At last she said, "It was what you said about a baby girl."

I smiled, though of course she couldn't see it. "What of it Slave," I said, "As Master that is my right!"

It was the wrong thing to say. She started crying again. I tried to get though but is was no good. In the end I attached the wire and left her sobbing on the bed.

I now knew absolutely that there was something wrong. Her reactions hadn't been right from the beginning. Her sudden mood swings, her lack of backbone and now this. I had a number of theories most of which revolved around major mental illness. One thing was certain I was going to need expert help.

I made two calls. First I called Vicky at work. I explained that a last minute personal problem had come up and that I'd have to postpone things for a week. She seemed disappointed until I offered to pay her for the cancelled session and take her to lunch to discuss future plans. Next I called an old college friend, much to my relief she had most of the afternoon off so I arranged to meet her at a bar we both knew. I made my preparations, gave Caroline a drink and helped her to the toilet. She was silent though out and I said as little as possible. Then satisfied that she would be all right for the next few hours I left.

Vicky worked as a Dental Hygienist in a section of town that didn't have many good restaurants. I'd arranged to meet her outside the front of her building then go to a little bistro I knew. As she walked towards the car I knew I'd made a good choice. She was almost exactly Caroline's height and build. Instead of Caroline's mane of golden blond hair she had a short mousy bob and they didn't look much alike in the face, but all in all I was satisfied. Any of the outfits I had bought should fit with little difficulty and most importantly in a blond wig and wearing Caroline's clothes they would be indistinguishable in long shot.

Once we were at the restaurant I showed her my portfolio, shot's I'd taken with Andy Pearson using some of his models. I had a few photo's taken in Paris last year; Sam, Jean Paul and me, the two of us chatting with Claudia. I'm not usually a name dropper but this was the girl's first modelling job and I felt the need to convince her that I wasn't some random freak. I paid her and apologized again then we ordered.

She had a pleasing if somewhat dull personality and tended to limit conversations to subjects she felt comfortable with. For the first part of the meal the subject of teeth made up a large part of the discussion. Then I lucked out and discovered she had a liking for motorcycles. This was more up my alley and the second half of the meal was more entertaining. I said my goodbyes, promised to call and headed for Boston.

Mike's is one of the hidden gems of Boston night life. Those who know it call it the real "Cheers" a quiet unassuming Irish American bar with a loyal clientele which doesn't feel the need to advertize or cash in on the tourist trade. The regulars keep it their little secret and to be accepted there feels as much a privilege as being a member of some exclusive gentlemen's club. Mike's draws most of it's regulars from the academic staff of the local universities. No one knows how that came about but I suspect that it is far enough away from any of the colleges to be outside undergraduate stagger range. This allows the professors chance to meet, talk and drink without the risk of student interruption. I arrived early and bought the first round planting myself in my usual booth and waited. A number of regulars passed and a few stopped to chat and the business of Mike's flowed around me. I was part way through the Globe crossword when a damp figure noisily shook her umbrella next to me.

I glanced up, "Hello Maggie, is it raining?" "No," She said, "I just like carrying wet umbrellas about. For a supposedly intelligent man Richard Cody you do say some of the most stupid things." She pointed at the pint of Guinness on the table, "Is that mine?" When I nodded she drank it at a surprising speed. The waitress had already seen that coming and was heading in for the next round.

"Same again?" I asked.

"Hell no. If you asked me to drop everything and head on over it means you've got yourself a problem and that being the case I'm on a professional rate." She smiled at the waitress. Tell George I'll have a brandy and ginger ale, and I want VSOP non of that cheap rubbish. Mr Cody here tells me he's a paper millionaire lets see if we can't make him spend some of it shall we."

I'd met Margaret O'Hanks during my postgraduate research. She was a short slim redhead with wonderful green eyes and a pushy personality. I can't remember exactly how we met but I think our attraction was based on common need; I needed a friend and she needed a TV set. I could virtually guarantee that three minutes before the start of "Saturday Night Live" there would be a knock at the door and she would just walk in sit down and watch it as if she owned the place. She had also been my first gay friend and we spent many happy hours cruising the bars for chicks. It hadn't done my ego any good that she seemed better at picking up women than I was. For a time we had shared a house forming an unlikely threesome with a tall, willowy, bisexual blonde called Kathy. Three in a bed sessions had been quite common though Maggie and I only ever did it together once which had been enough to persuade her that penile sex was over rated. She was a keen if sometimes viscous practical joker, and being her friend was no protection. Some of her exploits had become legends yet surprisingly she had been asked to stay on after graduation and had been there ever since. She was now a well respected researcher in experimental clinical psychology. As always she had guessed right, I needed advice.

She hung up her coat and deposited the umbrella in the stand making it back to the booth about the same time the drink did.

"Keep an eye this way dear and keep them coming," She said to the waitress who sensing a large tip in the air started to orbit a discrete distance from our table. Maggie took a sip and then looked up and smiled.

"So Cody how's the love life, finally got over the Ice Queen."

"Her name is Samantha."

"I know what her name is," She said sharply. "And I also know that you're well rid of her. Jumped up little bitch. Some women are made too beautiful for their own or anyone else's good."

"You're only saying that because she turned you down!"

"She was tempted boy! Little miss smarty pants likes the boys all right but she's got an itch in her pants only another woman can scratch."

I smiled, this was an old argument one, we'd started almost twenty years ago and it was still going strong. It was Maggie's contention that everyone was bisexual, that screaming hetros and gays were just extremes being 90 plus in one direction or the other. She believed that it was only social taboo that stopped people experimenting and realising the truth. Of course she was willing to help any girl who wanted to see if this was true, but that she claimed did not invalidate the point.

I felt it was time to change the subject.

"Talking about itches how's things with you?"

A strange mixture of emotions played across her face, "I'm thinking of becoming a nun."

"Why?"

"Hey, I've been celibate for almost nine months. If I'm going to do without then I may as well get the recognition for it." She spat it out with a bitterness I'd never seen before. "Cheers," She downed the drink and as if by magic the waitress appeared. "Same again."

"Look," I said feeling uncomfortable, "If this is a bad time."

"No, look I'm just a little pissed off right now." She gave a deep sigh. "Last Christmas there was a bit of a scandal, girl claimed a professor offered to fix her grades for sex. Now just about everyone knew she was lying, the guy she accused was more interested in this years star quarterback for one thing but the Provost's office sent around a memo about fraternization. Well you know."

"And you're taking it seriously?"

She scowled again, "It hasn't really stopped anyone. I don't think anyone really trades grades but there are a lot of smart young women attending college these days. If you're getting close to a girl, especially if she's gifted and you want to give her extra help. Well you know." She took another sip, "Current Provost doesn't like me. Oh he'll turn a blind eye while some of this male friends play around but you can bet that if I so much as look at a girl."

I nodded.

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