Fanchon's Book(10)

"Thank you, ma'm."

As if the subject had been thrashed out and dropped, she turned her attention back to her chore at the sink while I finished my bath. But it was only the beginning, of course, not the end-and later that night we got to the heart of the matter.

Kristi didn't explain much. Just enough to whet my curiosity by asking me to wait in her room while she made her secret preparations in mine. So I went in and sat upon her bed, stewing impatiently and wondering what the little imp had up her sleeve. A major production, no doubt, after such a buildup it was bound to"Ma'm?" She stood in the doorway.

"Are you ready, Kristi?"

"I'm sorry. Not yet. I need another extension cord. Aren't there some in the kitchen?"

"Uh… yes, I think so. In the drawer next to-" I broke off, frowning because of the delay. "Never mind. I'll go down and fetch it myself. We'll save time that way."

It took but a moment or two; stirred by eager anticipation, I made the trip hastily, digging the tangle of electric wires out of the drawer and trotting back up the stairs again. I felt somewhat sheepish, admittedly, running an errand for my own servant, but it didn't make sense to stop and brood over it. My bedroom door was closed, though, and that gave me cause for concern. The little rascal was sure taking over the place. Did she expect me to knock on the door of my own room? Hmm, a bit much, wasn't it?

But I swallowed my pride and knocked; the door opened a scant few inches and Kristi's bare arm snaked out from behind it. I placed the jumble of cords in her extended hand, heard her whispered murmur of thanks and then saw the door shut me out again. As if I had been dismissed. Oh, she had said thank-you politely enough, but as I went back to waiting in her room I felt sticky and sweaty and irritable. Still, I couldn't interfere now, I might ruin the whole thing-and perhaps it would really be worthwhile, after all. Or so I kept telling myself.

It seemed like ages. Why doesn't she hurry? I fretted and fumed, chain-smoking cigarettes that tasted like packing crate excelsior rolled in parchment. Until, at last-and not an instant too soon, since my patience had just about ebbed to the vanishing point-I heard her call and ask me to come.

I entered somewhat uncertainly. Kristi was nowhere in sight. The lamps had been rearranged, all three of them now focusing on one central area. The stage, no doubt-and the big easy chair was apparently intended for the audience. Namely me. I stepped over the extension wires and sat down.

The bathroom door was slightly ajar and Kristi's voice floated out to me. "That's right, ma'm. Now will you test the switch, please? It's hanging over the side of the chair."

"The switch? Oh… " I found the little device and clicked it. Everything went dark. Completely. Pitch black. Another click made the lights flare up again and I marveled at the ingenuity of the rather complicated setup. The current for all the lamps was wired through that one handy switch. "It works fine, Kristi."

"Uh-huh. Will you turn it off, please?"

I pressed the button. Noises reached my ear in the total darkness; I sensed her nearness but couldn't tell where she was or what she was doing. My tongue felt thick and unwieldy as I licked my dry lips, trapped in the sudden excitement, no longer irritated or resentful, no longer aware of anything but the black dome over me and the three invisible lamps in front of my chair and the rustling, gliding unseen presence of"Lights, please." Like a film director, almost.

The glare blinded me. And then-ah!-my vision cleared and I saw my darling Kristi naked for the first time, naked, naked; oh yes, and beautiful enough to blind me all over again. Creamy skin and hair of gold and eyes like scintillating emeralds-and a body that made me squirm in an agony of admiration, of envy, of regret for my own lost youth. But there was no pain or pathos in the moan that welled up within me: it split the silence like a song of joy, a lover's serenade, and I knew that for the rest of my life I would remember this white-hot terrible thrill of wanting something even more than I wanted myself.