“You have never been loved unconditionally,” I remarked.
“Yes, by my parents,” she objected.
“As an adult,” I clarified.
“That doesn't happen.” She stared out the window. “Everyone wants something, and always, always, more than I have to give."
“What I want is for you to be happy. If that means your life doesn't include me, I will deal with it. I don't ever want to be where I'm not wanted again. I made up my mind last time. If you dump me here on the beach and fire me, I will manage without bothering you. You can't know how important that is to me. Just take my word for it.” It was a longer speech than I had intended, but I was glad she had given me a chance to say it.
She looked at me carefully. “We'll see, won't we?” She turned her head and glanced out the rear window. “The sun's coming up. Let's get some breakfast, and I'll take you back to your car."
“Yes, ma'am, Lynn,” I agreed instantly.
She grinned and started the engine. “Very good."
I did a cowardly thing. After Lynn returned me to the dungeon and drove off, I went back inside. In the office, I found paper and wrote a note to Beverly that I was cleaning out my stuff, leaving my key, and would be gone indefinitely. I did, however, offer to see her in person and explain myself at her convenience. I thought I owed her that, but I wasn't ready to face her again that evening. Then I went home and slept.
Chapter Nine
Lynn's final instructions before dropping me off had been very specific, and I followed them to the letter. I was to arrive at her house with my equipment in a briefcase, dressed in khakis and a sports shirt to approximate the appearance of a Ph. D. candidate coming by for help with a dissertation. My car was to be washed and waxed. Thus, I would look acceptable and unremarkable at the gate of her exclusive development, and to her neighbors, who had seen that sort of thing before. If anyone asked, it was my cover story and a plausible one, with the second-largest university in Florida conveniently located in the next county.
I would arrive by nine PM but no earlier than eight because she worked to a strict schedule even on weekends. I was not to stay past eleven this evening, nor could I expect to stay overnight in the future because of the guards at the gate. I was never to touch her outdoors, such as on the patio by the pool, or even in the house if the curtains weren't drawn. Should anyone ever be in earshot, I was to address her as “Dr. Jeffries.” There were other rules, she informed me, which I would learn after I arrived. Her clipped, matter-of-fact manner while detailing all these requirements made me wet myself yet again.
I wondered how long any of her husbands had gone along with this, or if the rules had been different for them. Or if they had wandered longingly around in an advanced state of arousal 23 hours a day.
In any event, I was there by 8:15. I would have been earlier but I made myself drive around and around the unenclosed neighborhoods adjoining “The Barony” until I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled my spotless car up to the gate and gave my name to a beefy old fart of a guard who had the look of a retired NCO about him. He grunted, gave me a map and retracted the swinging gates.
I wound through shady streets for about a half mile until I found Lynn's house. It wasn't enormous or set amid rambling acres. It was really an average-sized house on an unremarkable lot. The residents here paid mostly for security and the cache of the name of the place. Later I found out the truly grand houses were much further back, separated from these “lesser estates” by a picturesque little canal with alligators in it. But no drawbridge.
Even so, Lynn's house was grand enough. She couldn't have afforded it on her salary alone, but her endless royalties, guest appearances and investments made it feasible. That, and no alimony and no kids-only herself to spend her money on. It was a sumptuous but isolated existence.
I took my briefcase and rang the bell. I stood there like a supplicant or a vacuum cleaner saleswoman for a good five minutes before she deigned to open the door.
“Come in.” She glowered at me as if to remind me not to steal a kiss, but I had no such plans.
The curtains were already drawn and she wore some sort of flowery silk robe shot through with gold strands that made her look like Middle Eastern royalty, except for her fair complexion.
“Good evening, Dr. Jeffries,” I said solemnly. I stepped inside and stood still, unwilling to make the slightest move that would displease her.
“Hm,” she said, closing the door and throwing the deadbolts. She also set the alarm. She walked around me slowly, inspecting, and I felt like an officer trainee on parade again.
“Very good. I like people who follow orders. This way,” she said, and she led me through the high-ceilinged great room and down a long hall past several closed doors.
We entered a book-lined room with the latest computer and communications equipment arranged on antique furniture. It was tastefully decorated in shades of green, and I was impressed. The wood was polished and glowing. I heard strains of Chopin coming from somewhere.
There was an enormous desk chair and she took it. “Sit,” she said, pointing to an upholstered side chair next to the desk. I sat. This tiny woman had the carriage and manner of a person in complete command. She would have looked well in uniform or at the head of a boardroom table, which was precisely where she sat when she convened various meetings. She was very sexy and she knew it. The only problem was, I knew she didn't love me like I loved her, if at all.
“You don't look well. What's the matter?” she demanded, peering intently into my eyes. “Didn't you sleep?"
“Yes, ma'am, I did, but I have the impression you're angry with me,” I said honestly.
“Ah. No, Jane, not at all. This is just the way I am almost all the time. I'm not warm and cuddly; in fact, I'm a prickly little bitch. It has nothing to do with you, so try to get used to it.” She picked up a folder. “This is your resume,” she remarked, settling reading glasses on her nose. She looked up at me over the glasses and smiled, and suddenly I felt a lot better. “I was very glad to see you didn't lie to me last night. I would have been quite angry."
I nodded. “Yes, ma'am."
“Did you bring a sample of your writing?"
“Right here,” I said, opening my briefcase and withdrawing a book.
She glanced at it and put it aside. “I'll look at it later.” She sat back in her chair and looked at me. “This is my study. Never come in here unless I invite you. In fact, don't open any closed doors. I may relax the rules later, but I prefer to be strict at first and see how we get along."
“Have you ever been in the military?” I inquired.
“I have not. Why do you ask?"
“It's what they teach you about taking command of a new unit. The very same thing,” I explained.
“I think it pays. You can't toughen up after things get out of control,” she said. Her voice was light and melodious, yet everything she said sounded like a royal decree.
“I understand,” I told her.
“Very good. Now I'll show you your room,” she said, getting up.
I rose with her. “My room?"
“Your room. Come.” She stood aside to allow me to precede her out, then shut the door firmly behind us.
Stepping across the hall, she opened another door. “This is the guest suite. In here, you will reign supreme, Jane.” We went in and as I looked around, she continued. “You will be the dominant and I will be your slave. If we want to play scenes in the other rooms, we'll adjust the rules. In here, you make all the rules, and I will disobey them at my peril."
The room, while very nice, classic wicker, very Floridian, was a bit sterile and obviously not a place in which much living went on. “Um, may I ask a question?"