“Are you all right, Micheleen?”
“Very, Mistress Yuriko. I feel fine.”
“Good. Come up to my room to get your clothes.” 4
The lobby was as it had been in San Francisco; everyone wanted to tell her, and me, how exciting the exhibit had been. The guy who’d been her first model came over and apologized for doubting her. It seems he’d found the tricks in another person’s binding and had debunked that. It hadn’t been Kinbaku-bi, though. It took a good twenty minutes to get through the lobby and back to her suite.
Yuriko turned to look at me. “Come into the bedroom,” she said. When we were both inside, she closed the door. “Stand right here, Micheleen. You did a marvelous job tonight.”
“Oh, no, Mistress Yuriko, I was just your clay. You were the artist.”
She smiled as she stood beside me. “Tell me about yourself. How do you live? Tell me about your family.” She slowly started to untie the knots in my vest.