Free Blooming: Veronica by Louisa Trent Page B

nefarious purpose in attending a book reading. You will still strip, mind you, for I possess the memory of an elephant and will not be gainsaid in this, but getting to know one another will delay your inevitable unveiling.”
    “What shall I say, then? What is it you desire to hear? What is it you want from me?” Anything to avoid this ridiculousness. “Perhaps I should relate to you my views on Dorothy Woodhull’s free-love movement or my beliefs on suffrage, labor reform, Karl Marx’s Communist Manifesto …” She hung her head. “How about abortion? I could expound on that subject for hours, the illegal methods available, both herbal and otherwise. I did some recent research…”
    “You did not abort your child. You took nothing, used nothing, did nothing to end its life. Your baby died of natural causes.”
    “I willed it away. Do you hear me? I did! It was an embarrassment, a humiliation. It shamed me.”
    “Not an it , madam. A baby, one you loved. Perhaps not initially, but clearly you did later, after adjusting to the pregnancy. You pleaded with me to do anything to keep him or her growing inside you. Furthermore, if a person’s will, regardless of how strong or constant, could change a circumstance, then I would walk without a limp. But we are not in charge of the universe, madam, and neither strength of will nor an abundance of wishes will make something so. If you feel the need to control events, then I strongly suggest you return to your writing, for only there may you play God.” He took a deep breath. “The ability to create order in a disordered world is a writer’s single solace and the only currency worthy of an author’s labor and devotion. Use it to mend.”
    But that ability was lost to her. She could not write, not anymore. “Clearly, sir, you do not wish to hear the uncomfortably ugly things I have to say here. Then what? What is your interest?”
    “Do not be difficult. I already defined my interest in you by telling you to remove your clothing. I am interested in seeing your form, your shape. I will confess to being inordinately fond of titties, and I should adore seeing yours.”
    He clapped his hands, as though he were ordering a spoiled poodle to perform a trick. “Now, madam, we have chatted, and I am tired of waiting. Go on! Strip, like a good little wifey. You may leave on your stockings and garters. Also, the shoes. I do approve of those gold buckles at the toe, and the shoes’ adorable heels.”
    “You really expect me to obey like the snap of two fingers?”
    For demonstration purposes, she tried to click two digits together, but their clamminess prevented the snap.
    What a failure she was. Lost her lover, her baby, her self-respect. Lost the ability to write. She could not even snap two fingers together and make a sound.
    Her chin sank to her chest.
    Even then, he did not let her be.
    “You obeyed your father and married me, madam. Obedience comes naturally to you. I would even be so bold as to suggest you have a submissive streak, despite your rhetoric about women’s equality. Start with your basque.”
    Her head jerked back up, and she glared at him. “You actually intend for me to go through with this charade? Why I never…”
    “This I know. And without your needing to tell me. I am well aware Robert McDougal lacked the erotic imagination to play sex games. Strip,” he hollered.
    “Only as a means to avoid intercourse.”
    “The same applies here.”
    She frowned. “You do not customarily…er…partake of congress?”
    “I prefer watching. Does that scandalize you?”
    “As I am presently embroiled in disgrace, I have grown inured to the concept of scandal. And you do not frighten me.” Ha! Her heart pounded in her chest. Her unsnapped fingers dripped perspiration. The prospect of dispensing with her clothes in front of him terrified her.
    Though…the thought of playing erotic games did interest her. But how had he known about Robert’s lack of interest