Anne looked in the window and gasped. “Caroline, there’s blood all over the seat!”

Caroline leaned into the rear seat, suddenly calm. “I know.” She checked for a heartbeat and sighed with relief. “Can you follow us home? I’ll drive Dane’s car.”

“Shouldn’t we go to a hospital?”

“No,” Caroline said, straightening up and heading for the driver’s side. “Do you know what they’d do to her?”

Anne stared at Caroline, then raced back across the street to the jeep.

Kyle paced her living room, staring at the phone. She had called Dane’s number, and the kennel, all day. No one answered. The tape at the kennel said someone would return her call shortly, but no one ever did. She looked at the clock. It showed nine o’clock. Where the hell was she? Or was she just not answering the phone? Goddamn her! It wasn’t going to be this easy. She couldn’t just race away into the night and expect Kyle to sit at home waiting. Kyle snatched her jacket off the hook and strode angrily to her big Harley. The gravel in her drive spewed out behind her as she pushed the bike toward the highway.

She looked for Dane’s car along the crowded street as she pulled in front of the bar. She paid her cover and searched the room furiously. She didn’t see Dane.

“Beer,” she tersely to the bartender, and pulled a cigarette from her jacket pocket. She fumbled her lighter from her pocket and smiled grimly at the shiny new gold surface. She drew a deep breath and surveyed the bar again. She recognized no one. She was on her third beer when a woman made her way across the room and stopped before her.

“I’m Chris—we met here a few months ago.”

Kyle nodded, smiling slightly. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. How are you?”

Chris shrugged and replied, “Okay.” She looked at Kyle uncertainly for a second, then continued. “Listen, you’re a friend of Dane’s, aren’t you?”

“I know her.”

The woman looked around and lowered her voice unnecessarily in the noisy room. “Some of us were wondering, well—you know how it is. There are always stories, and most of us never believe them. But, still, you never know, sometimes when you go home with someone you don’t know—” She stopped and looked at Kyle expectantly.

Kyle felt fear rise in her throat but she stared back calmly. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

Chris looked embarrassed. “Some people heard— there’s talk.” She cleared her throat. “We heard there was a bad scene. That Dane got mixed up with a heavy top and that there was trouble. The rest of us, we worry, you know. No one knows who it is.”

Kyle tried to quiet her racing thoughts. “I don’t know who it is.”

Chris shrugged and started to turn away.

“Wait!” Kyle called, grasping her arm. “Do you know two women—Anne and Caroline—friends of Dane’s?”

Chris frowned. “I’ve seen them in here.”

“Do you know where they live?” Kyle asked, her heart pounding.

Chris shook her head. “I don’t know them that well. Wait a minute—I went to a discussion group at their place once. I don’t know if they still live there.”

She gave Kyle the address and stared after her as Kyle turned and shouldered her way hurriedly toward the door.

Caroline tried to ignore the persistent ringing of the doorbell. She sat at the table in a worn sweater and faded jeans. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days.

“Hon,” Anne asked tentatively as she poured more coffee, “shouldn’t I answer that?”

“I guess,” Caroline answered. She looked over at Anne and realized that the younger woman was as exhausted as she. “Never mind, babe, I’ll get it.”

When she opened the door, Kyle took a step toward her, then stopped abruptly.

“Is Dane here?” she asked quietly, instantly aware of Caroline’s state.

“Yes.” Caroline said tonelessly.

“Is she all right?”

Caroline looked at Kyle, considering her answer. Finally, she sighed and opened the door. “No. Come upstairs.”

Kyle followed her upstairs and into the kitchen. She saw Anne cast a frightened glance in Caroline’s direction.

Caroline saw it too. “It’s all right. Is there more coffee?”

Anne nodded and moved silently to pour Kyle a cup.

Kyle sat down at an empty chair and pushed some of the clutter aside. She thanked Anne for the coffee and looked pointedly at Caroline.

“Can I see her?”

“She won’t know you’re here.”

Kyle shook her head. Fear twisted in her guts. “I don’t care, I want to see her.”

“Caroline, no!” Anne cried.

Caroline continued to look at Kyle. “It’s not pretty. Are you sure you want to?”

“I’m sure,” Kyle said, needing to know.

“I’ll come with you.”

“I’m all right,” Kyle answered tightly.

Caroline shook her head. “I’ll come with you.” She led Kyle down the hall to the rear bedroom. There were no lights coming from the partially closed door.

“Just a minute,” Caroline said as she entered the room and lit a small dim light off to one side. The room was mostly in shadow. Caroline called to Kyle and slipped tiredly into a chair in the darkness along the wall.

Kyle pushed the door all the way open and approached the bed. She looked down at Dane for a long time. She sank slowly down on the floor beside the bed. She pushed her back up against the wall and reached her hand up into the golden hair framing Dane’s face. She closed her eyes and gently let the strands fall through her fingers. She thought about Dane’s satin-soft skin in the firelight and how it had glowed with perspiration as they made love. She thought about the sharply etched muscles in her back and hips as she rose above Kyle in ecstasy. She traced the fine lines of Dane’s face and remembered how she looked just before orgasm. She sat still for a long time, listening to Dane’s quiet breathing. When she felt the strength return to her limbs and the anger flood her heart, she stood up and stared down again at Dane, burning the image into her soul.

Dane was lying on her stomach, her face on the pillow, her arms curved upwards. A sheet covered her, stopping just above her buttocks. A raw, open wound extended from the base of her spine to the top of her shoulders. Kyle could make out the pattern of crosshatches from what must have been a thick whip, even as the single lash marks blended into one. The bleeding had stopped, leaving behind patches of crusted coagulation between islands of swollen flesh. The sinewy planes of her perfect body were obscured by fluid pooled in the layers of injured tissue.

Kyle turned and walked into the kitchen. She looked at Anne, her grey eyes as cold as a winter sky.

“Do you have any scotch?”

Anne nodded and got up. “I think so.”

Kyle sat back down at the table and lit a cigarette, turning the small gold lighter aimlessly between her fingers.

Caroline switched off the hall light behind her and sagged into a chair, pushing her graying hair out of her eyes.

“Are you sure you can take care of her?” Kyle asked tonelessly.

Caroline nodded. “I have before. Never like this, but I can manage.”

Kyle took the scotch from Anne and swallowed what was in the glass. She closed her eyes for a second. “Who did this to her?” Her voice was harsh, her pain unconcealed. I’m going to find her. I’m going to kill her!

Caroline looked at Kyle, her eyes bright with sympathy. “Dane did it, Kyle. I don’t know whose hand held the whip. She’s never told me. But she sought it; she allowed it.”

Kyle swallowed. “She’s done this before? I never saw a scar—her body, it’s—” her voice broke, “her body is perfect.”

“It’s never been like this before. She always knew when to stop. Something must have happened. There’s a track mark on her arm.”

“Drugs?” Kyle asked, wanting to scream but knowing she must finally understand. “Is that what this is?”

“No!” Caroline cried. “Not for years. Before, with Brad—oh god, if you knew how hard Dane has struggled, how far she has come.”

“Don’t you think I want to know?” Kyle shouted, her voice breaking at last. “Caroline, I have to know. For a moment she lets me close and then she’s gone. I can’t even hold her now! She’s lying in there, her body is battered beyond knowing. What must her heart be like? Don’t you realize I have to know?” Kyle closed her eyes then, the tears she had held back for hours burning hot trails down her cheeks. She saw Dane again in her mind and sobbed. “Oh god, Caroline. Please help me!”

Caroline wrapped her arms around Kyle’s shoulders, rocking her like a child. “Come on, Kyle, come into the den. We’ll talk.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CAROLINE SPOKE SOFTLY, taking Kyle back in time. “Dane first began to explore sexual alternatives—S/M relationships—about ten years ago. It wasn’t nearly as easy to do then as it is now. It was mostly the men who were into it. Most lesbians were very prejudiced against any woman who wanted to redefine her sexual boundaries and polarize roles. I don’t have to tell you the arguments that any role is oppressive to women and an extension of the male-power structure. None of that stopped Dane. She did a lot of experimenting with heavy roles in the early days—there wasn’t much else to do. She met Brad because of the dogs. Dane had some experience with show dogs because her family had been into it. Brad owned a small kennel and Dane started working there. That’s how she and Brad finally got together. I was teaching at Brewster, and I saw Dane fairly infrequently.”

Caroline noted Kyle’s surprise. “English literature. I don’t miss it a bit.” She poured them both some more scotch. “Anyhow, Dane and I would get together every few weeks or so, and she would talk to me about S/M, what it meant to her. I have to admit I was pretty opposed at first. I felt the way most people did—that one of the best things about being a lesbian was that we could redefine ourselves as equals. No more role designations, divisions or limitations. I saw any sort of polarization as a threat to our new-found freedom. We argued, I from an intellectual point of view—Dane from an emotional, gut level.” Caroline laughed sadly. “That’s always been one of the big differences between Dane and me. I can keep the world at a distance. Sometimes I can hide behind my own rationalizations. Dane just lets everything bounce into her and tries to take it all. She said she could feel something inside of her that wanted to get out, some need to get more in touch with her inner self through physical experiences. She thought that S/M would do that for her. She was into the pretty stereotypical thing at first—heavy leather, straight top or bottom roles, not much beyond limited sexual encounters. Even though her ideas weren’t very defined in the beginning, talking with her got me to look at my own feelings a little differently. I at least became a bit more supportive. Around this time she started seeing Brad pretty seriously. Brad was—well, she wasn’t much different than she is now. She’s a user of people. People to her are just tools for her amusement. I can’t figure her out, really, but I don’t think she feels, or cares about, anything. Of course, sadomasochism was a perfect outlet for Brad, especially when things were still so secretive —subterranean almost. She could play any game she designed, be completely in control. And Dane became her pawn.”