“But Stone—” she began.
“Though I imagine what we do will be more in the nature of massage and Mistress-care,” he went on easily. “We can even tell Xempi Gozeriam that is our specialty, if you like.”
“Oh, yes. Yes, maybe that might be a good idea.” Cassie nodded. She was a modest person, as a rule, but she did enjoy going for a massage once in a while. Though she always asked for a female massage therapist, she remembered uneasily. Since the idea of a strange man running his hands all over her body made her distinctly uncomfortable.
But it won’t be a strange man—it’ll be Stone, she told herself. And he doesn’t seem to mind the idea of massaging me.
Besides which, this seemed to be their only chance of infiltrating the palace to accomplish their three goals.
Destroy the Pain Fruit plants, get the snuff film, and arrest The Beast, she told herself. That’s all you have to do.
She thought of Brittany Hastings, hanging from the St Andrew’s cross, broken and bloody and of poor little petite Leela, no less broken than the other victim, though she was still alive, after she had been brutalized by The Beast.
I have to do this for them, Cassie told herself. And if this is the only way to do get into the palace, then I’m damn well going to take it!
“All right,” she said, looking up at Stone, who had been waiting patiently for her to think things through. “Let’s go for it. I’m your Mistress and you’re my, uh, body-slave. Right?”
“Exactly.” He nodded. “Let me just tell you a little more about how they act on Yonnie Six and then we will present ourselves at the palace.”
“Well, it seems my work here is done.” Pocker bowed to each of them. “I must get back to my post before anyone misses me but I will bring you to the palace and introduce you as soon as you are ready.”
“Just give us a few minutes to get into character and we’ll be there,” Stone told him.
Pocker bobbed his melon-shaped head amiably.
“Indeed, indeed. Happy to have been of service. Please let Commander Sylvan know that I am still his loyal friend.”
“We’ll do that,” Stone said dryly.
The pig-man nodded and turned towards the door—then turned back.
“Before I go, might I just warn your Kindred Lordship to be mindful of Xempi Gozeriam’s colors.”
“His what?” Stone frowned.
“His colors,” Pocker repeated. “He often won’t tell you if he is pleased or not, but you can tell by the shimmer of his slime. Blue or green means he is in a reasonably good mood. Gray and purple means boredom—which can be dangerous if you are performing for him, for it means your act doesn’t merit his interest. But when he starts to turn yellow or orange or especially red, then watch out! That means His Great Slimefullness is most displeased and a beheading might not be far behind.”
“A beheading?” Cassie asked, aghast. “Does he really kill people so easily?”
The pig-man shrugged.
“Why do you think there are always job listings at the palace, my Lady?”
“Thank you for the warning,” Stone said, frowning. “We will certainly take it to heart. Now please leave—I have much to teach my partner if we’re going to do a passable imitation of a Yonnite Mistress and her body-slave.”
“Yes, my Lord Kindred.” The pig-man bowed himself out with obsequious deference, calling, “I will wait for you at the main gate,” before Stone shut the door.
As Cassie watched their contact go, she wondered again what they were getting themselves into. Then she turned her attention to Stone, who was saying,
“All right, we don’t have much time to get into our new characters and make up some new back-stories. But the first thing you have to remember about being a Yonnite Mistress is that you are the most important person in the universe and I, as your body-slave, am the least important…”
Twenty-Three
Stone couldn’t help wondering if he was doing the right thing. Was he taking advantage of this situation in order to get closer to his partner—to touch her the way he had longed to for so long?
For that matter, was he taking advantage of Cassandra?
But honestly what other choice did they have than to play their current roles, he asked himself, as he instructed his partner on how to act like a Yonnite Mistress. How else could they get into Xempi Gozeriam’s palace and complete their mission?
You just want an excuse to touch her—to taste her, whispered an accusing voice in his head. You know you’d never be able to otherwise. You know she only thinks of you as a friend. And now you’re taking advantage of that friendship to put her in a position where you can fulfill your own fantasies, with Cassandra none the wiser.
We’re just role playing, he argued with himself uneasily. Acting out parts because it’s necessary. Besides, if I wasn’t the one touching her, Xempi Gozeriam would be and I know she doesn’t want that! This way at least I can limit how much sexual contact we have. I can choose where and how to touch her and pretend to do more than I actually am.