At first, the restaurant at the Marquis appeared to be little different to any of those high-class French restaurants, that you find all over the world. Sumptuous and slightly over-the-top decor, rich and luxurious velvet, gilt and highly-polished mirrors, sparkling chandeliers, white linen and silver were everywhere in a room at which perhaps forty tables were arranged in a circle around a central stage and dance-floor. Extraordinarily attractive waitresses dressed in your classic short black maid's outfits with white lace aprons and caps, were scuttling hither and thither, taking orders, serving food and dispensing wine.

It was only when their waitress turned to show them to their table close by the stage, that he noticed that her uniform consisted only of an invisibly-supported front and that her back was completely naked, except for a skimpy suspender belt, which held up her black stockings. On her right buttock, what appeared to be a tattoo proclaimed that she was the Property of the Marquis.

After the waitress had left them with their menus and a wine list, it was Lucinda who spoke. 'Should I get a tattoo?'

'It's your choice!' He thought for a moment, unsure as to whether he liked a symbol of such permanence. 'Would you have Property of Zyzzx? Lucinda perhaps? Cassie? Certainly not my name!'

She smiled as she realised the forces that drove her. 'Oh! It would have to be Property of Lucinda!'

He smiled back and looked around. 'Just look at this restaurant and the people in it. Isn't life strange! We do peculiar things for our own gratification, to excite and stimulate others, and sometimes to hurt ourselves and the ones we love.' He indicated a couple at the next table, where the girl was encased in a very tight and armless, leather jump-suit and an all-enclosing hood, covering eyes, nose and mouth. 'I take it she's on a diet and just thinks about the food!'

'It's an interesting way to lose weight!' She laughed. 'You're absolutely right. Life is strange, but isn't it fun to feel, touch and experience every possible facet.'

***

The waitress had now returned, kneeled on a small stool at the side of the table and was waiting submissively with her eyes turned down to the floor.

'I think it wants to take an order for drinks.' Lucinda was enjoying herself, choosing her words with the utmost care. 'I'll have a gin and Schweppes tonic, with lemon and two lumps of ice. Only put a little of the tonic in and bring me the rest of the bottle.' She held a hand across the table. 'Master!'

He realised who she was talking about, smiled at the thought and placed his order. 'Make mine a Black Label Johnny Walker with just ice and water.' He was about to say please, when he remembered where he was.

'I like the mode of address. Do you use it often?'

'Only when I feel absolutely safe!'

***

As the waitress delivered their drinks, Lucinda's hand caught her buttock and a gloved finger stroked and examined the tattoo. The waitress did not react, but just continued to place the drinks.

'We're going to order now!' He was using very direct words and phrases and acting Lucinda's vision and fantasy. 'I'll have the fresh asparagus followed by the duck.' He continued without pausing or any discussion. 'She'll have the bacon, mushroom and wild herb salad and the liver. We'll have a bottle of this Premier Cru Chablis.' He indicated the bottle with his finger. 'And this Gevrey-Chambertain with the main course. We'd also like a bottle of the Bristol Blue water.'

Lucinda's face was a mixture of pleasant admiration and slight anger. 'I hope you realise that I'm not very keen on offal.'

'Do you still feel absolutely safe?'

'Only if I stay away from the water!'

***

As the superb meal progressed, they became fascinated.

'Do you like the waitresses?' Lucinda had watched theirs intently every time, she had silently visited them to pour wine and water as necessary and serve the food. 'You have to admit, they've been well drilled and they've got tremendous style and finesse. And ours certainly has a real tattoo!'

'You're sure, are you?' She nodded. 'Are they always silent?'

'Yes, if at all possible. When it opened, they used to wear gags, but the customers would take the piss in all sorts of ways and chaos reigned. Once the gags had gone, everybody played the proper game. Just like you did!' They held hands and laughed together. 'Have you been watching our armless friend?'

'Yes! I can't see the point myself.' He was watching from the corner of his eye, as yet another plate of exquisite food was taken away uneaten. 'She's wasting all that food. And I don't think she's much of a conversationalist. He just seems to be lecturing her on what he's going to do to her later.'

'Does it sound exciting? I can't quite hear, but I can make out the odd words like whipping, beating and thrashing.'

'I think our poor friend will be the tiniest bit sore in the morning.' He paused as if waiting for her to react. 'The thought may be exciting, but I doubt if the reality is. You wouldn't like it would you?'

'Only playfully and in jest!'

At that moment a tall, long-haired blonde laced into an extremely short leather dress, with a corset-like body passed, balancing in a pair of high-heeled, thigh-length boots, that almost met the hem of the dress. His eyes followed the blondes waist, which was unlikely to have been much more than twenty inches. 'Have you ever been reduced like her?'

'No! But you know that the blonde was a he and not a her!'

***

Gradually, the lights started to dim as all the tables finished their meals and ordered drinks for the entertainment and the cabaret. It was no longer necessary for modesty and clothes that had preserved it were now discarded and collected by the waitresses. These too had forsaken their starched, formal uniforms and were now wearing just the most minimal of leather thongs and their shoes. All appeared to be gagged with a black rubber ball held by a severe bridle-like arrangement of straps and each had their left hand cuffed and securely locked to the corresponding thigh.

Lucinda had moved her chair beside his and a few minutes after removing her jacket, she unclasped the skirt. As the waitress skilfully picked up her clothes with her one free hand, Lucinda noticed a flash of gold at her nipples. 'They may or may not be real tattoos, but they certainly have had their nipples pierced.' She then locked a leash that one might use for a large dog to her collar and handed him the other end. 'Here, take this and don't let go! I want to be safe!'

'Are you frightened?'

'Only by an inner force, that makes me almost want the most horrible of things to happen to me!' She squeezed his hand and placed it on the naked triangle of her body. 'Protect me from it!'

***

The next hour or so, was all very innocent as couples and larger groups danced, drunk and generally chatted whilst some very good music played. The small band, of a much better quality than either had expected, in their white tuxedos were about the only normally dressed people in the room, as they went through a repertoire that ranged from Sinatra to the Beatles and back again.

In the middle of their second dance, whilst she was resting her head on his shoulder to a rather slow and seductive number and trying to move gracefully in her shoes, a large muscular man in a cropped T-shirt approached them. 'Is your beautiful slave for rent?'

'No! I'm not a man to share!' He felt Lucinda hang on tighter, as the man loomed above them.

'It looks fit enough and beautiful enough to welcome a good beating.' He looked like he could give it as well.

'No way. Not to rent, lease, purchase or anything in between.'

'Think about it though. I could make its butt the colour of its hair!'

Lucinda shivered as he took her back to their table.

Copyright 1999 by Ewart Higgins