It was a group of people with very sore heads, who drifted into breakfast that Wednesday morning. 'So they were friends of yours then!' Lucinda hadn't realised until they had all got back to the house, that Suzanne had known The Coupled in San Francisco. She had been even more surprised to learn, who'd given the original shave. 'Quite a coincidence, to come here and find them in the club.'

'I knew they were in London for one of their exhibitions, as they had sent me a card and an invite.' Suzanne was clearing away some of the debris. 'I knew they did the odd theatrical performance, but I didn't think they were doing any over here.'

'Tell me!' She had heard so many rumours that night about the pair of dancers. 'Is it true, that they've now been chained together for eighteen months? And also that they have developed a minimalist way of life, where they have few clothes and live in a virtually bare apartment?'

'It's all true. And probably more surreal than you could ever believe!' Suzanne thought of the last time, she had met them at their apartment in San Francisco. 'They believe that most possessions are irrelevant and you should buy as few things as possible with a practical purpose. For instance, they just have this one large room, with no furniture at all, except for an enormous mattress, that doubles as bed, sofa and chairs, but they have some of the most beautiful modern paintings and sculpture, that I have ever seen.'

'Are they always naked?' The programmer had broken into the conversation from the other table, where he was sitting with the housekeeper. 'Or at least nearly so!'

'It's all part of the minimalism!' Suzanne giggled at the thought. 'They own no shoes, shirts, skirts, dresses, sweaters, trousers or anything normal for that matter. All they ever wear are a few leather thongs, but she will sometimes feel that good taste and decorum dictates a bra!' Lucinda laughed at her own imagination. 'I once saw her in a coat on a very cold day, but normally they wear what you saw tonight. They certainly never have the problem that most people have, of what they are going to put on!'

'What's the exhibition and their sculpture like?' Lucinda had become very intrigued, as her imagination took hold.

'Some think it strange!' Suzanne did not. 'It's all stainless steel, brass, leather, amazing machines and other weird and wonderful contraptions. Some pieces are very erotic, some are funny and others are almost sado-masochistic!'

Lucinda was in a good mood. 'Sounds very interesting. Tell me more!'

Suzanne was searching for the best way to describe their sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always uniquely shocking creations, of which they themselves were always a major part. 'You should go and see them. They're here to the end of September.'

'I will!' She looked at the others and corrected herself. 'We will!'

'You all should! Take one piece that I think they have called Marriage.' She knew enough of those she was addressing, that they would get the point.' The two of them are locked in separate steel cages, that are not tall enough to stand upright or wide enough to lie down, with just a single stainless-steel tube between. Their connecting chain passes through the tube, but it's too long and too narrow for them to even touch fingers. Let alone hands.' She gestured and showed the others with her fingers. 'And as they have been gagged and blindfolded, they can't communicate in any meaningful way at all.'

'Sounds familiar!'

'And then there's Bed.' Suzanne raised an eyebrow and winked as she continued. 'Imagine an old fashioned brass bed, that's been cut in half with an oxy-acetylene cutter.'

'A bit like that cow of Damien Hirst's?'

'Well no! Much more wrecker's yard!' She thought she had given the wrong impression. 'But stylishly welded together with two leather mattresses and a clear plastic screen down the middle, that just has a small hole for the chain. Then they lie supposedly asleep locked one each side into neck, wrist and ankle stocks. Just like those awful wooden devices you see in castles and museums.'

'Look I don't want to be difficult!' The programmer had been logically thinking through everything Suzanne had said. 'If they're always chained together, then how do they get the chain through these connecting tubes and holes?'

'They don't always use the same chain, silly!' She blew him a kiss. 'After all, you don't always wear the same underpants?' She turned her nose up at him, to illustrate her view on his cleanliness. 'They just make sure that at all times, they have at least one chain connected, by putting the new one on first!' She started into a fit of giggles.

'What's so funny!'

'They have some of the most amazing rules about who keeps the keys!'

***

Russ had left early that morning for London to consult his lawyers and it was not until six that night he returned. The loyal Suzanne rushed to meet him on the drive, but she was brushed aside as he walked past everybody straight up to his room.

By monitoring the switchboard, Melanie knew he had phoned his father and he had been connected for about thirty minutes.

***

At eight, the same eight people from the previous night assembled.

Seven were very apprehensive, whilst Russ was his affable self at his preferred position at the head of the table. The meal was very good, but was ruined by the tension. Despite gentle probing from Chris and Lucinda, Russ would not offer any details on his discussions with some of the best and toughest lawyers that London could offer.

About ten, Suzanne entered and spoke quietly into Russ's ear. He excused himself politely, saying that he was wanted on the phone. He quickly left the room.

No-one said a word while he was away. It was just like those awful silences at school, when a whole class has done something extremely wrong and the headmaster is being fetched to administer the most savage and summary of justice and discipline.

After perhaps five minutes, Russ returned and saying nothing, he resumed his meal.

Lucinda tried again to obtain an answer to her questioning. 'What did the lawyers say? Is the deal to go through?'

This time Russ did answer, but not directly. 'I have come to a decision about a decision.' He paused putting the spoon that had just attacked an exquisite almond concoction, gently and deliberately onto the plate. 'The lawyers were good, very good and horrendously expensive.' He turned to Chris. 'But not as beautiful as you were last night!' She blushed. He started to speak in slow, measured tones, very unlike the Russ anybody had seen before. 'They took all of your fine words and phrases, dissected and examined each and every one, and then they have told me what to do! They gave me the most sensible of advice and I do not believe that the advice I would get in Boston, New York, Las Vegas, Los Angeles or even Tokyo or any other place in the world for that matter, would be one tiny bit different.'

Lucinda tried to probe. 'So they told you to accept?'

Russ avoided the answer again. 'They gave me very sound advice and as I told you I have come to a decision about a decision.'

'But they told you to accept?'

'Lucinda!' He looked at her very directly, with a stare she had only seen two or three times before. And once had been the awful day of the rape. 'Shut up! You'll know soon enough!' He stood up, paid his respects to the others at the table and left.

***

As the programmer unlocked the door of his now shared bedroom, Russ called to him. 'Limey. Get your butt, here!'

He turned and was shocked to see Russ making urgent beckoning signs with his hands to enforce his command. 'Don't I get a bit more respect?'

'Course, you fucking don't!'

Copyright 1999 by Ewart Higgins