And the action comes complete with costumes hoods or masks, black leather corsets, whips, spiked heels and black mesh stockings-in short, the full paraphernalia of S amp;M, B amp;D, the full alphabet soup of sexual perversion.

Yes, Nancy thinks, Randy Buck is one sick puppy, all right.

But her boss and constant companion is surely no less so.

She is, in her own way, just as sick, if not sicker, than her arch-enemy, Randy Buck.

No question.

That latest little diversion of hers, the doll house, with muscle men all dressed up in drag, complete with make-up, prancing about and queening it up for her amusement, her living dolls, as she termed them-what was that, if not really sick?

And Cynthia herself seemed to realize this, making no attempt to rebuild the Victorian house or to set up the thing elsewhere after Antoine, her couturier, now ex-couturier, had burned the place down in a fit of pique after being excluded by her from participation in what turned out to be, thanks to him, the last session, almost trapping them within, himself included.

It was as though she suddenly snapped out of a hypnotic spell, the blaze awakening her.

She said nothing to Nancy, of course.

After alt, she is the infallible Baroness.

Still, she never mentioned it again, even in passing.

But Nancy gained an insight from that incident.

At least, she thinks she did.

It could very well be (in Nancy's opinion) that Cynthia's fascination with Randy Buck is that they are opposite sides of the same coin.

Meaning that, but for Buck as a foil for her fascination with the world of sexual perversion, an outlet for her attention, for her obsession with that dark kingdom, Cynthia herself might be irresistibly drawn to acts of perversion, more and more intense, more and more twisted, until she would become, in turn, a villainess of the first magnitude.