"I love you, you know." Roland's red hair flopped rakishly onto his forehead as he leaned down to kiss her.

"Really?" she giggled.

"Really."

He kissed her again and crossed his blue eyes at her in that cute way he had, making her laugh. Then he burst into flame, quickly melting into a nightmare travesty of the man he'd been.

McClellan came awake instantly, her heart pounding in her ears. When she'd calmed down a bit, she realized she was sitting up in bed, covered in sweat. This dream hadn't plagued her in months. Why now?

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" said an anxious female voice. McClellan aimed her eyes in the direction of the voice, and saw the shadowy shape of a woman approaching the bed, followed closely by a large man.

Who *are* these people? she wondered fuzzily. Am I still dreaming?

The woman-shape sat down next to her, placing gentle hands on her shoulders. "We heard you scream," she said softly. "Did you have a nightmare?'

The big man stopped at the foot of the bed, but didn't say anything.

"Richard, turn on a light, please," the woman-shape instructed. "Make sure it's low." The man moved to McClellan's bedside and tapped the base of the small lamp on the nightstand once, leaving it on its dimmest setting. The room emerged from the shadows, and McClellan found herself looking into a pair of large, concerned green eyes.

Reen, that's her name, she quickly reminded herself. My slave ...

She shuddered a bit, remembering that. And the man was Richard, the other one, who was supposed to be her bodyguard now.

"You're sweating, ma'am. Would you like some water?"

McClellan nodded, and Reen disappeared into the small kitchen area, leaving Richard standing by the bed. She returned with a glass, and watched as her mistress drained it in just a few swallows.

"Thanks," she whispered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Reen took the empty glass. "That's kind of you, ma'am - but thanks aren't necessary."

"It's a habit I can't seem to break." McClellan made a weak attempt at a smile. "You'll just have to get used to it."

"Yes, ma'am, as you wish." Reen gave a little bow and took the glass to the kitchen.

"Will you need me to stay, ma'am?" asked Richard, his deep voice made almost sepulchral by sleep.

"No, thanks," McClellan yawned, turning to look at him. "You can ... " Her words trailed off as she suddenly noticed that he was clad only in a pair of dark grey shorts. And holy shit, was he *built*. She couldn't stop gawking at him. All sorts of interesting things were starting to happen to her body, things that hadn't happened in a very long time.

Richard cleared his throat. "Ma'am?"

Her head snapped as she forced her gaze back up to his face. "Yeah ... uh ... I'm fine." She could feel herself blushing. "Go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you."

"No apology is needed. I'm at your service, ma'am. You can wake me at any time." He bowed slightly, then turned to go just as Reen came back in. His bed was located in the smaller slaves' room next to the main bedroom, so he was within earshot should he be summoned. Reen, as a personal Attendant, slept in the same room as her mistress. She had her own small bed against the opposite wall.

Reen waited until they were alone to speak again. "You must be uncomfortable in that damp gown, ma'am. Let me get you a fresh one."

Before McClellan could reply, Reen went to the closet and started searching through the garments there, finally pulling out a short, thin gown. It looked extravagant next to the plain grey one she wore. "Will this do, ma'am?"

McClellan nodded groggily and got out of bed. Damn, she really *was* drenched. "Yes, that's fine." She started to undress, but Reen hurried over and stopped her.

"Oh, no, ma'am - I'll do that." She laid the clean gown on the bed, and McClellan reluctantly allowed her to remove the sweaty one. The cool conditioned room air felt good on her damp skin.

"I've changed my mind," she said when Reen picked up the fresh gown. "I think I'll sleep like this. It's more comfortable."

Reen nodded dutifully. "Of course, ma'am. As you wish." She picked up the wet gown and draped it over a nearby chair, then rehung the clean one in the closet as McClellan got back into bed.

It was so weird, having someone else dress and undress her. Over her protests, Reen had insisted on preparing her for bed earlier as well. It made her feel like a child again, like she was being tended by her mother. Having Reen sleeping in the same room wasn't so bad, though - she was used to the constant female company, having grown up sharing a room with two sisters. To be honest, it had been nice to have someone there when she woke up screaming, with that horrible vision of Roland's melting face.

"Ma'am?"

McClellan rolled her head to the side to look at Reen.

"Would you sleep better if I stayed with you? I thought you might not want to be alone after your nightmare."

No, I *don't*, thought McClellan.

"No, that's ok, thanks," she told Reen. "I'll be alright."

"Are you sure, ma'am?" Reen pressed. "You still seem agitated."

"Yeah ... " she answered slowly. "I guess I am."

Without a word, Reen slipped under the covers before McClellan could stop her, maintaining a respectful distance. "Would you like the light left on, ma'am?"

"Uh - no ... you can turn it off." McClellan pulled the covers closer to her body, suddenly very aware of her own nudity.

Reen did as she was told, then settled onto her side facing her mistress.

It's like some kind of weird slumber party, thought McClellan. With a slave instead of sisters.

The two women lay silently for a while, McClellan shifting every few seconds to find a comfortable position. Reen just lay quietly, watching her. Her sweet voice piped up after a few minutes of this.

"Ma'am?"

"Yeah."

"You seem unable to sleep. May I share your burden?"

McClellan sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"If you wish, you can tell me your dream, and then you won't have to bear it alone. Perhaps then you can sleep."

McClellan considered this for a moment. She'd never told anyone about the dreams, not even her sisters. Maybe Reen was right - maybe it *would* help. After all, it had been two years - a damn long time to be holding a terrible image like that inside her head.

What the hell, why not. Better than talking to a goddam therapist. At least this way I don't have to pay for it.

"It was about my husband," she told Reen after a long pause, ignoring the guilty twinge when she remembered that the reason she wasn't paying was because she owned this woman. "About ... how he died."

"How did he die, ma'am?"

McClellan hesitated, waiting to see if she could do this without crying. She hadn't really discussed Roland's death with anyone since a few months after his funeral. Her family knew better than to broach the subject, and all her friends had long since given up trying to make her talk about it. But here she was, about to spill her guts to a slave, of all people.

You shouldn't think of her that way, she corrected herself.

"Well ..." she began slowly. "He was a technician. His job was maintaining the plasma units in power stations. One day, he was doing that, and - " She stopped to breath away the tears that threatened to spill over.

Reen waited silently for her to go on.

"He was working on a plasma unit, and it had a leak no one knew about. They should have seen it. They should have sealed off the unit and never let him near it, but - " McClellan squeezed her eyes shut, and tears popped out of the corners and trickled down onto her pillow. She took a few more deep breaths.

"He was walking up to it when it ruptured, and it just ... burned him all over, pretty much." She started shivering. "He lived for two days after that. He uh ..." She stopped to sniff and wipe at her eyes. "He was just ... melted. Like a candle. I could barely tell where his eyes were."

She felt a tissue touch her face as Reen, for the second time that day, blotted her tears away.

"He wasn't in any pain, thank god. They kept him full of drugs. He didn't even recognize me when I went to see him."

"Then it was his face in your dream," said Reen. "His ruined face."

McClellan let out a shuddering breath, unable to stop herself. "Yes."

"Now I'll see it as well, ma'am," Reen whispered, still carefully blotting. "Such a burden is more easily borne by two." She scooted a bit closer and placed a hand on top of her mistress' head. "Rest your mind, ma'am," she whispered. "You need your strength for tomorrow's arbitration."

McClellan closed her eyes and relaxed into the soothing sensation of Reen's soft hand stroking her hair back from her forehead, much as her mother had done in her childhood. Gradually, her crazily spinning mind slowed down, and she felt herself sinking once more into slumber. It felt so good just to have someone touch her again.

So this is what it's like to have a slave, she thought drowsily. It's not so bad, really...

When she next awoke, the image in her mind was not that of her dead husband, and the fire was centered much lower than her head.

"Should I call Richard, ma'am?"

"What?" McClellan was breathing hard and sweating again, but this time not from fear.

"You were having a pleasure dream, ma'am," said Reen's voice beside her in the dark. "Would you like Richard to serve you now?"

"*Serve* me?"

"Yes, ma'am. He can relieve your need, if you wish." Reen was calm and matter-of-fact, as if she had merely offered her mistress another glass of water. It took a few moments before McClellan was awake enough to understand what the slave was suggesting.

"Uh - " she sat up quickly, holding the covers to her chest. "I'll be right back." McClellan leapt out of bed and walked quickly to the large bathroom, locking the door behind her.

"Lights, twenty percent." When she could see, she reached for the robe hanging near the tub and slipped it on, then sat down heavily. Nothing in the world could have prepared her for a situation like this. She dropped her head into her hands and tried to still the whirling in her mind. Her brain was a mad jumble of images, the most prominent at the moment being that of the man in the next room.

Her marriage had been an especially passionate and satisfying one. McClellan was no prude, but so long had her sexual thoughts been centered on her husband, they'd practically dried up after his death. She'd pretty much resigned herself to being alone and built her whole life since then around her work. True, opportunities had come her way - some of them with exceptionally attractive men - but nothing had ever happened. None of them had sparked any interest, awakened her senses the way Roland had.

Until now.

Why?, she thought, raking her hands back through her hair. Why did it have to be here, now? Why did it have to be a goddam *slave*? This just isn't fair.

She tried without success to push away the dream image of his broad shoulders hovering over her as he ran those big hands over her thighs and gently parted them ...

Stop it, you idiot!

McClellan leapt up and paced the big bathroom, the unbearable fire in her loins driving her thoughts in all kinds of crazy directions. What *would* it be like to summon Richard and order him into her bed? Reen had assumed she would, so it was apparently common practice here. He *was* hers to command, after all. And this wasn't Earth - she was free to indulge herself if she wished, as would any other slave owner on this world.

Oh, my god ... you can't be serious. She stopped to stare at herself in the mirror. Pull yourself together, McClellan. She lowered her head and made herself take several slow, deep breaths. Snap out of it. Take care of business, and get back to bed. You have more important things to think about.

When she was through, she darkened the bathroom and carefully let herself out, stopping to listen to Reen's slow, even breathing. As quietly as possible, she dropped her robe on the carpeted floor beside the bed and slipped back under the covers, finally able to relax into the soft mattress without tossing and turning. Her erotic dream seemed a bit more distant now, and had lost some of it intensity.

Still, she couldn't help replaying the heated fantasies that had flooded her mind as her fingers did their work.

She couldn't stop herself from wishing, just before she fell asleep, that the person next to her was someone else.

Someone she shouldn't want at all.