THE CASE OF THE POSTAL MADNESS

Dear God, what a hangover. My head was throbbing.

And even worse, someone was banging on the door to my apartment.

I threw open the door, prepared to cuss out whoever was bothering me. But then I saw who was there and I paused.

It was Sooraya - my office girl - and Simone - the maid of a friend.

Sooraya looked frightened. Simone just seemed concerned.

Simone turned her head and gave Sooraya a tender kiss on the side of her head. "Go home, little friend," Simone told her. "Your husband and child need you."

Sooraya nodded her head jerkily, gave me a look that pleaded for forgiveness, and dashed away.

Then Simone looked into my eyes and smiled. She reached over and tied the belt of my robe. The robe had been hanging open and I wasn't wearing anything underneath it. Off hand, I couldn't remember the last time I'd worn real clothes.

Simone did a final adjustment to the collar of my robe and said, "May I come in, maitresse?"

"Maitresse" is French for "mistress". Simone was being polite to the point of obsequiousness.

"C'min," I slurred as I stepped back from the door.

Simone entered my apartment and immediately took charge. She's like that.

Simone is a dark-skinned Haitian woman who had the misfortune to be the servant and scientific test-subject of an evil bastard named "Essex". I helped kill Essex - and have no regrets about that.

Simone has powers. She's very strong, very fast, and can take a punch far better than most.

Once Essex was dead, Simone somehow ended up working as a maid for Emma Frost. I've been worrying about that ever since. Maybe I love Emma a little bit, but I don't have any illusions about what she is.

Simone escorted me to the living room couch and sat me down. Then she looked around, did a mental inventory of all the empty whiskey bottles, and made a tsking sound.

"Stop judging," I told her grumpily as she gathered up the bottles and carried them off to the kitchen trash. Inside the kitchen, I could hear her rattling about. Soon there was the smell of brewing coffee. After a while, Simone came out with a cup of coffee and put it in my hands. She'd also found the kitchen bottle of aspirin. She gave me a couple of pills.

"Okay," I said shakily. "You're a saint."

"Nobody has ever called me that, maitresse," Simone said with a laugh.

Then she leaned forward, and for a surprised second I thought she was going to kiss me. But instead, she sniffed the collar of my robe. And then a disapproving look came over her face.

"Okay, there's really no excuse for how I smell," I admitted.

Simone vanished into the bedroom. She came out with a clean robe, dragged me up onto my feet, and then replaced my foul robe with the clean one. I was so far gone, that I wasn't embarrassed at the flash of nudity that entailed.

Wow, did the new robe feel good.

"Where's Emma?" I asked. She was Simone's boss and I'd been waiting for her to show up for the last few weeks.

Simone shook her head. "She doesn't trust herself around you when you are in a state like this."

I chuckled as I finished my coffee. "Scared that she'll try and take advantage of me?"

"Even more scared that she will succeed," Simon said quietly.

That put me back on my heels. I didn't say anything as I drank more coffee.

Simone vanished into the bathroom and started the shower. Then she reappeared and pulled me into bathroom.

She undressed me - which pretty much just consisted of taking off my robe. Then she pushed me into the shower and handed me a bar of soap and a washcloth.

Then she undressed. I enjoyed the show while rubbing soap into the washcloth.

Simone is a pretty woman, but not a beautiful one. She's a little too muscular and tall, but the big problem is the network of fine scars that covers every inch of her body. Those are left-over from the many surgical procedures that Essex inflicted on her. They were only visible in the right kind of light and, for some reason, the light in the bathroom was just right.

I took a deep breath and began soaping Simone's shoulders, upper-arms, and breasts. She smiled in obvious pleasure. Then she took the washcloth from me and scrubbed me from face to feet.

"Do you do this for Emma?" I asked.

"Almost every morning," Simone told me. "Sometimes maitresse Gray gets to her first."

"Is that all you do for Emma?" I asked.

She chuckled. "You've always been curious about that, haven't you? Yes, I do give her sex. It's the least I can do for her after she took me in and gave me a place. But she never demands it of me. I ask it of her."

Simone leaned me against the wall of the shower, with my shoulders against the warm wet tiles, and then got down on her knees.

Her nose rubbed up against my pubic hair.

"Please, maitresse," Simone begged quietly. "May I give you pleasure?"

How could I say no?

One orgasm in the shower. Another when she enthusiastically toweled me dry. Then Simone took me into the bedroom, spread-eagled me on my bed, and ate me out again.

After that, Simone had me sit on the side of the bed and rubbed one of Marie's fine oils into my shoulders and back. She massaged days of tension and anger out of me.

"Did Emma tell you to come here?" I asked.

"Oui. But I would have come on my own."

"What does Emma want?"

"She is concerned about you. She knows how much Marie meant to you. She was worried that you might not be taking her absence well."

Then Simone hesitated before continuing. "She's right."

I snorted in agreement. That wasn't very ladylike. It occurred to me that Simone might not approve - she was used to dealing with ladies of quality. That didn't even slightly describe me.

"Tell Emma that I'm a complete wreck, and I'm moping around feeling sorry for myself," I said to Simone. "Just about any effort on her part and she can have me."

"I think she knows that," Simone replied.

"And that is why she isn't here," Simone added. "She doesn't want you this way. She wants you to come to her happy and willing."

That made me smile. It was so Emma. She wouldn't have anything but complete surrender.

Then Simone kissed the nape of my neck. Her nipples brushed against my bare back and that made me shiver.

"You can have me," she whispered in my ear. "I'll be your woman or your servant-girl - whichever you desire. I'll tend to you and your home. All you have to do is ask. What happened with Marie is not your fault. Please don't be sad, Domino - you have worth. Please let me be worthy of you."

Simone leaned her head against the back of mine and looped her arms around my midsection. My body and soul trembled with an eager desire to take her up on her offer. I'd always thought so much of Simone.

"I'm not ready yet," I told her. I hope she heard the regret in what I'd said.

I felt her nod.

"Lie down and open your legs," she told me. "I am going to take you again. Then I'll cook you some real food."

Simone kept her word. She got me off one more time. And then she fed me the first good meal I'd had in days.

Simone helped me get dressed. Then she walked me to my office

On the sidewalk, she said goodbye to me and it hurt to see the glitter of tears in her eyes. She kissed me goodbye before I walked inside. I could taste the salt of her tears.

Sooraya was inside the office. She cringed when she saw me.

"You're not in trouble," I told her. Then I sat at my desk and sighed as I looked at the small mountain of messages that had built up while I'd been busy feeling sorry for myself.

Assuming that the bottom of the pile was the oldest, I pulled out that message and read it.

It was from Emma. She was worried about me.

The next message was from Ororo. She was worried about me.

The next message was both a job offer and a request for help. And it was from a friend.

I picked up my phone. It was time to get back to work.

Lucy is a nude dancer at a decadent nightclub that's run by a fellow named Remy Lebeau. She's a complete tart, but she's helped Marie and I in the past. I consider her to be a friend.

"Where have you been?" she asked worriedly.

"I crawled inside a bottle and just crawled out," I replied.

There was a long silence. "Want to talk about it?" she asked eventually.

"Not really," I sighed. "But your message said you needed help?"

I could hear her voice perk up. "Yeah. Can we meet?"

"Sure," I told her. "You know the diner just across the street from my office?"

"The place with the really good pot-roast?" Lucy said thoughtfully.

"Yep."

"I can be there in a half-hour. Is that okay with you?"

I smiled to myself. "Yes. I'm buying." Like most serious dancers, Lucy starves herself in order to keep trim. If I let her, she'd order a salad instead of real food.

Lucy agreed and then hung up.

Sooraya put a cup of coffee in front of me. It was all I could do not to kiss her. Sooraya is really conservative girl and she'd panic if I did that.

"Tell me," I asked tiredly. "Did I pay you last week?"

She nodded her head. "Yes, Miss Domino."

I took a sip from my coffee. "You're too honest for your own good," I told her. Then I wrote her a bonus check. Not everyone would stick around and keep the office running when the boss had fucked off.

I spent another fifteen minutes reading messages. Then I left the office and walked to the diner.

Lucy was waiting for me. And she had a damned salad in front of her.

I sighed and ordered both of us a pot-roast dinner. Lucy tried to protest.

"Shut up, gorgeous," I growled at her.

Lucy subsided. But she was giving me a long and worried look.

By the way, I wasn't exaggerating when I said 'gorgeous'. Dancers are professionally pretty women. Lucy was near the top of that particular heap. She was almost as beautiful as Marie.

"I hear you and Marie broke up?" she asked tentatively.

"You heard right," I said.

She sighed and shook her head. "Damn, I figured you two would be together forever. I hope it works out."

So did I. But I just shrugged my shoulders.

"I've made you offers in the past," Lucy continued carefully. "They're still open."

That was "open" as in "open legs". Lucy isn't shy about that sort of thing.

I smiled politely. "Maybe we should talk business," I said.

She nodded and reached for her purse. Then she pulled out a few letters.

"I've been getting some scary mail," she told me as she slid the letters towards me.

I frowned and open the first envelope.

Holy cow, Lucy wasn't kidding.

The letters started creepy and steadily got worst. The letter-writer thought Lucy was pretty (true) and was willing to write poetry (bad) declaring that fact. Then he started telling her how to run her life. She was supposed to give up on dancing. Then they would meet up and live happily ever after.

When Lucy didn't immediately give up on her job, the letters got mean. As in, "Do as I say or I'll hurt you."

The last letter was, "Do as I say or I'll kill you."

"Any idea who this asshole is?" I asked.

Lucy shook her head. "I've had customers fall for me before. But not like this."

A couple of plates of pot-roast appeared in front of us. Lucy dug in as I examined the letters themselves. The paper was of mediocre quality. The envelopes could be got from the post office or any stationary store. The were written in pen and the penmanship was better than average. The grammer and spelling were good. There were no signatures or return addresses. The post marks indicated they had been sent from inside the city.

It wasn't much to work with.

I frowned. There was no way I'd abandon Lucy, but I wasn't sure what to do next.

"Can I keep the letters?" I asked her.

Lucy's mouth was full, but she nodded.

Then she swallowed. "I don't have a lot of money, but I have some. And I'm also willing to give you some personal services in exchange for your help. When's the last time you got your kitty petted?"

Under the table, Lucy caressed my calf with a bare foot. She looked me in the eyes and licked her upper lip.

Yeah, 'personal services' meant exactly what you think it means. And I won't say I wasn't tempted.

I managed to keep a straight face. Lucy was the kind of girl who was convinced she was irresistible. And she wasn't far wrong. Hey, I'd just settled a long-standing fantasy about Simone. Maybe it was time to keep going?

"Let me check this out before we start talking about my fee," I told her. "There might not be much I can do."

Lucy smiled, speared a chunk of carrot with her fork, and did something to it with her tongue that should be illegal.

"Harlot," I said to her.

Her smile turned into a grin.

Remy was the owner of the nightclub where Lucy worked. I described the problem and showed him the worst of Lucy's letters.

"Merde," he said disgustedly as he tossed the last letter down on the table between us. "Lucy didn't tell me about this."

"Ever had something like this happen before?" I asked.

Remy sighed. "Yes. There's always some damn fool who falls in love with a dancer. Most of them don't take it this far. But I have no idea who this might be. And if Lucy doesn't know... well, there's not much to do about it."

"I'll up the security for her and the other dancers," he said. "But there is only so much I can do."

I nodded. "Any other girls get letters like this?"

Remy shook his head. "Not that I know of. Of course, Lucy didn't tell me about this. Some other girls might be just as quiet."

I frowned. "Can I talk to the other dancers?"

Remy didn't hesitate. "Of course you can."

A stunning black girl named Hesther gave me something to work with.

"This looks familiar," she said worriedly. She was looking at one of the letters.

"Yeah?" I said.

"Have you ever met a dancer named Sif?" Hesther asked.

As a matter of fact, I had...

"She doesn't work for Remy," I said slowly.

"No, she's at the Red Fox," Hesther agreed. "She and her girlfriend Hildy. I pull a shift there every now and then for extra cash. Sif got a few letters like this. Hildy showed them to me."

"When did Sif get those letters?" I asked.

Hesther reeled off a time frame from a few months back. It was before Lucy started getting her letters.

"Did anyone ever approach Sif and Hildy?" I asked.

If this creep had done that, there was a pretty good chance that Sif would have settled him once and for all. Of course, that wouldn't explain the more recent letters Lucy had received.

Hesther shook her head. "Not that I know of."

"Get on your knees," Sif told me sternly.

Sif is over six foot tall and is one powerful lady. Of course, she wasn't really human.

We were in a back dressing room of the Red Fox. That was Sif's domain.

"Whatever I've done to piss you off, I'm sorry," I said to Sif as Hildy gave me a long hug.

Sif took a long moment to look at me. Then she nodded in grudging appreciation. "It is my understanding that you and Marie are no longer lovers," she said. "Oh... and I said 'kneel' and I meant it. We're battle comrades yet you never come to see me. You only appear when you have questions."

I knelt. Wow, was I turned on.

"So where's Marie?" Hildy asked intensely.

"I'm not sure," I told Hildy. Then I looked up at Sif. "Are you going to beat me up?" I asked.

Sif took a long breath and then let it out. "No. No. That is not required."

"Thanks," I told her.

Sif nodded brusquely. "What do you want, Domino?" she asked.

"I have a client who's a dancer," I said. "She's getting threatening letters. Someone you worked with told me you had the same problem. I want to see if there's a connection."

Sif frowned. Then she looked at Hildy, "Do we still have any of those damned letters?"

Hildy shook her head. "No, mistress. You got angry and burned them all."

Sif looked back at me. "The letters were written by someone who was upset about the relationship between Hildy and I. They were insulting filth."

Then Sif paused and let out a long sigh. "I've noticed how some people here on Midgard have a problem with two shield-maidens becoming lovers. I find that... sad."

"Any idea how the guy writing the letters knew about you and Hildy?" I asked.

Sif rolled her eyes. "We sometimes danced suggestively together. The audience mostly enjoys that and there's never been any trouble. But then we did something unusual."

I raised my eyebrows. "Like what?" I asked.

Hildy took over. "A wealthy customer asked us to make love in front of him and his friends. We performed at his mansion. Within a few days, we started getting those letters. We assumed the writer had attended that performance."

"A shame," Sif said wistfully. "We were well paid to do something we enjoyed. I hoped it would be the start of a new aspect of our careers."

"Who was the customer who asked you to do that?" I asked.

Sif told me a name. To my surprise, I recognized it.

I nervously licked my lips. "Can I get up?"

Sif gave me a long and steady look. Then she nodded abruptly. "You may," she told me.

Hildy helped me get to my feet.

Percy Andrews made his money the old fashioned way - by inheriting it. He also inherited a membership in the Hellfire Club, which is the most degenerate old-boys club in the city. He was the guy who paid to have Sif and Hildy put on their show.

Percy's main squeeze is a girl named Olivia. I'd bumped into her a couple of times and I liked her.

I called Percy's place and eventually got Olivia on the phone. We agreed to meet at a nearby speakeasy. But first she had to get Percy to bed. Olivia seemed to think that was just a matter of giving him a quick orgasm and then letting him give in to the male tendency to nod off after that.

I went home and changed into something a little less butch. Then I went to the speakeasy, grabbed a table, and waited for Olivia to show up.

"Wow, you look good," Olivia told me after she appeared. As always, she had a little bit of a Boston accent. And, actually, she was dressed way better than me.

I smiled, stood up, and gave Olivia a quick peck on the cheek. She returned it.

"You look great in a dress!" she said. "You should do it more often!"

After we sat down, Olivia blinked in surprise when a Bloody Mary appeared in front of her. I'd left an order at the bar to deliver it when she joined me.

"I remember that you like them," I told her. Olivia grinned at me and guzzled down a big swallow.

"Thanks," she told me as she began gnawing on a celery stalk.

"I got a few questions for you," I said. "It's no pressure and if you don't want to answer, I'll understand."

Olivia nodded.

"Percy hired a couple of girls from the Red Fox and had them put on a special performance at his place a few months ago," I said. "Do you remember that?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, they did a girl-on-girl show. And there was no fooling around or pretending. It was the real thing. I think the girls were named Sif and Hildred."

I nodded. "Yeah, that's them. Anyhow, they got some threatening mail afterwards. Whoever wrote it had a problem with their relationship. Sif seems to think that it was the show at Percy's place that started that."

Olivia frowned. "It's possible."

"Did you notice anyone having a negative reaction to Sif and Hildy's show?" I asked.

A thin smile appeared on Olivia's face. "Once the girls got busy, I spent most that show with Percy's dick in my mouth. That didn't lend to me noticing much of anything. Although the show must have been something else since Percy did pop a really big load."

I drummed my fingers on the table. "Did any of Percy's guests seem hinky to you?"

Olivia shrugged. "They were mostly business buddies of Percy's - the kind of guys who go to private clubs for brandy and cigars. Percy had loaned me out to most of them at one time or another. They have the usual rich-guy kinks, but nothing too odd. And none of them seemed inclined to hate anyone. Hell, I'm just a fancy whore and they treated me okay."

I frowned. "Where does the Hellfire club fit into all of that? It seems to me that Percy could have got the same show there, without having to shell out any extra cash."

"Not everyone at the show are in the Hellfire club," Olivia told me. "Percy was trying to impress some guys who were newbies to the scene. You'd be amazed how many business deals get done that way."

"Where any other women their besides Sif, Hildy, and you?"

"A few working girls, some girlfriends, and even a wife or two. They provided the same kind of services that I did. The next time Percy does something like that, I should run a knee-pad concession."

"Could you give me the names of the men who were there?"

"Sure! But you have to forget where you got them from."

I nodded. Then Olivia dug a pen and a scrap of paper out of her purse. After frowning thoughtfully, she began jotting down names.

Olivia was taking a taxi back home. Since I didn't want her waiting out on the sidewalk by herself, I walked her outside.

"Look, I don't want to get too nosy," she said. "But I hear you and Marie aren't together anymore."

I sighed. "Does anyone in this town talk about anything else?"

"Gossip makes the world go 'round," Olivia replied with a shrug. "But anyway, if you're looking for company - anything from drinks and a movie to some serious necking, look me up."

I couldn't help but smile. This time, the kiss we exchanged was a lot more intense.

We were still kissing when Olivia's taxi showed up. The driver was pop-eyed as he watched us.

"Love you, sweetie," Olivia whispered in my ear just before she got into the cab.

The next morning, someone began knocking at my door. Hoping it was Simone again, I opened the door and...

It was Emma Frost.

"Hey," I said softly.

"Hey, yourself," she replied. "Simone begged me to let her visit you again, but this has been a long time coming and I thought we should get it out of the way."

I left the door open. Emma walked in and closed the door behind her.

"Can I provide you with a shower and some oral sex?" Emma asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You're not as pretty as Simone. And probably not as good at those things. So the answer is no," I replied heatedly.

Emma smiled. "You forget that I'm a telepath, so I know you don't believe that. Although I do appreciate how well you treated Simone. She's ready to fall in love with you."

"You don't deserve her," I said flatly.

This time, Emma nodded. "I know. I keep hoping she'll heal from the emotional scars that Essex left on her. But she'll leave me when that finally happens, and I'm not looking forward to that day."

"You'll miss the hot shower sex?" I asked nastily.

"Maybe I'll miss her friendship and loyalty," Emma replied softly.

That brought me up short. "Okay," I said after a long sigh. "I'm being bitchy and there's no good reason for it. How about I pour us some ice-tea and we talk like friends?"

The smile that appeared on Emma's face was all the answer I needed.

Emma has more than once used her mind-powers to take me to her California estate. It's a beautiful place, near a town called Half-Moon Bay, overlooking the Pacific.

There are some hot springs in the area and Emma has sprung for an architect to build her some Roman-style baths centered around those springs.

We were surrounded by white marble and colorful mosaics. Beautiful attendants - both men and women - took care of us as Emma and I soaked in a warm tub. I held up a glass and a beautiful Latina girl poured me some more iced tea.

I took a sip. The tea was perfect.

"Is this place real?" I asked curiously. "Or is it a fantasy?"

"It's quite real," Emma told me. "Someday, I hope we can go to California together and I can show it to you."

"So what do you want, Emma?" I asked.

"Well... I want you," she said. "That's no secret. And given recent changes in your life, I'm hoping it's now possible."

I smiled into my cup. That was no surprise. And it was surprisingly honest coming from Emma.

"I'm not ready yet," I told Emma.

She sighed and nodded her head. "Blast! I suppose I'll have to comfort myself with Jean and Simone."

"I pity you," I said mockingly.

"It could be much worse," Emma admitted. "But did you know that I have a new servant girl living with me? Her name is Joy. She's was a Hellfire Club concubine who I helped rescue from an opium den."

I frowned. "That name sounds familiar... Wait - an under-aged Chinese girl? She serves drinks and herself at the club? Oh, Emma, don't tell me you're chasing teenage girls!"

"We're not sleeping together!" Emma replied heatedly.

I believed her. Emma has her own set of rules.

"She helps Simone out around the apartment," Emma added more calmly. "She's staying in our spare servants bedroom. Logan also has her tending bar at his dreadful hotel. And she's no longer a part of the Hellfire Club."

"That's good," I said. "I always thought she was too young for that place."

Emma nodded in agreement.

Then Simone entered the tub-room and took over our care.

"Is this really you?" I asked her.

Simone smiled at me. "Yes. Maitresse Frost invited me to attend."

Simone refreshed our glasses. Then she stepped out of the terrycloth robe she was wearing and slid into the tub with Emma and I. Taking my feet in her hands, she began giving them a massage that was just this side of heaven.

"Oh. My. God," I whimpered.

"Simone, you have a habit of forgetting who's the boss!" Emma said sharply.

Simone smiled at Emma. "Your turn is next, maitresse. Be patient."

Emma subsided.

"So," I said to Emma, "what do you really want? Why did you show up at my door?"

She shrugged. "To check on you. To see if you're okay."

I sighed. "Look... I'm a mess, but I'm getting better."

"Do you have a case?" Emma asked. "Work always seems to motivate you. You're so drearily bourgeoisie that way."

I told Emma about Lucy and Sif and the letters they'd received.

Emma made a face. "I swear, the petty bigotries of some people..."

"Yep," I said. There wasn't a lot else to say.

Simone pulled my foot out of the water and kissed my big-toe.

"Find who is sending those letters. Make sure your friends are safe. And I will reward you," she said to me. And the devil was dancing in her dark eyes.

Back in the office, I sat slumped in my chair and tried to deal with the way Emma and Simone were playing me.

I considered going home, taking a hot shower, and diddling myself. At that moment, it made a lot of sense.

Then the phone rang. It was Olivia.

"Hey," she said. "I've had a thought. Can I see those letters that were sent to your friend?"

I frowned. "Sure... but what are you thinking?"

I could almost see her shake her head. "I don't want to go too deep into that. How about I come to your office? Or maybe I should come to your apartment?"

I considered that for a second. "My office would be better," I told Olivia.

"See you soon."

I hung up the phone. Then I looked at Sooraya.

"Call it a night," I told her.

She nodded and began organizing her desk.

Olivia showed up in no time. She was conservatively dressed and looked as if she had a lot on her mind.

She sat in the chair that faced my desk and I handed her Lucy's letters.

Olivia took her time as she examined the letters one-by-one.

Eventually, she sighed and put the letters back on my desk.

"I know who wrote these," she said. "I've seen the handwriting before. She sometimes handles correspondence for her husband."

"She?" I asked stupidly.

Carl Victor Spaulding is pretty much an average member of the Hellfire Club. In fact, he's a lot like Percy - Olivia's man - a guy who inherited old-money and has a lot of unjustified self-esteem.

He was also married. And he wasn't the bad-guy in this story.

His wife was.

Margaret Spaulding wasn't a young woman. She wasn't exactly old either. But I could tell that she'd once been a beauty. Even now, she's a woman who attracts the eye.

I contacted her through her husband's secretary and we met at a midtown tea-house. She seemed interested to be talking to a private eye - especially a female private eye.

Then I showed her the letters and asked her why she wrote them. She broke down into tears.

I felt like a damn monster. I had to remind myself that she'd started all of this.

"I'm sorry," she gasped out. "I'm sorry."

"You don't owe me any apologies," I said as I handed her my handkerchief. "You hurt other people - not me. And this has to stop."

Margaret nodded her head miserably.

I let out a long sigh. "What the hell, Mrs. Spaulding? Why did you do this?"

She dabbed her eyes with my handkerchief and then let out a long sigh.

"My husband has become deeply enmeshed in the Hellfire Club and the activities and pleasures of its members. As a wife, I've participated in that," she told me.

I nodded slowly.

"I've been involved in some deviant activities," Margaret continued. "The worst was a party where two trollops had sex with each other. I was... I was naked and on my knees before my husband as that happened. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I nodded again. Actually, Sif had told me that various female companions had satisfied their men at that event. It wasn't easy to visualize the gray-haired and dignified Margaret Saunders nude and on her knees as she blew her husband in a room full of people, but it's a big and weird world.

"I... lashed out," she confessed. "And I did it more than once."

I let out a long breath. "You have to stop," I said.

She nodded her head miserably.

Two days later I stepped into Lucy's apartment and she greeted me with one hell of a kiss.

"Thank you," she said. There were tears glittering in her eyes.

I made an indistinct sound that didn't mean much. A kiss from Lucy pretty much unhinges your brain.

Lucy was dressed formally, like she was about to go to church. It was an odd look for her, but she made it work.

Lucy sat me down. Then she poured me a shot of whiskey from an expensive-looking decanter.

"How much do I owe you?" Lucy asked.

I shook my head. "It's on the house. I don't like to charge friends."

She gave me a long look. "How about I pay you in kind?"

I knew that was coming. Long ago, a mutant messed with Lucy's head. She ended up with an unconventional and aggressive attitude about sex. Off hand, I couldn't count the number of times she's made me indecent offers.

I smiled at her. "On the house," I repeated quietly.

Lucy nodded distantly. "Maggie visited me yesterday. We talked for a while."

I tried not to react at the off-hand way Lucy referred to Margaret Saunders as 'Maggie'.

"I feel sorry for her," Lucy admitted. "She's the kind of woman who can't... can't... well, she's not like me. Her bastard of a husband is getting her into things she can't handle. It's driving her around the bend."

I shrugged. "Threatening and insulting people isn't going to solve her problems."

"She's thinking about divorcing her husband," Lucy said.

"I'm not surprised," I said. "And that's probably for the best."

Lucy nodded.

"Lady Margaret did visit me," Sif told me. In the background, Hildy nodded. We were sitting in a diner down the street from where they worked.

Actually, 'Lady Margaret' did sound like a correct form of address. Especially coming from Sif.

"I offered personal combat," Sif said uneasily. "But the lady declined."

"That's probably for the best," I said. "The authorities wouldn't approve of you killing her."

"I then considered whipping her," Sif continued. "But... that also didn't seem appropriate."

Judging from the look on her face, Hildy seemed not to agree with that sentiment, but she kept her mouth shut.

Sif took a devastating chunk out of her hamburger. Once Sif was done chewing she added, "She tried to give me money. My people practice the custom of using gold to expiate crimes and offenses. I accepted her coin. Then I had her get on her hands and knees and kiss my feet."

Hildy giggled and said, "Me, too."

"I later regretted that," Sif said. Her eyes were distant. "This all happened because Lady Margaret felt ill-used and dishonored. Did I do the same to her?"

I shook my head. It just wasn't my place to say.

Then Sif showed me that she was a great woman.

"Please speak to your client for me," Sif said resolutely. "Tell her that matters are settled between us and I bear her no ill-will. And she ever wants to meet with me and talk - about any subject - I'm willing."

It turns out that Margaret is divorcing her husband. I hope she takes him to the cleaners.

There have been a few newspaper stories about the divorce that came awful close to telling the truth of what happened. A couple of papers even mentioned the Hellfire Club by name. At least one reporter vanished after that. I understand that he's now a permanent resident in a back-room at the Hellfire Club mansion. Since the possibilities inherent in that are horrible, I asked Emma about it.

She just shook her head and said, "He'll be freed in a year or so."

Then she gave me a hard look. "Don't feel sorry for him," she said. "He's a blackmailer and a liar. I think he'll be far better behaved once he's released and allowed to wear clothes again."

Then Emma smiled viciously. "In the meantime, we have to make sure every reporter in town sees what we are doing to him. The name of the Hellfire Club is never to be bandied around in the common press."

I'm still miserable, but I'm not alone. It turned out that I have more friends than I thought. Lucy, Olivia, and I visit each other regularly. Sif and Hildy stop by at least once a week. Sooraya and Josh have me over for dinner every Sunday. Emma and I go to the opera and sometimes take in some ballet. In revenge, I make her go to cowboy movies.

Simone... well, she treats me very well. We alternate who is the 'maitresse' and who is the humble maid. Emma approves wildly of that. She says it's good training for me.

"I still plan on making you mine," she tells me. Her blue eyes are scary-bright whenever she says that.

Maybe most importantly, I'm staying off the booze.

But something odd just happened. Marie sent me a bottle of fine perfume in the mail. It was accompanied by a stiffly written letter assuring me that she was fine and hoping that I was likewise okay.

Simone bathed me, kissed me all over my body, then delicately applied Marie's perfume to me.

It smelled like Marie.

It smelled like heaven.