The warbling of an unnamed songbird seeped into Li's dream. Slowly, reluctantly, she awoke. Sleep had been fitful throughout the night, not so much from the cold, hard floor as the terrible racket Gregory made as he ground his teeth in his sleep.
Her first thought was that it was Sunday, and she had to be back in New York by tomorrow. Her second thought was to check that she hadn't rolled over at some point in the night and spilled anything on Gregory's expensive carpet. She pulled aside the dress she used as an improvised blanket and inspected the detritus from last night. Some had gotten on her dress, but luckily the rest had dried and hardened on her skin.
When she eventually got up to pull on her dress, and realized that he wasn't in the room. A glance at the alarm clock told her that it was pushing nine o'clock. Her first steps towards the door reminded her how savage last night had been. Li was extra tender today.
She entered the living room for what felt like the first time. The night before a combination of fear, darkness, and long unsatisfied lust had kept her from noticing anything about it. A large flat screen TV hung from the far wall, but she noticed the remote control on the coffee table had a thin layer of dust over it. Next to the controller was a well-thumbed special interest magazine on...huh...scuba diving. A series of staccato bangs from the garage told Li that Gregory was working. She took the chance to look about a bit for more hints to Mr. Angry Stoic's character.
The walls were covered with more than three dozen photos. All of them were of men in military fatigues. Gregory was in every one of them. Some of the photos must have dated back by more than ten years, judging by his youthful glow and soft skin on his face. Most bizarre was the fact that he was actually smiling. It was a big goofy grin that showed most of his teeth. Everyone was smiling in the oldest pictures. Li guessed at the chronology of the pictures, based on wrinkles and the fade of the images. There were fewer and fewer smiles as they went on. Fewer and fewer soldiers too. The most recent-looking picture had the date scribbled in the corner. It was from two years ago. Four grimacing men squinted into the camera against the glare of a harsh desert sun. Four from the original twenty. Li hoped it didn't mean what she thought it did.
A sudden bang and accompanying shout shook Li from her musings. She hurried over to the garage door as quickly as her heels allowed her. Gregory was bent over his workbench, sweat dripped from his face while he cradled his hand.
"Are you okay?"
"Fucking peachy." Gregory grimaced, "Hang on, I need to take care of this." He brushed passed her in the doorway. He smelled of freshly split wood with a hint of lacquer.
"Can I do anything to help?" Li offered.
"Yeah, I need another twenty logs chopped like those." He threw his head back towards the garage as he made his way towards the kitchen. Li looked back out. Just beyond the driveway an axe was embedded in a stump with a pile of logs beside it.
"But...my dress...it's expensive."
Gregory yelled back from the kitchen, "Then take it off, princess! It's not anything I haven't seen before!" Li obeyed. She quickly stripped off her clothes and made her way to the stump. The crisp autumn air was fresh on her exposed skin, setting off a wildfire of gooseflesh. At least she didn't have to step on the frost encrusted grass, as he had not said anything about her heels. She hefted the axe up, placed a log on the stump, and took a swing. She missed. Maybe she should take her heels off, but M...Gregory hadn't said so. She hefted it up again, more careful with her balance this time, and her swing struck home. In a few minutes she had split several armloads of logs.
Gregory came back into the workshop, his left hand bandaged up. Li saw the look of genuine shock on his face when he saw her, and how quickly he covered it up.
"What the hell are you doing, woman?"
"I did as you told me, sir. Where do you want the wood?" Gregory vaguely gestured somewhere near his workbench, and then sat back to admire the view. Stockings, heels, garter, and bra. That was all Li had on her. She had preferred to go without any panties for the date last night, leaving her exposed to the forest.
She could feel his eyes on her, and she couldn't resist giving a little show. Crossing her feet on every step as she went from the stump to the garage and back, bending down with legs straight and back arched to really advertise her rump. She hardly noticed the splintered wood digging into her.
"Why did you take off your dress?" He gathered her scanty outfit in one hand, thrusting it at her like an accusing finger.
"You ordered me to, sir."
"I was fucking joking! I told you, I am not your goddamn master!" In a few powerful strides he was outside, and hurled the dress among bushes. Li started to move to fetch it, he grabbed at her the throat and bodily dragged her back inside, "Here's a fucking order: leave it." He launched her backwards. She went teetering out of control and banged against the garage wall.
"This slut is sorry, sir."
"Shut up!" Gregory raged, "You! You are going home. Right fucking now."
"My car is still at the bar, sir."
"Stop calling me that! I'll drive you there, and then you can fuck off. I don't need this shit." He dug into his jean's pockets and fished out the keys to his pick-up truck.
"There will be bruises..." Li whispered.
"What?"
"B-bruises. There will be bruises on me...in me. If I-if-if I go and-"
"And what?" Gregory pressed his face right up against hers, "And you go where? Tell people what?"
Li shrank back, "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was talking about..." A few tears brimmed in her eyes.
"Jesus woman, what the hell is wrong with you?" Gregory stepped back and let her collapse down to her haunches. She wanted to ask him that same question, but thought better of it. Instead, once she had composed herself, they went to the couch in the living room and they talked. Or rather, she talked while he had a face set in steel.
She told him about her life, about growing up in Tianjin with her parents. How every minute of her life had been structured from the word go, and how she excelled in school, as a violinist, as a gymnast. She told him how she faltered when she came to the US on a scholarship, how she was nearly sent back, how Richard...how Master gave her back the discipline and structure she craved. How her sterling performance, thanks to him, won her a green card and eventually citizenship. She told him how happy she had been with him for eight years, how in love she was, and how they nearly got married. She told him how only her insistence on remaining a slave rather than becoming a family member had stopped that. She told him about the accident.
For the tiniest fraction of a second, Gregory's eyes flicked to the pictures on the wall at the mention of Richard's death. There was a miniscule change in his face after that; an ever so slight softening around the eyes.
"I'm sorry for your loss." Gregory finally spoke, "You're clearly trying to fill the void, but I am not the person for that."
"You are!" Li blushed a little at how desperate she sounded, "I'm...I'm sorry. Maybe you're not. But you have this...this same quality that Richard had. I don't know what it is, pheromones or body language or just something in your voice. But I can't find something like that and ignore it!"
"So what's stopping me from just making you say that you want to go home?"
"If you're not a Master, how do you know about safewords?"
"Safeword my ass, little girl. I'm just not a fucking rapist. Now answer the question."
Li squirmed a little, "It...it would take a lot to make me say it."
"Right," Gregory stood up, "I'm getting your dress, then I'm taking you back to your car."
"Please! One day!"
"Fucking hell...last night was fun but I do not need this shit."
"Twenty-four hours is all I ask. if your mind's still made up, you won't hear from me again." Li pleaded. Gregory marched past her, but paused at the doorway to the garage. He spoke without turning to face her.
"Twenty-four hours? In that time I am going to teach a goddamn lesson you crazy bitch. I am going to make you scream that-that fucking... 'safeword'."
#
The Lexus shot down the highway back to New York. All of Li's worldly possessions were loaded in the car, not that there were much of those: A few suitcases of clothes, all of which Richard had bought her. A duffel bag with whatever remained of the money she had not invested with Richard's brother Theo, as well as a little mahogany box containing her nipple piercings. But cushioned by the bricks of money was her most treasured possession, resting safe in its case: her Stradivarius. Master had given it to her as a gift when she was head-hunted by the orchestra. Under a technical reading of the will the violin should have gone to Theo. But he must have known how much it meant to her, and insisted that she keep it, his wife's highly vocal protests notwithstanding.
Without Gregory's presence or that deep, nearly infrasound quality in his voice, Li's thoughts finally started to normalize, and she could reflect on her behavior. Just as she had done on the way to his home, once she had left him she could only chastise herself for her stupidity. Was she ever like that with Richard? She must have been, but he surely had enjoyed that. Gregory wasn't a master and she was trying to force him into a role he would never accept. Twenty-four hours was all she had to be a slave again.
Or not. With a growing knot in her stomach, she realized he had agreed to nothing except to make her beg to go back home. Shit. What had she gotten herself into? She gripped the steering wheel tightly and scowled at herself. She would take whatever that grumpy bastard threw at her. He would never agree to take her in, but she would at least not be the one to break.
She pulled into her reserved parking spot at the conservatorium, surprised to see that she in fact still had one, and quickly made her way inside to the stage. She was running late, most of the orchestra had already taken their places. More than a few of the members gave her curious glances, a few muttered greetings. The conductor tapped for silence just as Li got to her position, and the hall hushed.
The air reverberated under the weight of a hundred instruments. Li could feel the power of the trombones in her breast, the lilt of the flutes in her ear, the cello riding up the nape of her neck, the piano rent the air with expert strokes. Ride of the Valkyries made her soar. Flight of the Bumblebee sent her heart racing with joy. Moonlight Sonata lulled her to a serene calm.
Eventually came the part she had been dreading: solo examination. There was less than a month until the orchestra left to tour in Europe, and everyone had been practicing hard in preparation. Everyone, that is, except Li. She wasn't concerned until she realized that there were some faces among the ensemble she did not recognize. One young man she knew to be an understudy of a rather sweet middle-aged oboe player.
All too soon it was her turn in the spotlight. The harsh white lights blinded her to the seating, but she knew the director was up there somewhere. Behind, the orchestra was watching her, analysing her. She realized she was sweating. The conductor looked up at her from under bushy, grey eyebrows, and offered a kind smile. She felt a little better.
