Ghost Series - Ghost Part 24

"Sorry, dear, just teasing," Abigail said, laughing. "You started this."

"There are things you don't want toknowabout your parents!" Courtney said, closing her eyes, tightly.

"G.o.d!"

"This is a conversation, frankly, that I've both wanted to have and dreaded," Abigail said sadly, "because things like this, I've noticed, tend to run in families. Now you know why I've tried to get you to act more like a lady. A woman should be a perfect lady in public and a wh.o.r.e when the bedroom door closes.

And the bedroom door, dear, is anything that prevents the mundanes from knowing what is going on. I won't tell you some of the things that I've done that would shock you. But theywouldshock you. And there is a group here, friends of ours. All the times your father and I went out to 'dinner and a movie' and left you with a sitter, we weren't going out to a movie."

"Do Iknowany of these people?" Courtney said, her eyes wide.

"Yes," her mother said. "And I won't name names. I strongly doubt that you'd guess who most of them are."

"Mrs. Mathers," Courtney said definitely. "But . . ."

"She wouldn't mind," Abigail said humorously. "Good guess. But call herMistressMathers, if you would.

But not in public."

"G.o.d," Courtney said. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation."

"I'm telling you this so you understand that I'm not just some old fogy of your mother," Abigail said. "I knowwhat you are getting into. And it can be . . . yes, wonderful. It also has a real element of danger.

And I don'tknowyour master. I would have much preferred that you become involved with a master I knew I could trust. One who wouldn't . . . warp you and who will be cautious about . . . various things.

Are you a mas, dear?"

"Mom, you're getting beyond me, here," Courtney said, her head reeling.

"Are you a m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t?" Abigail said tightly. "Has he whipped you?"

"No!" Courtney said. "G.o.d, Mother."

"Okay." Abigail sighed. "We'll talk about that later."

"Mom?" Courtney said, her eyes wide. "Are you a . . . mas?"

"No comment," Abigail said.

"Mom?"

"Well," her mother said, "you know how sometimes we'd go to the pool and I'd wear a s.h.i.+rt and long pants?"

"Mom?"

"Choose your own limits, dear," her mother said tightly. "And allow me to choose mine."

"What are your limits?" Courtney asked.

"That is for me, and your father, to know," Abigail said primly. "But I will say that . . . there is a terrible glory in a good whipping."

"Mother!"

"Don't let him strike you on the b.r.e.a.s.t.s or across the kidneys. He should know that. I don't suppose I could speak to this young man?"

Courtney's eyes flew wide in horror at the thought and she shook her head.

"I don't think . . ."

"If you're going out of the country with him, surely I should speak to him," Abigail said with remorseless logic. "And much more so if you're going to enter a master-slave relations.h.i.+p."

"Mother!"

"Clear communication isvitalin a relations.h.i.+p like that, dear," her mother said.

"I'm anadult, mother," Courtney said, shaking her head.

"And do youwantyour birth certificate?" Abigail said. "How am I going to get it to you?"

"He gave me his FedEx number," Courtney said. "He still does some consulting for the military."

"You're sure this person isn't simply . . ." Abigail said and paused. "There are many people who . . . talk about having experiences they didn't have. Up to pathological liars, who are very dangerous people, dear."

"Well, from his scars, I'd say not," Courtney answered. "He's been shot, that's for sure."

"Oh," Abigail said uncertainly. "I really do need to talk to this young man."

"He's not exactlyyoung," Courtney said.

"He's in his thirties, dear," her mother said. "I am forty-two. He's a young man to me."

"Okay," Courtney said, sighing. "Hang on."

She went up on deck where Mike was backing the boat into the dock.

"Courtney, could you grab those . . ." He started to say, then saw she had the phone clutched to her chest.

"My mom would like to talk to you," she said desperately.

"I half-expected that," Mike said. "But I need to get the lines on, first."

Mike got the boat secured to the rear and decided the rest could wait. He walked over to Courtney and took the phone.

"Mike Jenkins," he said. "This is Courtney's mother?"

"Yes," Abigail said pleasantly. "How do you do, Mr. Jenkins?"

"Fine," Mike replied, going into the closed bridge and then down to the lounge. He could faintly hear Pam doggedly arguing with someone in her cabin.

"I understand you'd like to go to the Bahamas with my daughter?" Abigail asked.

"If it can be arranged," Mike answered. "Getting over there is easy, you just point the boat east and go.

Getting back, however, requires getting past American customs and immigration. They want to ensure that even your daughter is, in fact, an American citizen. Thus the birth certificate."

"It's the going on the trip that interests me," Abigail said sweetly. "I understand you're a top?"

Mike paused and his eyebrow raised.

"Have an interesting conversation with Courtney?" Mike asked. "I heard the occasional shouts of 'Mother!' from the flying bridge. Yes, I am."

"Are you a member of the Society?" Abigail asked evenly.

"No," Mike said. "I've never been in the Black Rose. It's . . . a bit further out than I care to go. I don't suppose you were at Disclave?"

"No," Abigail said tartly. "But I've heard the story. I'm very worried about safety."

"And I know what safety you're worried about," Mike said, shrugging. "I was in a monogamous dom-sub relations.h.i.+p for seven years with no problems. The girls are . . . inexperienced. That is, of course, fun. But I'm being very careful and intend to be very careful with their boundaries and with all standard safety issues, especially gags. I generally prefer ring gags, anyway, which are about as safe as you can get. I order from JR and Discrete in Boston."

"Oh, do you know Bob Thorson at Discrete?" Abigail asked.

Mike opened his mouth to reply and froze. He did, but not as Mike "Jenkins." Bob was a former Force Recon Marine and had a Ph.D. in Abnormal Psychology. He was a world expert in B&D and S&M and had been an adjunct professor at Harvard before quitting to become, in his words, "a professional pervert," and opening a bondage shop. His favorite part was that he didn't have to pay for workers; all his a.s.sistants were volunteers who got "paid" in testing out the gear he ordered.

"Mr. Jenkins?"

"Mike, please," he replied. "Ma'am, I do, but not as Mike Jenkins. Due to the work that I do with the government, I have more than one, fully legal, ident.i.ty. That is not bulls.h.i.+tting and I'd prefer that you not tell the girls." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "If you want a reference, ask him about Mike Harmon." s.h.i.+t, he even knew his d.a.m.nedteamname! "But I'd really prefer that you just say some guy named 'Mike' who used to be a SEAL."

"Okay," Abigail said uncertainly. "That bothers me, but I'll call Bob and ask him. Did you know him when he was a Marine?"

"No," Mike said. "That was before my time and the teams and Recon don't mix much, anyway. I called him to order some stuff and we got to talking, you know how he is. I was pretty inexperienced at the time. I'd been doing B and D and didn't know what I was doing and I got his book . . ."

"Rosesis a great book," Abigail said, the grin clear in her voice.

"That it is," Mike said, grinning right back. "Anyway, we got to talking. I was a SEAL instructor at the time, married. He gave me a great lecture on safety . . ."

"He's big on safety," Abigail said. "I'd hate to say 'too' big on safety, but . . ."

"He's a pro," Mike said, shrugging. "Anyway, I know him. But he doesn't know me as Mike Jenkins. He doesn't even know that I'm in the Keys, or for that matter out of the teams. I don't think I've talked to him in three or four years. He might not remember me."

"Well, I think I'll take you on your word," Abigail said. "What are you planning on doing for scene with the girls?"

Mike rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"We've got the time and luxury to . . . take our time," Mike said. "I'd, frankly, planned a rather drawn-out slave-training scene. Captured girls, being taken on a boat to be sold, et cetera. Pseudo Gorian, I suppose."

"Sounds heavenly," Abigail said, sighing. "But . . ."

"I don't intend to break them," Mike said. "I want them to be clear about the bedroom door. If they want to expand, later, fine. But . . . I don't want the scene to become their life."

"You're pretty smart for a SEAL," Abigail said.

"We're smarter than you think," Mike said. "But . . . I'm a bit unusual even for a team guy, yeah."

"Well, give me the FedEx number and I'll get the birth certificate out today," Abigail said, then sniffed theatrically. "My little girl is growing up and getting her own master. It's so sad."

"Mrs. Tray?" Mike said. "And is it Mrs. Tray or Mistress Tray?"

"Oh, it's Mrs.," Abigail said.

"Mrs. Tray? You are a nut."

"Takes one to know one," Abigail said, laughing. "Be careful with my daughter, please, Mike whoever you are."

"Harmon," Mike said quietly.

"You're not DEA or something, are you?" Abigail asked.

"No," Mike said, chuckling. "I don't do the drug thing. I do the other war."

"Oh. Well, it was good talking to you Mr. . . . Jenkins," Abigail said after a moment's thought. "And, well, if you're ever in Steelville and are interested in training a forty-two-year-old slave, give me a call,"

she said with a laugh.

"Hmmm . . ." Mike said, smiling. "Do you look anything like your daughter?"

"Somewhat older," Abigail said. "I keep in pretty good shape, though."'

"You tempt me, madam," Mike said, smiling.

"I'll let you go to tempt my daughter now," Abigail said. "Good talking to you."

"And you," Mike replied, hitting the disconnect and going up on the flying bridge.

"I need a beer," Courtney said. "I can't believe the conversation I just had with my mother."

"I can't believe the conversationIjust had with your mother," Mike said, sighing and sitting down next to her. "But I don't suppose there's any possibility of mother-daughter . . ."

"Don't evengothere!" Courtney said, dropping her face into her hands. "Oh, G.o.d!"

"Well, she did suggest if I was ever in Steelville I should give her a call," he said teasingly.

"Oh, G.o.d!" Courtney replied, shaking her head. "There are things youdon'twant to know about your parents!"

"Well,thatwasn't fun," Pam said, coming up on deck. "They're going to 'think' about it. My mom's calling Courtney'smom to talk to her."

"Oh," Courtney said, shaking her head. "That could be bad."

"Why?" Pam said. "Did she go off on you?"