Chapter 6

A knock on the door. This one was gentle, like a tree branch in the wind on the side of a building. Laura opened her eyes. The details of her dream quickly ran from her. She was in bed, a cat of some sort crawled up on her lap. She was naked. She pet the cat. It purred and rubbed against her. Then it bit her breast and fled. But Laura didn't shriek in pain or wake up. She felt the tiny sliver of blood run down her breast, and sighed with relief.

"Come in," she said. Already, her voice felt stronger. Jacque really was a miracle man.

The door opened to reveal Camille. She was in a beautiful navy blue dress. It was form fitting, tightly sculpted to her body. It stopped only inches below her waist. Beside the miles and miles of legs, it was modest. No cleavage or plunging neckline. Her shoulders were covered, but small cut outs along it revealed peeks of skin. Her curly and kinky hair was down, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. She smiled when she saw Laura.

How could Laura not smile back?

With Camille was a strange and short man. He had grey and balding hair. He wore glasses and a three piece brown suit. He only came up to Camille's shoulder in height.

"Good morning," sighed Laura. She reclined back into the pillow, relaxing.

"Are you feeling better?" asked Camille as she came in. The short man followed behind her.

"A little, yes. Food helped."

"Excellent." Camille stepped to the side and gestured to the short man. "This is Dr. Spielsdorf. He's an old friend." Camille smiled, but the doctor looked less comfortable. "He'll be looking after you. You're in excellent care. Isn't she, doctor?"

"Y-y-yes," stuttered the man. He sounded like a cartoon character, impossible to take seriously.

"Then go to work." Camille gestured towards Laura. Laura started to sit up, but Dr. Spielsdorf motioned for her to relax. The doctor pulled away the covers, and Laura panicked, hoping he wouldn't see any evidence of her touching herself.

Thankfully, there wasn't any puddle or stain, but Laura expected there to be one. Also, the good doctor never touched her below the waist. He did a routine exam, listening to her body and asking if this or that hurt.

Camille watched the doctor with intense interest, but when she spoke, it had nothing to do with Laura's heath: "Were you comfortable with the Muse Session last night?"

"Uh ... what?" asked Laura. The doctor had his head almost against her chest.

"The Muse Session. Some girls don't stay very long. They're not comfortable with it."

"I ... uh .... No. I mean ... I was fine. It didn't bother me. My roommate was pretty wild in college. I've seen plenty."

"Ah, yes." Camille smiled. "But now you participate."

"I mean. I read," admitted Laura. She tried not to get explicit with the doctor right next to her. What would he say or think about their literature orgy?

"Which do you think pleasures me more: Grauman's tongue or Marcilla's words?"

Laura looked at Dr. Spielsdorf, but he didn't miss a beat. "Grauman?" suggest Laura.

"I can hire anyone to be Grauman. Not everyone can read Marcilla like you did last night."

"Oh."

Silence fell over them. The doctor stepped away from Laura and rummaged through a bag he had brought with him. Camille's eyes never left Laura's. She wanted to shiver, to show her discomfort, but she didn't want to offend. She didn't want it to end.

"I ... uh ... think I blacked out at some point in the middle or something. After you ... uh ... after you ... ummm ..." Laura glanced back at the doctor.

"Orgasmed, dear. It's just a word. You'll read it plenty in your work for me."

"Seemed like more than a word last night." Laura watched the doctor, but he either couldn't hear, understand, or care about what they were talking about.

Camille smiled. "Yes, it is always something special. But you were not disturbed?"

"It was nothing stranger than some pride parades I've been to."

"Excellent." Camille looked to the doctor for the first time. "Doctor, will she be able to read to me tonight?"

"She may need to be weclined," said the doctor, his voice sounding like his mouth was thick with cotton balls. "But she should be alwight to wead. Nothing mo stwenuous."

"Thank you, doctor. You may leave." Camille stepped aside, showing the doctor the door. The little man scrambled to pack up his things and vanished.

"I look forward to hearing you tonight."

Camille didn't turn to leave. She didn't pause to look out the window or find something else to talk about. She held Laura fixed in her gaze. Her eyes urged Laura to talk. Laura wished she could pull up the covers. The doctor didn't notice, but surely Camille knew. Camille could smell the lust and shame on Laura.

"I was wondering ..." confessed Laura.

"Yes?"

"About the book you had me reading."

"Yes."

Camille slinked towards the bed and sat gracefully on it. Her eyes never left Laura.

"I've never heard of Marcilla."

"She is certainly lesser known. She was a lesbian, as I'm sure you've inferred from the first poem. She was a kind of Sappho of the Elizabethan era, but she wasn't surrounded by open-minded Greeks like Sappho was. She was persecuted and hunted. Most traces of her works were destroyed. That book is a rare treasure of mine."

"Will I be reading her tonight?" asked Laura.

Camille leaned towards Laura. "We will read it every night until you tire of it."

"Uh ... thanks ..." said Laura. She looked away from Camille, looking out the window. She couldn't bear another second of eye contact, another moment of Camille looking at her and looking into her, of devouring her with her eyes. "I look forward to it," whimpered Laura.

Camille patted Laura's lap, like she would a small child, and stood. "Perhaps you should walk the grounds bit. Build up your strength. It's stuffy in here."

Camille didn't wait for a response before leaving. Laura didn't offer one. She did need to get out of bed. She needed a shower and to stand on her own two feet, to stretch her back. When she stood, she felt the room spin. She grabbed the corner of her bed and steadied herself. She needed to focus. She wanted to read more that night.

She had to read more.

***