Clothing valet

March 27, 2007

Posted by google

With the key from my purse I opened the elevator and descended to the hall below, where there was a bank of common elevators. I pushed all the down buttons. I looked at the dials at the top of the elevator doors. There were two that were already rising, one at the seventh floor and one at the ninth. I could not have called them! I moaned. I turned and ran toward the stairs. I stopped at the height of the stairs. Far below, on the steel reinforced, broad cement stairs, ringing hollowly in the shaft, I heard the footsteps of two men, climbing. I ran back to the elevators. One stopped at my floor, the twenty fourth. I stood with my back presses against the wall. A man and his wife stepped out. I gasped and fled past them. They looked at me strangely as I pushed at the main floor button As the door on my elevator closed, I heard the door of the adjoining elevator open. Through the crack of the closing door I saw the backs of two men, in the uniforms of police. Slowly, slowly the elevator descended. It stopped on four pg. floors. I stood in the back of the elevator, while three couples and another man, with an attache case, entered. When we reached the main floor I fled from the elevator but, in a moment, regained my control, checked myself and looked about. There were some people in the lobby, sitting about, reading or waiting. Some looked at me idly. It was a hot night. One man, with a pipe, looked up at me, over the top of his newspaper. Was he one of them? My heart almost stoppe.. The following account is written at the command of my master, Bosk of Port Kar, the great merchant, and, I think, once of the warriors. My n e is Elinor Brinton. I had been independently wealthy. There is much I do not understand. Let others find what meaning they can in this narrative. I gather that my story is neither as unique, nor as strange, as it may seem. By the standards of Earth, I was regarded as extremely beautiful. Yet on this world I a fifteen gold piece girl. More lovely than many, yet far excelled by many whose stunning beauty I can only envy. I was purchased for the kitchens of the house of Bosk. Traders, I have learned, ply the slave routes between this world and Earth. Women, ong other goods, are acquired and brought to the markets of this strange world. If you are beautiful, and desirable, you many fear. Apparently they may do what they wish. Yet I think there are perhaps worse fates that might befall a woman than to be brought to this world, even as a prize of men. My master has told me not to describe this world in great detail. I do not know why that is, but I shall not do so. He has told me to narrate primarily what has occurred to me. And he has asked me to put down my thoughts and, particularly, my emotions. I wish to do so. Indeed, even if I did not wish to do so, I would have to obey. Suffice it them to say but little of my background and condition. pg. Then my feet touched the tiles of the terrace below. I was safe! Something soft, folded and white slipped over my head, before my eyes. It was shoved deeply into my mouth. Another folded piece of cloth passed over my head. It was knotted tightly behind the back of my neck. I tried to cry out but could not do so. We have her, I heard a voice say. pg. I stirred uneasily, shaking my head. It was a bad dre . No, no, I murmured, twisting, wanting to awaken. No, no. It seemed as though I could not move as I wished. I did not like it. I was displeased.. Then, suddenly, I was awake. I scre ed, but there was no sound. I tried to sit upright, but I nearly strangled, and fell back. I struggled wildly. She s awake, said a voice. Two men, masked, stood at the foot of the bed, facing me. I heard two others speaking in the living room. The two men who had been at the foot of the bed turned and left the room, going to the living room to join the others. I struggled fiercely. My ankles had been bound together with light, silken cords. My wrists had also been bound together, but behind my back. a loop of the silken cord had been fastened about my neck, and by it I was bound to the head of the bed. I could see myself in the mirror. The strange mark, drawn in lipstick, was still on the mirror s surface. I tried to scre again, but I could not. My eyes, I could see in the mirror, were wild over the gag. I continued to struggle, but after some moments, hearing men returning to the room, stopped. Through the open door, I saw the backs of two men, in police uniforms. I could not see their faces

Clothing valet

I watched him replace the syringe in its holder, and the holder in his inside jacket pocket. The larger man looked at his watch. He spoke this time in English to the smaller man, he who had had the syringe. The larger man spoke with a definite accent, but I could not place the accent. We will return after midnight, he said, It will be easier then. We can reach point P in five hours with less traffic. And I have other business to attend to this evening. All right, said the smaller man. We ll be ready then. There had not been the slightest trace of an accent in the smaller man s response.man clothing valet. He perhaps had difficulty following the natural speech of the other. But when the other had spoken to him, curtly, in the strange tongue, he had obeyed, and promptly. I gathered he feared the larger man. The room began to grow a bit dark at the edges. The larger man c e behind me and felt the pulse of one of my bound wrists. pg. No! I cried to myself. No! I turned away from the window and, stealthily, made my way to the door to the living room, which was slightly ajar. I summoned all my courage, and opened the door slightly more. I almost fainted with relief. The knife lay where I had left it. On the satin sheet I struggled to move the knife, with my mouth and the back of my head, toward my bound hands. It was a painful, frustrating task, but inch by quarter inch, I moved it downward. Once it fell to the floor and inwardly I cried out with anguish. Almost choking, from the loop on my throat, I slid half out of the bed and felt for the knife with my feet. My ankles had been crossed and lashed securely together. It was extremely difficult to pick up the knife. It fell again, and again. I cursed the neckrope that bound me to the head of the bed. I wept.. I struggled, gagged and bound, silently, torturedly. At last I managed to get the knife to the foot of the bed. With my feet and body I managed to pull it up beneath me. And then I had the handle in my bound hands! But I could not reach the bonds. I held the knife but could not use it. Then, feverishly, I cried inwardly pg. with joy, and pressed the point into the back of the bed and braced it with my own body. I began to saw at the cords with the knife. The knife, its handle braced against my sweating back, slipped four times, but each time I put it again in place and addressed myself again to my task. Then my wrists were free. I took the knife and slashed the cord at my throat and the cord at my ankles. I leaped from the bed and ran to the vanity. My heart sank. It was already a half past midnight! My heart was pounding. I pulled the gag down from my face, pulled the heavy wad of soured packing from my mouth. Then I was suddenly ill, and fell to my hands and knees, and vomited on the rug. I shook my head. With the knife I cut the gag from where it lay about my neck. I shook my head again. It was now thirty five minutes after midnight. I ran to the wardrobe. I seized the first garment I touched, a pair of tan, bell bottomed slacks and a black, buttoning, bare midriff blouse. I held them to me, breathing heavily. I looked across the room. My heart almost stopped. There I saw in the shadows, in the dim light in the room from the city outside, a girl. She was nude. She held something before her. About her throat there was a band of steel. On her thigh a mark.clothing valet. I gasped, my head sw . Sick, I turned away from my reflection in the full length mirror across the room. I pulled on the slacks and slipped into the blouse. I found a pair of sandals. It was thirty seven minutes past midnight. I ran again to the wardrobe and pulled out a small suitcase. I threw it to the foot of the triple chest and plunged garments into it, and snapped it shut. I seized up a handbag and ran, with the suitcase, into the living room. I swung back a small oil, and fumbled with the dial of the wall safe. I kept, usually, some fifteen thousand dollars, and jewelry, at home. I scrabbled in the opening and thrust money and jewelry into the handbag. pg.man clothing valet. I wanted to plead with them, but I could make no sound. I drew up my legs and turned to my side, to cover myself as well as I might. One of the men touched me. The other uttered a brief sound, abrupt. The other man turned away. The sound had been a word, doubtless of negation. I did not know the language. The men had not ransacked the penthouse. The paintings remained on the walls, the oriental rugs on the floors. Nothing was touched. I saw the man who had turned away, who seemed to be a subordinate, remove what appeared to be a fountain pen from a leather holder in his pocket. He unscrewed it, and I was startled. It was a syringe. I shook my head wildly, no! He entered the needle on my right side, in the back between my waist and hip. It was painful. I felt no ill effects. I watched him replace the syringe in its holder, and the holder in his inside jacket pocket. The larger man looked at his watch. He spoke this time in English to the smaller man, he who had had the syringe. The larger man spoke with a definite accent, but I could not place the accent. We will return after midnight, he said, It will be easier then. We can reach point P in five hours with less traffic. And I have other business to attend to this evening. All right, said the smaller man. We ll be ready then. There had not been the slightest trace of an accent in the smaller man s response.man clothing valet. He perhaps had difficulty following the natural speech of the other. But when the other had spoken to him, curtly, in the strange tongue, he had obeyed, and promptly. I gathered he feared the larger man. The room began to grow a bit dark at the edges. The larger man c e behind me and felt the pulse of one of my bound wrists. pg. I looked with terror at the splintered door. On the wall clock it was forty minutes past midnight. I was afraid to go through the door. I remembered the knife. I ran back to the bedroom and seized it, shoving it into the handbag. Then, frightened, I ran to the patio and terrace. The rope of sheets that I had used to leave the penthouse had been removed. I ran again to the bedroom. I saw them lying to one side, separated, as though laundry. I looked again in the mirror. I stopped. I buttoned the collar of the black blouse high about my neck, to conceal the steel band on my throat. I saw again the mark, drawn in lipstick, on the mirror. Seizing up my handbag and the small suitcase I fled through the broken door. I stopped before the tiny private elevator in the hall outside the door. I ran back inside the penthouse, to get my wrist watch. It was forty two minutes past midnight. With the key from my purse I opened the elevator and descended to the hall below, where there was a bank of common elevators. I pushed all the down buttons. I looked at the dials at the top of the elevator doors. There were two that were already rising, one at the seventh floor and one at the ninth. I could not have called them! I moaned. I turned and ran toward the stairs. I stopped at the height of the stairs. Far below, on the steel reinforced, broad cement stairs, ringing hollowly in the shaft, I heard the footsteps of two men, climbing. I ran back to the elevators. One stopped at my floor, the twenty fourth. I stood with my back presses against the wall. A man and his wife stepped out. I gasped and fled past them. They looked at me strangely as I pushed at the main floor button As the door on my elevator closed, I heard the door of the adjoining elevator open. Through the crack of the closing door I saw the backs of two men, in the uniforms of police. Slowly, slowly the elevator descended. It stopped on four pg. floors. I stood in the back of the elevator, while three couples and another man, with an attache case, entered. When we reached the main floor I fled from the elevator but, in a moment, regained my control, checked myself and looked about. There were some people in the lobby, sitting about, reading or waiting. Some looked at me idly. It was a hot night. One man, with a pipe, looked up at me, over the top of his newspaper. Was he one of them? My heart almost stoppe.. The following account is written at the command of my master, Bosk of Port Kar, the great merchant, and, I think, once of the warriors. My n e is Elinor Brinton. I had been independently wealthy. There is much I do not understand. Let others find what meaning they can in this narrative. I gather that my story is neither as unique, nor as strange, as it may seem. By the standards of Earth, I was regarded as extremely beautiful. Yet on this world I a fifteen gold piece girl. More lovely than many, yet far excelled by many whose stunning beauty I can only envy. I was purchased for the kitchens of the house of Bosk. Traders, I have learned, ply the slave routes between this world and Earth. Women, ong other goods, are acquired and brought to the markets of this strange world. If you are beautiful, and desirable, you many fear. Apparently they may do what they wish. Yet I think there are perhaps worse fates that might befall a woman than to be brought to this world, even as a prize of men. My master has told me not to describe this world in great detail. I do not know why that is, but I shall not do so. He has told me to narrate primarily what has occurred to me. And he has asked me to put down my thoughts and, particularly, my emotions. I wish to do so. Indeed, even if I did not wish to do so, I would have to obey. Suffice it them to say but little of my background and condition. pg. Then my feet touched the tiles of the terrace below. I was safe! Something soft, folded and white slipped over my head, before my eyes. It was shoved deeply into my mouth. Another folded piece of cloth passed over my head. It was knotted tightly behind the back of my neck. I tried to cry out but could not do so. We have her, I heard a voice say. pg. I stirred uneasily, shaking my head. It was a bad dre . No, no, I murmured, twisting, wanting to awaken. No, no. It seemed as though I could not move as I wished. I did not like it. I was displeased.man clothing valet. He perhaps had difficulty following the natural speech of the other. But when the other had spoken to him, curtly, in the strange tongue, he had obeyed, and promptly. I gathered he feared the larger man. The room began to grow a bit dark at the edges. The larger man c e behind me and felt the pulse of one of my bound wrists. pg. All right, said a voice. Hurry.man clothing valet. He perhaps had difficulty following the natural speech of the other. But when the other had spoken to him, curtly, in the strange tongue, he had obeyed, and promptly. I gathered he feared the larger man. The room began to grow a bit dark at the edges. The larger man c e behind me and felt the pulse of one of my bound wrists. pg. Then he released me. The room seemed to grow darker, and warmer. I tried to keep my eyes open. The larger man left the room.man clothing valet. He went to the night table and took one of my cigarettes and with one of my tiny, fine matches, imported from Paris, lit it. He threw the match into the ash tray. He touched me again, this time intimately, but I could not cry out. I began to lose consciousness. He blew smoke into my eyes and noes, leaning over me. I struggled weakly against the bonds, fighting to stay conscious. I heard the larger man s voice, from the doorway it seem, but it seemed, too, from far away. The smaller man hurriedly left my side. The larger man entered the room, and I turned my head weakly to regard him. I saw the two men in the uniforms of police leaving the penthouse, followed by the smaller man, who, as he left the house, was drawing the mask from his head. I did not see his face. The larger man was looking down at me. I looked up at him, weakly, almost unconscious. He spoke to me matter of factly. We will return after midnight, he told me. I struggled weakly to speak, fighting the gag, the drug. I only wanted to sleep. You would like to know, he asked, what will happen to you then? I nodded. Curiosity, he said, is not becoming in a Kajira. I did not understand him. You might be beaten for it, he said. I could not understand. Let us say simply, he said, that we will return after midnight. Through the mouth hole in the mask I saw his lips twist into a smile. His eyes, too, seemed to smile. Then, he said, you will be drugged again. And then, he added, you will be crated for shi ent. pg. He left the room.clothing valet. I awakened in the bed, still bound. It was dark. I could hear the noises of the city s night traffic through the door open to the patio and terrace. Through the open curtains I could see the tens of thousands of bright rectangles of windows, many of them still illuminated. The bed was drenched in sweat. I had no idea of the time. I knew only it was night. I rolled over to see the alarm clock on the vanity, but the face had been turned to one side. I struggled with my bonds, wildly. I must free myself! But after a few precious minutes of futile struggle I lay bound as perfectly as I had been earlier in the afternoon. Then suddenly new swear broke out on my body. The knife! Before the men had burst into the penthouse I had thrust it beneath the pillow. I rolled on to my side and, bound, lifted the pillow away with my teeth. I almost fainted with relief. The knife lay where I had left it. On the satin sheet I struggled to move the knife, with my mouth and the back of my head, toward my bound hands. It was a painful, frustrating task, but inch by quarter inch, I moved it downward. Once it fell to the floor and inwardly I cried out with anguish. Almost choking, from the loop on my throat, I slid half out of the bed and felt for the knife with my feet. My ankles had been crossed and lashed securely together. It was extremely difficult to pick up the knife. It fell again, and again. I cursed the neckrope that bound me to the head of the bed. I wept.. I struggled, gagged and bound, silently, torturedly. At last I managed to get the knife to the foot of the bed. With my feet and body I managed to pull it up beneath me. And then I had the handle in my bound hands! But I could not reach the bonds. I held the knife but could not use it. Then, feverishly, I cried inwardly pg. with joy, and pressed the point into the back of the bed and braced it with my own body. I began to saw at the cords with the knife. The knife, its handle braced against my sweating back, slipped four times, but each time I put it again in place and addressed myself again to my task. Then my wrists were free. I took the knife and slashed the cord at my throat and the cord at my ankles. I leaped from the bed and ran to the vanity. My heart sank. It was already a half past midnight! My heart was pounding. I pulled the gag down from my face, pulled the heavy wad of soured packing from my mouth. Then I was suddenly ill, and fell to my hands and knees, and vomited on the rug. I shook my head. With the knife I cut the gag from where it lay about my neck. I shook my head again. It was now thirty five minutes after midnight. I ran to the wardrobe. I seized the first garment I touched, a pair of tan, bell bottomed slacks and a black, buttoning, bare midriff blouse. I held them to me, breathing heavily. I looked across the room. My heart almost stopped. There I saw in the shadows, in the dim light in the room from the city outside, a girl. She was nude. She held something before her. About her throat there was a band of steel. On her thigh a mark.clothing valet. I gasped, my head sw . Sick, I turned away from my reflection in the full length mirror across the room. I pulled on the slacks and slipped into the blouse. I found a pair of sandals. It was thirty seven minutes past midnight. I ran again to the wardrobe and pulled out a small suitcase. I threw it to the foot of the triple chest and plunged garments into it, and snapped it shut. I seized up a handbag and ran, with the suitcase, into the living room. I swung back a small oil, and fumbled with the dial of the wall safe. I kept, usually, some fifteen thousand dollars, and jewelry, at home. I scrabbled in the opening and thrust money and jewelry into the handbag. pg. No! I cried to myself. No! I turned away from the window and, stealthily, made my way to the door to the living room, which was slightly ajar. I summoned all my courage, and opened the door slightly more. I almost fainted with relief. The room was empty. Everything was as I had left it. I ran to the kitchen, which I could see from the living room, and threw open a drawer. I took out a butcher knife. I turned wildly, my back to the counter, holding the knife, but there was nothing. With the knife in my hand I felt more secure. I returned to the living room, and the phone on the end table. I cursed as I saw that the cord had been severed. I ex ined the penthouse. The doors were locked. The house was empty, and the patio on the terrace. My heart was beating wildly. But I was elated. I ran to the wardrobe to dress, to leave the house and summon the police. Just as I reached the wardrobe there was a heavy, firm knocking on the door. I turned, grasping the knife. The knocking was repeated, more insistently. Open the door, commanded a voice. This is the police. I almost fainted with relief. I ran toward the door, still holding the knife. At the door I stopped, clutching the knife, terrified. I had not called the police. In the penthouse it was not likely anyone had heard me scre . I had not tried to signal anyone when I had found the phones had been destroyed. I had only wanted to escape. Whoever was on the other side of that door could not be the police. The knocking repeated again. My head sw . Then the knocking bec e even louder. Open the door! I heard. Open the door. This is the police! I controlled myself. Just a moment, I called, as calmly as I could. I ll open the door in a moment. I m dressing. The knocking stopped. pg. I looked with terror at the splintered door. On the wall clock it was forty minutes past midnight. I was afraid to go through the door. I remembered the knife. I ran back to the bedroom and seized it, shoving it into the handbag. Then, frightened, I ran to the patio and terrace. The rope of sheets that I had used to leave the penthouse had been removed. I ran again to the bedroom. I saw them lying to one side, separated, as though laundry. I looked again in the mirror. I stopped. I buttoned the collar of the black blouse high about my neck, to conceal the steel band on my throat. I saw again the mark, drawn in lipstick, on the mirror. Seizing up my handbag and the small suitcase I fled through the broken door. I stopped before the tiny private elevator in the hall outside the door. I ran back inside the penthouse, to get my wrist watch. It was forty two minutes past midnight. With the key from my purse I opened the elevator and descended to the hall below, where there was a bank of common elevators. I pushed all the down buttons. I looked at the dials at the top of the elevator doors. There were two that were already rising, one at the seventh floor and one at the ninth. I could not have called them! I moaned. I turned and ran toward the stairs. I stopped at the height of the stairs. Far below, on the steel reinforced, broad cement stairs, ringing hollowly in the shaft, I heard the footsteps of two men, climbing

Links to this post:

• clothing valet