"What does it say?" asked the fellow.
The slave clutched it to him. "It is private," he said, "and, I fear, personal." "Let me see," said one of the fellows.
"Better that only I and Appanius see this," he said. He seemed white-faced, shaken.
"Very well," said the fellow who had spoken, stepping back. He had judged from the slave's response, it seemed, that the matter was not one for just anyone to press.
"Is it important?" asked the other fellow.
"I am afraid," said the slave.
"Let us return to the house," said the first fellow.
They then again took their way east on tarn Court and, in a bit, once beyond the trelliswork, went to the right side of the street, which now, given the lateness of the afternoon sun, was the shady side. Normally Goreans keep to the left sides of streets and roads, as is proper, given that most men are right-handed. In this fashion the sword arm is on the side of the stranger. A similar, interesting historical detail, though are particularly pertinent to Gor, as most Gorean garments have buttons, is that, on Earth, men's shirts, jackets, coats, and such, have the buttons on the right side, so that the opening of the garment is held down, and to the right. This is because the sheath of the knife or sword is, by right-handed men, commonly worn on the left, facilitating the across-the-body draw to the right. In this arrangement of the garment's fastenings, thusly, the hand, or sleeve, or guard of the weapon, will not be caught or impeded in its passage to the ready position. A similar provision does occur, incidentally, in various Gorean garments, having to do with pins, brooches and such. Also the male tunic of the wraparound variety has its overlap to the right, presumably for a similar reason. Warriors, in situations of danger, commonly carry the scabbard over the left shoulder. The scabbard is held with the left hand and the draw takes place with the right. The scabbard and strap is then discarded, to be recovered, if practical, later. Obviously the scabbard attached to a belt is not only an encumbrance but it is something which someone else might seize, cling to, and perhaps use to his advantage.
I watched them withdraw. I was not even certain that the slave would show the note to Appanius. On the other hand, since he had been witnessed in receiving it, which I had not known would happen, it seemed highly likely he would do so. My plans, as I had laid them, of course, did not require that the note be seen by Appanius. Appanius did, of course, figure significantly in my plans. The note did not, as far as Appanius was concerned. It could do its work with or without his knowledge.
I now went west on Tarn Court.
In a few Ehn I had come to the rendezvous point, on Varick, west of Aulus, which I had arranged with Lavinia. I waited there, near the doorways. She would not be loitering in the vicinity, of course, as that would attract attention. She would, rather, pass this point at certain intervals, in one direction or another. She may have passed it once or twice already. I would then, in the concealment of one of the doorways, put her in the small cloak she had worn before, now folded in my wallet, and we would then make our way home.
I observed her approaching.
How beautiful she had been, how fetching she was now.
"Master," she said.
"In here," I said, gesturing to the doorway.
She stepped within the sheltered area and I took her by the upper arms and turned her about, and thrust her back, sharply, against the wall, to the right. "Master?" she said.
I looked down into her eyes. I held her by the upper arms, facing me, slave close. It is not unpleasant to hold a woman thusly. There were the tracks of tears, some only half dried, on her cheeks. She had thus wept even after leaving Tarn Court, probably while hurrying along.
"You are fortunate that you were not cuffed," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"You are not unattractive," I said.
"Thank you, Master," she said.
I stepped back a little, not releasing my hold, and looked down at her.
"Even in such garments," I said.
"Thank you, Master," she said.
The recent garments prescribed for state slaves, of course, as such things went, were quite modest. They had their supposed role to play, doubtless, in the attempt on the part of Cos to depress the sexual vitality of the males of Ar, to devirilize them and make them easier to manage. That program, of course, as I have indicated, was unsuccessful. That the female is a slave is far more important than her garmenture, pleasant as that may be, dressing her in one manner or another for your pleasure, for example. That the female is a slave can double or treble, or more, the sexual interest and vitality of the male. It also has a considerable effect, an astounding effect, on the sexuality of the enslaved female, as well. The reasons for this have to do with the order of nature.
"Is Master angry with me?" she said.
"Stand back against the wall," I said. "Put the palms of your hands back, against the wall. Hold them there. Do not move."
"Yes, Master," she said.
I touched her.
"Ohh," she said, trying not to move.
"You are still hot," I said.
"Forgive me, Master," she said.
"No forgiveness is necessary," I said. "Being hot is commendable in a female slave. Indeed, she may be whipped if she is not."
Yes, Master," she said, swallowing hard.
"And recently," I said, "if I am not mistaken, you were steaming, and oiled." "Do not be angry, Master," she begged.
How exciting she had been on Tarn Court! How beautiful she had been on Tarn Court! I had been tempted to rush forth and seize her, putting her to my pleasure, I owning her. I had not, of course, done so. That would surely have interfered with my plans.
"Do not be angry with me, Master!" she begged.
"To whom do you belong?" I asked.
"To you, Master," she said.
"And to whom else?" I asked.
"To no one else!" she said.
I regarded her.
"The slave hopes that her master is not displeased with her," she said.
I then took her once more by the upper arms and drew her, again, close to me. I held her in this fashion for a few Ihn, and then she made a tiny noise, and turned her head to the side, to her right.
"You feel my closeness?" I asked.
"Yes, my master," she whispered.
"And you grow excited?" I said.
She looked up at me. "Yes, Master," she said.
"And you cannot help yourself?" I said.
"No, Master," she said, looking away…
"And I could be any man?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"But I am your master," I said.
"Yes, my master," she said.
"You are a female slave," I said.
"Forgive me, Master," she said.
"I effect nothing critical," I said. "Your sexuality has been taken away for you, and out of your control."
"Yes, Master," she whispered, frightened.
"Do not be troubled," I said. "It is appropriate that a female slave be sexually alive, vital and responsive.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Even required," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"You would not wish to be whipped for insufficient heat, would you?"
"No, Master!" she said.
"Think no more about it then," I said. "Surrender, rather, as you now must, and wish to do, to your deepest needs and desires, to your most profound and helpless passions, to those truths, hitherto concealed in the most secret recesses of your belly."
"Take me somewhere, Master!" she begged. "Take me somewhere!"
"You are somewhere," I informed her.
She looked wildly at me, and I then, by the upper arms, lifted her up, against the wall.
She looked down at me. "Master!" she begged.
I kept her to the wall with my body, and, in an Ihn or two, got my hands to her waist, lifting her up. She put her arms about my neck, sobbing. "Oh, yes, Master!" she breathed. "I yield me, as a slave, your slave!"