“But if the old ways are so debased and inhuman, why would you feel devalued?” teased Walther, now thoroughly enjoying himself.
Several of the trainers and spotters who were opposed to the original and unhappy about it immediately announced that since the new proposal was completely voluntary, it could potentially have nothing to do with them, and so they welcomed the chance to be reconciled with their former opponents. Ken Mandarin was the first spotter to say so, and she did it with an understatement that left several of her friends bemused. And when Howard Ward rose to speak, Chris took a deep breath.
The British man gave a slight nod to him, and his aristocratic face looked thoughtful. “Upon careful consideration, I support this proposal as an appropriate method of creating mutual bonds of fellowship among like-minded trainers...”
And it was over. By the time Tetsuo Sakai declared his support for it, the opposition crumbled, leaving only Geoff Negel and a few of his staunchest supporters. William Longet was not the only one in the room who looked relieved when he brought his gavel down, marking the end of debates.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen for your wisdom, forbearance, and obedience to order,” Longet said with a smile. “We shall set up the balloting boxes in this room after today’s luncheon. Please bring all properly registered proxies between three and four o’clock, so that they maybe checked against the master lists. Since the proposal has changed, it is advised that you attempt to contact those whom you will be representing. But if that is not possible, please vote according to your understanding of their will, in good faith. This formal business discussion is now ended.”
Cheers filled the room, and people thumped each other on the back and hugged. Tucker and Keesey shook hands, and Ken Mandarin kissed the back of Ninon’s hand with a flourish, and Walther Kurgan lifted Corinne off her feet.
Many of them came over to Chris, who stood and shook hands with everyone, his voice low and warm. He did not protest when Kurgen grabbed him in a big bear hug either, and took it in good grace when the older man thumped him heavily on the back and said that he wasn’t so bad for such a gloomy youngster.
Ken came over to hug him briefly. “I knew you could do it,” she said lightly. “Come and sit with us for lunch, hm?”
“Thank you,” Chris said, but before he could accept or decline, he saw Dalton coming over, with Bronwyn in close pursuit. Ken patted Chris on the shoulder and waved Paul and Joost and Shoshana over to her to make room.
“Well then, Mr. Parker,” Dalton said, looking unconcerned and slightly bemused. “Good show. A gentleman knows the value of compromise.”
“So I have been instructed, Mr. Dalton,” Chris said. “I have had the benefit of wonderful teachers.”
“Hmph. I must say, puppy,” Dalton leaned forward, his voice pitched slightly lower. “You were an interesting boy. But I hazard that you have become a quite adequate man.”
“Thank you...” Chris started to say, weakly, but Dalton had already pulled back and smiled that tight, thin social smile and the private moment was gone. He wanted to laugh—adequate, used twice this morning as an expression of praise. How wonderful! How Japanese, how British, how perfect. Someone else took his hand and he shook it and mouthed more words of thanks as he saw Dalton join the stream of trainers exiting the room. He nodded and looked into their eyes, into the faces of people whose names he memorized, whose writings and track records he was familiar with, and took their congratulations, whether offered in honest glee or a shrugging acceptance. And when Tetsuo Sakai, Sato-san, and Noguchi-sama all nodded to him together, he felt about ready to fall backward into the chair and let one of the exquisite slaves hovering that week fan him and bring him a drink. But instead, he bowed to them in gratitude and waited until they had left the room to finally sit down. His knees were weak, and he folded his hands to keep them from visibly trembling. When Michael came over with a glass of water, Chris kept him waiting for a few seconds, until he took a few deep breaths.
“Is it over now?” Michael asked, still somewhat dazed at how easily two days of arguments had been put aside.
“All but the voting,” Chris said. “But for all intents and purposes, yes, Michael. It’s over. And...I need...something stronger than this, I think.”
Michael laughed. “I’ll get you something, what’s your pleasure? It’s kind of early for Scotch.”
Chris sighed and shook his head. “Yes, you’re entirely right. But if you would like to make yourself useful, then have some green tea sent to a free bathroom and make my apologies to anyone who wants to see me before lunch is over. I am going to take a very long and very hot bath.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Michael said confidently. “Um—do you want—company, sir?” It was a daring offer. Michael felt the nervousness in the pit of his stomach, but knew, just knew, that this was something that a—a person in service would offer. His teacher looked stressed. A massage, or simply a body to play with, abuse or enjoy, was what an owner had a—had someone in service for. He had been resisting offering things, and had been so glaringly wrong. How had he not realized that this was something he could—or should be doing? But now, the very thought of providing some sort of release for Chris was like a glowing light spreading around his mind.
“Why thank you, Michael, I appreciate your gesture,” Chris said with his wry smile. “How remarkable. But I will have to decline, I am not in the mood for company right now. Just the tea, please, and you need not bring it yourself.” He stood and nodded a brief dismissal to Michael. And as Chris walked carefully out of the room and made his way to the ryokan building, Michael finally did whistle as he hurried to take care of that small chore.
That wasn’t bad at all, he thought happily. Wow, what a week! When we got here, it looked like it was going to be nothing but my fuck-ups and his fight with Geoff. And now, I’m the good student taking care of business the right way and he’s a freaking hero. What a way to end the Academy!
He couldn’t wait to record this all in his journal, including the way he noticed how people spoke and bowed and shook hands when it was all over. Man, he would have never understood all the nuances a simple nod could have if he hadn’t seen it here.
Everything was going to be just fine from now on.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Making Choices
Ken was disappointed that Chris was ducking out of lunch, but that didn’t stop her from inviting Mike to join her and her fellow spotters, almost exactly the same crew that Michael had been subjected to on his first day. But their hostility was completely gone now, and so was any agenda but making sure they had all the contact information possible about each other. Business cards and small note pads and flashing pens were much in evidence.
There was also a new energy in the rooms, and Michael was both flattered and amused by several invitations to come to private evening meetings—“with Mr. Parker’s approval, of course!” It took him a few minutes to realize that these were—at last—not business meetings or special interest meetings or anything connected to politics or even training techniques, but pure and simple play events. Sex parties. Orgies, maybe.
“Why on Earth do you wait until the last night of the Academy to play?” he asked out loud, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Some of us don’t,” Ken teased, raising a delicate eyebrow toward him. Too pleased to feel embarrassed, he grinned back at her, and Paul laughed.
“You know, I spend so much time going to parties and whatnot, it felt great to come here and lay out in the sun all by myself,” the older spotter said, comfortable in khaki shorts and a white shirt that looked like it came from a safari guide. His sunglasses were tucked into the front pocket, and he looked as relaxed as though this whole Academy was nothing but a vacation for him. “Believe me, I don’t miss a minute of play. It’s almost a relief to come here and not be expected to put on a show or impress a novice or take down some crafty old client who’s itching to add notches to their collar.”
“I lik
e to see the old friends,” Joost said. “If I am in bed with one slave after another, I never have time to lose at poker and hear all the gossip.”
“You have to learn to gossip in bed,” Ken suggested. “Or, perhaps you should fuck a slave over the dinner table, while gossiping! Who needs a bed, anyway?”
“You know, I never heard so many people complain that they had too much sex,” Michael said.
“Oh, I am not complaining!” Joost insisted, and Paul nodded in agreement.
“You poor men, of course you are complaining,” Ken chided. “After all, you cannot fight nature—you can only spend so many times a day, true? While we women have all the advantages. We can enjoy ourselves fully every hour if we wish—every five minutes, if it is our pleasure!”
“Ken, in my next life, I wanna be you,” Paul wisecracked.
“Too late, my friend. I have lived such a virtuous life, the gods will return me over and over again, for their pleasure.” They laughed and Michael leaned back in his chair, mulling over his subtle invitations and wondering what Chris would do or say when he found out about them. He had to be in a good mood—would he relax enough to let me go to one of these? Would he want to go, or feel that he had to? I wonder if the Japanese trainers will have their own get-together, maybe he would want to go to that one. He idly wondered what that might look like; judging from Japanese porn, things could get mighty kinky.
Michael saw Marcy enter the room with Stuart in tow, and briefly felt a flash of embarrassment. But then, he stopped and tried to think of how he should be reacting. After all, nothing especially earthshaking had happened. He had been one of the stars in a vaguely uncomfortable sex show. But when it came down to brass tacks, it had been his choice to do it. All of this is my choice, Michael thought. And I have the power to choose how to deal with it, too. I was just laughing at these people for not playing and having sex—but I did play, and I did have sex, last night. Not the type I might have chosen... but I got off.
Come to think of it, it really wasn’t that bad after all. As far as the beating went, hell, he’d taken worse from Chris. And although Cindy’s dick was on the large side, its shape and the humiliation of being fucked for an audience was more of what made it uncomfortable. He certainly didn’t feel torn or abused in any way this morning. And he did get to fuck Andy, or at least have Andy bouncing up and down on his cock, which was just as much fun with much less work. And as for Stuart—well, Michael had no intention of blabbing about Stuart’s cock any more then he had concerning Cindy’s. The very thought was amusing, but in mid-smile, he stopped his memories and frowned in confusion. What was I so upset about last night, he wondered. Chris was right—I wanted to play and screw around—and I did. It wasn’t on my terms, but it wasn’t anything more than I’d been warned might happen, and dammit, some of it was downright fun. So how would Chris deal with it? He’d probably just nod hello to Stu and act like it never happened. After all, it was after-hours and not for public consumption. That was how a good slave might treat it.
But I’m not a slave yet, Michael mused. I’m still free, as free as any apprentice in this field is. And if I had good sex with someone and wanted to say hi the next day, what would I do?
He caught Stuart’s eye, and much to the young man’s shock, Michael gave him a broad wink and mimed a kiss.
Oh, it was so good to see Stuart blush and hurry after Marcy! Kinda mean, yeah, but good, too.
Ken laughed out loud, not missing the exchange and slapped Michael playfully on the arm. “Bad dog,” she said. “Naughty dingo!”
“Actually, I’m wondering if I hurt his feelings,” Michael said with a regretful sigh. “Maybe I better go talk to him.”
“No, no,” Ken assured him. “Better he should get used to being... being made the object of admiration, yes? He is filling Marcy with his new desires to be like you, mon chien, to be trained as the great Parker trains, the poor fool.”
Michael laughed. “There are worse things,” he said.
“Yes, indeed there are. But a man that shy should not even consider delivering himself into Parker’s gentle hands, do you not agree?”
Michael nodded after a moment’s thought. Yes, she was right; part of Chris’s technique in distancing was to use surrogates in dominance—to loan out slaves and, well, trainees, to his various experienced friends. Or to give the impression of being loaned. Damn, there was so much to think about now, new ideas were crowding Michael’s head like lines of a new song. He wanted very much to sit back and chat with all these hot, important people, but he also wanted to run back to his room and write out reams of notes on all these things. He hoped he would remember all of them when he finally got a break.
“Yeah, Chris isn’t exactly the most kind and gentle trainer,” laughed Paul. “But he’s got a hell of an eye.”
Shoshana and Joost both nodded; having a good eye was high praise indeed from humans who made it their business to see slaves where everyone else saw mere humans. Dan, the Californian spotter, shrugged. “All I ask is that trainers trust my eye. Sometimes an older-timer like Parker doesn’t give a client enough of a chance. That’s why I like to send ’em to Negel; he’ll hang onto something for three months at least before giving up. It’s the least to ask, when I might have spent half a year scouting them out, waiting for them to get out of bad relationships, testing, researching—it’s a pain sometimes! I think we deserve to be taken seriously when we put that much time in.”
“We also deserve to be kicked in the derrière when we waste our time and the time of others,” Ken said with a snort. “Just because you have fun with someone for six months does not mean that a trainer will wish to do the same!”
They laughed and Dan seemed not to take it personally, much to Michael’s relief. “I used to think being a spotter would be a great job,” he said with a smile. “Hell, it was what I thought I’d do at first. But I had no idea how much time you guys put in on the clients. God, I was an idiot.”
“You don’t want to be a spotter anyway,” Dan said with a shrug. “Long hours and slow turn around. The best thing about is is that it’s your choice; the worst thing about it is the rejection rate!”
“No, no, the worst thing is the disappointment when a good prospect doesn’t pan out,” insisted Paul. “Man, you put weeks into figuring how someone ticks, you put all your hopes in them, you get ’em ready to go, you’re just about to suggest there might be something better for them—and then wham!—they ‘fall in looove’—with someone else. Or worse—with you!” He laughed bitterly.
“It is only natural when they fall in love with you,” Ken said with one of her slight shrugs. “One can turn that if the client is still suitable, make it into an asset.”
Joost nodded thoughtfully, playing with the chunks of pineapple and sections of tangerine left on his lunch plate. “Yes, that is true,” he said. “A good trainer can make a difference, I think. It is hard for an independent spotter to do this alone, it works best when you have a training partner. Someone who can help manage the—the disappointment when it comes.” He smiled quickly, revealing beautiful teeth that lit up his dark face. “I am fortunate in my allies; I always have a—what is it you Americans say? A reality check. I know when I have spent too much time on a client who can only go so far.”
“God help us when we don’t,” Shoshana said with a toss of her hair. “Working alone can make you crazy! There are only three spotters in Israel right now, and one trainer. If we didn’t keep in touch, we would all be off in the hills, talking to rocks and goats.”
Michael laughed. “But why?”
The spotters looked at him in wonder, then among themselves. Paul shrugged, volunteered to answer.
“Because we’ve got our feet in two worlds,” he said. “You’ve been around a little—how many trainers do you know work by themselves? Not many, right? And even the solos who are out there, what do they do? They assemble a staff, they train juniors, like Anderson does. They live and breathe the Marketp
lace, and they always have contact with other people in it.
“But we spend more of our time in the soft world—or in situations even less friendly! Like we were saying about sex and play parties—we’re at every goddamn leather contest and conference and panel, every stupid fashion show, all year long, it’s leather and fetish and sex and S/M—but with weekenders and pretenders and well-intentioned novices with grandiose fantasies. With people like us, it’s always weird—you have to blend into the weekend world well, but then come back to a place where we do this shit for keeps. It’s like building two different lives, two different personalities. Then, look at Kurgan’s spotter team—six people who spend their year going from one military environment to another, scoping out the jarheads and zoomies and squids for potential slaves. When they finish one tour, they start another. And the only contact they really have is Kurgan himself, no parties to go to, no Marketplace hang-outs. They have a different problem—they have to walk into the mundane world most of the time and then take a quick retreat into what feels like a fantasy. Hell, most spotters don’t even go to the auctions where their clients end up, they came up with some stats to show that it unnerved the clients.”
“When you are alone like that, it can lead to some—bad behavior,” Joost said.
“Like Matson?” Michael asked, glancing at Ken.
“Matson was never alone,” Ken said sharply. “He had friends, he had a local network. But yes, like Matson. He began to believe that he could and should do everything by himself.”
“Bullseye also thought the world revolved around him,” said Dan. “Shit, I remember him, he was one arrogant bastard.”
“We are all arrogant,” Shoshana said. “Or, correctly, we are all confident.”
“Fine line,” said Paul.
“Matson fell in looove,” Ken said, echoing Paul’s earlier comment. “People grow mad when they are in looove.”
“There are much worse reasons for madness,” Joost said thoughtfully.
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