Free Cautionary Tales by Piers Anthony

inevitably ameliorated in the course of time, becoming resigned or accepting. That was like stale beer. So they had to be disposed of, to make way for the next. As a rule he did not like killing, using it only as a threat; it was too apt to stir up complications, even though no body would ever be found. It was easier to ship them off to some distant location with enough money to see them through a month or so while they found their bearings. They never knew his real name or location, calling him Master, so could not implicate him. Only Maria knew, and had become his tacit accomplice. But her continuing feeling for him was awkward.
    He gazed into the screen. He had an outdated security system that could fairly readily be nullified. That was the honey pot. His real system was unlikely even to be detected, and could not be nullified without lethal consequences. So he knew when intruders came. Generally they were robbers, who would trip some hidden wire and summon the police. Or so they thought, not knowing that he signaled the police when he had verified the intruder’s nature. This one was different: not only a woman, but an outstandingly voluptuous one.
    In fact, she just might be Militia. If so, this would be a night to remember. For Militia was a serial rapist who was female, notorious in sexual circles. She would be the ultimate in conquests. Newton fit the profile of her preferred victims. He had baited his trap, hoping she would come while knowing that the odds were against it.
    Luck was with him. That evening he watched as she systematically nullified each guardian camera, not destroying them, merely turning them off briefly so that her passage was not recorded. It was possible to do that with less sophisticated equipment. She figured him for a typical patsy: a prominent wealthy bachelor who figured nothing like this could ever happen to him. Little did she know.
    In due course she nulled the last one and achieved the house proper. Maria was gone, and of course the intruder was aware of it, knowing him now to be alone. The perfect target. That was why she had come in now. She always caught her men alone.
    He dimmed the screen and lay back in his bed as if sleeping. She would find him soon enough. Then they would see.
    She was so quiet in the darkness that he wasn’t even aware of her presence until he felt her lips on his. It was an electrifying kiss that both delighted and numbed his mouth with its potency.
    He moved his head, as if waking, trying to clear his face. But she had hold of his head and kept her mouth on his, maintaining the kiss for ten, fifteen, twenty seconds. His tongue involuntarily tried to penetrate between her lips to titillate her mouth, but that was tightly sealed. This was a strange kind of passion.
    Then at last she pulled back. “Wake, lover,” she murmured.
    He pretended confusion. “Who—?”
    â€œI am Militia,” she said, confirming his hope. “I trust you have heard of me.”
    â€œI have,” he said. “But never expected to encounter you.” That much was true.
    â€œYour wet dream has been granted,” she said. “Let’s have some light.” She moved away from him, found the switch by the door, and illuminated the bedroom.
    There she stood, even more lovely than the screen had indicated. Hourglass figure, starlet face, long dark reddish hair. And a prominent tattoo on her forehead: M. For Militia, of course.
    â€œYou look great,” he said, affecting hesitancy. “But I’m not sure I, er, want to be on TV.”
    â€œYou don’t have a choice, Mister Oswald.” She opened a small suitcase he hadn’t noticed before and took out three small battery powered TV cameras. She set them on floor, table, and bed stand, all focusing on the bed. Their little action lights came on.
    That made him wince. He didn’t like having his real name used in this connection, and those cameras were dangerous. “Of