The brown paper parcel was waiting for her when she came home for lunch. Inside was a long velvet dress, sleeveless, with buttons down all the way down the front. The note inside the neckline read: Wear this tonight. You may still use the front door. Don't make me use my knife again.
She didn't eat any lunch or dinner. She looked at the dress instead. Had he bought it today? Had he always had it? How many other women had worn it?
There was no wind as she approached the house. The moon was full and lit every step she took to the front door. Five minutes early. She waited until the hand on her watch moved to midnight before knocking. What if her watch was fast or slow? What if . . .?
The door opened as she touched it. Three black candles burned down the hall where the back door stood also open. The house was otherwise empty. She walked through the hall towards the moonlight shining through the back door. The purple dress swirled around her feet. Her shoulders were cool but not too cold. The velvet pressed gently around her tender breasts. No bra. She would not make him use his knife again.
The garden was empty. Naked rose branches reached for heaven. The Gargoyle she had hung on last night shone in the moonlight. Something lay at its feet. It was a bunch of red roses. She reached for them. The thorns pierced her.
"No real fragrance without thorns." He emerged from the depths of the garden. "Hold them from the ends gently."
He was wearing the soft brown jacket and white silk shirt he had worn the day they had first made love. Here, in this place. When she had told him to use her body but not her heart and not her soul. When he had made love to her anyway.
She was trying to hold the roses without hurting herself but a trickle of blood was running down one bare arm. He took the flowers from her. "You'll learn. Anyway, tonight is about blood." He led her into the thick hanging branches from which he had appeared. There was a low wooden bench under a willow. The moon shone down on it like a spotlight. "Sit there."
He put the roses at her feet and began unbuttoning the dress. He smiled when her breasts were bare.
"I didn't want you to use your knife." Amber said, breathless for approval.
He struck her hard across her face.
"Speak when I tell you to speak." His face was as mild as before he had struck her. It took everything she had not to ask him why. She knew he would hit her again.
He sighed and removed her panties again, stuffing them into her mouth. "I should have done this sooner." He finished unbuttoning the dress completely, placed the palms of his hands on her knees and spread her legs as wide as they would go. She could feel the lips of her labia opening beneath her. August placed her hands on her thighs. "Don't look so frightened. This is your theatre. Everything tonight is for your pleasure." He touched the gaping lips of her vagina delicately. "Don't be afraid to take it."
The iron gate to the garden swung open you could hear the sound of metal touching the brick fence. Amber's eyes were wide and wild.
"Don't hold back." August whispered. "She won't know anything beyond her own little world." He walked back to the place where Robyn was waiting.
"Should I leave the gate open?" Robyn said. She was wearing her short leopard skin coat and her legs seemed to go up to nowhere.
"Wide open." August sniffed the air and smiled.
"You and that nose of yours." Robyn's attempt to be sarcastic seemed forced.
"You have perfect timing, Robyn. As usual. Let's get started."
Robyn took off her coat. She was wearing nothing underneath but a wide belt.
"The shoes." She stepped out of her high heels and kneeled on the ground in front of him. August seemed bored. Robyn reached her hands to her waist and caressed the belt for a minute.
"Wanta fuck it, go home and fuck it."
