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What did Malcolm have planned for them next? She was almost afraidtolook.
But onlyalmost.
She opened the book to the page he’d marked—again—with the red velvet choker she’d worn the night she’d played his Olympia. The painting this month was one by another French artist, William-Adolphe Bouguereau.Nymphs and Satyr. Four beautiful, nearly-naked women played on the banks of a halcyon lake. They’d caught a satyr watching them bathe, and now three of the four water nymphs tried to pull the reluctant man-goat into the lake as the fourth nymph waved for the others to join her at thewater’sedge.
She knew who the satyr was, that wascertain.
Mona spent Sunday turning herself into a nymph. She curled her long red hair and put a white flower behind her ear. She found a sheer white nightgown in the back of her closet. Malcolm would surely want her naked, but he could have the pleasure of undressing herhimself.
Near midnight she returned to the gallery and entered through the side delivery door. As soon the heavy industrial door latched behind her, she heard music coming from the back room. Music? How odd. It sounded like pan pipes and chimes, playful music, sprightly and light. The score to a satyr’s conquest? Perhaps. She carefully eased the door of the backroomopen…
A hand grabbed her by the arm and pulled her intotheroom.
"Here she is!” a girl’s voice called out. "Ifoundher!”
Mona stumbled into the back room, which had somehow been transformed into a woodland paradise with potted trees and a bubbling stone fountain. The girl who’d grabbed her dropped her hand and joined two other girls, all three in gauzy gowns and long ribbons in their hair dancing about to the music. One girl wore a gauzy gown of yellow, her hair was black and tightly curled and her skin a deep and lovely brown. Another girl wore pink and her hair was white-blonde and her skin as pale as milk glass. Another girl wore a sheer gown of blue and her hair was warm copper and stick-straight and her complexion only a shadelighter.
And she, Mona, was now the fourth girl, with hair of apple red in a gown ofwhite.
Mona was caught up in the dance and the music seemingly came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Two girls took her hands and soon they were skipping in a circle around the red and golden chair that Mona had loved since her childhood. It had become a throne now, Malcolm sitting naked upon it, his head crowned with laurels. It was a laughable scene, so Mona laughed and the girls laughed too. It was joyous laughter, not mocking, not disdainful. Malcolm’s beautiful cock lay half-hard on his lap as he watched his nymphs frolic and dance for him. She hadn’t danced in so long, she knew she must look a fool. But it was too pleasant a scene to stop. Her feet felt bewitched by the pipe music and the girls were all so pretty in their gauzy gowns with their hair ribbons flying and their faces allsmiles.
"Come dance with us,” the girl in the yellow gown said, breaking from the spinning circle and pulling on Malcolm’s hand. "Come dance with us, you sillyoldgoat.”
The girl in pink gasped and covered her mouth with her hands at the playfulinsult.
"Silly old goat?” Malcolm grabbed her hand with his other hand and yanked her into his lap. She squealed in surprise and burst into laughter as Malcolm tickled her stomach with his fingers. Mona and the three other girls stood together, their arms locked,watching.
"She’ll get it now for sure,” the pink girl said, shakingherhead.
"She’ll wish she hadn’t said that,” said the girlinblue.
"Or she’ll wish she’d said it twice,” the girl in pink added and they all laughed, evenMalcolm.
"She’ll have to be punished,” Malcolm said. "Won’t you, wickedchild?”
"I’m not wicked,” the girl in yellow said as she wriggled off his lap. "I’mhonest.”
"Honestly wicked.” Malcolm grabbed her arm again and dragged her back into his lap. "Now kiss me to say you’resorry.”
"I won’t!” The girl in yellow soundedadamant.
"Then I’ll steal the kiss and won’t give it back,”Malcolmsaid.
"You wouldn’t—” It was all the girl in yellow could say before Malcolm kissed her on themouth.
The two other nymphs dissolved into girlish laughter at the sight of their friend being kissed by Malcolm. One second the girl in yellow was trying to push him away, the next second she had her hands in his hair, trying to pull him closer. Even Mona laughed, though it was her lover who kissed another. She felt no jealousy. This was the game. The satyr must have his nymphs to torment. The nymphs must have theirsatyr.
At last the girl in yellow managed to flee from the prison of his lap. She rushed back to Mona and threw her armsaroundher.
"He caught me,” the girl in yellow said. "Don’t let himhaveme.”
"You’re the one who tried to make him dance with you,”Monasaid.
"Oh yes,” the yellow girl said. She stood up straight and proud. "That was my mistake. And he’s still notdancing.”
"But we should dance,” the girl in blue said. "Let’s dance so much he has no choice but tojoinus.”
It made no sense at all to Mona, but nothing in this room with that man and these silly girls did. Even more, she didn’t care if it made sense or not. She only wanted to dance with the pretty trio, these gauzy golden-eyed nymphs. They pulled ribbons from their hair and spun like dervishes as the music grew louder and faster. The girl in pink with the milk glass skin and pale yellow hair danced around Malcolm’s chair, his throne, and caught her ribbon round his wrist, then used it to drag him tohisfeet.
