"There was another dancer here previously, " said the man next to me, "one called Helen. She too was an Earth blonde. Alison was purchased to replace her. "What happened to the other girl?" I asked. "Helen?" hs asked."Yes," I said. "She was seen once by Marleus of Ar, who purchased her. She was chained and sent as a gift somewhere."I see," I said.

"Paga, Master?" asked a dark-haired, belled paga slave, in a scrap of diaphanous yellow silk.I motioned her away. She had short, lovely legs and a sweet full boseom. The yellow silk was belted tightly aboug her waist by several turns of yellow binding fiber, more than enough to tie her for your pleasure in an alcove.

I continued to wach the dancer, now some yards away, under the low ceiling.

The girl who had offered me paga had not been truly interested in giving me paga. My cup, clearly, was still almost full. She was offering me something else, other than the wares of the tavern.

The dancer now, as the music was mounting in crescendo, was again approaching me. I considered her ankles and thighs, the sweet belly of her, her breasts, and shoulder and throat, the loveliness of her, her face and eyes, the latitudes of her swirling blonde hair, the shimmering restless jewelry on her body, the metal ocked on her wrists and ankles, her collar, the pearl at her forehead.

"Master," she said, dancing before me. I regarded her through narrowly lidded eyes. Then she sank to her knees and on her knees, leaning backwards, danced before me as a kneeling slave.The music swirled to its climax and, as it ended, she straightened her body and then, from her knees, lowered herself to her right hip and extending her right arm to me, lay before me, submitted, her head to the floor.