Chapter Two
The Life of the Party:
Sorrel started walking forward. She turned to say something to Fletcher, but he was gone. She looked back at the party and the partiers. Everyone was having a good time. No one seemed to notice her. She was glad of it. She walked over toward the tables where the foods were laid out. Most everything had been pretty thoroughly picked over. Though she had eaten earlier, she was hungry again. She dare not take of the food herself so she walked off toward a nearby tree. The sun was much hotter now than it had been earlier. The shade of the tree looked inviting.
Cynthia Hammer watched as Sorrel came out of the pool house. Florence had selected the outfit, and she couldn't decide whether she liked or disliked it. She thought it looked pretty, and at the same time it looked a little too youthful for Sorrel. She considered the way the skirt swirled around the other woman's thighs. The blouse was soft looking; on the transparent maybe opaque side. It looked sexy, but overall the outfit still looked too juvenile for someone Sorrel's age. Cynthia thought that was the way she should be kept, in a child like state. It would eventually lead to a child like frame of mind. She'd be easier to control. Cynthia called out, "Sorrel come over here."
Sorrel looked up and saw it was Steve's wife who was calling her. Of all the women associated with the firm Sorrel liked Cynthia the least. She believed Cynthia thought something had been going on between Steve and her. The woman had no idea how repugnant Steve was to her. The way he looked at her in the office made her skin crawl. She gave Cynthia a phony smile and started over.
As Sorrel walked toward Cynthia, Mildred, the Colonel's wife reached out an arm and stopped her. Putting both hands out, one on each of Sorrel's shoulders she smiled and said, "My, aren't we adorable. You look like a young girl, a debutante, an ingénue, a girl at her first party." Mildred peered in, looking closely at Sorrel's face, "What does that say on your cheek. Let me see." Mildred leaned in for a close look, "Why I do believe it says chattel. Are you someone's chattel Sorrel dear?"
Sorrel answered in a low tone, almost a whisper, "Yes."
Mildred said, "Speak up dear. What did you say? Are you someone's property?"
Sorrel answered again more clearly, "Yes I am."
Mildred gave her an acidic smile. She despised anyone who'd try to injure her husband, "Well tell me. Whose property are you?"
Sorrel looked down and away. How was she going to get through this? "I'm the property of the firm Mrs. Hanson."
Mildred beamed, "Oh what a good little girl. I'm going to have to use you sometime. Do you do laundry?"
Sorrel looked at Mrs. Hanson 'this is what they plan to do with me, humiliate me at every chance', "I'll do whatever you tell me to do."
For the moment Mildred was satisfied, "That's a good girl; you treasonous little tart. Now run along. I think Mrs. Hammer wanted to talk to you."
Sorrel walked as quickly as she could toward Cynthia Hammer. She didn't want to be stopped and go through something like that again. She reached Cynthia, "I'm here Cynthia. I was stopped by Mildred Hanson."
Cynthia gave her a sickly sweet condescending smile, "Speak only when you're spoken to Sorrel, and I'm Mrs. Hammer. Mildred over there is Mrs. Hanson to you."
Sorrel blanched. She didn't like being talked down to, and certainly didn't like the idea of referring to these women as Mrs. this or Mrs. that. However, she held her true feelings in. She'd get through this, and she'd get even in time, "Yes Mrs. Hammer. I'm sorry I spoke out of turn, and I'm sorry I was too familiar."
Cynthia gave her a sweet but completely artificial smile, "That's so much better dear. I do like my people to be appropriately polite. I saw you over at the food table. Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?"
Sorrel answered, "I haven't had much to eat today, and yes I am hungry."
Cynthia said, "Go over to the food table, fix a plate and bring it over here. We'll eat together."
Sorrel gave Cynthia her the most obsequious look she could muster, "Yes, thank you. I'll be right back." She promptly turned and walked to the food table. Taking a paper plate she filled it with some of the foods that still remained uneaten. She then turned and walked to where Cynthia was seated. Upon reaching Cynthia she sat the plate on the table beside her. Not knowing what to do next Sorrel waited.
Cynthia took the plate, turned to Sorrel and said, "Here sit beside me on the grass. I'll feed you."
Sorrel was furious but refused to let Cynthia see it. Remembering Fletcher's warning she knelt carefully on the soft, now damp grass.
Cynthia looked over the morsels on the plate and selected a piece of cheese. With a great show and deliberate movement Cynthia leaned forward and held the piece of cheese out to Sorrel's mouth, "Here dear. Have a piece of cheese."
Sorrel took the cheese in her mouth and began to chew.
Cynthia said to Sorrel, "My, this is fun. It's kind of like having one's own little puppy dog. Here, have a piece of roll." She tore off a piece of roll and held it out toward Sorrel's mouth.
Sorrel took the piece of roll in her mouth.
Piece by piece Cynthia slowly fed Sorrel the food that was on the plate. While she fed her Charles's girlfriend Denise and Pearce's wife Collette came over. They watched as Cynthia made a great show of feeding Sorrel each and every little smidgen of food.
"What's that written on her cheek?" asked Collette.
Cynthia looked down at Sorrel, "Oh, I hadn't noticed. What does it say Sorrel?"
Sorrel answered, "It says chattel."
Denise spoke up, "Doesn't that mean something like slave?"
Both Cynthia and Collette said nothing but looked at Sorrel. Cynthia was smiling broadly.
Sorrel answered, "Yes. It means the same thing as being owned."
"Well whose property are you dear?" Cynthia asked.
