Firefly. Part 35

She did not finish, but he understood. She had loved a man as a child. Now she was recapturing that feeling. He could only be glad that it was him she had fixed on, for she had brought to him the whole of the life he had never had.

Embraced, they slept.

"Tell me a story," he said, waking.

She stirred. "After what I have given you, you want a story?" She stroked his chest, her fingers sliding downward teasingly.

"You have given me everything, but it is your stories I love the best."

She seemed to smile in the darkness. "How can I refuse? I will tell you the story of 'Once Upon a Time.' "

There existed two university professors who were discussing when it would be the most appropriate time to interchange their respective spouses. As the child of one of them came into the princ.i.p.al's office: "What am I holding?" he asked them.

"A gory skull," replied Andy, the anthropologist.

"Wrong. This is a ladybug. What you perceive to be cavities are instead spots."

"What is its use?" Brandy, the lawyer, inquired, meddling in.

"It is a probability machine. Whoever follows it would be following it out into alternate developments of reality."

As that was said, all of them got into their compact shuttle, and took off after the blood-red ladybug. She, on the run, avoided them by shoving, elbowing, and jumping over possibilities, so creating her own "reality track." Meanwhile the s.h.i.+p, point-blank, did not cease from its pursuit behind her.

"I'm reaching my utmost!" groaned the engine.

"We have to hasten, pet," grumbled back the driver, Candi, the historian. "We are in a hurry." a.s.suming that she made that claim because their own time and place were visible, away off but reachable. But only if they approached such a location at breakneck speed. And indeed, in the nick of time, now, here they were.

"Whether I am not behind the times," Candi then outcried, "we are, in a sketchy way, toward the end of the first century before the s.h.i.+ft."

"The 'in' things nowadays," Andy said as he thought it over, "are lies, pollution, and child abuse."

"You are wearing a uniform! So you are becoming a private!"

"No way, boy. I would have to fight either in the Vietnam War or in the universal invasion. Each of you have to do the same, to his own taste. Methinks it is better to vanish away into the 'doubt area.' "

Then he did.

The kid turned toward Brandy. "Now you lack an eye, a hand, and a leg."

"Odd," Candi commented. "Privateers should be over, ever since two centuries ago, at least."

"Not at all. There are some left who work for the planetary G.o.ds. For instance, in Atlantis, northward, some of them just seized a pigpen."

"Well," Brandy decided, "I realize this is a Dutch treat. Andy has told 'Uncle' and myself. I, instead, am going to say 'Cain'-I love it, to go a buccaneer, and therefore at all hazards, I am proceeding to go into the Atlantis mess." Next he was gone.

As for Sandy, the geologist, she had turned into a dryad.

"I advise you," Candi said, "to prove to be planted in a park, rather than amid the woods, where carelessness and avidity would quickly slay you. In a park the worst to happen to you would be a gay couple engraving a heart on your skin in a tattoolike fas.h.i.+on."

Sandy obeyed. The lagoon behind her appeared, and so Candi found out from her reflection that she was now a bogeyman. She burst into tears. The lad went to comfort her/him.

"Chin up! Because an adage goes like this: 'Don't count your chickens before you join 'em'... no, it is not like that. I think that I've got it now: 'If you can't lick 'em, they are hatched'... no, it is not so either... well, the idea is something of the sort. What I wanted was to let you know that this is the Flower State, and here, just midway between the s.p.a.ceport and the cartoon-comic city, an ogre dwells. He is a teacher. You could learn from him how to become a good bogeyman, one to whom the tots would expect to go with eagerness and in safety. Let's go: I shall show you the way."

Then they started.

Geode woke. Beside him, none slept. He realized two things: that despite her changes of ident.i.ty, she would always be none to him, his fantasy woman; and that though he had dreamed of her telling him a story, it was no match for her real stories.

He stroked her bare back. "How do I love thee," he murmured. "Let me count the ways."

She stirred, this time in life, not the dream. "Yes, Geode?"

"Sorry; I didn't mean to wake you."

"I am happy with you, waking or sleeping. What do you wish of me?"

So he told her. "You are none; I don't think you have to give that up to live."

"Maybe not, since this is my dream realm."

"I dreamed you were telling me a story, but it didn't match the type you usually tell, and I woke. I can't dream you; I have to have the real you."

"I'm glad." She crawled across him, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s sliding from his left side to his right ribs as her face zeroed in on his, and kissed him.

"Will you tell me a story?"

"Always, Geode."

He held her, thrilling to the sound of her voice as she told it, and he knew she felt his reaction and understood how he loved her and loved listening. She had first truly warmed to him when she learned that he liked listening to her, and it was deeper now.

There came the time when she had to broach a difficult matter to her husband. She had been patient, and understanding, but it simply could be put off no longer. "Donald, we have been married for fifteen years and I have borne you three fine offspring, yet you have not taken a mistress."

"Well, I'm going to, Yvonne," he said defensively.

"But you know it is standard after three children or ten years, whichever comes first. You have far exceeded the guidelines! Do you want folk to think you are impotent?"

He gave up pretense. "I desire only you, Yvonne. No other woman appeals to me."

"So you admit it!" she said severely. "You aren't even looking!"

Abashed, he could not deny it.

"Then you leave me no choice," she said with tearful determination. "I shall have to do what any woman threatened with dishonor would, and find you one myself."

"Couldn't we just pretend it's one of the maids?" he asked desperately. "That upstairs maid is pretty s.e.xy."

"No, we can't pretend! We have never lied before, and we won't start now. Unless you are prepared to take her to your bed tonight."

"She's a cow, while you are a gazelle!" he protested.

"So your true sentiments are coming out! Well, if you won't take advantage of the help, we shall have to import a decent mistress-another gazelle, perhaps."

"Whatever you say, Yvonne," he agreed meekly. "But until then, why don't you come to my bed yourself?"

"Definitely not! Would you ever take an interest in another woman if I were freely available to you?"

He grimaced. She had him dead to rights. She marched out, determined to do the proper thing no matter how much he resisted it. There were, after all, standards that a woman of merit did not suffer to be abridged.

But as she searched for a suitable woman, she knew that none would do. She understood her husband's tastes in the manner that only perspicacious wives do, and realized that the more beautiful the woman was, the less he would be inclined toward her, because he would feel she was compet.i.tive with Yvonne herself. Yet she could not abide his having a homely one; what would people think!

Finally she hit upon a scheme. It was risky, but if it worked, all would be well. She set about implementing it with the dispatch and subtlety expected of a woman of quality.

Meanwhile, Donald went about his business, nominally looking for a mistress, but actually having little if any urgency in the matter. No woman appealed, compared with his lovely and sensible wife. But it would become difficult if she withheld her favors from him for long, so he did wish he could somehow resolve the matter.

Aware of the situation, a number of women presented themselves to him. They were universally lovely and well connected, for he was considered a leading eligible married man. They arranged to b.u.mp into him so that their a.s.sets impinged upon his awareness, or to drop jewelry by seeming accident, which they then stooped to pick up, in this manner presenting both their well-formed legs under short skirts and their robust b.r.e.a.s.t.s beneath low decolletages. When he chanced to pa.s.s a lake where bathing was in progress, one especially shapely damsel managed to lose her suit in the water, so that when she emerged in seeming innocence the whole of her endowments was revealed. But he was unmoved; he had no use for designing women.

Yet well he knew that he could not dally long, for Yvonne was searching for a suitable prospect for him, and any woman his wife presented would have to be most seriously considered, lest his offense be compounded. Then he would be forced to pretend attraction to a woman who had all the right qualities, yet who could never be but a poor subst.i.tute for his wife. Suppose the situation led him to impotence, and the word got out? Yvonne's shame would be doubled.

Then one day he pa.s.sed a hedged house, and was startled by an outcry. Without intending to pry, he glanced in that direction, and through the hedge perceived a man with a young woman. The man was holding the woman by one slender arm, and drawing his belt out with his free hand. "Despicable girl!" he raged. "Not only did you have the audacity to be born female, when all knew I wanted a son, but you are too homely to command a decent bride price! Now you refuse even to be sold as a slave, thus denying me any return at all on my investment in clothing and feeding you these sixteen years. Well, I have had my fill of you, and shall beat you until I bend you to my will!"

"Father, I beg of you, no!" she cried. "I will try to win a good husband. Only give me another chance!"

"Bah! Everyone knows how willful you are, demanding to learn to read, instead of whoring with the boys. What need has a woman of an education? It was s.e.x you needed to learn-yet you remain a virgin! My patience is at an end. Now you will feel the belt at your back until you agree to be sold!"

"But slaves are horribly abused!" she protested.

"You should have considered that before you buried your nose in books, you ungrateful vixen. Now get down on your knees, that I may more readily beat you."

"I beg you, have mercy!" she pleaded. "I am the way I am, and cannot change, though you beat me senseless."

"We shall see about that," he said grimly. "Down, girl!" Tearfully, she sank to her knees, her hair falling disheveled across her face in the aspect of the fallen woman who is ashamed to face the light. He walked around her and raised his belt.

Donald could maintain silence no more, for he was a compa.s.sionate man. "My apology, sir, for interrupting," he called through the hedge.

"What nuisance is this?" the man demanded, peering around. "Can't a man beat his own daughter without some pervert snooping on private matters?"

"I apologize for snooping," Donald said. "I was only pa.s.sing by, and happened to come upon you at this inopportune moment. But perhaps I can a.s.sist you. I have need of a woman. What is the bride price on this child?"

The man named an outrageous sum. No wonder he had not been able to place her! Even the loveliest of women would hardly go for such a price, and this one, on her knees, hunched forward, faceless and priceless and hopeless, was a far cry from that. Yet Donald could not suffer her to be beaten. "I will pay it."

"You seek a bride?" the man asked, amazed.

"No, I am married. But I do seek a mistress."

"No way! Mistresses command only half the bride price!"

"I will pay the full bride price regardless! Give her to me now, and I will arrange for the payment before the day is out."

"Well, now," the man said, considering. "Are you sure this isn't some trick? It is obvious the girl isn't worth the payment."

Donald did not want to agree, or to admit that it was only compa.s.sion for the plight of the girl that motivated him. So he told another aspect of the truth. "I am without a mistress, and my wife is restive. It is necessary that I remedy the matter promptly, and it happens that your daughter is convenient."

"That she is," the man agreed. "But if you mean to use her only briefly and discard her, I will have none of it. A man's got some pride, you know."

"I understand. I will not discard her." There went a loophole; now that he had committed, he would be stuck with her for a prolonged period. But there was no help for it.

So they went together to the money changer, and the price was duly paid and the transaction notarized, and Donald took the wretched girl home with him. She followed meekly, barely speaking. She was aware that he had saved her from a beating, but she did not seem eager for the denouement.

Yvonne met them at the door. "What is this?"

Abashed, Donald mumbled something about a mistress.

"What's that? I didn't hear you."

"Mistress," he said with more force. "I found this girl, she was about to be beaten-"

"Mistress!" Yvonne exclaimed disapprovingly. "That wretched child? Have you no pride at all? What will the neighbors think?"

Donald finally got up some gumption. "Let them think what they choose! I paid a hefty price for her, and I shall use her for the purpose intended."

"You just didn't want her to be beaten!" Yvonne accused him, accurately enough. "You are so softhearted, sometimes it's sickening. Look at her-she's a waif! Probably a virgin too! What pleasure could she possibly give you?"

"She's educated," he said miserably. "I can dress her up, and she may appear pa.s.sable, and no doubt she can hold her own in conversation, as educated folk normally can. I'm sure she will give a good account of herself, with a little application."

"I doubt it. But it's your decision; I can't dictate something as personal as your s.e.x life. But if she becomes an embarra.s.sment to the family, then it will become my business. Take her and wash her and dress her-she looks about the size of the downstairs maid, so you can preempt some of her clothes for now-and take her to your bed tonight. I will ask you in the morning, and you know you cannot lie to me."

"I know," he said despondently. "I will do everything, I a.s.sure you." He only hoped he could!

"See that you do. There must be no scandal in this house!"

So he took the girl to his master bathroom and put her in the tub and had a maid scrub her down. He was surprised at how clean she was already, under her common clothing, and at how well developed. Her hunched posture had concealed the extent of her attributes. Then he saw, as the maid brushed back her hair, that her face was actually quite comely. "Why, you are not plain at all!" he exclaimed.

"You are just saying that," the girl demurred, embarra.s.sed.

"I am not! I would venture to say that you are as lovely a girl as any I've seen, potentially. We shall fix you up and see how you are in appropriate dress."

She cast her eyes down to the bubbly water below her nicely formed b.r.e.a.s.t.s, not believing him. Yet there was a slight flush on her delicate ears and slender neck, suggesting that she really desired to believe him. Donald departed, not wanting to betray his own skepticism about the matter.

In due course the girl was washed, dried, powdered, painted, and suitably garbed. The dress they had found for her fitted amazingly well. She stood before Donald demurely, for inspection. Her lips were pursed and full, her eyes great and dark, and overall she much resembled an angel, except for the most womanly contours of her body.

"My dear, you are ravis.h.i.+ng!" he exclaimed, genuinely surprised to find himself speaking truly. "How can anyone ever have thought you plain!"