A third woman, however, dressed in a nicely tailored wool tweed suit in shades of gray and lavender came forward, smiling. Her hair was salt-and-pepper in color, cut short, and styled beautifully. "Mrs. Buckley?" She held out her hand to shake Nora's hand. "I'm Margaret, Mr. Nicholas's personal assistant. Come this way, please. He's waiting for you." She turned and moved down the room toward a set of carved and paneled mahogany doors at the other end of the room.

Nora followed, amazed that she could actually walk in her stylish sling-backs. There was an empty desk next to those doors, opposite the other two. As she moved by those desks, neither of the women seated bothered to look up. They seemed to be very busy with whatever it was that they were doing. What were they doing? Nora wondered a little nervously.

Margaret knocked on one of the carved doors and, opening it immediately, ushered Nora inside. "Mr. Nicholas, Mrs. Buckley is here." Then she turned and retreated through the doors, closing them behind her.

Once more Nora was surprised. She had thought Mr. Nicholas would be French or Italian perhaps. She pictured a man in his early forties, suave and sophisticated, tall and well tailored, with dark hair and a lean body. The man who now came smilingly forward, his well-manicured hand outstretched in greeting, was nothing at all like that, except perhaps for his well-tailored dark pin-striped suit. He was short. Perhaps five feet and seven inches. He was in his late fifties, or possibly early sixties. His hair was wavy and gray, and obviously styled. His feet, she noticed, were small and he wore beautifully polished dark leather shoes. Her father had always worn shoes like that.

"My dear Mrs. Buckley, how very nice to meet you," he said. His voice was cultured, with just the slightest hint of a British accent. "May I call you Nora?" He took her hand and, tucking it in his arm, led her to a mulberry-colored velvet brocade couch that was set before a blazing fire. On the butler's tray before the couch was a silver tea tray. "I thought you might be ready for a small nibble, my dear."

"Thank you," Nora managed to say.

"Green or black?" he asked her.

"Green would be lovely," Nora responded. "Would you like me to pour?"

"No, no, my dear, I shall do it."

He picked up a delicate china cup and saucer in one hand, and a silver teapot in the other. Nora watched, fascinated, as the pale green gold tea poured from the silver spout into the round cup. She reached out to take it from him. He then poured himself a cup of tea from the other pot.

"Milk? Sugar? Lemon?" he inquired politely.

"Lemon, please," Nora said, reaching out to take a tiny silver fork to snare the round, and put it in her tea.

"At this time of night I far prefer cambric tea," Mr. Nicholas said, liberally adding sugar and milk to his cup. He smiled at her, and nodded to another plate on the tea tray. "Biscuit?"

Nora reached for a chocolate biscotto. "Thank you," she said. "I love these, but they are so expensive. It's a lovely treat." She took a bite, crunched it down, and then sipped at the tea, which had the faint aroma of peach.

They sat in silence for a short while, drinking their tea and eating the cookies on the plate. It was a bit, Nora considered, like the Mad Hatter's tea party. She had to swallow back a giggle at one point. Finally her companion spoke.

"Kyle tells me you have some questions regarding The Channel," Mr. Nicholas said, engaging her with his dark eyes. His eyes were mesmerizing.

"I would like to know," Nora said, coming right to the point, "if it would be possible for me to remain in The Channel for a short time."

"Why?" he asked her.

"I am in the midst of a rather nasty divorce," Nora began, but he stopped her, waving his hand.

"I am aware of that, my dear. My question was, why do you want to remain within The Channel for a time?" he said.

"I have never been happier than when I am here," Nora said. "I just want to get away from my reality for a little while. Not forever. Just for a little while."

"Anything is possible here," Mr. Nicholas began. "Yes, you could remain with us for a time."

"How would my absence be explained in my reality?" Nora wanted to know.

He smiled a brief cool smile. "You would appear to be unconscious," he answered her.

"They would move me if I were unconscious," Nora said. "How would I return to my own reality if that happened?"

"When you wished to leave us you would indicate your desire to do so, and you would wake up wherever you were, my dear. There is really no mystery to it." He took a deep sip of his sugared tea. "The use of the television is a technology you understand, but it is not really necessary to The Channel."

"If my son came home, and found me in front of the television, what would he see on the television?" Nora asked Mr. Nicholas.

"Of course you would not want J. J. to see you amusing yourself with Kyle, I understand, my dear. These are private pleasures you enjoy, and not for general consumption. Your son would see what appeared to be an unavailable channel, as if you had punched in the wrong station. The zigzagged screen," he explained.

Nora did not bother to ask him how he knew her son's name. He would have said what Kyle said, she suspected. "Is The Channel available everywhere?" she queried him.

"We are given different names in different locations, but yes. We can be accessed all over the world in one way or another," Mr. Nicholas told her as his dark eyes danced with amusement. "Do you know when you would like to join us?" he said to her. "Now that I know your wishes, we need no further notice. You may come when you choose to come, my dear."

"Not yet," Nora said. "I just wanted to know if it were possible, and I may never remain longer than an evening."

"Ah, but I think you will," Mr. Nicholas told her. "Kyle is very charming, and so much nicer than what you have been used to, my dear. Since you have not changed him, I can assume he is performing his duties in a satisfactory manner. Have you grown bored with Rolf? You have not used him recently."

Nora felt a blush heating her cheek. "Rolf is delightful," she said coolly, "but Kyle needed more of my time. Rolf will return to join us soon."

"How intuitive you are," Mr. Nicholas noted, "to understand Kyle's needs as well as your own. He will serve you well under those circumstances. Have I answered all your questions, my dear?"

"Not all, but all I mean to ask you for now," Nora said. Should she be afraid of this man? And yet he was very charming, cultured, and mannerly. There was nothing to be afraid of from Mr. Nicholas.

"One final thing, my dear," he said to her. "If I do you the favor of allowing you to remain within The Channel at your pleasure, is it not reasonable of me to assume that you would owe me a favor one day? Would you agree?" The dark eyes looked directly into her gray green ones.

"Of course," Nora agreed even as a small shiver touched her spine.

He smiled, and then he arose. "Then our business is concluded for now, my dear. I shall look forward to seeing you again one day. Our tea party has been a delightful interlude for me. Shall I call Margaret to escort you to the elevator?"

"I can find my own way," Nora said. She held out her hand to bid him good-bye.

But instead of shaking her hand this time he took it in his small soft hand and, raising it to his lips, kissed it. "It has been a pleasure, Nora. Good-bye."

"Good-bye," she said, feeling a burning sensation where his mouth had touched the back of her hand. She hurried to the door and, opening it, went into the outer office. "Good-bye, Margaret," she told Mr. Nicholas's assistant, and the woman smiled and nodded a farewell. Nora almost ran to the elevator. It opened at once, and stepping in, she saw there was only one button to press. She pushed it with her finger, and the doors closed, and the sensation of rising filled her. When the elevator finally stopped and the doors opened again, she stepped out into her penthouse.

Outside the large windows, the cityscape glowed with a clear night. She drew a deep breath and turned, startled to find Kyle there. "Oh! You frightened me!" she said.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "You look pale, Red Rover. Come and sit down, and tell me about your visit with Mr. Nicholas." He drew her to the couch, and pulled her down into his arms. "You're shivering."

"Who is he?" Nora asked Kyle. "Who is Mr. Nicholas?"

"I don't understand," Kyle replied. "Mr. Nicholas is Mr. Nicholas."

Nora bit her lip. "He is so urbane. He treats this as if it were a normal occurrence, and damnit, The Channel isn't exactly your everyday recreation."

"Do you really want to question the very thing that brings you so much pleasure, Red Rover?" he asked her gently. "Ask yourself what your life would be without me, without The Channel? When you return to your own reality, Nora, don't you feel stronger for having been here?"

"Yes!" she said. "Yes, my life has been so much better since I found The Channel," Nora agreed.

"Then don't question how this has come to be, Red Rover. I'm here- The Channel is here- just for your enjoyment. No more second-guessing, okay?"

"Okay," Nora agreed. "Now, kiss me, slave!" She raised her face to him.

His lips brushed hers tenderly.

"Take off your shorts," she commanded, and she helped him remove the single garment, twisting her body so that she might begin to kiss and lick at him. He stretched his length, his heels pressing into the carpet. Nora's tongue lapped at the flesh of his chest. She would lick, and then she would blow, and then she would tease him with her hair. Inch by inch she covered his torso with her homage, moving slowly, slowly until she buried her face in his dark pubic hair, breathing in the scent of him, kissing his mound. Her hand wrapped about his penis. Her tongue swiveled about its head several times. She licked at it. Then she put the tip in her mouth, and sucked on it. "Mmmmm," she said, and drew him deeper into her mouth and throat.