Amber's throat was sore from how Lance had used her that morning. He had tied her on her back to the table then forced his cock down her mouth and throat repeatedly. He told her he was training her how to be face-fucked; she doubted that his abuse was actually training her for anything. She had choked, almost passed out, and had thrown up once. When he was finished with her and had untied her from the table, she went to the kitchenette and began to nurse her throat with water and juice. Before she could drink more than a glass or two, he sent her from the bungalow. She had only a couple of cans of soda she had hidden under the bungalow to nurse her throat -- part of her stash for when she was unable to get into the bungalow.
She had nothing else to do that afternoon than to sunbathe. She grabbed one of the sodas from her stash and with her towel wrapped around her waist and the sunglasses on her head she walked barefoot through the wooded grounds of the resort. She passed the trails to the main beach where the other guests were and came to a section of the beach that was more secluded than the others. There she laid out the towel, buried three quarters of the can of soda in the wet sand, took off the embarrassingly tiny bikini top and laid herself out in the sun.
She wasn't certain if she was actually acquiring a decent tan or simply becoming sunburnt, but she enjoyed the quiet. She let herself think she was on a luxury vacation at an exclusive resort for a while, but too soon it grew boring and she contented herself with simply lying on a tropical beach. She had to return to their bungalow in a few hours so he could tie her up while he went off to dinner, and if she didn't return in time he would punish her -- but he might punish her anyway, so she figured it didn't matter and she might as well enjoy living for the moment.
Every so often she would take a sip from the can to soothe her throat. She was over half way through the can when she heard a man's voice.
"Hey there, girlie!"
She looked up from the water, shading her eyes. A bald, middle-aged man stood at the edge of the palm trees, leering at her. He was the man she saw outside the resort offices with his wife the day she and Lance arrived at the resort, Trevinnick; they had given her the cold shoulder. He wore the same faux bowling shirt and shorts he had worn that day. A blob of his hairy belly poked out between his shirt and shorts.
"Hello," Amber said.
"Are you enjoying the beach here, girlie?"
"Yes." She sat up and put on the bikini top without looking at the man.
"Hey, want me to join you?"
"No." She stood up, grabbing her soda can and towel.
"C'mon little girl. I know very well why you're here and why you're showing off the merchandise."
She might be a sex slave, but she was definitely not this guy's sex slave. She lost her temper. "I was here sunbathing and having a nice time until you came along. Either you leave, or I will, Fatso."
The bald man in the bowling shirt lost his leer, called her a cunt and stalked off.
Amber stood in the same spot, trembling; the moment was lost. She was close to crying. She felt helpless. There were times she had felt helpless, and some of those times she had enjoyed being helpless, but now alone and without resources being helpless was horrible. The embarrassing bikini top and the uncomfortably short denim skirt were all the rules allowed her to say she had. According to these rules, she had to obey every command Lance gave her or he could abandon her here with only the clothes on her back, nothing more. She would not even have any shoes; the soles of her feet were soft, and walking very far even on sand hurt her feet.
She wished Lance was there to protect her, and for the first time she wished Lance had not entered her life. She wished she wasn't at this beach, and she wished she wasn't at this resort any more. Amber could do nothing about any of those, so she took the towel and the can of soda and walked back to the bungalow.
Lance was enjoying himself somewhere else, and the rule was if he was not there the bungalow was locked. She sat on the verandah. She had spent many hours sitting there waiting for Lance, staring at the flora around her. The rule was that a sex slave should not go everywhere her owner went, which she thought was a stupid rule. Many of the rules he had come up with now seemed stupid to her, not only for this trip but since she came to live with him. He had told her while she lived under his roof she had to follow rules, and if she broke any she would be punished. And he had punished her many times with delight. Amber sipped her warm soda, and stared towards the Caribbean, glimpsing its blue between the restless leaves of the trees and bushes. Whenever the breeze came from inland, she smelled the unfamiliar sweet and spicy odors simmering in the darkness of the dense foliage.
Some time had passed before Amber noticed a girl with long blonde hair, maybe five years younger than her, idly walking along the access road. The blonde first caught her attention because she recognized her blouse as an expensive designer design in need of washing; when the blonde walked past again, she immediately recognized her. The blonde looked at her, then glanced away and hurried on. Amber finished her soda and tossed the can into the brush, then resumed gazing at the blue flashes of the ocean through gaps in the branches and leaves. When the blonde passed by yet again a few minutes later, Amber turned from the Caribbean to look at her.
"Hey there," the blonde called.
It had been a long time since Amber had anyone except Lance to talk to. The blonde looked harmless. Amber surprised herself by replying, "Hey yourself."
"Mind some company?"
"No. Come share my porch."
The blonde sat down next to her. "My name's Daisy," she said.
"I'm Amber." They shook hands. The gesture felt pretentious for the moment, but some gesture was needed. As Daisy smoothed out her flowing skirt and sat down next to her, Amber found herself fascinated with the blonde girl's body: her lean but muscular legs, the slight swell of her breasts, her hair bleached from months of tropica sun, the hint of freckles on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Amber had always studied the appearance of the women around her -- an instinctual compulsion to rate her competition, she told herself -- but her interest in the blonde somehow felt different.
"I'd invite you in, but I'm locked out," she said. "I'm waiting for my, my boyfriend to come back and let me in."
Something about Daisy's smile made her think she knew Amber was lying. "Yes, I'm locked out too. My boyfriend has the only key, and I don't know when he will be back."
Amber found the coincidence of their fortunes unusual, but instead asked, "Been here at Trevinnick long?" Trevinnick was the name of the resort.
"A while. I took a break from college to travel, and came to the Caribbean with some friends. We caught the ferry a few weeks back, and have been staying with friends since. Eventually I'll return and finish my last semester so I can graduate."
"Staying with friends? That sounds like a nice way to travel." Amber hoped that sounded correct. Although in college she had crashed at friend's apartments the occasional night, and had spent nights with various dates at their homes, she had never stayed with friends or family when she travelled.
"It can be nice. It depends on who you stay with. But getting to know people is always a good thing. I'm an easy-going sort of girl, always willing to be friendly."
Amber had the feeling Daisy implied something in how she said "friendly". Between her rough treatment that morning and talking with someone who was not Lance, Amber lacked the energy to parse subtleties. She had to turn from Daisy and stare at the water through the swaying branches to settle her mind. Daisy must have sensed her confusion, for she started talking about the places she had been. She had drifted between a number of the islands over the previous months, from Grenada to the Bahamas and back. Amber was fascinated with how the girl had travelled between the islands and asked many questions, but Daisy revealed none of her secrets. Amber figured if the girl had paid her way, she would have mentioned prices.
Their conversation had drifted to how each wanted to see New York -- for different reasons, and good-naturedly arguing whose reasons were the best -- when they heard shoes on the verandah approach them. Both looked up.
"I see you've made a friend," Lance said.
Despite Lance's smile, Amber's heart skipped a beat. For a moment she was surprised to see he looked smaller, more human than she remembered him to be. She said, "Lance, this is Daisy."
Daisy said hello to Lance. She flashed a smile Amber felt was a touch too ingratiating. Amber looked away from them at the water, and listened to Daisy and Lance talk. Daisy flirted with Lance and he laughed the same way he laughed that day they had gone snorkeling together; the way he had laughed that day was a special gift he had given to Amber, and only her. She brushed a strand of hair from her face to behind her ear, wished again that she could get her hair cut, and tried not to worry that Daisy would seduce him from her, that Lance would abandon her here and take a spoiled child of privilege home with him. Lance treated Daisy like a human being; since they arrived here Lance repeatedly reminded Amber she was only a fucktoy.
"I have two attractive women sitting on my porch," Lance announced. "I need to celebrate this happy event. How about we go inside and have some drinks?"
Then she thought about why Lance took such a sudden interest in Daisy; he hardly knew Daisy. Amber suspected that Lance was playing another of his games. He was fond of games and pranks. He liked to encourage her to believe things or act in ways she would not have otherwise. And it was not wise to call his bluffs, as Amber learned to her misfortune.
Daisy paused before agreeing, and stood up. Lance opened the door and waved Daisy in before him. Amber followed behind the others.
"Do you have any wine coolers?" Daisy asked.
"Sorry, no," Lance answered. "If you will drink pinot blanc, though, I know Amber will share some of hers with you." He pulled from a cabinet a bottle of pinot Amber did not know was there.
Amber glanced at Lance before looking down again. His generosity surprised her, and she wondered what his game was. But when Daisy agreed to his offer, Amber took down two glasses, opened the bottle and filled both.
They sat in the living room and talked of such things casual acquaintances talk about. Amber was surprised that Lance not only allowed her to sit on the furniture, he encouraged her to sit next to Daisy on the couch. He took the arm chair, a bottle of water in hand, and proceeded to question them about their discussion of New York. Daisy shared her enthusiasm to visit Tribeca and Soho. Amber said nothing. The rule was that a slave should not speak unless spoken to, and she was uncertain how she could participate in the conversation.
Daisy quickly drained her glass, and she reached for the wine bottle to refill it. Amber, without thinking, also reached for the bottle to fill Daisy's glass. The two women's hands brushed, which caused them to sit upright and squirm into the opposite corners of the couch. They looked at each other and laughed with embarrassment.
At one point Amber looked at the wall across from her. As in the other rooms of the bungalow this one had a painting on the wall, portraying a pirate ship in full sail racing before a sky full of clouds. The resort was named for a village in Cornwall because a pirate from that part of the world had made his base here. Or so Amber was told; she wondered why people were not satisfied with a good thing and had to make it better and ruin it.
She was drawn back to the others when they laughed at a joke she missed. Lance said to Daisy, "No offense meant, Daisy, but you look like someone who could use a hot shower. And did you say the washing machine in your bungalow was broken? You can wash your clothes in our washer in the meantime. I believe Amber has some clothes that might fit you."
"Are you trying to get me into a microskirt and bikini too?" Daisy asked. Amber raised her hips and tugged at the hem of her skirt.
"That won't happen," Lance answered. "Sorry, Amber's wearing the only set of those we have. What we can offer you is far more conservative than what Amber likes to wear at the beach. She's a kinky girl. Anyway, please stay a while. I'll call over to the restaurant and order dinner delivered."
Amber wondered if that meant she would be included. "All three of us?" she asked.
Lance looked at her as if he had forgotten Amber was present, then winked. "Yes, Daisy is invited too."
While Lance rummaged in the bedroom closet, Daisy whispered to her, "It's been too long since I've had a proper dinner. Pizza and sandwiches get old after a while."
"What about your boyfriend?" Amber asked.
Daisy's eyes darted to one side momentarily. "Uh, he knows better than to wait up for me. Say, Amber, would it be okay if I washed a few more things too? It won't be very much, but I'd love to have a clean wardrobe again." Amber found herself nodding. After Daisy dashed out the door she realized she might be punished for letting Daisy use the washer and dryer without asking Lance first.
"Where did your friend go?"
Amber looked at Lance, then at the floor. She didn't know what to say; she didn't want to be punished.
"Did you scare her off?" he asked, not with his master's voice. Before she could think of an answer, Daisy appeared in the doorway with a large bag in hand and an embarrassed smile.
Lance waved her to the hallway where he showed her the washer and dryer, the shower in the bathroom, and the clothes he had selected for her on the bed. Meanwhile Amber picked up the wine bottle and the glasses and set them in the kitchenette. The bottle was half full. She considered filling her glass and drinking the wine down as fast as possible. The washing machine started, bare feet padded across the floor while Lance laughed, then the bathroom door slammed and water flowed in the shower.
"Do you believe Daisy's story about being here on vacation with her boyfriend?" Lance asked her. She was holding the bottle, still undecided, and did not hear him walk over. Amber shook her head. She quickly stoppered the wine bottle and put it away. Lance put on his reading glasses and picked up the resort delivery menu from its place beside the front door. "What would you bet she's been sleeping on the beach?"
She thought of saying, "Like I will be?" Instead she said, "She says she's in her final year of college."
He acted as if she had not spoke. "I think I'll order for three: a fish dish, a chicken curry, and a pork dish. With a bottle of wine, that'll come to almost $200. Food prices are supposed to be lower in third world countries." He chuckled. "If Daisy finds out how much I'm spending, she'll show up around dinner time every day from now on. We'll never get rid of her."
Lance called room service on his cell. Amber wondered about a man who considered a great vacation included rules that could result with her stranded in a foreign country, yet he treated a stranger like Daisy as if she were his sister or a neighborhood girl. She concluded he didn't want Daisy instead of her: she doubted a stranger would agree to the games she had agreed to.
The water stopped in the shower and a few minutes later Daisy emerged from the bedroom in the white blouse and leather skirt Amber had worn on the plane. Even though Daisy was only borrowing them, Amber felt uncomfortable seeing someone else wear those clothes. She hoped Daisy wasn't also wearing her underwear too.
"You must be larger than me," Daisy said, pulling the waist of the skirt up. She took a step and the skirt slid off her hipbone. She had to grab it and pull it up. Daisy took another couple of steps and it began to slide again. She repeated this several more times before resigning herself to holding it in place with her left hand.
"It didn't fit me very well either when we arrived," Amber said. She didn't look at Lance.
* * *
After dinner Amber cleaned up. After Daisy moved her wash in the dryer, she offered to help clear the table but Lance told her to sit down. "She doesn't need the help. Amber enjoys doing chores."
She would have welcomed the help, but Amber followed the rules. She repacked the carrier the meal had been delivered in and put it on the verandah with the empty bottles of wine for the staff to take away. Then she washed the dishes in the kitchenette while Daisy told stories of her travels south to Grenada then back north to the Bahamas and back south again, repeating many of the same words she had said earlier to Amber.
Despite having to work, Amber felt content. Her meal tonight was a change from the fried planatain and spam Lance would bring her from the resort's restaurant. Amber was undeniably buzzed; this was the most wine she had drank since arriving on the island. She thought about sunny beaches undisturbed by fat men. Lance woke her from her thoughts by asking Daisy, "Did I hear you correctly earlier, Daisy? You're here with your boyfriend?"
"He doesn't expect me home soon," she said with a lazy smile. Amber remembered how much wine Daisy had drank, then realized Lance had drank one, maybe two, glasses. She watched him carefully.
"And he doesn't mind that you are a friendly girl?"
Despite her buzz, Amber could hear the implication in his voice and she felt uncomfortable for Daisy. Yet Daisy's expression did not change in the least. "What do you have in mind?" Daisy asked.
Lance chuckled. "Like being nice to me?"
"That depends on what you mean by 'being nice.'" Daisy spoke slowly and clearly, not as if she had just drank half a bottle of wine by herself.
"Spend the night with us," Lance said.
"'With us'? Are you suggesting something naughty?" Daisy asked.
"Not both of us. Amber here. What I had in mind was that you and Amber keep each other company."
Daisy smiled. The smile had a glazed quality. Amber wasn't sure if the blonde was simply smiling because of the alcohol.
"I told you she's a kinky girl," Lance told her.
"You mean..." Daisy left the sentence unfinished.
"You and she fuck. However, Amber only gets off if both of you are tied up."
Amber looked at him, wanting to object, but unable to speak. She had never been interested in screwing girls; before she met Lance she never had imagined two girls doing it; the idea was entirely alien to her, like eating chocolate-covered grasshoppers or playing Mahjong. But she could not find the words to express her objections. All she could do was blush.
"Of course you'd want to watch us." Daisy studied Amber, but she spoke to Lance.
"Only to keep both of you safe. I told you Amber only gets off if you two are tied up. That would make you both helpless, and if you fell off the bed you couldn't break your fall. You could get badly hurt."
Daisy turned to Lance. "I've only known the two of you for a few hours. If you tied me up, I'd be at your mercy. You are expecting a lot from me."
Lance held up his hands. "Think of Amber. Think about how it would excite her."
Amber found her voice. "You're scaring her," she said.
Lance gave her a look she didn't understand. "Amber likes you," he said to Daisy.
"I--" Daisy laughed and shook her head. "Oh, why the fuck not. I've always wondered what it would be like. But no ropes. And I've seen how Amber's been looking at me." She winked at Amber. "Just as long as both of you remember I like boys."
"Of course," said Lance.
"Yes," Amber said, despite her dry mouth.
Lance gave up the bedroom; both Daisy and Amber would have the bed the entire night. Amber removed her two garments with little ceremony, while Daisy carefully undressed. Daisy had not worn a bra, and she wore her own panties. Once or twice she glanced at Amber and smiled when their eyes met. Amber found herself staring at Daisy's body. Her small breasts were tanned, making her aureoles almost invisible. The blonde thatch covering her pudenda had a neglected look. Amber compared her own body to hers, her breasts to Daisy's, her mousy brown hair to her dark blonde, her longer but skinny legs. Daisy shook her long hair out of her eyes and smiled.
Lance held Amber's shoulder and whispered in her ear, "A good slave would make sure her guest enjoyed herself. Make her cum. I would be unhappy with any other result." Then he slapped one butt cheek.
What Amber knew about how to pleasure another woman comprised little more than a porno movie she had watched with Lance. After they had watched it, he had bombarded her with questions about her response to the movie; with a shrug she had said, "I guess that's what would happen if neither party had a penis." A few partners had gone down on her, but the only one who had a sense of what to do was Lance, it pained her to admit. Once, when she was in high school, she helped one of girlfriends practice kissing. The girl had a big date and she wanted to give passionate kisses -- including French kisses -- but both panicked the moment their tongues had touched. The date hadn't gone well for the girl either, and afterwards she blamed Amber for its failure.
She sat on one side of the bed and Daisy on the other. Amber took Daisy's hand in hers, trying not to squeeze it too tightly, as if she was about to be sucked down a dark, bottomless whirlpool. She had never felt this terrified since her first job interview after college, but she had plenty of time to prepare for that interview and she had no idea she would be doing this even ten minutes ago. She leaned forward to kiss Daisy; it was as good of a place to start as any.
Daisy responded by leaning towards her, as if join in the kiss, but at the last moment turned to rub her cheek against Amber's. Then Daisy whispered into her ear, "You're full of surprises, Amber. I thought a kinky girl like you wouldn't be this shy."
Daisy leaned back and their eyes met. Amber hadn't trusted her, she didn't trust anyone, and she wanted to tell this to Daisy. Then Amber understood Daisy was in the same predicament: it had been a long time since she trusted anyone too. They smiled at the same time.
"We're going to enjoy this, aren't we?"
Daisy then gave her a quick peck on the lips. Amber felt herself relaxing for the first time in a long, long time. She returned Daisy's peck. They exchanged pecks on each other's lips again and again until they giggled. Then Amber released Daisy's hand and put her arms around Daisy, and Daisy put her arms around Amber. They touched their lips in a long, languid kiss which ended with Amber trying to part Daisy's lips with her tongue.
Daisy broke off the kiss, sat back just enough so Amber could see her smile, then leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "I knew you weren't that shy."
"I guess it's no longer the time for shyness," Amber said.
They resumed their kisses, their soft and languid kisses. Their tongues began to explore each other. Amber licked the sides of Daisy's neck, seeking to taste the salt of her sweat, then the corners where the back of Daisy's ear met her neck, burying her face in Daisy's long, blonde hair. Daisy responded with stretching her neck, revealing more flesh for Amber to suckle. Amber wondered what she should do next to properly bring the other woman to climax. At that moment their erect nipples brushed each other, and Amber realized that all the porn she had watched had been a lie: the lesbian porn had left her cold because they had been races to the groin, which was what men, not women, wanted to see. She was aroused more by indirection, by teasing, by gentleness, and Lance pulling orgasms out of her the entire time they'd been at Trevinnick as if using a pair of pliers had left Amber longing for indirection and gentleness.
She wondered if this was what Daisy wanted too.
Amber drew back to look her in the eyes. Concern flashed over Daisy's face, but Amber smiled and put her at ease. She could feel Daisy trusting her, as she trusted Daisy. Amber raised her hand and stroked Daisy's hair then kissed her again. She felt Daisy's muscles relax, and she knew Daisy indeed wanted gentleness and slowness too. Amber leaned over to put her mouth on Daisy's left breast, kissing it, then caressed the nipple with her tongue as she wanted her own nipple to be caressed, continuing until she felt Daisy's hand on her shoulders. Daisy pushed Amber back so she could lick Amber's erect nipples, both of them one after the other, gently and slowly. Amber closed her eyes and savored the moment. Then Daisy gave one nipple a sharp bite and Amber squirmed.
"You vixen," Amber said. She had spoken with husky voice that surprised her. She realized her breathing was ragged, as it was when Lance was pushing her buttons slowly and methodically. Daisy looked up, brushed her hair back behind her neck and revealed a lazy smile. Then she continued licking Amber's breasts, alternating between the right and then the left.
A thought startled Amber: she liked boys, so why was she doing this? The reality of the two women together on this bed slowered her descent into carnal ecstasy. She had never wanted a woman before. She wondered if Lance had somehow done something to her in the weeks they'd been together. She looked at Daisy, who was kissing one of her breasts, submerged in the flow of the moment. Amber realized that she and Daisy were simply two people -- not straight girls, not lesbians -- caught in a swirl of passion, yielding to wherever this current would take them. She closed her eyes, reached down, brought Daisy's mouth to hers, and kissed with adulation.
The smell of both women's arousal filled the room.
Amber released one hand and touched Daisy's groin with it; Daisy spasmed once, and when Amber opened her round eyes Daisy was looking at her. Thinking she saw fear in her eyes, Amber began to draw her hand away but Daisy grabbed her wrist. Daisy smiled and said, "This is why we are here, isn't it girlfriend?"
"Only when you're ready," Amber answered. Daisy drew Amber's hand back to her crotch and they kissed.
Her fingers gently probed through Daisy's nether lips, which were wet and yawning. She moved her fingers inside Daisy, as if they were inside herself. Teasing and gentle. Amber found it an odd experience: it was as if she were masturbating but she could not feel her fingers. This reminded Amber how sensitive her own pussy had become, and how hungry it was for a gentle touch. Without thinking, her legs moved and she found herself straddling Daisy's thigh.
"Slow down, girlfriend," Daisy whispered. Amber could hear a smile in the whisper. "You'll have your turn soon enough."
Amber found herself looking at Lance. He was sitting on the chair in the doorway, just outside the room, watching them intently. At first his presence didn't feel as if he invaded their space, that he was outside of it, like a person in one of the paintings on the walls of the bungalow. Then their eyes met; this confused her, and her hand inside Daisy paused. She might have surfaced from this carnal dream when Daisy pushed her on her back and kissed her passionately, then left a trail of kisses down Amber's throat, between her breasts, across her belly button and at the upper corner of her pussy before lowering her mouth between Amber's thighs.
Amber felt Daisy's tongue inside her, teasing the inner folds of her labia, and wondered if she had resorted to the same tricks Amber had, of imaging Amber's pussy as her own. Then Daisy's tongue found her clitoris and licked, and Amber stopped thinking for a moment. She luxuriated in the feel of Daisy's tongue in her, holding Daisy's head in her hands, feeling the passion build inside her, yet feeling guilty that she was receiving pleasure when Daisy deserved it too. She forced herself to push Daisy away; Daisy looked at her alarmed, her face around her mouth glistening.
"Sixty-nine," Amber breathed. Daisy smiled, and they shifted position. They lay next to each other, one leg over the other's head, then each placed her mouth on the genitals before her. Amber paused a moment to gaze at Daisy's labia for a moment; the inner lips peeked from between the outter lips like the inner petals of an opening rosebud. She had never seen one so closely, and wanted to admire Daisy's before she began to enjoy it. After giving it an affectionate kiss -- she had felt Daisy give hers one a moment before -- Amber began to lick Daisy. Her pungent girl cum coated Amber's tongue.
Amber tried to take her time pleasuring Daisy, but Daisy's tongue -- and teeth! somehow Daisy found the precise way to bite that gave Amber pleasure -- kept her distracted from giving her partner of the night an orgasm. When her tongue tired, she used her fingers. She ignored Lance's words; Daisy was being so good to her, despite the fact they were still strangers; she wanted Daisy to cum; she needed Daisy to cum. And as Daisy made her cum, Amber found her eyes tearing from frustration, because Daisy was being so good to her and keeping her from making Daisy cum.
But she pushed herself through her orgasm and she made Daisy cum. She felt Daisy's thigh shiver involuntarily above her. Both women rolled on their backs and caught their breaths. Amber's eyes were blurry; she could barely see Daisy. Daisy rolled onto her side, pulled her legs up, then crawled around so she could embrace Amber. Amber embraced her back, happy and satisfied.
"You've never done this before?" Daisy whispered. Their noses almost touched.
"Never. And you?"
"You deflowered me, girlfriend. You've convinced me to try out for the other team."
They giggled, still holding each other. After a while Amber looked towards where Lance had been sitting and he was ogone. At some point in the women's lovemaking he had gone into the living room to make his bed on the couch. Amber and Daisy continued holding each other after night came and the light in the living room came on then turned off.
It had been a long time since Amber had let her defences down. She felt more relaxed now than she could remember. Although the women had drawn their arms back, Amber snuggled against her lover who snuggled back against her. Amber stroked her warm body, and Daisy stroked hers. Amber had confused thoughts about her sexuality for a while, but the sound of her breathing and of Daisy's breathing beside her washed them away, and she slipped off to sleep.
* * *
When she awoke, Daisy was gone.
There was far more light on the bed than on the floor, where she usually slept. The white wrinkled sheets around her were brighter than they usually appeared. She looked through the blinds over the window at the leaves of the bushes beyond, marveling at how the sunlight made them yellow. She wondered when Daisy left.
This was not the first time a date had departed in the middle of the night, leaving her to awake alone after a night of intimate pleasure. She appreciated that Lance had still been there when she awoke after their first night together. She had wanted to reach over and touch him, to snuggle against his sleeping body, to confirm that there was, indeed, another person in the world for whom her presence was a welcome thing. But she did not. Amber was convinced to do that would be too intimate, that it would cross the boundary of proper behavior, and would threaten this fragile connection she had created with another person. So she laid there and had quietly watched him until he awoke. She wondered if Daisy had watched her sleep, if Daisy had snuggled against her.
She looked across the room. The chair Lance had sat in still blocked the doorway. Inside the bungalow was silent. Outside some birds quarreled; she was unsure whether the birds were in the trees next to the bungalow, or somewhere down the beach. She felt that time had come to a halt, and would continue to be at a halt as long as she lay in the bed. However as hard as she tried to preserve the quiet and the warmth of the moment, it was dispelled by the whisper of a thought: Daisy was gone.
Amber was unable to understand her attachment to her. She wasn't a lesbian, she was straight: she enjoyed the thrust of a cock into her, how it filled her, how it ravaged her until she melted in bliss. Yet the touch of this young girl, whom she suspected was a penniless slacker sleeping on the beach and cadging meals and drink any way she could, meant something to this one time librarian with her degrees and who once had owned a car free and clear. She closed her eyes and saw Daisy's face clearly, her pale blue eyes and the freckles scattered over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose clearly. She remembered the way Daisy had caressed her with her mouth, tongue and teeth, and recalled how her tongue had traced a pattern over her nether lips. She traced the pattern Daisy had made with her finger, strengthening the memory, then regretted that she had not done the same for Daisy, had not fairly shared in the pleasure, and fun. She would always owe something to her and felt guilty she could never pay the debt because Daisy was gone.
Time may have come to a stop in the room, but not for her bladder. Amber rose from the bed, grabbed her bikini top and the denim skirt from where they had been thrown last night, and carried them into the bathroom. While she sat on the toilet, Lance walked into the doorway, fully dressed, and rested his shoulder on the door jamb. Amber lowered her eyes.
"I trust you had an enjoyable night," he said.
"I did, master."
"Do you believe you deserved it?"
"That is not for me to decide. You own me. You decide what I deserve and what I get."
She had expected him to address her as slut or slave, and she was surprised that he hadn't. Nevertheless she answered him with a practiced, unemotional voice.
"When you're done in here," Lance said, "come to the living room. I have some instructions for you."
She flushed the toilet and after washing her hands put on her clothes then brushed her hair. A quick glance at the doorway showed he was no longer standing there. Amber let herself smile. She looked at her smile in the mirror, and liked her smile.
Lance was in the living room, sitting next to the table reading a brochure. The rule was that she had to offer to blow him each morning. She knelt before him and started to open the fly of his pants, but he gently stopped her. She sat back on her heels. At his command she began to masturbate in front of him. As she fingered herself and yielded the orgasm demanded, she was struck by how her mood was different from all the other times she had done this on the trip. At one point their eyes met. Lance appeared delighted although surprised by her acquiescence. She lowered her eyes, and though she was happy she pleased him, his happiness did not matter to her.
Lance then told her he was going to do some sight-seeing, and surprised her by telling her the bungalow would be unlocked so she could stay inside if she wanted. Now that she could stay inside, however, she found it did not matter. Once he had left, she had breakfast then cleaned up the kitchenette. She poured herself a glass of pinot blanc left over from last night and took the glass and one of the six-month old magazines from the coffee table out to the verandah where she savored the tropical afternoon with the susurrus of the Caribbean as background.
The magazine annoyed her. It was flooded in advertisements, some covering more than one page, threatening to drown the printed text of the articles writers had been paid for. She found it difficult to find even the table of contents. She could have been angry about this flood of advertisements, but instead she quietly chuckled. She lingered over some of the multipage ads, glossy, artistic photos unrelated to the things advertised. Before Lance changed her life she might be tempted to buy the things advertised. Now they were simply images from another world, one she was no longer part of.
"Hey there," called a familiar voice.
Amber looked up to see Daisy standing at the verge of the access road, fifteen feet away. Amber found herself smiling. "Hey yourself."
Daisy was wearing a different outfit, an ankle-length dress with short sleeves. Unlike the outfit Daisy had worn the day before, Amber could tell this outfit had been washed recently. Daisy held her bag with both hands before her, and a tentative smile upon her face.
They looked at each other for a few moments. Amber wanted to invite her to sit next to her, but she found herself afraid to. She worried that Daisy was there only for another meal and would expect them to feed her every day. She worried that Daisy might want to fuck her. She worried that Daisy might be something Amber hadn't had in a very long time: a friend.
At last Amber said to Daisy, "Won't you come over and share my porch?"
Daisy smiled again and walked over, sitting down on the verandah a careful three feet from Amber. She put her bag at her feet.
"Can I get you anything? Would you like some lunch?"
"I'm fine," Daisy said. She looked away. Amber waited and struggled with impatience. This moment required sensitivity and tact, two qualities Amber knew she didn't have.
"You left this morning before I woke up. Did you need to find your boyfriend and talk to him?"
A shadow passed over Daisy's face, but was hidden by a smile. "Yes, I had to meet up with him. He was worried because I spent the night out. But now that he's seen me, you know, he could stop worrying. I have the rest of the day to spend how I want."
The words sounded like something Amber could have said herself years ago when she was embarrassed that she had no friends and hid the fact from people. She set the magazine down and smiled at Daisy.
"Well, I'm hungry for some lunch," Amber lied. She stood up. "Come on in and join me. There's left over wine from last night we can finish."
Daisy watched her walk to the door before getting up and following her in. She set the bag inside the door as Amber led her to the kitchenette and gave her instructions making a meal out of the leftovers for both of them. Amber tried to engage Daisy in small talk. They sat at the table Lance had tied her to yesterday morning and ate lunch. Amber knew she was horrid at making small talk, but since Daisy would only answer with "yes" or "no", it didn't matter. At last Amber asked her, "There is no boyfriend, Daisy, is there?"
Daisy looked at her plate and mumbled "no."
"But you didn't stop by just for a meal, did you?"
Daisy responded with another mumbled "no".
"So why did you come back?" Amber asked, half-knowing, half-fearing the answer.
"I know I teased you last night about being shy, Amber," Daisy began, still staring at her plate. "And I've never been shy myself. I've never understood shyness. If you have a good reason to do something or say something, then why not do or say it? That's what I've always thought. And it's gotten me into trouble, but it's also helped me. Maybe it's even saved my life once or twice. Now I'm shy and I don't know how to handle it."
Daisy looked up at her with her blue eyes. "I told you last night I liked boys," she said. "Well for the last several weeks I've screwed so many boys who don't care about me -- most wouldn't care if I lived or died -- that I'm sick of screwing. I thought I'd never feel anything again, that I was becoming frigid. And then last night..."
The pupils of Daisy's eyes were large, almost crowding the fine tracery of her irises. "I don't want to give you the wrong idea. I know you like boys, and so do I. Honest. But last night -- I gotta say last night was a lot of fun, and I haven't had fun like that in a long while. I guess few guys know a girl's body like another girl. But, I mean, I mean if you say no, that's okay. If you tell me to go away I'll go away. But if you are the least bit-- If there's the least possibility--"
Amber ignored her own fear and smiled at Daisy. Lance might be angry and tell her that she broke the rules, which meant he would punish her, he would abandon her here, but she didn't care. Lance had been her entire world for too long. When he was gone she felt alone and these last days even when he was with her she felt alone.
She leaned across the table and touched her hand. Amber said, "It felt good the other night for me, too."
Daisy grabbed Amber's hand in turn. The bungalow was silent as the women stared into each other's eyes. Each knew what the next step could be. Each smiled tentatively.
"So," Daisy asked, "would you want to do it again? Just you and me this time, no audience? I'll even tie you up."
Amber almost laughed. "I'll do you if you *don't* tie me up."
They left the plates and wine glasses on the table, holding hands as they left the room. On the bed gentle fingers and lips brushed soft skin offered without reservation and with confidence and accepted with joy and pleasure.
Amber would recall the brief afternoon that followed as perhaps one of the most satisfying moments of lovemaking in her life. It was not intense and passionate, as had those two nights with Lance been that began her journey that brought her to paradise. It was not empowering, like the evening in college when she consummated her crush on an attractive boy she feared had not noticed her. It did not lead her to sleep with other women. Instead the afternoon with Daisy were relaxed and soothing, a gesture of friendship and comfort she had rarely experienced before.
Sometimes when she remembered this afternoon Amber would find herself stroking the bump in her leg made by her hipbone, just as Daisy had done that afternoon, then wonder where Daisy was and wonder had they returned to the United States together if they would still be friends. When she thought of that time, she hoped the happiness they had found wasn't only because both knew their time together would be fleeting and ended by events outside their control. She recalled that brief afternoon as she recalled memories from her earliest childhood, such as lying on her back in the grass and watching sunlight through leaves of a tree swimming in the gentle summer breeze.
* * *
Lance leaned over the stone parapet of the fort above the capital. He inhaled with pleasure the crisp salt air of the Caribbean. He enjoyed its crisp smell far more than the musky odors of the foliage around the resort.
Around him was the bright open air of the sky, and he could see for miles. Sunglasses and his hat protected him from the sun. The only clouds skulked along the horizon's edge as doubts around a finalized decision. Below him stretched the edge of the Caribbean. To his right he could see the concrete runways of the airport beyond the harbor. To his left ran a series of green rectangles towards farmland and forest. Inside these green rectangles lay resorts like Trevinnick, catering to the tourist crowd; outside were the grey and brown shantytowns where the locals who worked in the capital and the resorts lived. Lance was glad that he had blindfolded Amber for the taxi ride from the airport to Trevinnick, for it allowed her to think the island was a tropical paradise of exotic woodlands and sparkling beaches.
When he thought about Amber, he missed her. He wished she could have been at his side as he explored the fort. It had been the rule that she, as a slave, had to be left behind while her master did important things. Both of them knew that before they arrived at the island. For the last few days he thought it was a stupid rule. But once made, he could not change rules; both of them agreed changing rules made him look weak. Nevertheless, the other day had he ignored that rule and took her snorkeling with him. Along the south side of the island there were reefs known for exploring. He hired a boat to take them there, and they spent the day together in the water. Amber afterwards talked happily about hearing the fish burble and chuckle: she had always thought fish were silent, and was glad that she was there to listen and learn.
Lance stood up from the parapet and walked towards the nearest building, the headquarters office, built from coral blocks. The fort and island had been traded between countries like a game: the French built the fort to command the entrance to the harbor; the British held it and rebuilt it in stone; then the French had it; then the British again; then the island won independence and converted the fort into a tourist attraction. Today groups of tourists filled its yard, some taking in the view, some wandering about.
He had hoped that this trip to the Caribbean would improve her mood. He believed she was happy at first to live with him. He remembered bringing her to his house. His ropework binding her hand and foot was the best he had done. She had twisted and wriggled on his shoulder as he carried her in. There was a twinkle in her eyes when he set her down on his couch. He could wait until he removed the tape from her lips and the wadded panties from her mouth so she could agree to being ravaged, but he could not wait until after he had brought her possessions in. However, for her to live with him she had to abide to a system of rules and punishments. Amber had been happy at first with this challenge, and with how he revealed to her new things about her sexuality. But she gradually lost interest in her life with him, although she had done her best to hide her growing dissatisfaction.
The trip had not changed her mood until Daisy appeared. He was glad the effect the girl had on Amber. The girl also connected Amber to another portion of her sexuality that she had been in denial of. He marvelled that he came to know Amber's body so well; he knew her body better than she did. But he did not know the mind attached to the body near as well.
The old headquarters was closed to entry. A wooden sign on the door stated the building was undergoing repairs; another below it solicited donations for these repairs. Beyond it were the barracks, which had identical signs on its doors. Lance peered into one window: a table, a chair on its side, and a few boxes sat inside. The glass was dirty. Lance wondered how long the building had been undergoing repairs. He moved around a group of middle-aged people speaking an unfamiliar language towards the fort's arsenal where ammunition for generations of artilery had been stored.
Two women who had been looking at the barracks walked towards Lance. They put him in mind of Amber and Daisy. The older woman wore a denim skirt over a one-piece swimsuit; the younger wore a blue cotton-print sundress that he knew was expensive. The other day he shopped for a gift for Amber and had found the same sundress in her size. He wanted to buy it as a momento of the trip, but was afraid to bring it back to the bungalow and ruin the experience he was creating for Amber.
As he watched them walk past him, a thought came to Lance: what if Amber wanted to run away with Daisy? This was a possibility, he acknowledged; this was the first opportunity she had to leave him since she came to live with. He didn't think about how he would feel if Amber left him, or what he might do if she did. He knew how he would feel if she did.
If Daisy had some money, a source of income, or even friends and family, he wouldn't worry if Amber left with her. That morning he was with Daisy as she packed her folded clothes in her bag. Many were not the style he expected a college coed would have, no matter how wealthy her parents might be. The two of them had chatted that morning as she sat on the couch and packed her bag. He was slightly surprised she was not annoyed at him for the previous night. While she was clearly well-read -- they shared a dislike for Spenser's "The Faerie Queene", which they had to read in college -- she was evasive about which college she was taking a break from. He had the impression she wanted to be offered breakfast, but said nothing when it was not offered. She had stepped off the verandah when he said, "Enjoy your stay in paradise."
She stopped to face him. "Sometimes it is possible to stay too long in paradise," she said. Then she had walked to the access road and gone away, her bag in hand.
He walked towards the arsenal. Lance concluded Amber leaving with Daisy would be a bad thing. There was very little money at the bungalow for Amber to take; there was some food, but not enough for a few meals for both; and he controlled both Amber's passport and her ID. He didn't know how Daisy had survived all this time but whatever street smarts Daisy had, Amber lacked. Still he had a sense of foreboding as he came to this conclusion.
The arsenal had been converted into a gift shop. As he looked over merchandise on a table, a bald, overweight middle-aged man, wearing shorts and a garish t-shirt, drew his attention. Lance thought he had seen him somewhere before, but he could not remember where. Taking of his glasses did not help him identify the man. He watched the man take his purchase to the cashier to pay for his purchases. The cashier included a charge for the bag for the purchases; the bald man objected. The cashier explained that there was a charge for bags; the man would not listen and continued arguing with him.
Intrigued, Lance walked over. The man argued that he didn't have time to wait around "in a shit-hole" country to pay for outrageously priced merchandise. The man was playing a game. Lance didn't like people who did that. This was not a game for them; if they lost, it was not time for another game, but it could be their life.
"Give him a break, guy," Lance said.
"Butt out. This isn't your business."
"I'm making it my business," Lance said with a growl. "Pay for the bag."
The man sized up Lance. Lance calmly took off his hat, put his sunglasses in it, and holding them loosely waited. Lance was at least ten years younger than the other man, had fewer pounds and more muscle.
The other man shrugged. "You must have no life if you butt into other people's," he muttered and turned back to the cashier. The manager had appeared and explained the reasons for charging for bags: this was a poor country; it discouraged unnecessary plastic in the environment; every business on the island charged for bags. Lance waited while the man resentfully paid his entire bill, and took his purchases outside to a middle-aged woman who waited for him in the sunlight. Lance exhaled, put his hat back on his head and hung his sunglasses from his shirt.
When Lance brought his purchases to the cashier, the man rang him up with a smile, but still charged him for the bag. Lance thanked him and walked into the bright open sky. The man in the garish t-shirt and his wife were nowhere to be seen. Lance wondered again where he had seen him before, and if it had been at the resort. He hoped that Amber had not encountered that man.
He inhaled the crisp salt air of the Caribbean. He enjoyed its crisp smell far more than the musky odors of the foliage around the resort.
* * *
Every day when Lance was not at the bungalow, Daisy appeared. Holding hands they'd walk the grounds of the resort, find somewhere private and talk. Sometimes they did more than just talk. Today they came a bench, half-hidden from the access road, where they could sit. Amber looked at Daisy. They had screwed each other twice, and Amber wondered if that made them BFFs. She wondered if they should trade clothes, or braid each other's hair, or all of the other things she heard BFFs did that she had never experienced.
"So do you think lesbians like anal sex?" Amber asked.
Daisy giggled, then helplessly began to laugh. "Of all of the questions I have ever been asked," she said between fits of laughter, "I never even imagined I might be asked that." Amber had a flash of embarrassment before she started laughing too. Daisy added, "And, fuck, I never imagined I would be asked that by a girl who I had screwed twice."
Amber could only sputter and laugh with her friend.
"Well," Daisy said, as she got her breath back, "I figure it's like any other kind of sex: it involves a hole, and two or more people, so why not?"
"You know I had never even thought about anal sex before Lance." Amber paused, undecided whether to keep talking about matters she had never spoken to anyone else. "He introduced me to it. He was patient about it, edging me further along as I got more comfortable with it. I ended up kinda liking it. It's like drinking hard liquor: you develop a taste for it." She paused to think for a moment. "It's amazing how enjoyable something so, so disgusting can be."
"So what's up with you and Lance?" Daisy asked.
Amber knew Daisy would ask this question, and had decided how much of the truth to tell her. "I'm here as his companion. I guess you could say I'm here to 'entertain' him. If I don't entertain him to his satisfaction, he leaves me here with nothing more than the clothes I'm wearing now." She waved her arms to emphasize her skimpy clothing.
"Entertain him?"
"You know. Let him fuck me. Every which way he could imagine. Let him tie me up. And other stuff I've only seen in porno."
Daisy was angry. "That asshole. I thought he was a nice guy. A little strange, but nice."
"He is strange, and a nice guy," Amber replied. "A nice guy who wants to be an asshole because it gets him off."
"Are you defending him?"
Amber laughed. "Not at all. I'm not into the battered Stockholm syndrome. He's done some bad things to me. But he's done some good ones, I have to admit. He's done some things for me no one else has done."
"Hitler was a vegetarian. That doesn't excuse the fact he ordered 10 million Jews to be murdered."
"I know."
They stared at the ocean, which had turned green when the sunlight changed.
"So why don't you leave him?" Daisy asked.
Amber knew Daisy might ask this question, but hadn't decided what to say. "Where would I go?" she replied. "I have-- I have no where to go. I can't think of anyone who would notice I fell off the face of the earth. I haven't talked to my father or anyone else in my family since Christmas last year. What's creepy is that this is the most stable relationship I've been in."
"Your life can't be that bad."
"I used to be a librarian. It's a job that puts me in contact with a lot of people, but in the end I'm invisible to all of them. The fact I was -- I am a fucktoy, a sex slave -- it means I will never work in a public library again -- it's where most librarian jobs are -- because I'd be seen as a sexual predator, even though I wasn't the predator. Working in a public library brings me in contact with children and society wants to keep anyone with my reputation away from children. I can't work in a college or university because I would need to have another master's degree. I've thought about it. And no college or university wants a slut on their faculty. I have no job to go back to."
"People overcome adversity all of the time."
Amber faced Daisy. She fought the urge to tell Daisy that she said something stupid, and because she knew Daisy said it to comfort her drove the urge from her mind. Amber brushed a strand of hair from her face and smiled.
"In my profession, if something like this happened to a man, he might be able to overcome it. But we women can't. It was difficult for me to advance my career before I met Lance. It will be fucking difficult when I leave him." Amber thought how Lance had changed her life. "I only wished I had kept some of my friends." She thought for another moment. "I wish I had a friend."
Daisy reached over and touched her knee gently.
* * *
Every day when Lance was not at the bungalow, Daisy appeared. Today they walked down the access road holding hands, turned left down a trail towards the Carribean Sea. But before they reached the beach Daisy showed her a sheltered spot she'd found. As they sat on the bare ground unfamiliar sweet and spicy odors wafted from the darkness of the dense foliage. The day after tomorrow the vacation was scheduled to end for her and Lance. Lance had a ticket to leave the the island; Amber expected she had one too, but she had doubts. There were many rules she had to obey, and she doubted she obeyed all of the rules to Lance's satisfaction. Sometimes Amber thought Lance might leave her behind; sometimes Amber thought she'd stay behind with Daisy. She had talked about this before with Daisy.
"So how do you do it?" Amber asked. "How do you get by?"
"How do I do what?"
"Survive here in paradise."
Daisy stared at the blue Caribbean between the leaves and branches, not smiling. "You talk as if I'm an expert."
"You know more about how to survive abandoned here in paradise than a timid middle-class girl like me. Any advice would help."
Daisy's smile returned. She looked at her, tilting her head. "You never crashed a party just to eat dinner for free? Or flirted with a guy so he'd pay for lunch?"
Amber recalled the times she invited herself to a friend's house to spend the night, or when a friend did the same to her. But she understood those were part of the rules of friendship. "No, I haven't. I never thought of doing that."
Daisy laughed. "Girl, God gave you good looks. You need to think of all the ways you can use them to your advantage."
"I'm not good looking, honest. And people hate me. Like that fat old rando on the beach. There were days at the library before I left..." Amber shook her head. "Why give them another reason?"
"Who said everyone hates you? I don't hate you. Lance -- Did Lance tell you people hate you?"
"No. Never."
"I don't know who convinced you you're not good looking, because you are," Daisy said. "Men aren't looking at you because you're showing off too much skin, it's because you've got a nice body. You could wear a burqa, and men would still stare at you. If you weren't so unaware of that, I'd be jealous of you."
Amber blushed.
"Guys like to be around attractive women like you and me, Amber. And if we're friendly -- and I mean exactly that, friendly -- they're willing to do stuff for us out of some instinct to prove they can take care of us, they can be our breadwinners. They will eagerly accomidate reasonable requests like buying us dinner or letting us crash on their couch. You can't be shy."
There was a sound in the branches above them. Both women looked up and for a moment listened to the soughing of the trees. There were more clouds in the skies today than there were the day Amber and Lance arrived at the resort, driven across the island by the wind. Soon it would be hurricane season.
"Appearances matter," Daisy said, again staring at the world through the gaps between the leaves. "I'm a friend, you know, I'm not a prostitute. People like friends, they want to help them. Buy them food, give them a place to crash for the night, and take them places. I was broke and a friend gave me money so I could ride the ferry here. It was his gift, I didn't even ask him. And guys like friendly girls, because guys think we'll sleep with them, you know -- but you have to be careful not to appear to be a slut or a skank, someone they'll screw but not respect. Guys respect friends, especially friends with benefits."
"Don't you worry about being raped?" Amber asked.
"I always worry about being raped. Don't you?" Daisy lost her smile, then looked back at her. "Sorry, I forgot about you and that asshole. I don't always read the moment right, but no one wants the hassle of rape. In the islands, the authorities will simply send the guy back home and not bother with a trial, you know. They don't want the expense of putting a rapist on trial then housing and feeding him for years. I make an effort to avoid the wrong guys -- although until now I never got a bad vibe from Lance -- and if the situation starts feeling wrong, I run for the exits. So far, I've been lucky. I live lightly, make friends at every opportunity, and try not to worry where tomorrow will find me."
Amber stared at the Caribbean for a moment. "You told me how to get along in the tourist circles. What about the rest of the island? How does a middle-class girl like me survive among the natives?"
"You got me, girlfriend." Daisy laughed. "I'm just a party girl, and all of my partying has been with the tourists. I have no idea." Daisy was serious now. "I wish I could tell you. I really do."
Daisy pushed a strand of her blonde hair behind an ear. "So you're sure you want to do this, stay here with me?"
"I'm tired of his rules," Amber replied. "You may not believe me, but there was a time when I enjoyed the challenge they presented. I felt I had accomplished something when I followed them. But that time is over." She looked at ground under her feet. With one finger she drew in the sand. "He told me if he abandoned me here, the rule was that I would only have the clothes on my back. This is all I wore when he said that." She stood up and held out her arms. "I was barefoot. That meant I wouldn't even have shoes or flip-flops to wear if that happened."
"It's a hard life, living in paradise," Daisy said. Her voice was almost pleading. She stood up and took Amber in her arms. "Some would consider this an odd choice. Be certain it's what you want."
Amber decided she had said too much about matters she had never spoken about to anyone. "I've been called a kinky girl."
They sat down and talked some more before Daisy left to avoid Lance. Amber watched her blonde friend walk towards the beach with her bag, glad to tell herself "There goes my friend" although she didn't know Daisy's last name. She didn't know it then but that was the last time she saw Daisy.
* * *
The morning of their last day at Trevinnick, Lance told Amber that he had bought Daisy a ticket for the states and had driven Daisy to the airport the previous night. "She was excited to have a way back home," he said to Amber, who kept her head lowered for reasons other than the rules. "Things had been rough on her since the end of the tourist season, she told me. All the kids her age had left, and partying with men old enough to be her grandfather was sucking the life out of her."
Amber listened to him kneeling on the floor of the bungalow. She felt she had been betrayed by her best friend. As she felt she had been betrayed by everyone in her life, including Lance.
"You have two choices here, slut," he continued. "One is to remember that had I not made you my slave, you would never had met Daisy. Even had you never met me, and you had lived your life, then if some day the two of you had crossed paths you would never have spoken to her, never gotten to know her."
Lance's voice then became more gentle. "The other choice is less painful. Think of her as a mysterious personage who entered your life for a specific purpose. A supernatural creature like a holy woman or an angel. She touched your life and changed it -- much as I have changed your life. You can either accept that your life changed, or you can fight it as you fight me. And you will lose to it, as you lost to me."
He waited for her to speak. She stared at the unswept floor. He looked across the room at the picture of a pirate's ship on the wall. He thought about how pirates would sweep in on their ships on hapless targets who lose what they considered most precious. He told her, "Everything must come to an end."
She stared at the unswept floor for several more minutes. He also told her: "If it makes you feel any better, I paid for her ticket with money from your checking account."
She started to cry.
"That was one of the rules. 'Only the clothes on your back.'"
Amber stood up and ran from the bungalow. Lance watched her. He made no effort to stop her. Any effort would be unnecessary.
She came to the access road in front of the bungalow, and ran down the pavement despite her soft feet. She turned left down a slight slope towards the beach, but stopped when she reached the spot under the trees where she and Daisy had their last talk. Maybe Amber hoped that Daisy would be waiting there for her, to tell her that Lance had lied; Amber herself didn't know why she went there.
At that spot Amber found two of Daisy's sandals tied to a branch, just above her head. Amber stared at them, and remembered her words to Daisy how it hurt her feet to walk everywhere barefoot. Had Lance left her here, having these sandals would not solve anything, they would not prevent her from selling her body to feed herself, but they would make her life measurably better. Amber reached up and untied the sandals from the branch, to take them back to the bungalow and keep them in the things she would bring home.
