Zane Pella - Fanchon_s Book

"You-you think I'm beautiful? Please, ma'm, when you talk like that I get all… well, you know."

"No, dear. Tell me."

"Oh-you know. All funny inside. Kind of mixed up." But of course, yes, I did know. I knew exactly what she meant. And what a lucky break for me! stumbling upon it like that, the chink in her armor, the speck of information that would give me the extra leverage I needed. So she got all funny inside, hmm, just from a little compliment?

"Mixed up or not, Kristi, you must realize that I'm merely stating a fact. You're very beautiful. Frankly, you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

"Ma'm?" She bit her lip. Then, in a tone tinged with coy naivetй, "Oh, you're just teasing me. I know I'm not that pretty. Not like the movie stars."

"Silly. A lot of those film stars are patched together, practically-and yours is a natural beauty."

"You-you really think so?"

"Yes, my dear, a natural beauty." I hesitated, then took the plunge. "Or as much as I've seen of it, anyway. Although you might be skinny and straight as a stick under that uniform. Are you?"

"I-uh… Madame has the desire to see me naked?" What a jolt! Her voice had lost its mumble: the words sounded cool and clear; I had to turn away to avoid the perceptive glint in her glance. Did she know? Oh yes, she must have. She knew. So it wasn't an illusion last night. Kristi had seen me.

I was certain of it. And yet, stunned as I was, I could only admire her diplomacy and be grateful for her depth of understanding. Without mentioning my sneaky foray into her room, the clever little darling had managed to let me know she shared my secret. So it was our secret now, a mutual awareness; in one sharply defined stroke she had bridged the gap and eased the tension-although it did take me another difficult minute to smooth out the dent in my composure. "Naked?" I said, groping for appropriately casual words. "Why, yes, you'd be ever so much more comfortable. Aren't you warm in all those clothes?"

"Oh, I'm quite comfortable, ma'm. I don't mind. I just thought it was something you wanted."

"Well, uh, as a matter of fact… "

"Ma'm?" She pouted prettily. "Please don't ask me to. Not here. Not like this." Then, brightly, "Oooh, I just had a wonderful idea. How about if I put on a show for you? Like a model or a famous actress, maybe. That would be fun."

"A show? A striptease, you mean?"

"Nope." She giggled-a sliver of crystal glee-"It's got "to be a surprise, so I can't tell you." The twinkling expression faded abruptly and she seemed to slip back into her shy shell. "Oh. I didn't mean to sound fresh, ma'm. It was just an idea."

"But you weren't fresh, my dear. I'm very interested. And curious too; won't you tell me what it is? No, I suppose that would spoil the fun. All right, I'll try your surprise."

"You-you'll let me do it my way? Promise?"

"Your way… " I shrugged. Ah well, noblesse oblige. What mistress could deny such a delicious little maid her whim?" Yes, Kristi, you may do it any way you like."

"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.

Angel, devil, half-innocent, half-siren, so utterly awe-inspiring;' what should an audience do in such a moment? Applaud? Cheer? Whistle? No, not for this supernatural creature. My suppressed impulse strangely intoxicating in and of itself-was to go down on my knees and lift my arms in supplication. Adoration. Homage to the fire-and-ice-maiden, the fairy tale princess from a faraway exotic clime.

"Ma'm? Would you turn the lights off, please?"

I heard her. But it was more than I could do. And I sat there, drinking in the beauty, the perfection, feeding upon it and feeling myself grow full and potent and dynamic in the new-found ecstasy of being alive. The joie de vivre of my youth recaptured. As if time had clover leafed to take me back to days of wine and roses and hot-mouthed kisses in the trellised shadows of the night.