“So he’s gone, huh,” Deborah asked over the phone.
“Yeah, he’ll be back on Friday, but it’ll be really weird to be here at night without Erik.”
“I guess.” Her tone had a touch of bittersweet, reminding Melissa that Deborah had once hoped to live with Erik.
Deborah continued, “So, did he warn you that he doesn’t like to call when he’s on a business trip?”
“Yeah.” Now it was Melissa’s turn to be bittersweet. “I guess I understand, but still…”
Deborah snorted, “You’ve made him change more than I thought any woman could, but no matter what, he still lives a very compartmentalized life. Work is work, play is play, and ner the twain shall meet.”
“He took me to Sunstone,” Melissa countered.
“And that was truly amazing. Like I said, I’ve never seen him behave with another woman the way he does with you. Still, did he offer to take you on this trip?”
“No,” Melissa conceded. Then she added, “It was all the way across the country, and it’s his first time visiting the company, so he said he was going to be really busy. Besides, I’ve got this damned tournament to prepare for.”
When Melissa mentioned the tournament, Deborah laughed, “Oh yeah! I’m really looking forward to seeing you slay some girl with a sword. After last night, watching you lay into those maids, wow, you’ve got some dom or something hidden away in there.”
“You’re coming to the damned tournament too? What, is Erik inviting everyone?”
“Oh shit, I’m fucked up. It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“Oh God… so, Michael too?”
“Well, sure.”
“Who else?”
“Besides Serena? I don’t think there was anyone else.”
“Well, thank God for small favors. You do know I’m going to get creamed, right?”
“Not according to Erik. Supposedly, this Paula swordswoman says you’ve been doing great.”
“Ah, she’s Polly, and I guess it’s good to hear that she thinks I’m doing okay, but I’ve only been learning this crap for a few weeks now.” She laughed sadly, “Just this week, I started teaching Mike how to use swords. He’s whomping my ass regularly now.”
“Um, you know, I’ve met Mike. He’s a nice guy and all, but underneath that good old boy exterior, he’s a natural born killer. I knew guys like him in the Sayarot. Here’s a hint, don’t get in a friendly game of beach soccer with them. They don’t know how to hold back. It’s always full on for those guys. I got the bruises to prove it.”
Melissa laughed, “I’ve got plenty of bruises too. You’re right, Mike plays for keeps, but Polly said that he’s really been helping me get better, so I guess that’s good… but I still can’t believe I agreed to this crap in the first place.”
“Well look at it this way, now when you dig up a sword, you’ll appreciate it a lot more.”
Melissa laughed, “Mike said the same thing. I don’t know. We’ll see.”
“Well, I’m just glad I’m only going to be watching.”
“I bet, but you know, you really looked like you were into it when you were watching me whip those poor girls last night.”
“Ha, they loved every minute of it. That one girl, Caprice, she did everything but spit in your face to goad you on.”
“I guess so… but I was watching you, and you were like the Queen of Sheba, or something… you know, maids crawling all over you, and you were egging me on the whole time to whip them harder. So tell me, what are you going to be like on Saturday, watching girls ‘fight to the death’?”
“I’m going to be horny as hell! Don’t ask me why… personally, I can’t stand being whipped or anything like that, but I do love watching another girl get whipped. Or even a guy. It’s a total fucking turn-on.”
Melissa laughed, “We’re weird.”
“We absolutely are. But don’t tell me you didn’t get turned on – whipping them.”
“Well, maybe a little bit.”
“Ha!”
“But it was mostly, like, I knew how much fun I’d be having, getting whipped like that.”
“Hey, whatever works for you…”
“Yeah, well apparently, a lot more things ‘work for me’ than I thought.”
Deborah giggled, “Like peeing all over Caprice?”
“Hey, that was for you and Michael. I mean, I asked Erik to pee on me once… it doesn’t do nearly as much for us as what you and Michael seem to get out of it.”
“What can I say? It sure did send Michael over the edge. On the other hand, I don’t recall any golden showers in The Story of O.”
“The story of what?”
“Didn’t Erik tell you? The whole scene last night, it was right out of The Story of O, or at least the 1970’s movie version of it. That’s what the guys were trying to do with us the last time we were all at Richard’s all together, you know, on disaster night.”
“Yeah, that really freaked me out, Michael whipping you.”
“I wasn’t in a great place at the time.”
They were both quiet for a moment, wondering if the other wanted to talk more about that night. Finally, Deborah moved on, “So, you’ve never read The Story of O, or saw the movie?”
“No, I heard about the book, but I never read it.”
Deborah laughed sardonically, “I’m not sure you’d like it. The story gets very much into the whole ownership thing. The main female character loves just being flat-out abused.”
“I’m not sure that sounds so good…”
“It’s a typical French thing. They take an idea, and maybe it was a little weird to start with, but then they fearlessly push it to an insane extreme, beyond that extreme. They turn it into a philosophy or movement, which they then insist on inflicting upon everyone else.”
“Huh?”
“Heard of the French revolution? Reign of Terror?”
“Sure, I guess so.”
“The French love getting carried away. Anyway, in the book, the main character’s husband? Boyfriend? …I forget. Anyway, he gives her away to his friend because he cares too much about her, and she’s just supposed to be property or something to him. Then she falls in love with this second guy, but he doesn’t really care. When he finally gets bored with abusing her, he dumps her. She decides she’s worthless without him, so she kills herself, and he still doesn’t give a shit.”
“What the hell?”
“Yeah, well, it’s actually way better written than that, but that’s kind of what it boils down to.”
“And people read it?”
“It’s supposed to be all about the ultimate eroticism of simply being used by someone who doesn’t care about you. The negation of soul or some such shit. I don’t know – it’s French.”
“But you speak such good French, I thought you liked the country.”
“Beautiful country, amazing people… just a little crazy sometimes. They turn ideas into God, and the result is terrible. Did you ever have to study Sartre? Existentialism?”
“Okay, I guess that’s a good point.”
“Of course, it’s not like us Israelis are particularly know for our sanity either, but we’re nothing like the French. I don’t think anyone is, except maybe the Russians… sometimes.”
“Okayyy…
“Hey, we’re both stuck at home without me tonight, so I figure it’s either talk about French philosophy or have phone sex. I’m not sure what else to do.”
“You’re weird.”
“Oh, you say the most adorable things. So, on Saturday, do I get to watch you jam a sword into some girl’s guts?”
“Wow, you really are into violence.”
“I’m Israeli. We grew up in that sort of neighborhood.”
“I guess so… but it still seems like a weird fetish.”
“So says the girl who adores being whipped.”
“Hey, no fair! Stop trying to confuse me with the facts. I’m being arrogant and insensitive here.”
“‘Arrogant and insensitive?’ Like that’s going to offend an Israeli, assuming I’d even notice it in the first place?”
Melissa laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll be sure to run at least one poor girl through her guts with my sword. And I’ll do it right in front of you, so I can make sure she begs for her life at your knees. Then you can give the thumbs up or down that decides her fate.”
“Kus Emmak! You’re making me horny on purpose!”
“Well, you did say phone sex…”
“Ha!” Deborah paused, then said more seriously, “Umm, you know the whole violence thing only works for me because it’s pretend play, right? If it was for real, well, I’d hate to think that would actually get me horny… I sure as hell wouldn’t want it to.”
“That’s reassuring. So you don’t dream of being a rich Roman noblewoman – arranging private gladiatorial matches in the afternoon for you and your girlfriends to watch?”
“Well… would the gladiators get all slicked up with oil, and wear those short little thong/skirt thingies?” Deborah asked.
“Umm, now we’re heading in the wrong direction again…”
“Oh! To the death,” Deborah squealed excitedly, “It would absolutely have to be to the death.”
Melissa sighed into her phone. “I am so going to regret agreeing to this tournament.”