"Who's going to take care of things around here when you both go off to a show? You know I can't be trusted. I'll have all of our appointments screwed up in no time."

"Well, actually," Anne began, "I have this friend who needs a job. I thought maybe I could teach her the desk, and she could help out cleaning the runs and things."

Dane arched her brows and looked from Anne's expectant face over to Caroline.

"I guess she's got it all figured out."

Caroline shrugged. "Looks that way."

Dane smiled. "Tell her to come see me. We can talk about it."

"Great!" Anne exclaimed. "I'll go call her."

As she rushed off, Dane laughed. "Getting to be quite the business woman!"

"Getting to be quite a woman, period," Caroline replied, her face glowing. She led the dog into his run and returned to join Dane on the rear steps.

"I haven't seen much of you since the show last week." She studied Dane's profile for a moment, noting that she looked more rested and relaxed than she had in a long time. When Dane remained silent, Caroline could no longer contain herself. "Oh come on! Tell me what happened!"

"When?" Dane asked, as she fished about in her jacket for a light. Her hand came upon a small object in the inside pocket of her denim jacket, and she pulled out Kyle's lighter. She stared at it for a moment, a slow smile playing over her face. Kyle must have put it there the night Dane spent with her.

Caroline followed Dane's gaze and asked in a puzzled voice, "Present?"

"Nope, a souvenir."

Caroline looked exasperated. "Dane, you're being dense! What happened after the show?"

"I told you. I went to Kyle's for dinner."

"And?"

"And we ended up having breakfast, okay?"

"Okay!" Caroline felt like dancing. "So are you seeing her again?"

Dane nodded slowly. "She's coming into town this weekend. I told her I'd meet her at the bar."

"Progress at last," Caroline exclaimed.

Dane turned to look at her, her eyes solemn. "Don't jump to any conclusions, Caroline. We're just going to have a drink. I told you before I don't want anything serious like that again. Besides, I don't really know how she feels about all of this yet. She may decide it's not right for her."

Caroline knew she had to go slowly with Dane over the issue of her sexual preferences. It was Dane's most touchy spot. "Dane," she began carefully, "you've changed a lot in the last few years, we all have. You're more flexible than you used to be."

"What do you mean?" Dane asked, suddenly wary.

"I mean that none of us is strictly power-oriented all the time. Sexually maybe, but not in all the aspects of our lives."

"It's still important!" Dane said defensively. "The needs are still there, it still has to be dealt with, especially for me."

"What makes you think Kyle can't deal with it, that she doesn't feel those things, too? Is she into vanilla sex or what?"

Dane laughed. "Hardly. She's subtle, but it's there. She surprised me the other night."

"Oh?" Caroline asked expectantly.

"She brought me back to her house, she set the scene, she—" Dane hesitated, "she carried it off very well."

Caroline sighed. "I suppose that's all you're going to tell me."

"Yep," Dane replied.

"So, where's the problem?"

"I'm still not convinced it's an important issue for her."

"God, you're stubborn. The woman shows up at Leathers on her own, because she's interested. She comes to the discussion groups regularly because she's interested. She goes home with you, she makes love to you. Besides that, she's gorgeous. What more do you want?"

Dane's face looked set. "I don't know. I keep trying to find out, but I still don't know."

Kyle dressed especially carefully that night. She wanted to look just right, and she laughed at herself. She felt like a teenager getting ready for a date. Well, she was getting ready for a date! She pulled out her jeans, and then discarded them for her black leather pants. She had them on and then couldn't decide on a shirt. Finally she took everything off and settled on a pair of black jeans and a loose white silk shirt. She pulled on her boots and grabbed her leather jacket on the way out.

The ride to town was exhilarating, both because of the beauty of the shore road at night and her own anticipation at seeing Dane again. She must have daydreamed half the way because before she knew it, she was pulling her bike into line with several others in front of the bar. She was surprised to see that the room was already crowded. When she finally made her way up to the bar, the bartender came over to her immediately and handed her a glass of brandy. Kyle stared at her.

"From a friend."

Kyle took the glass and sipped from it slowly, turning unhurriedly to survey the room. She saw her then, against the wall by the jukebox. She was standing much as she had been the first time Kyle had seen her, half in shadow. Her slender figure was encased in soft leather, and Kyle could make out the swath of black around her left wrist as her hands moved slowly while she talked. Kyle's heart pounded, but she forced herself to look away and scan the room. No one there stirred her the way Dane did. She doubted any one ever would. She knew she should wait.

The brandy warmed her even as the air seemed to glow with the excitement and the sexual energy of the women around her. She felt herself fuse and meld with the charged atmosphere as real time slipped away. Hours passed, or it might have been minutes, as her anticipation slowly eclipsed her perceptions. The suspense of waiting was finally broken by a voice at her side.

"You look good tonight," Dane's cool voice murmured in her ear.

Kyle started. She had not seen her approach. "I'm glad you like it."

"I do." Dane moved closer to her, shifting in the crowd so that her slender legs straddled Kyle from the side. She pressed her hand against the soft curve of Kyle's back.

"You left something of yours behind the other day," Dane said.

Kyle looked up at Dane in surprise, unable to read anything in Dane's blue eyes. As she started to protest, Dane handed her a small lighter, gold with black edges, exactly the opposite of her own old favorite.

Kyle closed her fingers around it. "Thank you."

Dane nodded and turned to the bar. "Sandy," she called.

The bartender, hurriedly mixing drinks, looked over at her.

"A bottle of brandy, please. And another glass." She filled her glass and poured more into Kyle's. "We should have a fire."

Kyle looked into Dane's face, her own features flushed. "We don't need one."

Dane smiled then, her gaze softening. "Dance?"

Kyle nodded, following Dane's lead through the crowd. The music was fast, pulsating with a rhythm that seemed to reflect her own internal fires. When the songs slowed, she moved into Dane's arms easily, slipping her fingers into the hair above Dane's collar. Dane's body fit into every curve of her own. Dane's hands were possessive on her back, sliding firmly to her hips. She pulled Kyle tightly against her as they moved sensuously together. When they finally parted, they were both shaking. Wordlessly, Dane led her back to the bar.

Dane handed Kyle her brandy and raised her glass in a quick salute.

"It's time to leave," Dane said, watching Kyle carefully. "We'll take the brandy."

Kyle's reply was interrupted by a voice beside them.

"Very nice scene, Dane," Brad said sarcastically.

Kyle saw Dane stiffen and reached out without thought to touch her arm. Dane pulled quickly away and turned to Brad.

"Leave it alone, Brad," Dane said, her eyes like stone.

Kyle wanted to take Dane's hand and pull her away, but she feared Dane's reaction. Something was happening that she didn't understand.

"I don't think so," Brad said just as quickly. "You seem to have something I want."

"No," Dane said tightly. "Not this time."

Brad grasped Dane's left arm in a vice-like grip. "Do you want me to show you how it should be done?" She forced Dane off balance with the strength of her hold on her. "Or do you still remember?"

Dane stared at Brad's hand on her arm, suddenly back in another room, in another time. She shook her head, feeling her throat constrict.

"No," she murmured, so softly that Kyle could barely hear her. "There's nothing you can do to me now."

"I can still do it, Dane. Because you still want me to," Brad replied, her eyes fixed on Dane's tense features. "I can, and I will--if you don't leave."

Dane looked at Kyle, her eyes clouded with anguish. "Kyle," she whispered, "I'm sorry."

Dane turned quickly and pushed her way to the door. Kyle stared dumbly at her retreating back for a second, then bolted after her.

"Dane," she called as she finally reached the street, only to see Dane pull away in her grey Camaro. Kyle stared up the street after the fading headlights, stunned. Finally she unhooked her helmet from her bike and straddled the wide tank. As she rose to kick-start the engine, Brad came up beside her.

"You're not leaving, I hope."

Kyle stared at her, her eyes blazing. "I don't know what hold you have on her, or what you've done to her. But you're nothing compared to her."

Brad's laughter followed her as she roared away.

Dane raced through the streets, riddled with pain. She could still feel Brad's hand on her arm, searing her flesh. She could see Kyle's eyes on her, confused and questioning. She wanted to be done of it; she wanted to bury her pain and expunge her fear. She pulled quickly to a stop behind a line of cars and strode across the street in a fury. Her knock was answered at once.

The woman stared out at her, her smile cruel. This time she said nothing, merely stepping back to allow Dane entrance.

Dane slipped inside, shedding her jacket on the bench beside the door.

"Let me have something," she said tersely.

The woman studied her for a moment, then nodded.

"Go upstairs. It's open."

Dane climbed the stairs, her mind closed to all thought except her need to escape. She entered the warm room and methodically began to remove her clothes. When the woman returned, she was naked.

"Give me your arm," the woman commanded.

Dane stared at her for a second, then held out her left arm. The strap was tight where it wrapped around her upper arm. She flinched at the sharp point of pain that pierced her skin. She looked away. Her chest burned before the soothing calm overtook her. Her mind began to drift and she had to strain to hear the voice beside her.

"Are you ready?"

Dane nodded mutely and allowed herself to be led again to the scaffold against the wall. She waited calmly in a haze of shifting light, slowly disconnecting from her physical self. When the first blow came, she felt the pain, but it seemed to be happening to someone else. As the lash cut swatches of fire across her back, she acknowledged them with a slight shudder. Still, the pain failed to penetrate to her core. She could still see Brad's face, hear her voice—where was Kyle? She searched the blackness around her, but she couldn't find Kyle. She felt then the vice-like grip of Brad's hand on her arm. Something hurt her, somewhere inside, and she knew it must be Brad - tearing at her soul. No! She wouldn't let her do it again, she wouldn't be broken again. She wouldn't ask her to stop--not this time. Brad would never do that to her again! She heard the snap of the cat, far away, and wondered whom Brad was disciplining now. She felt something tremble inside, but it didn't hurt. It didn't hurt anymore. It was someone else! She laughed as she realized she was free--no one could touch her anymore! She sighed and closed her mind to the sound of the lash, grateful at last for the peace.

The woman lowered her aching arm. The room was quiet. The red glow of the lights reflected off Dane's naked back and streamed to the floor. As she stared at Dane uncomprehendingly, she realized she had lost herself in the frenzy of her strokes. She took a step forward, instantly returning to reality.

"Dane," she whispered fearfully. Quickly she released the restraints. She caught Dane's limp body before she could slump to the floor. Her hand on Dane's back came away damp. She pressed her fingers gently against Dane's neck, finding the rapid, thready pulse. She covered her with a blanket from behind the bar and closed the door behind her.

Caroline reached across Anne in the dark, trying to find the phone. She glanced at the bedside clock as she pulled the receiver toward her.

"Hello," she said thickly, trying to clear the sleep from her throat. It was four o'clock in the morning.

"Caroline?" a deep voice said.

"Yes?"

"I have a friend of yours here who needs your help--now. Do you know Divisadero?"

"Yes--but who?" Caroline cried, sitting up in bed and shaking her head at Anne, who was awake now, too.

"The 2000 block. She'll be in a grey Camaro."

The line went dead before Caroline could reply.

She leapt out of bed and fumbled for her clothes.

"Anne!" she cried, searching for the car keys on the bureau. "Get dressed! Dane's in trouble!"

Anne pulled on her jeans and sweatshirt and raced outside behind Caroline. "What happened?" she cried as Caroline maneuvered their jeep through the deserted streets.

"I don't know. Someone called. Said she was in trouble."

"Where?" Anne asked, frightened.

"Up this block somewhere. Do you see Dane's car?" Caroline said frantically.

"Over there! On the left!"

Caroline screeched to a halt beside the familiar car.

"It's empty!" Anne said.

Caroline leapt from the jeep as Anne followed. She pulled on the passenger's door and it opened. She could see by the overhead light a blanket-covered figure in the rear seat.

"Oh god," she moaned, as she pushed the front seat forward. "Dane!"

Anne looked in the window and gasped. "Caroline, there's blood all over the seat!"

Caroline leaned into the rear seat, suddenly calm. "I know." She checked for a heartbeat and sighed with relief. "Can you follow us home? I'll drive Dane's car."

"Shouldn't we go to a hospital?"

"No," Caroline said, straightening up and heading for the driver's side. "Do you know what they'd do to her?"

Anne stared at Caroline, then raced back across the street to the jeep.

Kyle paced her living room, staring at the phone. She had called Dane's number, and the kennel, all day. No one answered. The tape at the kennel said someone would return her call shortly, but no one ever did. She looked at the clock. It showed nine o'clock. Where the hell was she? Or was she just not answering the phone? Goddamn her! It wasn't going to be this easy. She couldn't just race away into the night and expect Kyle to sit at home waiting. Kyle snatched her jacket off the hook and strode angrily to her big Harley. The gravel in her drive spewed out behind her as she pushed the bike toward the highway.

She looked for Dane's car along the crowded street as she pulled in front of the bar. She paid her cover and searched the room furiously. She didn't see Dane.

"Beer," she tersely to the bartender, and pulled a cigarette from her jacket pocket. She fumbled her lighter from her pocket and smiled grimly at the shiny new gold surface. She drew a deep breath and surveyed the bar again. She recognized no one. She was on her third beer when a woman made her way across the room and stopped before her.

"I'm Chris—we met here a few months ago."

Kyle nodded, smiling slightly. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. How are you?"

Chris shrugged and replied, "Okay." She looked at Kyle uncertainly for a second, then continued. "Listen, you're a friend of Dane's, aren't you?"

"I know her."

The woman looked around and lowered her voice unnecessarily in the noisy room. "Some of us were wondering, well--you know how it is. There are always stories, and most of us never believe them. But, still, you never know, sometimes when you go home with someone you don't know--" She stopped and looked at Kyle expectantly.

Kyle felt fear rise in her throat but she stared back calmly. "I don't know what you're getting at."

Chris looked embarrassed. "Some people heard-- there's talk." She cleared her throat. "We heard there was a bad scene. That Dane got mixed up with a heavy top and that there was trouble. The rest of us, we worry, you know. No one knows who it is."

Kyle tried to quiet her racing thoughts. "I don't know who it is."

Chris shrugged and started to turn away.

"Wait!" Kyle called, grasping her arm. "Do you know two women—Anne and Caroline—friends of Dane's?"

Chris frowned. "I've seen them in here."

"Do you know where they live?" Kyle asked, her heart pounding.

Chris shook her head. "I don't know them that well. Wait a minute--I went to a discussion group at their place once. I don't know if they still live there."

She gave Kyle the address and stared after her as Kyle turned and shouldered her way hurriedly toward the door.
 
 

Caroline tried to ignore the persistent ringing of the doorbell. She sat at the table in a worn sweater and faded jeans. She looked like she hadn't slept in days.

"Hon," Anne asked tentatively as she poured more coffee, "shouldn't I answer that?"

"I guess," Caroline answered. She looked over at Anne and realized that the younger woman was as exhausted as she. "Never mind, babe, I'll get it."

When she opened the door, Kyle took a step toward her, then stopped abruptly.

"Is Dane here?" she asked quietly, instantly aware of Caroline's state.

"Yes." Caroline said tonelessly.

"Is she all right?"

Caroline looked at Kyle, considering her answer. Finally, she sighed and opened the door. "No. Come upstairs."

Kyle followed her upstairs and into the kitchen. She saw Anne cast a frightened glance in Caroline's direction.

Caroline saw it too. "It's all right. Is there more coffee?"

Anne nodded and moved silently to pour Kyle a cup.

Kyle sat down at an empty chair and pushed some of the clutter aside. She thanked Anne for the coffee and looked pointedly at Caroline.

"Can I see her?"

"She won't know you're here."

Kyle shook her head. Fear twisted in her guts. "I don't care, I want to see her."

"Caroline, no!" Anne cried.

Caroline continued to look at Kyle. "It's not pretty. Are you sure you want to?"

"I'm sure," Kyle said, needing to know.

"I'll come with you."

"I'm all right," Kyle answered tightly.

Caroline shook her head. "I'll come with you." She led Kyle down the hall to the rear bedroom. There were no lights coming from the partially closed door.

"Just a minute," Caroline said as she entered the room and lit a small dim light off to one side. The room was mostly in shadow. Caroline called to Kyle and slipped tiredly into a chair in the darkness along the wall.

Kyle pushed the door all the way open and approached the bed. She looked down at Dane for a long time. She sank slowly down on the floor beside the bed. She pushed her back up against the wall and reached her hand up into the golden hair framing Dane's face. She closed her eyes and gently let the strands fall through her fingers. She thought about Dane's satin-soft skin in the firelight and how it had glowed with perspiration as they made love. She thought about the sharply etched muscles in her back and hips as she rose above Kyle in ecstasy. She traced the fine lines of Dane's face and remembered how she looked just before orgasm. She sat still for a long time, listening to Dane's quiet breathing. When she felt the strength return to her limbs and the anger flood her heart, she stood up and stared down again at Dane, burning the image into her soul.

Dane was lying on her stomach, her face on the pillow, her arms curved upwards. A sheet covered her, stopping just above her buttocks. A raw, open wound extended from the base of her spine to the top of her shoulders. Kyle could make out the pattern of crosshatches from what must have been a thick whip, even as the single lash marks blended into one. The bleeding had stopped, leaving behind patches of crusted coagulation between islands of swollen flesh. The sinewy planes of her perfect body were obscured by fluid pooled in the layers of injured tissue.

Kyle turned and walked into the kitchen. She looked at Anne, her grey eyes as cold as a winter sky.

"Do you have any scotch?"

Anne nodded and got up. "I think so."

Kyle sat back down at the table and lit a cigarette, turning the small gold lighter aimlessly between her fingers.

Caroline switched off the hall light behind her and sagged into a chair, pushing her graying hair out of her eyes.

"Are you sure you can take care of her?" Kyle asked tonelessly.

Caroline nodded. "I have before. Never like this, but I can manage."

Kyle took the scotch from Anne and swallowed what was in the glass. She closed her eyes for a second. "Who did this to her?" Her voice was harsh, her pain unconcealed. I’m going to find her. I’m going to kill her!

Caroline looked at Kyle, her eyes bright with sympathy. "Dane did it, Kyle. I don't know whose hand held the whip. She's never told me. But she sought it; she allowed it."

Kyle swallowed. "She's done this before? I never saw a scar—her body, it's—" her voice broke, "her body is perfect."

"It's never been like this before. She always knew when to stop. Something must have happened. There's a track mark on her arm."

"Drugs?" Kyle asked, wanting to scream but knowing she must finally understand. "Is that what this is?"

"No!" Caroline cried. "Not for years. Before, with Brad—oh god, if you knew how hard Dane has struggled, how far she has come."

"Don't you think I want to know?" Kyle shouted, her voice breaking at last. "Caroline, I have to know. For a moment she lets me close and then she's gone. I can't even hold her now! She's lying in there, her body is battered beyond knowing. What must her heart be like? Don't you realize I have to know?" Kyle closed her eyes then, the tears she had held back for hours burning hot trails down her cheeks. She saw Dane again in her mind and sobbed. "Oh god, Caroline. Please help me!"

Caroline wrapped her arms around Kyle's shoulders, rocking her like a child. "Come on, Kyle, come into the den. We'll talk."

Caroline spoke softly, taking Kyle back in time. "Dane first began to explore sexual alternatives—S/M relationships—about ten years ago. It wasn't nearly as easy to do then as it is now. It was mostly the men who were into it. Most lesbians were very prejudiced against any woman who wanted to redefine her sexual boundaries and polarize roles. I don't have to tell you the arguments that any role is oppressive to women and an extension of the male-power structure. None of that stopped Dane. She did a lot of experimenting with heavy roles in the early days—there wasn't much else to do. She met Brad because of the dogs. Dane had some experience with show dogs because her family had been into it. Brad owned a small kennel and Dane started working there. That's how she and Brad finally got together. I was teaching at Brewster, and I saw Dane fairly infrequently."

Caroline noted Kyle's surprise. "English literature. I don't miss it a bit." She poured them both some more scotch. "Anyhow, Dane and I would get together every few weeks or so, and she would talk to me about S/M, what it meant to her. I have to admit I was pretty opposed at first. I felt the way most people did—that one of the best things about being a lesbian was that we could redefine ourselves as equals. No more role designations, divisions or limitations. I saw any sort of polarization as a threat to our new-found freedom. We argued, I from an intellectual point of view—Dane from an emotional, gut level." Caroline laughed sadly. "That's always been one of the big differences between Dane and me. I can keep the world at a distance. Sometimes I can hide behind my own rationalizations. Dane just lets everything bounce into her and tries to take it all. She said she could feel something inside of her that wanted to get out, some need to get more in touch with her inner self through physical experiences. She thought that S/M would do that for her. She was into the pretty stereotypical thing at first—heavy leather, straight top or bottom roles, not much beyond limited sexual encounters. Even though her ideas weren't very defined in the beginning, talking with her got me to look at my own feelings a little differently. I at least became a bit more supportive. Around this time she started seeing Brad pretty seriously. Brad was--well, she wasn't much different than she is now. She's a user of people. People to her are just tools for her amusement. I can't figure her out, really, but I don't think she feels, or cares about, anything. Of course, sadomasochism was a perfect outlet for Brad, especially when things were still so secretive --subterranean almost. She could play any game she designed, be completely in control. And Dane became her pawn."

She paused and looked at Kyle. "Do you happen to have a cigarette? This is harder than I realized it would be."

Kyle handed her one. "I'm grateful to you for telling me."

Caroline shrugged. "Something's got to be done about Dane. Maybe this will help." She drew on the cigarette and coughed. "Just don't tell Anne about this. She'll kill me. I quit two years ago. Well, Dane and Brad got into a very heavy S/M relationship. Brad was the top, of course. I think the sex was pretty rough—Dane would never tell me much. She laughed grimly. "As often as I tried to get the details. Brad really controlled Dane's life--their whole relationship was very role-directed. Brad delighted in having Dane at her total command—her own personal toy. She also had ways of keeping her control over Dane. Brad had a sideline in selling drugs. Made a big point of being clean herself, but she'd sell anything to anyone. She liked Dane to get high because it made her even more compliant. It strengthened Brad's hold on her. It was infrequent at first, but in the last year they were together, it was pretty heavy. Dane was using regularly, and Brad kept her supplied."

Kyle stood up in disgust and began to pace around the room. "I'm sorry, Caroline, I just don't understand it. How could Dane do that to herself. How could she let someone do that to her? Maybe it is true what everyone says about S/M! Maybe we are all sick!"

Caroline shook her head. "You don't have to be into power to do drugs, and you don't need drugs to like S/M either. There are plenty of people who like S/M in bed, and who are just like everyone else the rest of the time. Sometimes fucked up, sometimes not. Certainly Dane can be self-destructive. It's there in all of us really--maybe in some people more than others. I don't know. I'd never call Dane weak, but sometimes it seems as if she just can't bear her own feelings. I know she's trying to block some kind of pain when she does this to herself. She's trading the emotional pain for a physical pain she can live with--until this time."

Kyle ached just thinking about what Dane must have suffered. "Go on," she said hoarsely.

Caroline took a deep breath and studied Kyle carefully. "It must have been five years ago now, Brad began to get tired of her game with Dane. It had gotten too easy. Brad was bored. She became more cruel to Dane just for a little pleasure. This is not something Dane would ever tell you herself. She wouldn't want you to know this. I don't know if you understand enough about power roles yet, but Dane would feel that this knowledge of her would make her powerless in your eyes. In order to express our power needs, physically or emotionally, there has to be an understanding between two people. Power is given, not assumed. There can be no top without the consent, the belief in her, by the bottom. If the top doesn't feel that the bottom believes in her dominance --in her power--then there can be none. It's a fluctuating balance which is created by the two people who have agreed to participate. That's why the roles are anything but rigid. Reversal is easy, if consent is mutual. Dane would never feel that you could believe in her, that you could grant her the power that she needs to express, if you knew the truth. Do you understand?"

Kyle nodded. "The very first time with Dane I knew that if I weren't a part of what was happening, with her, that it couldn't happen. But there's more to her than just her sexuality! She's also strong, tender, honest, and -- vulnerable! I care about her for a lot more reasons than just sex."

Caroline nodded, "I think you probably do. But you've got to remember that Dane needs to feel a certain way, especially with a lover. She may not always want to be actively involved in a power role, but she's got to believe she can if she needs to. It's part of who she is--and most importantly, it's who she wants to be. If she feels she has lost that power with you, she'll never let you close to her."

"Tell me the rest," Kyle said quietly.

"Brad took Dane to the 'Encounters'—it's a place—"

Kyle interrupted, "I've been there."

"Dane was pretty drugged up, and things had been going badly with Brad for a long time. I think Dane was desperate to keep from losing Brad. I don't know if she feared losing her drug connection or her connection to herself. At any rate, Brad decided that Dane needed to be punished. She didn't really need a reason. 'Encounters' was the perfect showplace for Brad. It provided her with all the entertainment she required. It was crowded; people were ready for a scene. Everyone was interested in Brad and Dane. They were such an intriguing couple. At any rate, Brad strung her up naked on the center stage. She did it herself. No assistants. Chains, handcuffs, neck collar, the whole thing. She wanted to display her power and she did. She used a thin cat on Dane, one that inflicts a lot of pain but leaves very little mark. Dane wanted to please her, and I guess the drugs made it easier for Dane to take a lot of punishment. Brad beat her to her knees, and then she made her crawl. She told Dane she was done with her, that Dane wasn't woman enough for her, that Dane couldn't take it. Dane pleaded with her, humiliated herself in front of everyone. And Brad walked out. I don't know who took Dane home, but someone finally had the sense to call me. I brought her to my place. I wasn't very experienced. I didn't know what to do for her. I made a mistake. I took her to the hospital. They put her in the drug de-tox center. It was bad. I'm surprised she ever forgave me for that."

Caroline finished her drink and got up to search for another bottle. Kyle sat staring out the windows, noticing for the first time that the sky was beginning to lighten with the predawn glow. She lit another cigarette and stretched her cramped muscles.

She didn’t look up when Caroline returned.

"When she got out she finally called me. She was hollow. She seemed to echo with emptiness. She didn't see anyone; she didn't go out. She got a job working for a small-time breeder out in the valley— a small operation, but Dane was bright and she made contacts. Eventually she moved up and started her own line. By then, I was spending more time with her and had started handling. I found out I loved it. We started fantasizing about having our own business. Dane was consumed by the work. It was all she had to keep her straight. After a year or so, when we were just getting the kennel off the ground, Dane started to go out again. She never got involved; she never let anyone top her. But she was never like Brad. She never abused anyone or tried to humiliate them. She met Anne when Anne was just starting to come out. She was a gentle teacher. She was everything to Anne that Brad had never been to her. But she remained aloof. She never let Anne close to her. Anne spent a lot of time with us. I fell in love with her." Caroline looked at Kyle, her eyes troubled. "Dane always said she didn't mind--when Anne turned to me for the affection Dane couldn't give her. I'll never know for sure. I only knew I wanted Anne. Dane's had other women, but never anyone more than a few weeks. She's afraid. Afraid that if she loves someone she'll lose herself again, like with Brad."

"And what about this other thing—this punishment she inflicts on herself?" Kyle asked numbly.

Caroline shook her head. "It happens every so often. Usually when something really gets through to her. She's generally so damned controlled! When she's unable to deal with someone getting too close, or she wants someone to be close, she drives the feelings away with physical pain. I guess it's easier for her that way."

"And you think that's healthy?" Kyle exclaimed. "My god, I could never do that to her. I can't imagine how anyone could. If that's the bottom line in this kind of relationship, there's no way I could do it. I might enjoy possessing her, controlling her, even pushing her limits physically—but I could never do that to her."

Caroline held up her hand. "Wait a minute, Kyle. What happens between Dane and this top is not the usual thing! There are always extremists, no matter what issue you're dealing with. Some women enjoy physical punishment--usually within safe limits. For some, it heightens erotic pleasure, intensifies sexual experiences, but there are only a few who really like to get heavy about it. And they're usually involved with someone they trust very much--someone who is experienced enough to know their own limitations and the needs of their partner. What goes on between Dane and this other woman is not ordinary. Whoever she is, she's a true sadist. She must truly find pleasure in dominating Dane in such a brutal way. Until this time she's been very careful. The punishment has been severe, but Dane has never been injured. Something went wrong this time. Someone lost control. I suspect it was Dane. If I only knew what happened," Caroline said in frustration.

Kyle got up slowly and crossed to the windows. She watched the waves on the bay sparkle in the early morning sun.

"I know what happened," she said, her eyes still fixed on the bay. "We were at the bar. Dane had set a scene. We were both very into it. Brad must have been watching us for a while. I never saw her until she came up to us. Suddenly, it was like I wasn't there anymore. Something was happening, but it was between Brad and Dane. Dane told Brad to leave and Brad challenged her. She told Dane that Dane couldn't stand up to her. She said --she said that Dane still wanted Brad to control her. Dane seemed to really freak out when Brad grabbed her arm. She turned pale, and suddenly she was gone! I didn't know what the hell was going on."

Caroline shuddered. "I do. It's symbolic, I guess, but I'm sure Brad knew how much it would affect Dane. Dane never likes Brad to touch her. Dane never shot up herself. Brad always did it for her."

Kyle felt sick. "God, how can anyone be that cruel? How can she do it to her?"

"She does it because she knows she still can. Don't you see? It's still the same dynamic. Dane lets her do it. And then she hates herself for what she sees as her own weakness. She must have gone to—to whomever it is she goes to—because she wanted to forget her own powerlessness. Having you see it happen must have made it much worse for her."

"But I went after her!" Kyle cried, "She didn't have to run from me!"

"But how could she stay?" Caroline persisted. "She must have felt humiliated in your eyes."

"That's crazy!" Kyle protested. "Sex is one thing—love, feelings—that's something else."

"Not for Dane," Caroline said.

"So now what am I supposed to do?" Kyle said, slumping into a chair. "How do I reach her now?"

Caroline shook her head. "I don't know. I guess you'll have to wait for Dane to realize that she's still worth loving."

"I can't just sit around while she tortures herself! She may never let me in!"

"What else can you do?"

Kyle got up, her face set. "When she's well, tell her I was here. Tell her you talked to me. Tell her I know. And tell her that I want her—that I'm waiting for her. Will you do that?"

Caroline nodded as she watched Kyle walk determinedly from the room.

Kyle worked in her shop from first light until well into the night, day after day. She burned with an inextinguishable anger, even as her heart ached with despair. She didn't go out. She couldn't stand the thought of going to the bars and being surrounded by women when she felt so alone. When she couldn't sleep at night she rode for miles on her Harley, sometimes parking on an overlook, staring out at the ocean until the sun came up. Nancy came to the shop most days, but never questioned her about her silence. If Kyle had been more aware of Nancy's presence, she would have found it odd.

Thoughts of Dane were never far from her mind. She watched the days on the calendar turn into weeks, and still no word from her. She called Anne at the kennel several times to ask how Dane was doing. The last time she called, Anne sounded especially harried.

"Caroline and Dane are at our cabin in the mountains. I haven't heard a thing from them in three days. There's a show coming up next week, and if I don't hear something soon, I'll have to cancel our entries. I can't possibly handle everything myself."

"Can I help?" Kyle asked. She knew Anne must be having a hard time through all of this herself.

"What do you know about handling dogs?"

Kyle laughed. "Not a thing. But I suppose I could walk them around or something."

"Give me a few days," Anne replied. "If they don't show up, I'll call you."

Kyle had said fine. She immersed herself again in her lonely routine. Late one morning Nancy came in and stared at the amount of work waiting for her to finish.

"God, Kyle. How did you get so far ahead of me? There must be a dozen pieces here."

Kyle glanced up absently, then gaped at her.

"Nancy! You look awful. What's wrong?" Kyle couldn't believe how thin and drawn Nancy looked. She was stylishly attired as usual, but it didn't hide her worn appearance.

"Nothing," Nancy said, looking away uncomfortably. When she reached for her coveralls, Kyle detected a fine tremor in her hands.

"Bullshit!" Kyle exploded. "What's going on?"

"I said it was nothing!" Nancy snapped. "You haven't been looking so great yourself."

Kyle dropped her sander and walked over to Nancy. "I know. I've been a bitch to be around. Come on, let's go up to the house and talk."

Nancy stared at Kyle, her eyes angry.

"I don't want to talk. I came here to get some work done, all right?"

"No, it's not all right," Kyle insisted. "Have you been seeing Brad?" she asked harshly.

Nancy looked away. "Once in a while," she said sullenly.

Kyle's heart began to pound and she felt almost ill. "What is she giving you?"

"Oh, come off it, Kyle. Don't be so uptight! I've known you to try a few things now and then!"

Kyle shook her head. "Try a few things, sure--who hasn't. But we're not talking about that, are we? How often are you seeing her?"

Nancy looked uncomfortable. "A few times a week."

"Nancy!" Kyle said in alarm. "Do you have any idea what that woman is capable of?"

"She's a hell of a lot more interesting than any of the men I've met in the last few years! So what if I have a little fun! No one's getting hurt. Roger hardly knows I'm gone. Besides, I still put out for him when the thought crosses his mind--which isn't all that often."

Kyle couldn't believe that Nancy could be so blind. She wanted to tell her what she knew about Brad, but she couldn't bear to reveal Dane's past.

"Nancy, listen to me. Brad doesn't care about anyone. Don't you realize she's just using you? If you let her control you, she'll use you until she's tired of you, and then toss you aside!"

Nancy tossed her head in defiance. "You're wrong, Kyle. I'm not your precious Dane—I'm not as easy as she was to beat!"

Kyle took a step toward her, very nearly out of control. If it had been anyone other than Nancy, she would have struck her.

"Whatever Brad told you about Dane, she was wrong. She doesn't know her. She never has. She never cared to." Kyle stared at Nancy, knowing that she should try again to reach her old friend, but her anger overpowered her. "Go home, Nance. Go home before we say things we'll never forgive."

Nancy left without another word.

Anne was about to hang up when Kyle finally answered the phone.

"Yes," Kyle said.

"Kyle? It's Anne. I've been trying to reach you all week. Did you mean it when you offered to help at the show?"

"Yes."

"Can you come to the kennel in the morning—around six? I've decided to go to the show without them. We might as well try."

"Where is it? I'll be there." Anne gave her directions and said good night. Kyle wondered at herself as she got ready for bed. Dogs! What did she know about dogs!
 
 

Anne was loading the crates into the van with another young woman when Kyle arrived.

"Hi!" Anne called. "Kyle, this is Lynn. She's going to watch the shop while we're gone."

Kyle nodded to the young woman. "Any word from Caroline?" She wanted to ask about Dane, but she couldn't bring herself to. Dane obviously didn't want to contact her. She wouldn't humble herself further by continuing to ask about her.

"No," Anne said worriedly. "It's not like her, either. Come on, I'll introduce you to your charges."

Kyle followed Anne into the roar of the kennel, almost expecting to see Dane at any moment. Pictures of dogs covered the walls, and Dane and Caroline were in many of them. Kyle's heart lurched just from seeing Dane's face in a photo. She looked away and hurried after Anne.

"This is Troy, and that's Arno, and this is Falon," Anne said, standing before three monstrous-looking animals.

"Do I shake hands?" Kyle asked, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

Anne laughed. "They're really very gentle. Except Troy hates all other males, of any size, so you have to be firm with him. The other two won't give you any trouble at all. Come on, I'll tell you all you need to know while we drive."

It sounded simple enough as Anne outlined it. All Kyle had to do was get the correct dog to the correct ring at the correct time so that Anne could show it. Then Kyle could take the one that had finished showing back to the van. When she saw the morass of people and dogs milling about the show grounds, she felt her confidence disappear.

"It'll be fine," Anne reassured her as she maneuvered the van into a relatively shady corner. She rummaged around and handed Kyle a show schedule. "I've outlined where you have to be and when. Don't worry. The dogs are pros—they'll know what to do."

"Right," Kyle said without conviction. Nevertheless, she was soon seduced by the excitement of the show. The first time she led Troy over to the show ring she felt as proud as if he were her own.

"Okay Troy, old boy—go get 'em!"

She watched Anne carefully and thought Troy looked splendid. She couldn't believe it when the judge, who had carefully compared Troy with another dog for several minutes, chose Troy's competitor.

Anne laughed at Kyle's outrage. "Oh, him! I knew that would happen. He likes them long in the back and Troy's not. Troy happens to be a perfect standard, but judges aren't always objective. But we know we won, don't we, boy?"

Kyle was still grumbling to herself as she exchanged Troy for Falon. This time she was not disappointed.

Anne was jubilant. "God, will Dane be happy! These are Falon's first points, and it's only her second show!" She stopped when she saw Kyle's face. "I'm sorry, Kyle. I haven't even asked you how you're doing." They sat down in the shade near the van since they had a few minutes before the next event.

Kyle shrugged. "I'm not sure what I'm doing, really. I had hoped Dane would call, but I guess that was stupid." Her voice betrayed her bitterness.

Anne nodded sympathetically. "It's not stupid. There's just not much you can do, really. I've never seen Dane like this before. She started back to work a couple of weeks ago, and she hardly talks at all. She spends all her time with the dogs. Sometimes she even stays at the kennel all night. Caroline was getting frantic. Finally she got Dane to agree to go to the mountains for a while. That was almost a week ago."

"Is Dane okay physically?" Kyle asked.

Anne was silent for a moment. "She's not doing any drugs. If that's what you mean." She sighed. "She's healed on the outside, I guess. Who can tell with her what's happening on the inside."

They got the last animal and headed back for the final entry. They were almost there when Caroline rushed up to them.

"Oh, babe!" she cried, hugging Anne fiercely, "I'm so sorry! We left early this morning, and the damn jeep broke down. What a mess!"

Anne kissed her quickly, her face glowing. "It's okay. Kyle saved the day!"

Caroline turned quickly to thank her. She stopped when she realized Dane had joined them. Kyle was staring at Dane, her face pale. Anne tugged Caroline away toward the ring.

Kyle searched Dane's face. She looked thinner. There were lines about her eyes that hadn't been there before. Her gaze were clear, but so distant! There was no trace of warmth in the blue eyes that glanced over her, no tenderness in her smile.

Finally Kyle found her voice. "Hello, Dane."

Dane shifted her gaze, unable to bear the sadness she saw in Kyle's face.

"Thank you for helping Anne. I'm afraid she's had to do too much alone these past few weeks," she said finally.

"She seems to have managed very well," Kyle replied. "She's really quite good at all this."

"I know," Dane said quietly. She cleared her throat and forced herself to face Kyle again.

"Kyle," she began with difficulty, "about the last time we met. I'm sorry about what happened. I'm afraid I blew our scene."

"My god, Dane," Kyle gasped in amazement, "do you think I care a damn about that? Do I have to tell you how much more than that you mean to me?" Her voice pleaded for Dane to hear her, her eyes searching the rigid planes of Dane's handsome face for some sign that she felt anything for her.

Dane shook her head, her expression betraying none of her inner turmoil. How much she wanted to say she was sorry she had failed her. And how ashamed she was.

"I got your message," she said woodenly. "You must know you deserve better. I'm sorry you had to find it out quite like that." She hated to think that Kyle had seen her like that, so pitifully weak. She looked away.

"Damn it, Dane!" Kyle started to protest. This was ridiculous. She needed to make Dane understand how much she cared about her.

Dane interrupted her. "Tell Caroline and Anne I'm taking the jeep back to the kennel." As she turned away she said, "Good-bye, Kyle."

Slowly Kyle's pain and frustration turned to a seething anger, feeding on itself, threatening to consume her. She sometimes didn't see anyone for weeks. Nancy turned up at the shop erratically, often leaving again without completing much work. They rarely talked, and even when they did, they avoided all mention of their personal lives.

Kyle stopped going to the discussion groups. When Caroline called to ask about her absence, Kyle replied bitterly that she'd heard all there was to hear. She knew Caroline was worried about her, but Kyle gave her no room to talk. Finally, Caroline stopped calling.

Eventually Kyle began to go to Leather's again. She stared at the women around her, feeling none of the old sense of communion she once shared with them. Nothing stirred her heart. She reached out to no one. Late one night she saw Dane across the room. She was ensconced in her old place by the jukebox, looking aloof and distant. She glanced at Kyle once, briefly, her face betraying no recognition. Kyle was forced to turn her back, so exquisite was the pain. When the anguish dissipated, the steely anger returned. She had to erase the lingering image of Dane's face from her mind. She ordered another beer and looked over the crowd. She carefully avoided Dane's small corner of the arena. Her attention focused finally on a young woman standing alone, her back against a pillar. When her eyes fell on Kyle, who was staring at her pointedly, she looked quickly away. Kyle smiled slightly to herself and lit a cigarette. She smoked leisurely, finished her beer and ordered two more. She carried them both unhurriedly through the crowd until she was at the young woman's side. Up close she could see that she was indeed young. Her smooth features were unlined, and her blond hair fell in childlike wings about her forehead and temples. She continued to stare ahead, waiting for Kyle to initiate contact.

Kyle handed her the beer. "Yours is warm," she said in a low voice.

The woman immediately tossed her half-empty bottle into the receptacle behind her and took the cold one Kyle offered.

"Thank you," she replied.

Kyle smiled slightly and ran her finger lightly down the young woman's exposed forearm, stopping at the thin black leather band which circled her wrist.

"Are you serious about this?" Kyle said softly, hooking her finger under the bracelet. She realized she was enjoying this new approach, even though emotionally she felt detached.

"Yes."

Kyle slipped her hand beneath the edge of her companion's jeans at the hollow of her spine. The muscles there tensed at her touch.

"I need to know your name," Kyle said, gently kneading the firm flesh under her hands. When she felt the young woman hesitate, she thought she understood.

"Any name, it doesn't matter." Kyle realized that it didn't. She didn't need or want to know anything about the woman other than what was necessary to complete the scene. Kyle wasn't interested in her as a person, beyond the roles they would both soon play.

"It's Jean."

Kyle nodded, leaning into Jean, her thighs insistent against the smaller woman's hips.

"Well, Jean, are you tired of the bar tonight?"

"I've seen everything I need to. Now that you're here."

"I'd like to take your clothes off, somewhere quiet and private. There might be other things I'd like to do." Kyle was going by instinct now, playing out a fantasy which was somehow real. She was vaguely aware that she was not really physically aroused, but still she was excited. She was excited to be in control, to be creating the events moment to moment. "Do you understand?"

"I understand," Jean replied. "May I make one request?"

Kyle nodded.

"Please don't mark me."

Kyle hid the shock she felt. For an instant she saw Dane again, lying on Caroline's bed, her back a river of ruin. She felt physically ill.

"I agree," Kyle said after a moment.

She drove to Jean's apartment with Jean clinging to her on the rear of the big motorcycle. Once there, Kyle directed Jean to take them to her bedroom, leaving the lights off. Kyle lit a bedside candle with a flick of her lighter. She undressed Jean herself, slowly and carefully. She turned her about in the flickering light, stroking her body, studying her reaction. She could tell the younger woman was excited--she trembled at each light caress of Kyle's exploring hands.

When Kyle had satisfied herself visually, she placed Jean face down on the bed, removing the pillow to be sure she could breathe.

"You'll need a safe word. Anytime you want me to stop, or something happens which hurts you in a way you don't like, you must tell me," Kyle said gently as she removed the heavy belt from her leather pants. She bound Jean's hands securely to the upper part of the bed frame as Jean told her safe word. By doing so she entered into a contract of trust with Kyle. She trusted Kyle to respect her limitations, her boundaries, regardless of how Kyle might feel. And Kyle, in turn, trusted Jean to be the guardian of her own body. Only Jean could know when her limits had been reached.

"May I give you something?" Jean asked quietly.

Kyle leaned back from the bed. "Yes."

Kyle opened the closet and looked where Jean had described. She removed a short-handled crop with multiple fine leather strands at the end. Her heart plummeted when she closed her hand around it. She knew Jean was asking her to use it on her, and she wasn't sure she could. She found it more and more difficult to look at Jean's naked back without seeing Dane, again and again. She knew the scene was hers; she could refuse. But she also knew that there was Jean's pleasure to be considered. The top's responsibility, ultimately, was to create a scene which both partners would find pleasurable, within acceptable limits for them both.

She started with the stout handle, the leather strands entwined in her fingers. Slowly she traced each muscle, each bone in Jean's back and shoulders with the edge. She could hear Jean gasp at each new contact. Suddenly Kyle realized that in this instance it was the suggestion of pain, the illusion of power, which was so erotic, rather than the actual infliction of punishment. She began to relax a little and found that she was enjoying the sense of power Jean had given her. When she finally did use the crop for what it was intended, she wielded it gently, causing no real discomfort. The effect, however, was instantaneous. Jean responded to each light blow with a soft groan, and her hips moved against the bed convulsively. When Kyle judged that Jean was near to the peak of her arousal, she straddled her body, one of her leather encased thighs between Jean's naked ones. She slipped one hand beneath Jean's pelvis seeking the moisture she knew she would find. She brought her other hand in from the rear and completed the circle. She was inside and outside of her at once, controlling Jean's body to the very end. When at last Jean came with a shuddering groan, Kyle felt her own pent-up tensions dissipate. She felt no need to reach orgasm herself; it was enough that Jean had. Her own body seemed removed from the scene. Indeed, the excitement had primarily been the feeling of power she drew from the encounter. When she left, Jean was asleep.

Kyle quickly discovered that what she had always heard was true. Experienced tops were always in demand. Ruefully, she found that she no longer had to search for partners. Whenever she entered the bar, someone was more than willing to accompany her home. She developed considerable skill in creating and controlling a scene. She learned to recognize what excited another woman by the way she responded to Kyle's first advances. Kyle quickly came to appreciate the subtle signals which indicated the degree of a woman's experience and the level of control she would give to Kyle. To her amazement, she found she was becoming quite accomplished with a variety of crops and whips. Her unease at being the source of physical pain abated as long as she was sure her partner found pleasure in it, and Kyle trusted the woman to know her own limits. Kyle had no desire to abuse or humiliate anyone. She never went with anyone young or inexperienced, and she never used drugs in association with a scene. She was even careful not to drink too much so she could be sure she never lost control.

She rarely felt any desire in a purely physical way for her partners, beyond the need to lose herself for a few hours in the intensity of the scene. She often remained completely dressed, and she never allowed anyone to top her. Without realizing it, she was becoming the archetypal top. Aloof, cool, physically distant. She could create a scene, give pleasure in the way her partner wished, and walk away untouched herself.

She often drove home over the empty miles of highway with an overwhelming sense of loneliness. She would see the woman she had just made love to in her mind, and she felt nothing. There was no one who moved Kyle inside, no one who could penetrate the barriers she herself had created. Once home, she couldn't sleep. She would sit with a brandy before the fire, watching the intricate patterns of red and black coals, wondering what was happening to her. Eventually her encounters became less frequent as her sense of detachment grew. The brief intimacy reminded her too painfully of how much she longed to really touch someone, and be touched in return.

It was a cool fall evening in October. Kyle had just brought in a load of wood and started a fire. The phone interrupted her just as she carried her brandy into the living area.

"Hello," she said absently.

"Kyle, this is Roger." Kyle noted instantly the anxiety in his voice. Before she could respond, he went on hurriedly. "Is Nancy there?"

Kyle cursed under her breath. She hated to lie. "Uh, Roger--" she began.

"Never mind," he sighed. "I know she isn't. I've known for a long time that she wasn't with you or any of the other friends she said she was visiting. I should have done something before this, but I was afraid. I was afraid if I questioned her, she would just leave for good."

Kyle empathized with him, but she really didn't know what to say. "Hell, I'm sorry, Roger. Maybe she just got held up somewhere."

"You don't understand. She didn't come home last night at all. And there's no sign that she's been here today. I wouldn't have called you if I knew what else to do."

Kyle sighed. "Roger, why don't you come over here. You sound like you could use some company."

Roger hesitated. "Kyle, do you think you could find her? Ask her to call me or something. I need to talk to her, to know she's all right."

"But I don't know where she is," Kyle said in frustration. She realized that she had nearly excluded Nancy from her life completely. Suddenly she felt very selfish. She had been so absorbed by her own pain, she hadn't even tried to reach Nancy. "I'm sorry."

"Kyle," Roger continued, "I thought you might know where she goes at night."

"Why should I?" Kyle said, hating the feeling of being caught in the middle of Nancy's and Roger's problems.

"She's seeing a woman, isn't she?" Roger asked quietly. "It's different this time, not like her little flings with men used to be. She's so preoccupied she doesn't even pretend to hide what she's doing. I always felt before like she just wanted a little diversion, but this time something's changed." He stopped, obviously distraught.

Kyle decided to be straightforward. She really didn't know what else to do. "Look, Roger--Nancy has been going out to some women's bars. I thought she was just curious, looking for something new. I don't know if she's actually involved with anyone. We haven't really been talking much lately." She sighed and continued. "I'll try to find her. I can't promise she'll listen to me. But I'll look for her, okay?"

"Thank you," Roger said in relief. "I'll be at home."

After he hung up, Kyle stared at the fire and finished her brandy. It was time, she thought, to do something for someone else. She couldn't help Dane. It had been much too late. Maybe it wasn't too late for Nancy. She got up and carefully prepared for the journey.
 
 

She looked for Nancy's car outside Leathers. It wasn't there, but Brad's Mercedes coupe was. Kyle half-hoped that Nancy wasn't with her. As soon as she entered the bar, she saw them. Brad and Nancy were sitting at a table in the rear, nearly in shadow. Even from a distance Kyle could see that Nancy was drunk, or high on something. Kyle walked directly to them and pulled up an empty chair from a nearby table. Brad looked at her in surprise, a slow smile playing across her lips.

"Why, Kyle. Do sit down. What are you drinking?"

"Beer," Kyle said, noting the glazed look in Nancy's eyes. She had never seen her so disheveled before. Kyle's anger, simmering like a buried coal for so long, began to flare within her.

"Nancy," she said, touching Nancy's arm lightly, "are you all right?"

Nancy stared at Kyle, looking confused.

"Of course she is," Brad replied as she handed Kyle a bottle of beer. "She's just a little tired out. Right, Nancy?" She laughed and rested her hand possessively on Nancy's back. She eyed Kyle with interest.

"Isn't this a little beneath you, Brad?" Kyle said, her voice like flint. "She can't be much of a challenge for you, can she? A novice, and straight at that." Kyle tipped her bottle to her lips and watched Brad carefully. She could detect no reaction behind Brad's impenetrable facade. "I suppose after a while you lose your edge. You can't really get it up to top someone who's really a challenge." She thought she detected a flash of anger in Brad's dark eyes.

"There's never been anyone here who could compete with me," Brad said smugly. "Ask Dane, she'll tell you how good I am."

Kyle's hands clenched around her bottle at the mention of Dane's name, but she was determined to maintain her self-control. Everything depended upon it.

"There is now, Brad. I'm the only woman left who can top you." She offered the challenge, knowing Brad would find it hard to refuse.

"What makes you think I'd let you?" Brad replied, clearly intrigued. No one had ever dared to suggest it.

"Because you know I can," Kyle said flatly. "And if I can't," she continued, making the final gamble, "you can have me—any way you want."

At last Brad's composure cracked. She leaned forward, an eager hunger on her face. "And how is it decided. If you succeed?"

Kyle leaned forward until her face was very close to Brad's. "I want you on your knees to me, Brad. I want to hear you beg." Just like you had Dane.

Brad laughed. "You're a fool. But even a fool can be interesting. When?"

"Right now," Kyle replied. "But not here. At Encounters."

Brad leaned back in her chair and stared at Kyle in amazement. What an advantage Kyle was giving her! Everyone at Encounters would see Kyle fail. And Brad could have her, right there in front of everyone! It was too good to turn down.

"Let's go," Brad said, standing. She looked coldly down at Nancy, who had been trying to follow their conversation. "I'm sure the 'lady' will find someone to look after her."

"Go tell the bartender to call her a cab, Kyle ordered, her voice harsh.

Brad stared at her for a second, and then grinned. "All right."

When she returned, Kyle led her through the crowd to the door.

As Caroline pulled the jeep into the curb she noticed Dane staring past her out the window. She followed her gaze and saw two women pull away down the street.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"No one," Dane replied. She hadn't seen Kyle in months, but her figure was unmistakable. As was Brad's. Dane had been avoiding the bar the last few months. She couldn't bear to see Kyle, night after night, and watch her change. Dane recognized the hardness in her face and the emptiness in her smile. Even as rumor spread about the 'new top', Dane sensed what was happening to Kyle. It had happened to her. The coldness that slowly smothered all feeling, the walls that surrounded all tenderness, until only emptiness remained. She wanted to warn Kyle, to tell her to keep searching, not to give up. Someone would come to love her--as Kyle had come to her. But she couldn't. She was paralyzed by her own anguish, her own sense of failure. And so she had stopped going out, to avoid watching once again the inevitable ending to the age-old drama. The destruction of hope, the death of the innocence of the heart.

"Come on," Caroline said, standing by the side of the car, holding Dane's door open. "I finally got you here. Let's go get a drink."

Dane looked up, surprised to realize she had been drifting again. She seemed to lose track of things so easily these days. "Right," she said, easing her long legs out of the cramped space under the dash. "I'm with you."

They were there only a short time when Sandy approached them.

"Look you two, I'm sorry to bother you, but I've got a problem."

Caroline and Dane both looked at Sandy in surprise.

"What's the matter?" Dane asked.

"It's that woman over there--Brad's, uh, friend. Brad left her here and told me to get her a cab. But I can't get anyone to drive her home. She lives way up the coast. Do you know somewhere she can stay? I hate to lay this on you, but I'm here until three, and she's already wasted."

Dane looked over, recognizing Nancy. "I'll go talk to her," she said.

"Wait a minute," Caroline said, grabbing their beers. "I'm coming with you."

Nancy looked up blankly when they joined her. "Hi there," she said, her voice slurred. "Come to rescue the damsel in distress?"

Caroline smiled at her compassionately. "Are you all right, hon?"

"Oh, sure," Nancy replied, searching in her purse for a cigarette. "Just fine. I've been deserted-- and insulted too, I think."

Dane reached over to light her cigarette. Nancy stared at the small black and gold lighter.

"Where did you get that?" she questioned.

Dane looked at the small object cradled in her palm. She smiled slightly. "From a friend."

"Some friend," Nancy snorted. "That 'friend' just left here with my -- whatever she is." She swallowed the rest of her drink and looked questioningly at Dane. "Buy a lady a drink?"

"In a minute. Tell me what happened here first," Dane asked.

"Damned if I know," Nancy said. "They were making some sort of bargain or something. I'll do this if you do that--it didn't make any sense. Kyle--" her voice broke suddenly. "Kyle was acting like some damn avenging angel. Out to save my honor." She looked at Dane astutely, her eyes clear for a second. "Or someone's honor."

Dane swallowed tensely. "Tell me what she said."

"Dane," Caroline said, afraid for Dane, "let it go."

"No!" Dane said vehemently. "Kyle doesn't know Brad. She doesn't know what she's capable of." She turned back to Nancy, her eyes hard. "Think! What did Kyle say?"

Nancy shook her clouded her head. "She said something about being the only left top-" she stopped, giggling. "No, that's not right. The only top left? I know—the only one left who could top Brad." She laughed without humor. "That's a bitch, isn't it? Top the perfect top."

Dane stared at her. "What else?"

"Something about if Kyle couldn't, Brad could do whatever she liked."

"Oh, Christ," Dane groaned. She turned to Caroline, her face set. "Can you take Nancy home with you?"

Caroline looked at her friend in alarm. "Of course, but where are you going?"

"I'm going after Kyle."

"Where?"

"I know where," Dane said grimly.

Caroline grabbed Dane's arm, wanting to protect her. "Don't get into it, Dane. It's not your affair!"

"Oh, but it is, Caroline," Dane replied quietly. "It always has been."

Kyle maneuvered Brad's Mercedes quickly but calmly through the familiar streets. Brad sat silently beside her, studying the frozen planes of Kyle's granite-like face. She was disquieted, inwardly uncertain. She slid her hand under the passenger seat and detached a small, slim container secured there. Kyle glanced over as Brad removed a small plastic bag from the box.

"No drugs," Kyle said tersely. "I want to be sure you remember every detail."

Brad stared at her, amazed. Kyle continued to watch the road. Brad hesitated for a moment and then replaced the contents of the container and slipped it back under the seat.

By the time they reached the Encounters, it was crowded. The tables ringing the center stage were full. People slipped in and out of the shadows near the scene rooms, while others jostled each other for a place at the bar.

"Nice crowd," Kyle said nonchalantly. She was relaxed, sure of herself. She even began to enjoy the anticipation of what was to come. She ordered a drink and turned to Brad. "I left my motorcycle bag on the back seat of your car. Get it for me."

Brad's head snapped up, and she started to protest. Then she smiled. All right, if that's the way Kyle wanted to play it. She could have her chance. It would make Brad's victory all the sweeter. She left to retrieve the heavy black tank bag.

Kyle finished her drink leisurely, keeping her eye on the center stage. When several women approached it, preparing to start a scene, Kyle strode over to them.

"I'd like you to wait," she said quietly. "I have something planned for Brad."

The women stared at her. Kyle looked resplendent in tight leather pants, heavy biker boots and a white shirt open between her breasts. The top took note of the leather wristband on Kyle's left arm and the keys dangling from a strap on her left side. She nodded curtly. "All right--but it had better be good."

"Oh, it will be," Kyle said as she turned away. She knew the word would circulate quickly through the bar that a heavy scene was planned. She stepped onto the stage, feeling many eyes upon her, and checked all of the restraints hidden in the shadows with care. When she turned around, the room was quiet.

Brad returned with Kyle's bag, instantly aware of the change of atmosphere. When heads turned to stare at her, she felt perspiration break out on her back and under her arms. Now there was no turning back. Kyle awaited her on the steps of the stage. Brad walked toward her, her head high. Damn, she would not lower her eyes in front of everyone! As it was, Kyle had the advantage, being taller, and now she appeared almost statuesque, standing solidly above her.

"You can leave now, Brad," Kyle murmured as she took the bag from Brad's hand. "It's your last chance."

Brad knew how badly she would lose face if she turned away. She had to beat Kyle at her own game. If she refused to acknowledge Kyle's dominance, she would win. No one would ever dare challenge her again. Kyle was the only one who had ever come close to taking her place in the dark shadow world of their nighttime lives. Not even Dane had garnered such a reputation as a top.

"No," Brad said. "I still don't think you can do it."

Kyle merely nodded. Someone turned all the lights down, leaving the two of them outlined in the hazy red glow on center stage.

"Take your jacket off. Fold it neatly and lay it over a chair," Kyle commanded.

Brad responded, not diffidently. She returned to stand before Kyle, her eyes belligerent.

Kyle turned slightly to one side, motioning for Brad to mount the stage. She heard matches flare behind her, bottles shuffled about on the tabletops. She stopped Brad midway between the side posts of the scaffold. She positioned Brad so that she faced the room.

"I want you to see them watching you," Kyle said softly, her eyes cold. She placed her bag on a small ledge in the shadows and slid the long zipper down. The sound was magnified in the dark, quiet room. She removed wide, well-padded leather shackles, attached to short chains. She hooked the chains to the rings set into the wooden arches and returned to Brad.

Slowly, purposefully, she slipped a long, slim object from the inner pocket of her jacket. When the blade of the knife snapped open, it caught the reflection of the overhead lights and glittered in her hand. A murmur passed through the crowd. Brad's eyes fixed on the blade in astonishment.

"You haven't got the guts," Brad whispered, so softly that only Kyle could hear her.

"Oh, but I do," she replied, her eyes locked on Brad's.

Kyle deliberately cut each button off the front of Brad's shirt with a practiced flick of her wrist. When the shirt fell open, exposing Brad's small firm breasts, Kyle leaned forward. She slipped her hand into the leather waistband of Brad's pants, creating a space between Brad's abdomen and the soft material. With her other hand, Kyle turned the knife sideways and slid the flat of the blade straight down along the underside of the zipper, leaving the gleaming black handle nestled against Brad's stomach.

"Stand very still, now," Kyle warned mockingly as she stepped back. Methodically she stripped off the remains of Brad's shirt. While Brad stood naked from the waist up, the knife protruding from the top of her pants like a misplaced phallus, Kyle carefully applied the restraints to her ankles and wrists. She stood behind Brad, her face close to her ear.

"You can get out of these anytime you like. It's your safe way out." She waited a heartbeat. "And if you do—I win."

Brad swallowed, all of her senses centered on the cold steel that lay along her skin, threatening to twist its razor-sharp edge against her at the slightest movement. It won't work, she told herself. But still she felt the restraints on her arms as if they were bands of iron. Could she get out?

Kyle stepped around her to the side and pulled the knife free of Brad's body with a wrenching motion, as if pulling it from her depths. She heard someone gasp and realized with satisfaction that it was Brad. Sweat beaded on Brad’s breasts and began to trickle in uneven streams down her sculpted torso. Under the red lights it looked like blood.

Kyle smiled grimly as the room receded from her view. She saw only the form before her, helplessly within her power. And as she stared at Brad's body, she saw Dane, and the raw, oozing wounds. Rage threatened to usurp her reason. She shook her head; she knew she needed all her concentration now. With the tip of the blade, all of which was visible to the crowd in the blackness of the room, she outlined Brad's breasts with intricate movements, lightly scratching the skin, never deep enough to draw blood. The blade was everywhere—now nearly piercing the nipple, now close to the soft vulnerable underside. At any moment Brad expected to feel the sharp lancet enter her body. The steel flashed as Kyle moved it rapidly from hand to hand, finally bringing the point to rest in the hollow at the base of Brad's throat. Kyle pushed hard enough that Brad needed to arch her neck away to relieve the sharp pressure. Brad was scarcely breathing. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest as the slim blade flickered against her skin.

"I could end this now," Kyle said, so that only Brad could hear. "It would be quick, and you'd only feel the smallest point of pain. Like a needle driven into your arm."

Brad's head reeled. Kyle knows! She must know about Dane—and Nancy?

Kyle moved closer, her breath hot against Brad’s ear. "But I don’t need drugs to control you. That would be too good for you, Brad. Too simple." Kyle ran the fingers of her free hand down the planes of Brad’s taut abdomen, smiling with grim satisfaction as the muscles quivered under her touch. "I want much more from you. I want your soul."

Brad felt the ice in Kyle’s voice like a cold hand around her heart. In the center of Brad's being, fear burgeoned like a living beast. She finally understood that the game they played was not a game, and the stake’s were their lives. She gasped again as Kyle inserted the blade along the sides of her legs and slashed the leather open to her knees in one powerful thrust. Her skin was untouched, but it felt as if her flesh had been flayed open. Kyle released Brad's wrists for a moment and turned her so that her back was exposed to view. Just as quickly, she lightly refastened the shackles.

Kyle moved away from the naked woman before her and pulled out a cigarette. She lit it off the gold lighter in her pocket. She stepped into darkness and selected a small cat from her bag. She knew that Brad could hear her but that she could not see her.

Kyle moved from the shadows to the front edge of the stage, gauging the distance. She tested the cat with a quick flip of her wrist. The snap of the whip sliced the thick air before her, and she noted with satisfaction that Brad flinched at the sound. At first her strokes were teasing, glancing off the contour of Brad's back and buttocks, stinging for an instant and then gone. As the force and rhythm of Kyle's delivery increased, Brad twisted slightly in her restraints, seeking to escape. Despite her rising panic, Brad began to be aroused. The tension of the knife ritual, the powerlessness of being restrained, and the tantalizing pinpoints of flickering pain created by the whip were having a sexual effect. Even as she resisted, her body betrayed her, swelling and pulsating to the rhythm of the cat. She moaned slightly, trying to ignore the pressure in her thighs and pelvis. Just as suddenly as it started, those tormenting kisses of fire raining down on her back stopped. She felt deserted, isolated in her desire, bereft of the source of her pleasure. She bit back a cry, a plea for Kyle to continue.

Dane pushed her way past the crowd on the stairs and tossed a bill to the bouncer. As she started to brush past her, the heavyset woman grabbed her arm.

"Just a minute," the woman said. "There's a heavy scene going on in there. Take it easy."

Dane nodded and slowed her headlong rush. Nevertheless, she moved her way insistently through the crowd until she could see the stage. When she did she stopped short, her heart pounding. Kyle stood before Brad's suspended body, lightly hefting a heavy braided whip. Even in the subdued lighting, Dane could make out the flush on the skin of Brad's back, indication that Kyle had been working on her a while. As she watched, Kyle's arm arced, and the cat landed with a smart blow across Brad's lower back. Dane could barely stifle a moan as she saw Brad's body jerk away with the intensity of the pain. Instantly, Dane was transported to another dimly lit room, the echo of the leather striking flesh resounding in her own body. She felt herself flinch at each blow; she felt the pain suffuse her mind. She remained motionless, reliving the moment of her own destruction.

At first, Brad fought the pain, determined to withstand any punishment Kyle could deliver. She would not be subdued, she would never give in! But Kyle had primed her well. Kyle had already brought Brad past the point of pain to the beginning of arousal. Even as Brad’s mind rebelled, her body made the inevitable transition from rejection of pain to the acceptance of pleasure. The lash on her back became a soothing caress, the swelling of her injured flesh the blossoming of desire. Her body no longer moved to escape the blows, it sought them, each stroke driving her nearer to orgasm. So close, she was so close to exploding! She forgot her need to resist Kyle's power--she welcomed it. There was no thought, only sensation. Her mind dissolved into liquid fire as the exquisite ripples of release began building deep in her belly. Brad’s hips began thrusting with the rhythm of the contractions; her neck arched back in rapturous agony. Her moans penetrated the darkest corners of the room.

Kyle's mind was numb; her eyes blind. She no longer felt the people pressing close to her, she couldn't hear Brad’s cries. Her arms had become the vehicle for her anger, the whip the embodiment of her own pain. The rhythm of the blows echoed the fury in her heart. At last she could drive the demons from her soul with the power of the cat.

Dane grabbed Kyle's arm, twisting her off balance. "Kyle!" she shouted. "No!"

Kyle's glazed eyes fell uncomprehendingly on her face. When Kyle tried to wrench her arm away, Dane brought her other hand down hard on the shaft of the whip.

"Look at her," Dane cried. "Kyle, look at her! That was me, don't you see! It could still be me! Don't do this. Oh god, Kyle, don't become like them. Don't do what they did to me!"

Kyle's vision cleared. She saw Dane's face before her, wounded but fiercely strong as well. And she looked to Brad, collapsing against her restraints, dangling at the end of her own desires.

She tossed the heavy instrument of torture at Brad’s feet, sick of herself. As she turned away," she said in a thick voice that echoed throughout the room, "Someone else can have her. I'm done with her."

As the crowd parted to let them through, she closed her mind to the sound of Brad calling her name.

Kyle sank into the seat of Dane's car, exhausted. She didn't know where they were going—she didn't care. She had reached the nadir of her despair. A sea of remorse engulfed her. She had become what she most hated--a user of people, an abuser of power. She had indeed become what she loathed most in Brad--a sadist unaffected by another's suffering. A hand that held the whip without tenderness, without feeling. She had wished only to give pain, no longer seeking the delicate balance between pleasure and the physical boundaries of pain. She had tested herself and she had failed.

Dane watched the emotions play across Kyle's face, feeling her agony and her guilt. She wanted to reassure her, to tell her that it would pass. Kyle was not lost, not yet. Dane knew only one way to prove it to her, the only way she herself would understand. If she could show Kyle now that she was worthy of Dane's trust, she could free her. She would give Kyle her body; Kyle already had her heart.

Dane pulled her car up in front of her apartment and went around to open Kyle's door.

"Please come inside," Dane said quietly.

Kyle followed her, unprotesting. Dane led her into her bedroom and turned the switch that subtly lit the room. Kyle stood still in the center of the room, remembering the only other time she had been there. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Where along the way had she lost herself?

Dane came to her, her eyes searching Kyle's face. Kyle stared back, questioningly. Without a word, Dane sank to her knees before Kyle, her hands lightly grasping Kyle's thighs, her head bowed, supplicant. She pressed her face against the soft leather covering Kyle's groin. There was no one else in the world she would do this for. There was no one she had ever wanted so much. This was not sex; this was salvation.

Dane began to slide the zipper down, her mouth slightly open to touch the flesh her hands exposed. Suddenly, Kyle grabbed Dane’s hands, pulling her to her feet.

"No," Kyle said breathlessly. "That's not what I need."

"Then tell me," Dane said. She swallowed, remembering the image of Brad’s humiliation. "Anything." The ultimate trust.

Kyle shook her head, her eyes locked on Dane's. "No, Dane. You top me." Take me back, Dane. Make me yours

Dane turned away, fear and uncertainty twisting in her belly. "I can't." How can you trust me when you’ve seen my weakness? How can you put your life in my hands?

"You can," Kyle said without moving. She waited, scarcely breathing, afraid that Dane would abandon her, leaving her victim to her own demons. Dane was the only point of light in the dark landscape of her soul. Only Dane could lead her out of the night.

"Dane," she whispered in desperation, "Please. I need you to." Free me

"By your leave," Dane whispered, turning to face her. Give me permission

"Yes," Kyle said softly. "Anything." I trust you

Dane's hands were gentle on Kyle’s body as she undressed her, reverent. The restraints she passed around Kyle's wrists were as soft as satin. Dane stood silently before Kyle, slowly stripping herself bare. She stood boldly, triumphantly, naked before her captive lover. Kyle had given her this power, returning her soul.

When Dane lay down upon her, Kyle ached to enfold her in her arms, but she could not. With her body restrained, her spirit soared, welcoming Dane into every corner of her being. Kyle closed her eyes and knew only the feather-light caresses of Dane's lips against her skin. Her body surged upward against Dane, seeking to fuse with that which she could not hold. Dane's hands were on her face, in her hair, enclosing her breasts. Dane’s fingers on her nipples sent currents of pleasure into her already tensely swollen clitoris. Dane’s tongue traced molten patterns of fire down Kyle's quivering body. She kissed the soft triangle at the base of Kyle's thighs, never touching the pulsating center of Kyle's raging desire.

Kyle writhed in search of Dane's caresses. She whimpered, desperately needing the relief of Dane’s fingers on her clitoris. Finally, she could bear it no longer. "Please," she begged, "oh god--please, Dane--touch me now."

Dane lingered for a moment, holding Kyle's passion like a fragile bird in her hand. When the power of their common desire rose within her, filling her, she lowered her mouth to Kyle's moist warmth. She brought her slowly to climax, teasingly, tormentingly, until Kyle's orgasm could no longer be contained. At the moment the wild fluttering beneath her lips turned to pounding spasms, Dane pressed her fingers into her, claiming Kyle completely. Dane’s fulfillment at that moment surpassed any she had ever known. Her tears mingled with Kyle’s essence.

When Kyle quieted, Dane removed the restraints and stretched out beside her, cradling Kyle in her arms. She was satisfied, having consummated her need in Kyle's pleasure. Kyle had entrusted her with this moment, and she had not failed. She drifted for a while in the first peace she had known in years, until she was surprised into wakefulness by Kyle's touch on her body.

Kyle turned Dane slowly but firmly onto her stomach. She stared down at Dane's back, then rested her fingers against the testament of Dane’s pain. She traced each ridge of healing flesh, her hands trembling. Her tears fell on the vision of Dane's torment. She kissed the unscarred places on Dane's sides and shoulders, then tenderly moved her lips over the ravages of her once flawless skin. When she had finished caressing each hurt, seeking to heal each wound, she turned Dane over to face her. She leaned above Dane, her fingers gently stroking her face.

"I love you," Kyle whispered.

Dane sighed, her soul free at last.

"I love you."

Caroline looked up from her first cup of coffee of the morning at the two leather-clad figures behind Anne. Her sigh of relief was audible.

"Just tell me you're both all right--then tell me everything," she said in way of greeting.

Dane glanced at Kyle, who grinned at her, shrugging. Dane straddled a chair at the table and pulled one over next to her for Kyle.

"We're both all right," Dane said. Her tone suggested understatement.

Caroline stared from one to the other, aware of the glow in Dane's eyes that had been absent for years. Kyle looked tired, but relaxed. And from the way Kyle's eyes kept returning to Dane's face, Caroline was certain Kyle looked tired for a very good reason.

Kyle turned to Caroline, her face suddenly serious. "Is Nancy still here with you?"

Caroline shook her head. "Her husband came to pick her up early this morning. I would have called him last night, but she was so strung out, I thought it was better that she stay with us until morning." She looked carefully at Dane, knowing how sensitive she was about certain subjects. "She's been into some pretty heavy drugs. I think she'll have a hard time for a while."

"Nancy's tough. She'll make it, as long as she stays away from Brad," Kyle said, her expression pained. "I haven't been much of a friend to her lately. I could have prevented this."

Dane shook her head. "I don't think so, Kyle. Brad--" Dane stopped for a second, drawing a long breath. "Brad can be very enchanting when she chooses. And she reads people's needs very well. She knows how to find their weaknesses, and she uses them. Then, with the drugs—" Dane looked away quickly.

Kyle's hand strayed to Dane's back, and she gently stroked her, knowing her flesh as her own. She didn't try to stop Dane from remembering. She knew it was the only way for Dane to be free of it. All she wanted was for her to realize that Kyle loved her, and respected her, regardless of what had happened before. Dane needed her respect, probably more than her love. Kyle had shown her that last night, by entrusting herself to Dane sexually, and emotionally.

Caroline couldn't believe it! Dane was sitting there, obviously reliving the dark road she had gone down with Brad, and at last, she did not travel it alone. If love could truly purge old wounds, Dane finally had a chance to heal.

"When someone has a need, a need they can't even define, and another person not only calls it by name, but answers it--that's pretty tough to resist. I don't think anyone could have stopped Nancy from getting involved with Brad," Anne said as she joined them. "Or you either, Dane--back at the beginning. What counts is that you made it through it, right?"

Dane smiled at Anne as Caroline watched, open-mouthed. Even Caroline rarely confronted Dane about her past quite so openly.

"How come you never said that five years ago, Chicken?" Dane asked.

Anne shrugged. "I was just a kid then—what did I know?"

They all smiled, the tension of the last tumultuous hours beginning to fade.

"Dane," Kyle asked quietly.

"Hmm?" Dane replied.

"The woman you went to--for discipline. Who is she?"

Dane shook her head, smiling sadly. She reached for Kyle’s hand, drawing it to her thigh, covering it with her own, connecting them. "Her name doesn't matter. She's what remains when love dies, and we no longer believe in its return. All that's left is anger and then, not even that. Just the need to define ourselves, our existence, by the power we can wield over someone else. She's the person either of us might have become if we hadn't risked loving one more time."

They kissed softly, two women bound , at last, by love.
 
 

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