree. This one was nothing like that. Every ornament was different and there were so many it was hard to see the branches. "This is wonderful," she breathed. The multi-colored lights twinkled merrily, and she was enchanted. Putting her gifts among the others, she began looking at all the different ornaments. There were mice, frogs, snow globes, bells, ballerinas, birds, Santas, snowmen; so many!

"Well, well, well," Maggie drawled behind her. "They're bigger than I thought they would be."

Pleased that her gifts were already being appreciated, Sarah turned with a smile and the wind was taken out of her sails. Jordan had taken off her jacket and she had breasts! Oh my.

The tall woman was blushing furiously. "I figured since you knew, maybe I could take a day off."

"It's about damn time." Maggie reached out to pull Jordan's shirt tight across her chest. "They look good on you, honey. You should wear them more often."

Sarah looked up into Jordan's blue eyes and saw the uncertainty and insecurity there. It was strangely intimate to see her boss like this, but she liked it. Sarah smiled her acceptance and saw Jordan relax. "Wasn't there supposed to be breakfast? I'm starving."

Jordan took the diversion gratefully and Sarah was left facing Maggie. "I had to tell. I wasn't going to, but I think Amanda knows."

"No harm done, dear." She sighed dramatically. "It's going to be much harder now to keep the him's and her's in order. I didn't realize she was so thin. She needs some meat on those bones."

"She looks just right to me," Sarah said in Jordan's defense. "Different, but still good."

"That she does, dear."

"By the way, Santa left me a computer this morning. Would you know anything about that?"

Maggie hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "Your best bet is making a mess in the kitchen."

"She says it wasn't her."

Maggie considered her. "Do you believe her?"

Sarah shrugged. "I don't know. I want to, but that would kind of leave you as the culprit."

Making a rude noise, Maggie sat down and pulled an afghan over her legs. "I don't know the first thing about computers, dear. Besides, I thought you already had one."

"I do." Sarah sat at the other end of the sofa. "But it's so old it could be in a museum. This one is top of the line."

"Well, then," Maggie smiled. "It's a good thing Santa remembered you this year."

Sarah suspected that both of the women were in on the gift, but she couldn't prove it. It was beginning to look like she was stuck with the computer. She was secretly looking forward to setting it up and exploring its capabilities.

~***~

The gift unveiling made Sarah shy and awkward at first, but the exuberance of the other two women quickly melted her reticence. Her own gifts were accepted with enthusiasm and it gave her confidence. For Maggie, she had gotten an old-fashioned pepper mill with the crank on the top. Maggie had once said that she wanted a pepper grinder someday. Along with the mill, Sarah had found a dozen different kinds of gourmet peppercorns. Maggie opened every bottle to smell them, passing them around and speculating what foods they would taste best with. Sarah also gave her a set of hand painted cat profiles made of wood that were meant to sit over doors and windows. Each cat had a different pose and color scheme. Maggie fussed over them lovingly and made Sarah feel like she had given her the Hope Diamond.

For Jordan, Sarah had started with a copy of Chess for Dummies. Jordan had pretended to be offended, but her laughter had filled the room. Sarah's other gift for her had been a set of remote-controlled laser tanks. What had made Sarah think they were appropriate was that scoring a hit would deliver an electrical shock through your opponent's controller. It had been a gamble, but it proved the right choice when Jordan immediately tried it out and laughed boisterously over the stinging shock she got. Jordan pleaded with someone to play with her, but Maggie and Sarah laughingly declined.

For herself, Sarah made out like a bandit. Maggie gave her a beautiful hand sewn quilt of blues and greens that put Sarah close to tears. She couldn't even imagine how many hours Maggie had worked on the quilt with her arthritic hands. It was the persistence through suffering that touched her so deeply. Maggie also gave her a teddy bear (her favorite was still the one Jordan had given her in the hospital), a collectible doll drowning in lace (Every girl should have at least one doll), and a crystal angel ornament to start her own Christmas collection.

From Jordan, she got in-line skates with all the pads and a helmet, a gold necklace with a little heart-shaped locket, and the camera and dock she had used the night before. Sarah could see that she had gotten the better end of the deal, but Jordan and Maggie were so pleased with themselves that she hadn't the heart to complain. She thanked them vociferously instead, trying to convey to them how much it all meant to her. She was especially happy to have the camera and promptly took pictures of everything. Maggie even gave it a try and took some pictures of Jordan and Sarah together. Sarah had every intention of framing one of those and keeping it beside her bed.

Soon after, she was bundled up and out in the snow making a snowman with Jordan. According to the older woman, it was a tradition she had not been able to enjoy for some years. It was kind of fun and they made a whole family of snow people for Maggie's yard. Standing back to admire their work, Sarah sighed with happiness. "I had a great day, Jordan."

"Me, too. Feel like taking a walk?"

"I guess so."

"Hang on. I've just got to get something." She bounded back into the cottage and came out with two bags of unsalted sunflower seeds. Handing one to Sarah, she said, "You'll need this."

"How far will we be walking that we will need sustenance," she laughed.

"Oh, these are for the birds and any squirrels who happen to run out for a mid-winter snack. I do this every year."

They headed for the forest, their boots crunching through pristine snow. Even with the sky overcast, it was beautiful. Except for the few evergreens, the trees held naked branches to the sky. The songs of the few birds she could hear only seemed to accentuate the stillness of it all. Jordan occasionally left lines of seeds along low hanging branches and Sarah followed suit. It had the feel of an ancient ritual and gave her a strong feeling of reverence for the life around her.

"How's your knee holding up?"

"It's fine." Sarah put a small handful of seeds in the elbow of a branch and trunk. "It hardly bothers me at all."

"Well, if it starts to hurt, say something. I can piggy-back you home if you need it."

It was a sweet offer and Sarah thought it could be interesting, but she shook her head. "I'll be fine." Looking back over their trail, Sarah spotted a bird investigating one of Jordan's offerings. "Look," she pointed. "One of them is already checking it out."

"You should have brought the camera."

"I wasn't thinking." Sarah looked up at her employer. "Did you buy the camera for me originally?"

"Yes, but it sure came in handy last night. I saw some of the pictures you took, by the way. You did a great job. People were quite taken with the whole idea. I think everyone stopped to find pictures of themselves as they were leaving."

"I'm glad it worked out."

"Did you have fun? Was it what you expected?"

"More. It was great. And you were fun to watch. You have such a way about you. You really are the Master, you know."

Jordan made a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh. "It's all an act."

"I don't think so. I mean, it might feel like one to you, but it doesn't look like an act. You have an elegance about the way you are with people. There's a . . . power . . . in you that they respond to."

"Power?"

"Yeah. I don't know how to explain it, but it's there."

"What about you?" Jordan asked quietly. "Is it something you only see when I'm with others or do you feel it, too?"

"I'm aware of it."

"And?"

Wanting to talk about it and actually saying the words out loud were two different things. Sarah had to force herself to open up. "I like it. It makes me feel safe and protected."

It was several moments before Jordan responded. "I like worrying about you."

Sarah couldn't help feeling that it was an odd thing to say. "What?"

"I probably didn't say that right."

Sarah grinned. "You want another shot at it?"

Jordan grinned back. "Okay. I like worrying about you."

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "You're such a dope."

An eyebrow arched on Jordan's rugged face. "I'm a dope?"

"Worry is supposed to be stressful and you say you like it? That makes you a dope in my book."

Jordan tucked the empty sunflower bag in a pocket of her coat. "At least I'm in your book. That's got to count for something. How many people are in this book of yours?"

"Don't worry," Sarah chuckled. "There's a whole chapter on you."

"As there should be."

Sarah playfully reached out to swat Jordan's arm. It wasn't something she did casually, but it made Jordan laugh. Pouring the last of her seeds into her hand, Sarah moved over to a large rock and found a flat space to leave them. As she straightened, something soft hit her in the back. Turning, she saw Jordan reaching for another handful of snow. "Did you just throw a snowball at me?"

"Yep, and I'm gonna throw this one, too."

It was self-defense. Or, it would have been if Sarah had been able to throw straight. She had reasonably good aim with a softball, but snowballs didn't want to fly right. Screeching like children, they used the trees as cover and flung icy balls with far more enthusiasm than accuracy. Ducking behind a rock, Sarah made half a dozen snowballs for rapid firing. Peeking over her barricade, she looked for her target. Jordan wasn't in sight. Sarah rose a little higher and then felt something behind her. She whirled too late. Long arms encircled her, and Sarah laughed hysterically as she struggled not to let Jordan force snow down the back of her coat.

Without any warning at all, Sarah burst into tears. Horrified and confused, she tried to get away, but Jordan only cradled her firmly.

"It's all right, Sarah. Let it out."

She didn't seem to have much choice. "I don't know why . . ."

Jordan began to rock from side to side. "It's okay."

Sarah availed herself of the comforting embrace for several minutes. It was so humiliating. Crying for no reason at all? She'd been having fun and she felt betrayed by her own heart. When she thought she had herself under control, she lifted her head and brushed at her nose with a frozen mitten. "Sorry. I don't know what happened."

"I do."

The confidence of that statement surprised Sarah into looking up. "You do?"

Jordan's hands smoothed Sarah's hair back and wiped tears from her cheeks. "Tears don't go away just because you don't cry them, little one."

Sarah tried to take over fixing her face, but Jordan wasn't letting her. "I don't understand."

"My grandmother used to say that if you held your tears back, they would fill up your heart until there wasn't room for anything else. You have to get them out to let other things in. Things like being happy and having fun. I'll bet you've been suppressing tears your whole life. Twenty-one years of storing them up because no one cared if you were hurting or sad."

Fresh tears pricked her eyes at the truth of that.

"All of the times that you didn't cry are still inside of you and they need to get out. I think . . . I hope . . . that you are starting to feel happier about life, but you've got to clean some of the yuk out of your heart to make room for it. Does that make sense to you?"

It did, actually, but it couldn't be that simple. "I did cry sometimes."

"Did you cry? Or did you try not to cry?"

The distinction made her see things differently. "I tried not to."

Jordan nodded as if it all made sense to her. "Trying not to cry is all about being angry with yourself. That's why it hurts to do it. Real crying doesn't hurt. It feels good. After a really good cry, you feel like you can fly or do magic. That feeling is how you know you got it all out."

"I've never felt like that," Sarah admitted shyly. Then she remembered crying in the hospital with Maggie. That had felt good.

Leaning back against the rock, Jordan patted her chest. "Come here. Let yourself just be held for a minute."

With a surprising lack of awkwardness, Sarah settled into Jordan's arms and relaxed. It felt right.

"That's it, little one."

Closing her eyes, Sarah let herself drift. "I like it when you call me that."

"I like it, too."

The question she swore she wouldn't ask popped out of her mouth. "Why did you kiss me last night?"

"I'm sorry if kissing you upset you. I know it wasn't appropriate and I should have asked instead of just doing it, but I was . . ."

"I'm not upset," Sarah said quickly.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Was it just a New Year's thing?"

Jordan hesitated. "No."

Opening her eyes on the winter landscape, Sarah slowly disengaged from Jordan's warmth and stepped back. She was scared and uncertain. Did she really want to know?

Jordan lifted her chin for a moment and then sighed. "I could tell you that I was a little drunk or that I always kiss the most beautiful woman at the party, and it would not be a total lie, but it wouldn't be the truth either."

Sarah folded her arms protectively. "What are you saying?"

Jordan rubbed at her mouth before answering. "You've become very important to me, Sarah. I hardly think of you as an employee anymore. You're more than that. Much more."

"We're friends," Sarah said in a weak voice.

"Yes. You are my best friend. Did you know that?"

Sarah shook her head. It was shocking in a way. Jordan had so many friends. To be called her best friend was an honor. It was also frightening. There were implied responsibilities and obligations to being a best friend and Sarah had no idea what they were.

"Our friendship is the most important thing," Jordan went on, "but there's more for me. I have other feelings for you, too. Romantic feelings."

Sarah couldn't breathe. Jordan felt that about her?

The older woman frowned. "I'm scaring you."

Shaking her head to clear the fog, Sarah swallowed through a tight throat. "No. I'm just...You...Me?"

The frown faded. "You don't have to do anything about it, Sarah. I'm responsible for my own feelings. I probably shouldn't have said anything, but it's getting harder and harder not to. I thought maybe it was time to get it out in the open and see how you felt about it. If you're just not having feelings like that, say so, and I'll back off. I would never want you to feel like I'm forcing anything on you. I'd feel really bad about myself if I made you feel like you were being pressured into something you didn't want. Like I said, being your friend is the most important thing to me. I'm not willing to sacrifice that for anything. I'd forgotten how nice it is to have someone I can relax and . . ."

Sarah held her hands up to stop the flow of words. "Wait." Jordan stopped at once. Trying to wrap her mind around what she was hearing, Sarah asked, "Are you saying you have . . . sexual feelings? For me?"

Jordan twisted her mouth to one side and then answered, "More like girlfriend feelings."

Wrapping her arms around her head, Sarah tried to sort out what she was feeling. Hope, excitement, disbelief, fear, inadequacy: her emotions were caught up in a swirl of lunacy. This wasn't the first time a woman had expressed an interest in something more with her, but it had never felt like this. Always before it had been nothing but an inconvenience to her. This was madness.

"Sarah?"

"You can't," Sarah blurted out.

"But I do. Should I stop?"

"Yes!" She just wasn't sure. "No. I don't know." Sarah lowered her arms to find Jordan looking at her with concern. "You can do better than me."

"That's a matter of opinion," Jordan said with a straight face. "In fact, I'm quite sure you can do better, but I don't think I can. In any case, just because I'm falling for you doesn't mean you have to do the same. Tell me you don't think of me that way, Sarah."

She felt like a fish out of water. She should say it, but the words just wouldn't come. For the most part, she had played with her feelings for Jordan as if they were some sort of harmless game. They didn't seem so harmless anymore. This was real. More real than she felt capable of handling. All of the reasons against it came bubbling to the surface. "I work for you."

Jordan crossed one leg over the other. "I've thought about that. I promise you that I will never fire you. You do not have to feign an affection you don't feel to keep your job. Now, there's no real way around the fact that I sign your checks, but there's no reason in the world why I can't delegate my authority to Pete. I can take myself out of the loop and put him in charge of overseeing your work. If I give him the rights and responsibilities I now hold, I won't have so much power over you. Will that make a difference to you?"

Pulling off a glove, Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm too young, Jordan."

"You mean, I'm too old for you."

"No! I mean . . . How can you even find me interesting? I'm practically a kid and you're a grown up. You have your own house and money and everything. I'm not even out of school yet." She had to make Jordan understand. "I don't have anything to offer you. I haven't accomplished anything yet."

"I think you're fascinating, you know. You challenge me every single day to think in new ways and see things differently. I could care less that you don't have as much life experience as I do. You have enormous potential and I hope I get to watch you achieve your dreams. Besides, you're getting older every day. The differences in our ages will become less and less important as time goes by."

"You need someone with more experience," she pleaded. "I could never play hostess at parties like last night. I don't have your style and grace. You hang out with people who run things, Jordan. You're one of the movers and shakers. I'm a nobody. I wouldn't know how to act or what to say to people like that. I'd be a liability."

"That's not true," Jordan said intently. "You are not a nobody and you'll be great at whatever you set your mind to. Do you think I was born knowing how to be with those people? Do you think it even matters to any of them if I act right? All they care about is my money. I could be a foul-mouthed, nose-picking hillbilly and they would still suck up to me."

"I don't have money, Jordan. They don't have any reason to suck up to me and excuse my faults. Don't you see? They would never take me seriously."

"I could give a rat's ass what anyone else thinks, Sarah. The only thing that matters to me is how I feel. But" Jordan sighed, "I hear what you're saying. It's okay to say no. I just hope I haven't ruined our friendship by opening my big mouth. Just forget I said anything. I won't bother you with it again. We should get back."

Sarah felt like crying. She had succeeded in pushing Jordan away and only now realized that she had wanted Jordan to overcome her objections. It was her own fault that she felt disappointed. It was unreasonable to assume that Jordan could read her mind. She was a lot of things, but she wasn't psychic. Sarah had to accept that she had let herself down.

"Are you coming?"

Jordan was standing a short distance away. Lost in self-castigation, Sarah had not seen her move. She knew in her head that letting Jordan go was the right thing, but she couldn't move or speak. Her whole life seemed to hang on the edge of something crucial and she wasn't sure what to do. She watched helplessly as Jordan came back to her.

"Are you alright?"

"I don't know," she breathed in a whisper of mist.

"What is it, little one? Tell me what you're feeling."

"Scared," she said numbly. She searched Jordan's face for answers, hoping against hope that Jordan would somehow understand and come to her rescue. But that wasn't fair. Sarah did the only thing she was capable of doing. She reached out and took Jordan's hand.

The tall woman looked down at their joined hands and then took a half step closer. "What are you afraid of, little one? Is it me?"

"And me," she admitted softly.

Hope flared in Jordan's blue gaze. "Did I give up too quickly?"

Sarah leaned her face into the hand that cupped her cheek. "Why me, Jordan? You could have any woman you want. Why me?"

"Why not you, little one? If you could see yourself the way I see you, you would never ask that question. If one of us has legitimate reasons to wonder if we are worth loving, it would be me. Not you. Never you. You are extraordinary, Sarah. You are everything good and sweet and amazing. You are smart and funny, beautiful and brave. There is not one thing about you that I do not find utterly bewitching. I admire your drive, discipline and focus. You inspire me. The sound of your laughter makes me happy to be alive and every smile you give me aches deep in my heart. You haunt my dreams and I live for the next moment I can spend in your presence. I hardly think about anything else. I kissed you because I thought I would die if I didn’t, and I feel that way even now."

No one had ever talked to her this way. It didn't feel quite real, but it felt wonderful even if it did make the fear rise. "Are you going to kiss me again?"

"Only if you want me to, little one. You don't ever have to do anything you don't want with me. Not ever."

"I'm scared," Sarah said again. "I've never . . . I don't know what to do. How to be."

"Be exactly what you want to be in every moment, little one. Do only what you feel like doing. I don't think it's unreasonable for you to be scared, you know. I'm scared, too."

That surprised her. "Why?"

"A million reasons. Mostly because it's so easy to be hurt when your heart is on the line. I don't like feeling so vulnerable, but I'll do it for you and be glad of it. I'll do anything for you. Tell me how to make you happy and I'll do it."

Sarah closed the distance and lay her head against Jordan's coat. "This isn't real. You aren't real and this isn't happening to me."

"It can be real if you want it to be," Jordan said into Sarah's hair. "Let's take it real slow, okay? Let's let it simmer for a bit. Give you a chance to decide if I'm even something you want in your life. I know I'm a handful. I can be difficult at times. Maybe we should date. Would you like that? We could go out to dinner and a movie. Maybe even dancing. Do you know how to ski?"

"No."

"I could teach you. What about miniature golf? That might be fun. Or maybe we could get tickets to a concert. You don't like rap, do you? I'm not sure I could make myself sit through a rap concert. I could do bowling, but rap is my limit. So is opera. Don't make me do opera, okay?"

Sarah had to smile. Jordan sounded as anxious as she felt, and it eased her fear somewhat. "No rap or opera. Got it."

Jordan's arms tightened. "Do we have a chance? Is there even a little bit of hope?"

Sarah lifted her face and saw the insecurity in Jordan's face. It softened her as nothing else could. "I don't understand it," she said honestly. "I hear what you're saying, and I can feel that you mean it, but it doesn't make much sense to me. I think I'm all wrong for you, but . . . maybe. I don't know."

Jordan smiled. "Maybe works for me, little one. We'll go as slow as you want. Don't let me scare you or put pressure on you. It's perfectly alright for you to say no or change your mind completely. Don't ever be afraid to be honest with me. I'll listen to you, I promise."

Sarah wanted a kiss badly, but she just couldn't say it. Even knowing that Jordan wanted to didn't make it easier. She had no difficulty at all in taking what she wanted from strangers, but this was very different. This wasn't about satisfying an itch. It was far more.

Jordan's tongue darted out to wet her full lips. "May I kiss you?"

Heart drumming in her throat, Sarah nodded slightly and closed her eyes as Jordan's face came closer. She had not imagined the softness of Jordan's lips or their effect on her. Sarah's entire awareness was focused on the gentle exploration. Nothing else existed. When Jordan pulled back slightly, Sarah reached up without thinking to pull the dark head back down. Her lips opened under the renewed pressure and Sarah moaned involuntarily as Jordan's tongue slipped into her mouth. It was so soft and tasted faintly of strawberries. Sarah sucked on it and then curled her own tongue around it.

Jordan was suddenly closer and more intent. Excitement raced through Sarah's body and the kiss deepened. No kiss had ever created this need spiraling within her. It felt... necessary. Sarah poured herself into it, giving everything she could to Jordan's mouth.

Jordan groaned deep in her chest and gradually brought the kiss to an end. Foreheads pressed together, they gasped for breath, sucking the chill air deep into their lungs. "Yikes," Jordan murmured.

It made Sarah giggle. "Yikes?"

"Sorry. Best I could do under the circumstances."

The fear was gone. Sarah wrapped her arms around Jordan's shoulders and hugged her tightly. "That was amazing." She laughed out loud as Jordan lifted her off the ground and swung her in circles.

"She kissed me!" Jordan yelled out to the trees.

Hearing Jordan's happy shout brought tears back to Sarah's eyes. As they came to a halt, Sarah pulled back and looked into Jordan's smiling face. There were tears in her eyes as well. Putting her hands in Jordan's dark hair, she leaned in to touch the full lips with her own. "You have the softest tongue," she whispered.

"If I'd known you could kiss like that, I'd have done it much sooner," Jordan teased. "You're incredible."

It was sweet of Jordan to say that. Sarah hugged her again, unable to express the intensity of what she was feeling.

"Oh, God," Jordan sighed as she put Sarah back on her feet. "I'd like nothing better than to stand out here for a week or so just kissing you, but we should probably get back. Maggie will start Christmas dinner soon and I usually help. Once she gets it started, maybe we could set up your computer?"

"Okay." Sarah pulled her mittens back on. She was feeling awkward again and she didn't like it. It made her feel like she was stupid and naive.

"So, can I piggy-back you home?"

Sarah forced herself to laugh. "I'm kind of heavy, Jordan."

"No, you aren't. Besides, it will be like hugging all the way back and it will make me feel really butch. Please?"

Searching Jordan's face and finding a need there, Sarah conceded. It was weird at first, but then she relaxed. It was like hugging and she felt better being in contact with Jordan. The strong woman walked easily through the snow, taking a more direct route back to the cottages. Sarah rubbed her face against the short, dark hair. "Your hair is really soft."

"Thank you. So is yours."

"This is kind of fun."

"Thanks for letting me do it."

"Maybe I'll hire you to cart me around at school."

"I work for kisses," Jordan said lightly.

Sarah laughed softly. "Maybe I'll have a shirt made for you that says that."

Jordan laughed briefly and hitched Sarah a little higher around her hips. "Listen. Pete and Amanda are getting married on Valentine's Day. My invitation is for two. Will you come with me as my date?"

Sarah frowned. "You don't think they'll mind?"

"Of course not."

"What about Maggie?"

"I think she's planning on taking her friend, Hazel. Have you met Hazel?"

"I don't think so."

"They play bridge on Fridays with another couple of women. It rotates from house to house, so it's only here at Maggie's place once a month."

"Oh."

"Will you be my date?"

Sarah bit her lip thoughtfully. "I've never been to a wedding. What should I wear?"

"I would imagine it will be pretty casual, but you might not want to go with jeans and a T-shirt."

"What are you going to wear?"

"I'm standing up with Pete, so I'll be in a tux."

Sarah grinned. "You look good in a tuxedo."

"So you said last night."

"Maybe I'll wear a dress."

"Ooh. I'd like that."

"You would," Sarah teased. Then she considered it. "Do you like feminine women?"

"I like you. I could care less what you wear."

"Be serious," she admonished gently. "What do you like?"

"It depends on the circumstances, little one. Would I like to see you in a dress? Absolutely. I'd get a real charge out of having you all dolled up on my arm. But I like the way your jeans fit, too. You're a beautiful woman and I've yet to see you in anything that wasn't flattering in one way or another."

"Even that hospital gown?"

"It had its good points," Jordan answered smugly. "One in particular."

"You looked?"

"Oh, yeah."

Sarah hugged Jordan's neck harder and nipped at her ear. "You're a pig."

"I know."

~***~

Uncertain as to whether or not she really intended to give Maggie her childhood keepsakes, Sarah had pushed the gift far back under the tree and forgotten about it. When she and Jordan arrived back at the cottage, Maggie had it all out on the dining table. Sarah stopped dead, her belly churning. Her eyes lifted fearfully from the memorabilia to Maggie's face.

The old woman turned in her chair and held her arms out. "Come here, Sarah."

Numb, she approached. Maggie's arms embraced her hard and Sarah felt tears come to her eyes again. "You said we were family," she said tentatively. "I thought . . . if we are . . . maybe you should have this stuff."

Maggie burst into tears. "You've made me so happy, honey."

Sarah sank to her knees in relief.

"You have to tell me about all of it," Maggie said earnestly. "I want the memories to go with every piece so I can brag about my girl."

It was-quite simply-the best moment of her entire life. Something inside of her spirit unraveled and Sarah wept freely. Jordan was right. It did feel good.

~***~

On the advice of her attorney, Sarah had Maggie drive her into town the next day where she rented a car. Apparently, the cost would be returned to her when a settlement was reached. Sarah got the smallest, cheapest car she could. It was a million times better than her Toyota had been. Driving it was a real pleasure.

Now that she was mobile again, she headed out to take care of business. First was school. Sarah bought her course books and got a parking sticker, then just made it on time to an appointment with Dr. Danby for a follow up exam. The stitches were taken out of her head and the Doctor seemed happy with her progress. Sarah remembered to ask for a note saying she could go back to work. Jordan hadn't said she would need one, but it seemed like a good idea.

After that was done, she stopped at a grocery store to buy supplies. Maggie and Jordan had been keeping her in food since coming home from the hospital and it was time to get back on her feet. She was tired when she got back home.

Shortly after waking up from a nap, Pete came by with a cable modem to get her hooked up to the Internet. He explained that it was considered part of the utilities. Sarah thought that might be an exaggeration but was too excited to protest. Of course, she had been online before in libraries and coffee shops, but never in the privacy of her own home. He guided her through setting up the connection and creating an e-mail account, then helped her set up a buddy list in Instant Messenger with his own name and Jordan's. No sooner had she done so than a window popped up.

Mastercrisp99: I see you!

Sarah laughed in delight and looked over her shoulder. "Thanks, Pete."

He patted her shoulder. "Call me if you have any problems."

"I will." He left the house as she typed in a response.

Littleone777: Hey! Thanks for hooking me up.

Mastercrisp99: No problem. Love your screen name.

Littleone777: This is so cool. It's like being on the phone, but not.

Mastercrisp99: How was your day?

Littleone777: Good. Got my books and did some shopping. The Doc says I'm doing well. She even gave me a note saying I can work again. I love the little car I rented. Didn't realize how truly crappy my old car was.

Mastercrisp99: Speaking of which, what do you want us to do with the old one?

Sarah hesitated as that reality caught up with her.

Littleone777: Forgot it was still here. I guess I should go see it.

Mastercrisp99: Meet you down there in 20 minutes?

Little one777: Okay.

As Pete had so carefully explained to her, the nature of the cable modem was such that whether she was online or not, when the computer was on it was connected to the Internet. There wasn't anything on her computer as yet that was worth hacking, but Sarah was cautious. She shut it all down before grabbing her coat and heading for the garage. It was a clear day, but the wind was blowing quite hard, making it colder. Hugging herself for warmth, she stayed on the road because it had been plowed and was easier than slogging through the knee-deep snow.

The garage was warm and toasty. Stamping excess snow from her shoes, Sarah turned on a light and looked around for her car. At the far end of the large room, she saw the corner of a blue tarp on the floor. Passing Jordan's cars, she got her first look at what was left of her Celica.

It took a moment to wrap her mind around what she was seeing. The image in her head was of a giant ripping the top off, then grabbing the front and rear in massive hands and twisting it. Only two of the flat tires were touching the ground and one of them was laying on its side. Sarah took a step closer and tried to see where she had been in the car. Even with the top gone, it looked impossible. The engine was in the passenger seat and the dash covered most of the driver's side. She must have been in there somewhere. The seat belt had been cut and Sarah had to assume she had still been in it at the time. But where?

The stench of gasoline was strong, and Sarah felt her knees wobble as she finally understood that it really was a miracle she was alive. Not only alive, but healthy and whole. Maybe it was possible to live through that, but she should have been in a lot worse shape.

Long arms circled her from behind and Sarah leaned back gratefully into the tall body. "Where was I?" she asked.

"I just don't know," Jordan said quietly. "I come down here sometimes to look at it and I can't figure it out."

Sarah shook her head. "It's almost enough to make me believe in God."

"I know what you mean."

"Do you believe in God, Jordan?"

"Not if you mean the old white guy on a throne, no."

"But you believe in something?"

Jordan took a heavy breath and let it out. "I believe that God is the universe aware of itself."

Sarah instantly perceived the elegance of that statement. Her mind expanded in a new way.

"I see the universe as an organism. One that is aware of its existence," Jordan continued. "Every speck of dust and area of vacuum is part of that organism. I do not believe that the universe is something separate from us. We are simply a part of the whole, but we do have a unique position. As thinking beings aware of our own selves and the universe at large, I see us as part of the awareness of God. God is not other, but within us. Individually and collectively, we have the capacity to create the divine. On the other hand, we also have the capacity to create evil. It is a terrible responsibility." Her hand gestured to the wreckage. "When something like this happens, it's easy for me to believe that there's some magic in the universe as well. I can't see any other way to explain it."

Sarah hugged Jordan's arms. "It's a beautiful theory." She sighed over the twisted hunk of metal. "I don't have the first clue what to do with the car. I suppose it should go to a junk yard, but how? Who do I call?"

"Cirenio will handle it. He'll be glad to get rid of it. He says it's depressing."

"How much will it cost to have it moved?"

"Don't worry about that."

Sarah twisted to look up at Jordan. "No, you may not pay to have it disposed of. I can do that. I just need some advice on how to get it done."

Jordan's smile was fleeting. "Okay. Cirenio will be back tomorrow. I'll let you work it out with him."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Sarah looked back at what had once been her car. "He's right, you know. It is depressing. It's going to give me nightmares."

Part Three

The first day back at school was exciting. Sarah's education was almost complete. She could see the end of all her hard work and determination and was looking forward to the chance to put it to use. Of course, she was not naive enough to think that she was going to graduate and be an instant success. What she had was book learning. Once she had her sheepskin, she would have to spend some time in the real world getting more practical experience. It would be some time before she was ready to strike out on her own in the business world. She didn't even know what kind of business she wanted to run. It was something she was going to have to think about.

In her last class of the day, there were two of her old dorm-mates. Sarah had to concentrate to remember their names and was glad she had when they approached her after class. "Hi, Lisa. Bonnie. How are you?"

Lisa popped her gum. "Good. What happened to your face?"

Sarah hitched her pack over one shoulder. "Car accident."

Bonnie's brown eyes widened. "Wait a minute. Were you in that big accident? The one down on Lennox and Broadway? I heard a student was involved."

Sarah nodded. "That was me."

"Holy cow," Bonnie breathed. She elbowed Lisa. "Remember that? The one with the tanker leaking gas all over?"

Lisa looked Sarah up and down. "You look pretty good. Which car were you in?"

"The one under the truck."

"No shit?"

Sarah stepped out into the hall without answering and the girls flanked her. "How was your Christmas vacation?"

"Oh, same old, same old. You know how it is with family. They still think I'm a little girl instead of a grown up."

Sarah kept her opinion to herself. "How are things in the dorm?"

Bonnie shrugged. "About the same. How's your job working out?"

"Great."

"And you live there?"

Sarah smiled. "Yeah. It's an estate. I've got a little one-bedroom cottage behind the big house with a yard and everything."

"What kind of work do you do?"

"I clean house on the weekends. Part of it anyway. There's a whole staff to take care of the house and the grounds. I live next door to the cook."

"Wow," Lisa said. "Sounds like quite a place."

"It is."

Bonnie snorted. "I don't think I could work for people like that."

"I didn't think I could either," Sarah said in defense of Jordan, "but my boss is really cool. He's not all stuffy and proper. He's actually a lot of fun."

Lisa pushed a door open and they stepped out into a light snow. "Listen. We were kind of wondering if you would be interested in a study group. We talked to Molly-she was in one with you last year-and she said you were really good to work with. Me and Bon can use all the help we can get. What do you say?"

It sounded more like they needed a tutor than a study partner, but Sarah considered it. Sometimes helping someone else understand things cemented the information more firmly in her own mind. Besides, it was like being social. She needed more of that in her life. "When and where?"

Both young women grinned and Bonnie answered. "We were thinking the Student Union sometime on Fridays, but maybe we could do it at your place?"

"Maybe," Sarah conceded cautiously. Comparing their schedules, they agreed to meet on Friday morning at eleven between classes. Sarah had a little bounce in her step as she headed for her car. Her life was getting back on track and it felt good.

~***~

"This would be a lot more fun if it were strip chess."

Sarah grinned. Jordan looked pretty grumpy about the way the game was going. "So, losing is okay if somebody's naked?"

Jordan's eyebrows rose. "If somebody's naked, nobody's losing."

"I see."

"Couldn't you sort of let me win once? Just so I don't get discouraged?"

Sarah reached out and turned the board around. "That's the best I can do. It's my turn now."

There was a new light in Jordan's eyes as Sarah considered her options. If she were playing herself, there was no way to win. At best, she could delay the inevitable by three moves. But, since she was playing Jordan, maybe there was a chance. If she lost, fine, but she had to do her best. She didn't know any other way to play.

In the end, she just couldn't overcome the disadvantage Jordan had been in. She had seen the outcome six moves before mate, but Sarah played it out for Jordan's sake.

"Checkmate."

Sarah toppled her king with an easy grin. "Congratulations."

Jordan polished her knuckles on her shirt with a lopsided smile. "Thanks."

Brushing her hair back, Sarah asked, "Why do you still play with me if you hate losing so bad? I've offered to play other games. Why chess?"

Jordan shrugged and began putting the pieces back in their box. "You like to play, and I like to see you happy."

"I don't want to play anymore if you're only doing it because you think I like to win."

"You don't like to win?"

"Of course, I do, but not at your expense. You hide it pretty well, but I know how much you hate losing. At first, it was kind of funny, but it's starting to make me feel bad. I mean, it's really sweet of you to make the sacrifice, but I don't need you to do that. We don't have to play games at all. We could watch the news and it would be okay with me."

"All right," Jordan conceded. "No more chess."

"You'll still come on Tuesdays, right?"

Jordan smiled. "I'd like to, yes."

Relieved that she had been able to express something that had been bothering her without screwing it up, Sarah smiled back. "Good."

Jordan sat back in her chair and folded her arms. "So. This watching the news idea . . . Does it involve snuggling on the couch?"

"It could," Sarah said shyly.

"Maybe we should practice," Jordan suggested seriously. "It's not as easy as it looks, you know."

Sarah knew she was being tweaked and chose to play along. "It's not?"

"Lord, no. It can be quite difficult. There are many ways to snuggle, and they all have advantages and disadvantages. Finding the one that works best for us could take quite a while. Then there's the whole remote thing. Somebody's got to hold it, you know. It's a lot of responsibility. We might have to practice a lot before we get good at it."

There were times when Jordan was almost unbearably adorable. This was definitely one of those times. "I don't feel like being responsible, so maybe you'd better handle the remote."

Jordan nodded sagely, but her eyes were dancing. "Do you want to start with a side by side snuggle? Maybe a half on and half off snuggle? Or you could lay with your head in my lap."

Sarah tried to keep from grinning. "I don't know. It sounds like you know a lot more about this than I do. It might be better if you took charge."

From the slow smile and smoldering look she got, it seemed she had said exactly the right thing. It occurred to her that being in charge was probably what Jordan liked. Sarah was usually in charge when it came to physical intimacy, but this was different. Emotional intimacy was new to her. She realized in a flash of insight that she trusted Jordan. Not just to be gentle with her, but also to teach her how to be close. It was like the dancing. If she gave up control, Jordan would guide her, and it would be beautiful. It was a little frightening, but it was also comforting to know that she didn't have to have all the answers.

It turned out that snuggling wasn't hard at all. Sarah fit into Jordan's side like she had always belonged there. It took her a moment to really relax, but when she did, it felt better than anything she'd ever felt before. Jordan wasn't wearing her vest and there was no doubt that Sarah was holding a woman. With her ear pressed to Jordan's shoulder, Sarah smiled. "Your heart is racing."

"You have that effect on me." The television came on and Jordan flipped through several channels. Jordan settled herself a bit and then began to rub Sarah's arm where it lay across her middle. "This is so much better than chess."

Sarah felt so happy she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She did neither, electing instead to crawl inside of the feeling and let it consume her. The drone of the television was far away and inconsequential. People did this all the time like it meant nothing. They were fools. How could anyone take this feeling for granted? Sliding an arm behind Jordan's waist, Sarah pulled her knees up and let them fall over Jordan's thighs. If she could spend the rest of her life just like this, she would die feeling like she had not wasted a single moment.

Without meaning to, Sarah snoozed for a while. She woke up with Jordan's arms around her, holding her securely. Taking a deep breath to let Jordan know that she was awake, Sarah apologized. "Sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Jordan pressed a kiss to Sarah's temple. "I don't mind one bit, little one. Holding you while you sleep is my new favorite thing in the whole world."

Sarah tipped her head back and smiled up at the woman holding her. "Do you practice being charming?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do," Jordan answered without missing a beat. "I've got this big mirror and I practice for an hour every morning."

"You probably do," Sarah giggled. "You're such a nut."

Jordan smiled and ran her hand through Sarah's hair. "You're so beautiful."

Sarah blushed. She'd heard it before, but this was the first time it really meant anything. It was hard to accept. "There's a million girls who look just like me."

Jordan cocked her head thoughtfully. "Maybe, but there's something about the way you animate yourself that makes you stand out from the crowd. In spite of everything you've been subjected to, there's a vitality and intelligence that shines out of your eyes that makes you different. Not to mention that you have the most amazing smile in all of human history. Just looking at you makes me weak in the knees."

Sarah hid her face in Jordan's shoulder. "You're embarrassing me."

Jordan cupped Sarah's head gently. "I'll try to keep it to a minimum, but sometimes I just have to say it or I'll bust."

Unable to think of anything to say, Sarah tightened her arms and heard Jordan sigh. It was hard sometimes to believe that Jordan really wanted to be with her like this. It was not something she had ever expected. Knowing how to accept the goodness of it was beyond her.

Jordan sighed again. "I should probably get going. I've got some things to take care of and I know you need to study."

It hurt to let go, but Sarah forced herself to do it. Jordan's hands prevented her from moving away entirely and Sarah looked at the handsome woman to see what she wanted.

"May I have a kiss before I go?"

Leaning closer felt awkward until their lips touched. The rightness of it drew Sarah in and she forgot everything else. She always did. Uncertainty and insecurity plagued her frequently, but when she was touching and kissing Jordan, everything made sense. Sarah ended the kiss with a caress of her hand on the angled features and smiled. "When will I see you again?"

"When do you want to see me again?"

"Well," she began bashfully, "I'll be home by 4:30 tomorrow."

Jordan gave her a quirky grin. "Then I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

Sarah gave her another kiss and let her go. She put the chess set away in the closet and got her books out, but she just couldn't concentrate on her studies. There wasn't anything on television that grabbed her. She wandered from room to room for a bit and then decided it might be time to read the books Maggie had given her about the BDSM lifestyle. The four slim paperbacks had been hidden under her mattress since she'd gotten them. Sarah dug them out and sat down on the bed. Maybe it was about time she learned a little about what Jordan did in the dungeon. It was part of who Jordan was and not something Sarah could hide from for much longer.

Tossing pillows against the head of the bed, she settled back to read.

~***~

Sarah was up well before dawn on Saturday. The wind was howling outside, and she dressed warmly for the trek up to the big house. It was time to go back to work and she was actually looking forward to being back in the dungeon. Reading the BDSM books had been a real eye-opener for her. Without ever really being conscious of it, she had believed that the dungeon was all about torment and despair and degradation. It just wasn't true. Oh, it could be, if that was what the players mutually agreed on, but it was really all just an illusion. It was about living out your fantasies in safety.

What had surprised her the most was the idea that the submissive partner had the real control. You might choose to pretend that you didn't, but if you could say stop and expect to be obeyed, how much control had you really given up? It was an intriguing question.

The thing that made her most uncomfortable was that she was looking at her life differently now. Sarah's sexual history could very easily be seen within the BDSM context. Having sex with strangers with carefully delineated limits and expectations was very much like what the books described as playing. Sarah was both excited and disturbed by that comparison. She wanted very much to talk to Jordan about it, but was afraid if she said it out loud, it would be true with no possibility of turning back. She didn't want to find out she was a player; she wanted a choice.

Sarah had it in her head that being in the dungeon might help her figure it out. It didn't seem an unreasonable idea. Except for the first couple of minutes, she had been in the dungeon, she had always felt comfortable there. Now, with all of the new information she had, she wanted to know how the large room felt to her in context. Maybe she would find answers there.

The kitchen was dark and quiet. Even Maggie wasn't up yet. Sarah left her winter gear by the back door and made herself some instant coffee. Cradling the hot mug in chilled hands, she walked through the still house and up the stairs.

The dungeon was more disheveled than usual, and the odor of sex was strong. An unfocused desire swept through her like a tornado. Sarah lifted a shaky hand and licked off the hot coffee that had spilled. She could not deny her excitement. She had often felt excited in this room and was only now able to admit it to herself. Maybe it's true. Maybe this is part of me, too. It would certainly be convenient considering my feelings for Jordan, but is this really the kind of life I want? If it's part of me, do I have a choice? The books say I do, but they also say that it's not something a person can just give up. Oh God, I have so many questions.

Sarah looked at everything with new eyes. The books had been quite specific about nearly everything. She looked at the different striking implements and knew which ones would sting and which ones would thud. The basket of used toys made her wonder about how those things would actually feel during use. She imagined herself bound on the different mounts and how her body would be used.

Part of her mind wanted to run away. It didn't want to consider such things. It was tempting to give into that feeling, but that wasn't how Sarah lived her life. She attacked things. She picked a goal and went after it with every part of herself. If BDSM was going to be a part of her life, she would commit to it with every resource. Sarah reminded herself that she didn't have to choose in that instant. She would be wise to learn more about the lifestyle and herself before she made that decision. For the moment, all she had to do was be aware of the possibility. With that thought firmly in the front of her mind, she went to work.

The more she cleaned, the more she saw that needed cleaning. From the look of things, it had been a free-for-all the night before. Every mount needed detailed attention. Sarah privately thanked Jordan for insisting on condoms. It would have been too disgusting otherwise. Sure, she found traces of sperm here and there (and that was disgusting enough), but by and large it was probably sweat, lube and the fluids of women.

She was halfway through the mounts and on the second dishwasher load of toys when Maggie came in and invited her down to breakfast. Glancing at a clock, Sarah realized she'd already been at it for a bit more than four hours. She was hungry. Washing up, she hurried downstairs.

Maggie had a king's feast laid out: bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, hash browns, French toast, biscuits and gravy. It smelled wonderful. "Who else is coming for breakfast?"

"Just the three of us. Coffee?"

"Sure. This is a lot of food, Maggie."

"You need your strength, dear. I can't believe you're back to work so soon after that horrible accident. I just don't know what the Master is thinking."

Sarah reached out for a sausage link and bit into it. "I got a doctor's note. I'm fine now. This is really good."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Maggie admonished. "Get a plate, dear. If you eat over the sink, you'll get fat."

Sarah grinned. It sounded just like something a real grandmother would say. "Yes, ma'am."

Jordan came in as Sarah loaded up a plate. Half awake, her hair was tousled, and little pink panthers frolicked over her pajamas. Smiling ear to ear, Sarah said, "Good morning."

"Unh. Coffee."

Sarah waited until Jordan had taken a sip of the mug Maggie gave her. She had never seen Jordan like this before and she couldn't help wanting to tease her. "Rough night?"

"You've no idea."

"Love the 'jammies."

Jordan glanced down at herself and then fixed Sarah with a sinister glare. "If you tell anyone, you're fired."

"Grump."

"Brat."

"Grouch."

"Wench."

"Enough," Maggie barked, not unkindly. "Eat. I didn't go to all this work just to have a cat fight in the middle of it."

Sarah shared a look of amusement with her employer and dug into her eggs. She couldn't help watching Jordan out of the corner of her eye. She was just so sexy like this. Kind of vulnerable and defenseless, without being any less imposing and powerful. Part of it was that she had come to breakfast as a woman, probably for the first time in years. A lot of it was that Sarah had never seen her less than fully dressed. The hair was a nice touch, too. The way it went every which way made her want to run her hands through it. Of course, she felt like that a lot lately, but the feeling was stronger now. Maybe it was because Maggie was right there and there was nothing Sarah could do to satisfy that itch.

Jordan was on her second cup of coffee and her third slice of French toast when she broke the silence. "The dungeon is a mess today, Sarah. I'll give you a hand with it."

"I'm actually about half done. I got an early start."

Jordan nodded in surprise and rubbed at one eye. "I should have warned you. Every time I close the house and then open it back up, it's like they all go nuts. I had to throw five people out for misbehaving."

"Was anyone hurt?" Maggie asked.

"No. I would never let it get that bad. Two of them showed up drunk and I sent them packing right away. The other three were just insensitive."

"They take you for granted," Maggie said tightly. "You give them so much and they forget that you don't have to. I still say you should make them pay to come."

"You know I can't do that. The minute one penny changes hands, I'm in business and subject to all kinds of laws prohibiting such behavior. They couldn't do a tenth of what they do if I open that door."

Sarah was watching the conversation avidly. This was the first time since she'd been hired that Jordan had talked about what went on upstairs.

"It's not right," Maggie insisted.

"Maybe not, but I don't see any reasonable alternatives."

"You should be more selective."

"I am. I already interview every prospective player and they have to have a sponsor."

"That's not what I mean. Maybe you should make playing by invitation only. You shouldn't let them just wander in whenever they feel like it. It's your house, your dungeon. They have too much control and they don't appreciate you."

"Some of them do."

"Then let them play here. Send the others packing."

Sarah got an idea and blurted it out. "What if they didn't pay you with money?" Both women looked at her as if just remembering she was there.

"Any type of barter or trade would be considered income," Jordan explained.

"Only if you're the one profiting from it."

Jordan looked interested. "What do you have in mind?"

"Community service." Sarah could see that she had their attention. "What if you required every player to contribute ten hours a month to whatever community service interests them in order to be considered for playing upstairs? Not only would it make the community a better place to live, but they also wouldn’t be able to take playing here for granted. They would have to think about meeting their obligations before they could avail themselves of your generosity."

Maggie smiled immodestly. "She's a genius."

Jordan was rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "You may have something there, Sarah. Remember how excited they were about the blood drive the other night? And I couldn't believe how they jumped on the Fireman's Fund thing. Maybe they're wanting more organization and structure as a group."

A warm glow of pride spread throughout her body. "How much did they donate?"

Jordan shrugged. "I had to write a check for just over sixty thousand."

Her mouth felt right open. "Are you serious?"

Jordan grinned. "That's what I said."

"Holy crap."

"I think I said that, too."

"You know," Maggie interjected, "maybe what you need to do is set up some kind of organization like the Elks or the Lions. Not a legal one with charters and non-profit status, of course. I doubt you could get recognition for that, but something along those lines might be a good idea. The players could have a hand in deciding what community projects the group would endorse."

Sarah put aside the Fireman's Fund for the moment and considered it. "If they worked together on projects, you'd have a better idea of who was actually meeting their obligations. Keeping track of what they did on their own might be difficult."

"I see yard sales, car washes and bake sales," Maggie said with enthusiasm. "Or helping families whose homes have burned down. There are a million things that could be done. I may not want be one of your players, Jordan, but I'd be interested in being a part of that."

"So would I," Sarah chimed in.

Jordan put her hands up. "Sounds like we have a consensus. I'll run it by a few players and see what they think. It'll take some work, but it certainly sounds plausible."

Sarah had another burst of creativity. "You could call it the Beaver Lodge."

For one brief moment, all was still, and then they were shrieking with uncontrollable laughter.

~***~

She was nearly done vacuuming when Jordan came in wearing black leather pants and a blue Polo shirt. Sarah turned the machine off. "Hey."

"When you're done, could I see you in my office? There's something I want to show you."

"Sure. It'll be about ten minutes."

"Take your time. I'll wait."

She finished cleaning while trying to imagine what it could be. It was probably something to do with what they had talked about over breakfast. Sarah stopped for a final look at the dungeon. She felt good about the job she had done. If she had reason to think that a criminal forensics team was coming in, she had confidence that they would find very little. It gave her a good feeling.

The door to Jordan's office was open and she stepped inside expectantly. "Here I am."

Jordan smiled. "Right on time. Close the door." Sarah shut the door as Jordan stood up from her leather chair. "Come sit down for a second."

The whole scene seemed a little strange, but Sarah obeyed. "Now what?"

"Reach under the desk on the left side." She put her finger on the blotter. "Right about there."

Sarah put her hand up under the desk and felt around. Her fingers slipped over a protrusion. "What is it?"

"Push it and hold it for a few seconds."

After a few moments, Sarah heard the office door lock on its own and then there was a mechanical sound to her right. Turning her head, she saw a bookcase recede into the wall and then slide to one side.

"That'll do it," Jordan said. "You can let it go now."

Sarah stood up in awe of the mystery. "What is it?"

"My room. Come on."

"Cool." Sarah followed Jordan into the opening and down a stairway. At the bottom of the stairs, Jordan pushed a button on the wall and the bookcase quietly moved back into place above them. "Very cool," Sarah said approvingly.

Jordan smiled and opened the door.

Except for the lack of windows, it could have been any middle-class living room. It was a little larger and the furniture was worn, but it seemed pretty normal. Except for the sofa. It was the ugliest combination of orange, green and yellow Sarah had ever seen, not to mention that it was probably older than she was.

"Feel free to look around. I've been cleaning it up for the better part of a week, but don't judge me by those efforts. I'm much better at other things."

Sarah grinned at Jordan. "So I've noticed."

Jordan raised an eyebrow playfully and pointed off to her right. "The kitchen is through there. Down that hallway are the bedroom, bathroom, library, exercise room and my real office."

"Your real office?"

"Upstairs is for show. I do my real work down here."

Sarah looked around, trying to capture details. "Is it okay now to ask what your real work is?"

"I'm a writer."

That got her attention. "Really? What do you write?"

Jordan took a deep breath, folded her arms and dug one toe into the worn carpet. "Do you remember that day you were reading in the gazebo and I brought you lemonade?"

The memory came back to her clearly. "Yes."

Another deep breath. "I wrote that."

Sarah's mind blanked for a moment. "You are Trey Halvorsen?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but I can easily prove it."

Her hand flew to her mouth in horror.

"What is it?" Jordan asked with concern.

"I called it trash," she whispered through her fingers.

Jordan laughed comfortably. "As I recall, you said it was fun trash. You also said I didn't let you take much for granted and my imagery was good. All in all, it was the best review I've ever had. Certainly, it was the most honest. For that, I thank you."

Sarah felt sick to her stomach. "You're thanking me for calling what you do trash?"

"It is trash, Sarah. We both know it. I sit down here writing unrealistic romances for lonely straight women. There's nothing noble or glamorous about it." Jordan ran a hand through her hair as if searching for the right thing to say. "It doesn't really mean anything, Sarah. I'm exactly the same person you knew a couple of minutes ago. It's not like I'm famous. Sure, Trey Halvorsen is well known in a who-is-she kind of way, but I'm not. Don't let this intimidate you. Don't disappoint me."

The words were a definite command, harsh and decisive, but the pleading of Jordan's eyes said something else altogether. She looked scared. Sarah stepped back mentally. Jordan was the same person. The only thing that was different was Sarah's perception of her.

An incident of several years before went through Sarah's mind. There had been a girl in her dorm that she had started to become close to. It was her first real exposure to the idea of having a friend. They were getting along quite well and then the girl found out that Sarah was a lesbian. She had been completely unable to handle it and had transferred to another dorm to get away from her. Sarah clearly remembered arguing that she was the same person she had been all along. It was the same thing Jordan had just said to her. Was it true? She supposed it was, but the fact remained that her perceptions were different now. Was it fair? Probably not. Did she want to be like the girl she had known so briefly?

Sarah wasted a moment trying to remember the name of that girl. It wouldn't come and she supposed it didn't really matter anymore. So what if Jordan was an accomplished writer? Trey Halvorsen had an impressive list of novels to her credit, but she was no Danielle Steel. Hollywood wasn't making the books into movies and fans weren't camping at the gates. Jordan was just Jordan. True, she was wealthy and powerful, but she was just as neurotic and odd as everyone else in the world. The only real difference between Sarah and Jordan was that Jordan had lived longer. She'd had more time to achieve the things she'd done. It was impossible to say whether or not Sarah would do as well financially given the same amount of time to work with, but that didn't necessarily mean she wouldn't be a success.

"Please, Sarah. Don't let this ruin how you are with me."

Looking into the dark blue eyes, Sarah saw a childlike fear of rejection. It was so unlike Jordan to be so vulnerable and all she could think of was easing that fear. Taking two steps, she reached for Jordan's hand. "I have to say this one thing, Jordan."

The tall woman seemed to brace herself mentally. "Yes?"

Sarah gazed deeply into her eyes and said, "That is the ugliest piece of shit couch I've ever seen."

Jordan blinked, and the fear was gone. She frowned. "You don't like my couch?"

"It's pathetic. I hope you don't think I'm going to let you snuggle me on that old thing. I'm surprised you don't have scabies from it."

A trace of a smile flitted over the handsome face. "Couches are heavy. I can't manage switching this one out by myself. It was already down here, so I left it."

"I'll help you move it."

Jordan reached out to capture Sarah's face and kissed her. "Thank you, little one."

She knew Jordan was thanking her for more than the offer of help. And, since reading the books, she knew that little one was a term of endearment from the dungeon. On impulse, she answered, "You're welcome, Master."

Jordan hesitated, eyes searching, and then she smiled. "Shall we continue the tour?"

The exercise room contained a treadmill, a workout machine she'd seen on infomercials and a poster of Xena, Warrior Princess. Sarah looked at Jordan askance and got an embarrassed shrug. She didn't say a word.

The office had clearly been straightened up, but it was still cluttered. Old fashioned maps of coastlines and islands covered the walls. She supposed that Jordan used them to chart the travels of her characters. Eleven first edition Trey Halvorsen books were lined up on a shelf and Sarah hid her insecurity. There were authors who spent their whole lives trying to get one book published and Jordan had eleven. It was hard not to be intimidated by that.

The library was interesting. Half of it was resource material for Jordan's writing. Focusing on the 16th to 19th centuries, the subjects covered every aspect of life that Sarah could imagine: animal husbandry, crafts, cooking, politics, weaving, medicine, coinage, religion, slavery, ship-building, education, metallurgy, farming, fashion, biographies, law, navigation, philosophy. For the first time, Sarah saw beyond the image of the writer and saw how much work went into crafting a book. It really was work.

The rest of the library was devoted to the BDSM lifestyle. It was a surprise to Sarah that there were so many books on the subject. Maybe that was naive, but it still shocked her. Jordan had the books divided into fiction, non-fiction and technique. Sarah wanted to sit down and read it all. Seeing all of the books, however, gave her the courage to open the subject to discussion.

"I have a tiny confession to make," she began.

Jordan cocked her head.

Nervous, Sarah put her hands behind her back and twisted them together. "Do you remember when Maggie first came here? You gave her some books to read about upstairs?"

"I remember. How do you know about that?"

"Well, she gave them to me and I read them."

Jordan grew quite serious. "Why did she give them to you?"

Sarah looked away. "I was . . . curious."

"You could have come to me, Sarah."

"I know, but . . . at the time, well, it just sort of came up. I wasn't asking her about it really. It was before Christmas break. I only just read them last Tuesday."

"Are you all right?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I want to talk about it, but I don't."

"I understand."

Sarah felt a little desperate as she looked at Jordan. "Do you?"

Jordan smiled gently. "Believe me, I do. When you're ready to talk about it, I'll tell you anything you want to know. But I want you to understand one thing. It's very important. You don't have to be a player to be with me. It's not a requirement. I applaud your curiosity. Few people have the courage it takes to even read about the lifestyle, but I have no expectations of you in that regard. None at all. Do you hear what I am saying?"

Sarah bit her lip. "But what if it turns out that I'm…that I…"

"We'll deal with that if it happens," Jordan said with a shrug. "It doesn't matter to me one way or the other."

"Are you just trying to be supportive, or do you really mean that?"

Jordan grinned. "Both?"

The attempt at humor eased Sarah's nerves. "Well, then, can you recommend another book I should read?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

Jordan turned to the books and looked rapidly through the spines. Her long fingers pulled one free. "It's been a while since I gave Maggie those books. Was this one of them?"

Sarah looked at the cover. "No."

"When you're done with that one, let me know. As you can see, I can keep you busy reading for some time."

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

The tour ended in Jordan's bedroom. Sarah blinked twice. "Pink?"

"I like pink," Jordan said in a careful tone.

It was like being inside cotton candy. Everything was pink. The walls, the floor, the furniture, the bedspread. It was more pink than Sarah had ever seen in one place. It was almost psychotic in its pinkness. It was Barbie on steroids. It was all the Pepto-Bismol in the world. Sarah closed her eyes, and the pinkness was burned on her retinas. "Jordan?"

"Don't say it."

"It's pink."

"I think we've established that."

Sarah opened her mouth to elaborate and was struck with an epiphany. "This is the only place you get to be a girl."

"You understand?"

Sarah slid her hand into Jordan's and laced their fingers together. "Yes."

"I hoped you would."

"Jordan?"

"Hmm?"

"You suck at decorating." She yelped in surprise as Jordan picked her up and tossed her on the wide bed. In the next instant, Jordan was leaning over her with a huge smile. Sarah's heart hammered wildly as their bodies came together and she ran her hands over the strong back. "Not the reaction I was expecting."

"Should I stop?"

The husky tone of Jordan's voice only drove her desire higher. "No." She gasped as a lean thigh fit itself against her groin. It was not supposed to feel that good. Propped up on her elbows, Jordan was watching her closely. Sarah felt naked and exposed.

"Let's fool around, little one. Let's make each other crazy."

"Oh, God."

Jordan's eyes burned with passion. "Say yes."

Sarah lifted her own leg into the vee of Jordan's thighs and was rewarded with a soft groan. It was the sexiest thing she'd ever heard. "Yes."

~***~

Over the next three weeks, Sarah was busier than she had ever been in her whole life. Every moment was taken up. School and studying took up the largest portion of her time. The study group over lunch on Fridays had taken on two more girls and was going well. Sarah still had a hard time participating in the social aspect of it though. Her personal life was not the sort of thing she could discuss with casual friends. She just didn't have a common frame of reference for talking with them. Still, it was nice to kind of feel like part of a group.

Sarah asked Jordan about bringing people over to her house for studying and Jordan had reassured her that it was fine. So far, Sarah had not wanted to cross that line with the girls. She considered it every Friday, but the moment never seemed right.

The absolute best parts of her life were when she was working in the dungeon and being with Jordan. Every day when she got home from school, Jordan was waiting on her couch. At first, Jordan had waited on the porch, but it was just so cold out that Sarah had insisted she go inside. Jordan very scrupulously only stayed for an hour so as not to interfere with her studies, but it was an hour filled with talking, kissing and snuggling. Sarah didn't understand why Jordan wasn't pressing for more, but she raced home every day to be with her.

Sundays were developing into their date days. After working, Sarah went home to take a shower and Jordan would pick her up. So far, they had gone to a late lunch, seen a movie and played miniature golf. Jordan was a good date. She was protective and solicitous without being controlling or inflexible. The dates were fun. They laughed and talked and just enjoyed each other.

After reading another half dozen of Jordan's BDSM books, Sarah had stopped. They all pretty much said the same thing and she was letting all of the information percolate for a while. She still didn't have any concrete answers about her own nature, but the books had given her some fascinating insights into Jordan's character.

Jordan liked to be in charge and have control. Being in command made Jordan feel safe and relaxed. Sarah suspected that being dominant was how Jordan handled feelings of vulnerability and uncertainty. It was a protective mechanism. Sarah had no problem understanding that. What the books made clear to her was that Jordan's dominance existed in conjunction with a submissive's belief in that dominance. Jordan needed positive reinforcement of her authority.

Sarah found herself wanting to provide that reinforcement, but she had few ideas on how to go about it without being obvious or foolish. One way she came up with was to stop arguing with Jordan over who paid for what on their dates. Jordan liked to pay for everything. When Sarah stopped insisting on paying her share, Jordan puffed up like a rooster. Sarah came to understand that Jordan's generosity wasn't about having more money. It made her feel good about herself. Sarah made a point of saying a genuine Thank You every time and it would invariably bring a beaming smile to Jordan's face. It didn't seem right to make someone feel good by letting them spend money, but Sarah was working on not feeling guilty about it.

Nothing was ever said, but Maggie knew about them. It was clear from the way she watched them. Sarah was glad she knew but was grateful that Maggie was respecting their desire for privacy. She didn't think she could handle being teased about it. The feelings were too new and strong for teasing. It wouldn't be funny; it would just hurt.

Juggling her coat, sweater and backpack, Sarah left her first class on Wensday only to find Jordan lounging against the wall in the hallway. It was very strange to see her out of context. Sarah stepped closer to get out of the way of students. "What are you doing here?"

"I missed you."

Her heart melted with the sweetness of it. "You did?"

"May I walk you to your next class?"

"It's not for two and a half hours."

Jordan smiled and reached for Sarah's pack. "Can I carry your books and keep you company?"

Sarah smiled as the pack was slung over one broad shoulder. "I have a better idea. I still have to buy a dress for Pete's wedding. Do you want to help me pick one out?"

"It would be my pleasure."

Their ideas of shopping were very different. Sarah was a perfect size four and left to her own devices, she would have taken a dress off the rack, trusting that it would fit. Jordan wanted to see her in everything. Sarah ended up in a dressing room in her underwear while Jordan brought her dresses to try on. She had to model each one. Jordan might not be any good at decorating a house, but she had a knack for clothes. Every time Sarah tried something on that she didn't like, Jordan would grimace. It was a relief to find their tastes so in sync.

Sarah wasn't sure about the slinky green dress that Jordan tossed over the dressing room door until it slithered over her hips. Not only did it feel good, but it also looked great. It left one shoulder bare and had a slanted hem that accented her legs nicely. Sarah resisted looking at the price tag and stepped out for Jordan's opinion.

Jordan's eyes widened, and she tossed aside the dresses she had in her hand. "Wow."

Sarah blushed with pleasure. "I like it."

"Me, too. My God. You look fabulous."

Facing the mirror, Sarah caressed the fabric over her belly. "Is it wedding appropriate?"

"Oh, yeah. With the right shoes . . . wow."

Sarah took advantage of the fact that they had the dressing rooms to themselves. Feeling completely wanton, she sidled up to Jordan and ran her hands over the vested chest. It was a risqué move, but Jordan looked like a man and such a caress was quite commonplace among straight couples. "Do you think I'm sexy?"

Jordan gave her a breathless moan. "God, yes."

Sarah rubbed her hips against Jordan with an amorous purr. "Do you want me?"

Jordan's hands stayed at her sides, but her voice was a low growl, her eyes hard. "Be careful, little one. I'm already on the edge."

The power of Jordan's desire was breathtaking. Never had she seen such intensity and need directed at her. "You aren't alone," she whispered daringly. Hands slid over her hips as Jordan's mouth claimed her. There was a new ferocity in the kiss and Sarah welcomed it.

A throat cleared behind her and Sarah pulled back. "Oops."

"Go change," Jordan ordered softly.

Sarah couldn't look at the saleswoman as she ducked into the tiny room. She'd never been caught before and it was embarrassing. She changed quickly and put the green dress back on the hanger. Jordan was leaning against one wall with a smirk and the saleswoman looked on discouragingly. "I'm ready."

Jordan put an elbow out. "Shoes, My Lady?"

Sarah hid a grin. Looping her hand through Jordan's arm, she answered, "Yes, My Lord."

Proceeding to the shoe department, Jordan insisted on fitting Sarah herself. The large hands were gentle, and Sarah found the whole process very erotic. The heels that went with the dress were quite high, but Jordan's look of approval decided it for Sarah.

It came to nearly three hundred dollars at the register. In the not too distant past, it would have been impossible for Sarah to splurge so extravagantly, but now she had the means. It barely hurt at all.

"Your boyfriend is awfully sweet."

Sarah looked at the cashier in momentary confusion and then understood. She hadn't thought of Jordan that way before, but maybe she was her boyfriend. And her girlfriend, too. It was an exciting thought. "Yes, he is."

"It's easy to see that he's totally gone on you."

Sarah looked over at Jordan where she was looking at winter gloves. "I'm pretty gone on him, too."

"Doesn't hurt that he's so hot."

"No," she mused aloud, "it doesn't hurt a bit."

Once outside, Sarah had to share the exchange with Jordan. To her surprise, Jordan didn't think it was funny. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd be amused. I was."

"They think you're straight," Jordan said tightly.

"So?"

Jordan stopped. "Don't you get it? When you're out with me, it's not just me pretending. You have to pretend, too. Every time you go out with me, people will assume we're a straight couple. You can't be what you are when you're with me. I hate that."

"I don't."

"You should."

"But I don't care what you are."

"That's easy to say when you know the truth."

Sarah got angry. "You're the one who doesn't get it, Jordan. I decided it didn't matter before I knew for certain. At this point, all I have is your word for what you really are. For all I know, you're waiting to take me to bed because you're worried my being a lesbian means that I won't like your penis."

"Keep your voice down," Jordan hissed.

Sarah wanted to shout, but Jordan was right. She stepped closer and spoke more softly but kept the intensity of her anger. "I don't care what you really are. Do you hear me? I don't care. I get the best of both worlds with you. I get a strong, powerful man and a sensitive, gentle woman all wrapped up in one. I want you exactly the way you are, Jordan. I know you love being a woman, but you won't admit that you love being a man, too. Why can't you love being both? You're the best man I know. I want to be with the man you are just as much as I want to be with the woman."

"But I'm not a man."

"Yes, you are."

"Sarah . . ."

"You're not listening to me."

"You're not making any sense."

"I don't have to make sense, damn it! I love you both!" Sarah clapped a hand to her mouth in horror.

"You love me?"

"I didn't say that."

Jordan was grinning. "You most certainly did."

Sarah hurried for the car as fast as the icy pavement would let her. "I have to get back to school. I don't want to be late for class."

"Sarah."

She had to get away and think. A hand grabbed her by the arm as she was slipping on the ice. Jordan stopped her fall and held her firmly by the arms. "Please, let me go."

"Hold on a second, Sarah. I don't want you to fall and get hurt."

"Take me back to school."

"I will. Just let me say one thing."

"No," she pleaded.

"I love you, too, Sarah."

"Don't say that."

"I love you."

It took a tremendous effort not to give into her panic. Sarah stood very still and tried to be calm. "Please take me back to school."

Jordan hesitated. "All right. I'm going to let go of you. Don't run. I don't want you to fall on the ice. We'll get in the car and I'll drive you back to school."

It was a tense, silent drive. Sarah kept her eyes out the side window, blind to anything but her pain. She'd been having such a good day and then she'd gone and ruined it. Why had she said that? Where had it come from? Shouldn't a person know they were in love before they blurted it out like that? How had this happened?

"Sarah?"

Jordan was pulling up to the curb and Sarah reached for the door latch. "Thank you for shopping with me."

"Wait."

The command made her pause. "Please, Jordan. Just let me go."

"We need to talk."

"I don't want to talk right now."

"All right. I'll drop your dress and shoes off at your house. We can talk later."

Sarah forced herself to look at Jordan and hated herself for the confusion she saw in the blue eyes. "I need some time."

The rugged face went blank. "You want me to leave you alone?"

"Please?"

Jordan nodded slowly and faced forward. "You know how to find me when you're ready."

It hurt so bad to see the pain she was causing. Her natural instinct was to fix it, but she just couldn't. Sarah lifted her pack from the back seat and got out of the car. As Jordan drove away, Sarah started to cry.

~***~

Continued

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