The Jewels of Desire
In 4 parts, by Rachael Jane. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.
Chapter 7: An underhand trick.
I quickly realize the seriousness of my situation. If I don't return to the dormitory before roll-call, I will be returned to Buchanan in shame. A chill runs through me. I berate myself for being so stupid as to drop my guard and allow Paulo to chain me like this. There is no doubt in my mind that he's the one responsible for my predicament.
Is he being a coward who is scared of meeting me in fair competition? That seems inconsistent with the Paulo I've been with tonight, but he would surely have woken me had he noticed anybody else entering this café while we slept. Perhaps he is a better actor than I gave him credit. For all I know, his training could have included a course in seducing maidens. After all, half the contestants are young women. Some, like me, will be gullible enough to fall for Paulo's charms, and walk into his deadly trap. But I mustn't dwell on Paulo's reasons. My immediate priority is to get free.
I test the strength of the chain restraining me. It's similar to the security chain threaded through the handles of the cabinets behind the bar. Paulo must have come across a spare length of chain while he was exploring earlier. The chain is lightweight but strong. There is no way I can break it. Which means I must somehow break the lock securing the chain to my ankle. It is a combination lock like the one securing the other end of the chain to the table. Unless I'm extremely lucky, I won't have enough time to open the lock by randomly guessing the five-digit combination. Just as I'm about to vent my frustration with a few choice curses, a flash of inspiration hits me. Paulo must have known the combination to fasten the lock to the chain. How did he know the combination?
I check the tables and floor around me, as far as my chain allows. The combination must be written on something. I just hope it is something within reach. Could Paulo have been careless and left me the combination?
The chain is long enough for me to reach the small service area next to the bar. If the owners of the café have written down the combination, then this is the most likely place on this level. My frantic search is rewarded when I find a basket holding more lengths of chain and padlocks. Each padlock has a small detachable tag with the combination for that lock printed on it. Unlocking the padlock enables the tag to be removed. I search the bottom of the basket for any tags no longer with their padlock. Sure enough I find four tags. Hopefully one belongs to the lock securing the chain around my ankle.
I try the numbers on the lock on my ankle. I meet with success on the third number, and within seconds I'm free of my chain. But before I can go anywhere I hear two people talking. They are coming up the interior staircase from the main café below. Two voices I recognize. Paulo and Chloe! They are too close for me to try and exit over the balcony, so I can't leave the way Paulo and I entered. My only option in the time available is to pretend I'm still asleep and chained to the table.
"See, she's still asleep," says Chloe. "The sound you heard was probably the fridge humming."
"I don't know," replies Paulo. "I'm still not happy about leaving her chained like this. It's an underhand trick."
"Think yourself lucky I didn't chain you as well," replies Chloe. "You saw her during the preliminary session this evening. She's a serious challenger and she's best eliminated now."
"But someone will find her in the morning and set her free," replies Paulo.
"Yes. But she will have missed the eight o'clock roll-call by then, and she'll be disqualified from the Argonaut."
"I still don't like it. Anyway, why did you follow us? And how did you get out of the complex?"
"I saw the pair of you as I was returning from a night out. I realized that this is a golden opportunity to improve my chances of success. Did you not read the Argonaut rules? Despite what most people believe, the contestants aren't prisoners while we are here. As long as we attend the morning and evening roll-calls, and the various tests and interviews, we can come and go as we please. Why do you think your night time frolics weren't stopped?"
"The rules? You mean that fifty page book they gave us when we arrived? Of course I've not read it!"
"Well if you spent less time trying to climb between a girl's legs, and more time paying attention to what really matters, your chances of winning a work permit might be better. Come on, we're leaving before sleeping beauty wakes up and starts screaming the place down."
"How do we get out of here?" asks Paulo.
"You're not too bright are you," scoffs Chloe. "The door lock only stops people entering the café. We can just walk down to the front door and back to our dormitory."
Paulo and Chloe leave. My anger competes with my embarrassment. I get up as soon as I'm sure they have gone. Paulo has taken my nightie and Chloe has taken my towel. I've no clothes and I'm starting to get cold. A naked woman is easy target for any loiterers out there. At this time of night any city citizens still about may well be on the prowl for sex. I search the service area for a tablecloth or something to put over me. I find an apron that at least provides me with a semblance of decency.
I make my way back to the old boarding school, making sure Paulo and Chloe are nowhere in sight. Re-entering the school presents no problem. Chloe is right in saying the contestants are allowed to come and go. Perhaps I should have read the rule book as well but my late acceptance to the Argonaut meant that I only had a few days to prepare.
A retina scan at the security desk confirms my identity and I'm allowed to return to my dormitory. My anger at Paulo's betrayal has abated. Despite Chloe's intrusion, I did actually enjoy my time with him tonight, particularly when I remember why I chose to leave my room wearing such provocative clothing in the first place. I was looking for the type of experience and adventure which Paulo delivered. Not that I am in any mood to forgive him; but I'm no longer embarrassed or afraid. If anything, Chloe's actions have filled me with determination and resolve. Yesterday I was nervous of the specially trained contestants; today I realize they are actually afraid of me. I shall look forward to seeing Paulo and Chloe's faces when I appear for roll-call in the morning.
The clock says it is 3:30 in the morning when my head hits my pillow. This time I have no difficulty falling asleep.
Chapter 8: Preparations
"Stop fidgeting, Jasmine," says Ellen, my dormitory's assigned helper from the collection of city-born volunteers for the Argonaut. "You need to look your best this afternoon."
It's a message Ellen has constantly repeat. Along with the forty-nine other hopefuls, I will be paraded in front of the television cameras this afternoon. What's worse, ten of us must endure a five minute interview with Darrian, one of the obnoxious hosts of the televised segments of the Argonaut. None of us will know which ten of us are to be interviewed until we are on-air. I can honestly say that I am dreading it. The only benefit in being selected for an interview is the opportunity it provides to improve my chances of winning. Only a few contestants will be declared the eventual winners of the Argonaut, but that won't be until the final session on Sunday. Of course, fluffing an interview would be disastrous for my chances.
I sigh as I add the finishing touches to my dress. When I picked it from the studio's wardrobe I thought it to be a beautiful dress. Now I'm not so sure. I'm grateful for Ellen's valiant efforts to make me look my best, even if I don't see the purpose of this afternoon's charade.
"How do you feel?" asks Ellen when she is satisfied with her work.
"It's a beautiful dress. Thank you," I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster; which isn't much, given my lingering dislike for this cattle market in the first place. But I had few other options open to me when I accepted the belated offer from an anonymous benefactor to sponsor me for this event. And winning the Argonaut will at least mean that my family can benefit as well.
"Yes, I know how you look in it, Jasmine. But how do you feel?" persists Ellen.
"How should I feel?" I reply, slightly surprised by her question.
"Jasmine! You ungrateful girl!" snaps Ellen. "I am trying to help you."
"I know, and despite what you think, I appreciate your efforts," I reply. "But I feel like a marionette; all dressed up to please an audience who simply want to ogle pretty young men and women desperate enough to parade about for the entertainment of our so-called betters. Aren't we just fifty puppets, each performing to the studio's script?"
"Your image is important, Jasmine," says Ellen. "Most of those in the audience will be deciding their vote on how attractive you are. Harper will advise you what to say when you have your session with him later. Impress the audience tonight, even if you aren't interviewed, and someone watching may help you to gain a work permit. If you don't, then they will favor one of your rivals."
I've heard this speech from Ellen at least twice already this morning, and it isn't even ten o'clock yet. I know she believes in what she is saying, but somehow I can't buy into the rotten arrangement. It's true that several previous winners of the Argonaut owe their career success to the timely arrival of a sponsor's helping hand. But nothing in our world comes for free. Some contestants may be naïve enough to believe that sponsors give their generous help through the kindness of their hearts, but I'm not one of them. If a contestant is lucky, their sponsor is only interested in winning a high stakes bet. But lurking in the background are those sponsors whose help comes with unsavory conditions that enslave their victim for life. The alternative is to fail, and live out your life as a serf in your settlement, but you don't need a sponsor's help to do that.
"You asked me how I feel, and I gave you my answer," I snap. "Don't worry, I won't disgrace you this afternoon by picking my nose in front of the cameras. I'll read Harper's script as you demand."
"Will someone try talking some sense into her," says Ellen to nobody in particular, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation.
"I'm sorry, Ellen," I say when it becomes apparent that she isn't about to launch into another lecture. "I really do like the dress. But there's nothing of the real me in this outfit."
"There's no need to be sorry. I should have realized what is missing before. You need some jewelry to complete your outfit. I have a good collection. You can borrow a few items. I'll go and pick out a few suitable things for you."
"No, Ellen," interrupts Vincent, a contestant from Tudor who shares this dormitory. "Jasmine must be allowed to choose her own jewelry. At the moment she is merely the wearer of that studio dress. You should let her transform it into an outfit of her own."
Ellen and I look at Vincent in surprise. For my part, I'm amazed by Vincent's understanding of my needs; even though I don't fully understand them myself. When I look at Ellen I begin to worry in case she might refuse. It's one thing to lend me a ring or a necklace of her choice; it is something else entirely to let me rummage through her private jewelry collection.
"Yes, yes, OK," says Ellen after a few moments hesitation. "I'm not certain many of my pieces are suitable for a young woman, but I will allow Jasmine to look through what I have. Follow me, Jasmine."
I quickly change into my ordinary clothes and hang up my dress in the wardrobe I've been allocated for my things. I follow Ellen to her private quarters in the south wing of the old boarding school. Ellen's room is one of several small but comfortable rooms provided for the volunteer support staff. Unlike the contestants' dormitories, the rooms in the south wing aren't monitored by the intrusive security cameras. I'm just thankful Ellen hasn't decided to stay in her own apartment, which is apparently on the other side of the city.
"Make yourself comfortable, Jasmine, while I fetch my collection," says Ellen as she goes to the safe located inside the wardrobe.
I sit in one of the two easy chairs and look around Ellen's room while I wait. Her few personal effects tell me very little about the real Ellen. Until now I have thought of her as one of the many city-born oddballs. Someone who means well, but circulates in a completely different world to me. When I see the small chest full of jewelry I realize there is an aspect to Ellen I never knew existed.
"I've not had much chance to sort them out," says Ellen when I peer into the chest. "Everything is a bit jumbled up."
The contents of the chest resemble a pirate's treasure trove in miniature. Some items are inside small boxes, while others are simply let loose. Several necklaces have become tangled around each other.
"Oh, ignore those," says Ellen. "They're just cheap trinkets. The items we are interested in are in the boxes at the bottom."
I delve deeper into the chest. Sure enough, below the tangled necklaces and bangles I find a dozen or so different sized boxes. I carefully lift them out and spread them out on the table. I lift the lid on each box and my mouth drops in amazement. Most boxes contain a matching set of ring, necklace and earrings. A few contain broaches and other types of jewelry. I return to the chest and remove the two larger boxes at the very bottom. I place them next to the other boxes on the table.
"Ah! I wouldn't bother with those," says Ellen before I can open the lids to the last two boxes. "They aren't suitable for a respectable young woman."
Her comment raises my interest, but I do as she asks and focus my attention on the boxes I have opened. I've no idea whether I'm looking at priceless jewels or glass imitations. After studying each box in turn I realize I have subconsciously made my choice.
"May I try this one on?" I ask picking out a ring with a beautiful green gemstone. Ellen nods in response.
The ring with the green gem seems to draw me to it in a way none of the other items do. I slip the ring on my finger; it's a snug fit, but not too tight. I try on the necklace and earrings as well, and walk over to the mirror. I think they are the most beautiful pieces of jewelry I've ever seen. In the corner of my eye I can see Ellen watching me with a strange expression on her face.
"I like these the most," I say to Ellen. "May I borrow them this afternoon? I promise to take good care of them."
"Hmmm. You surprise me, Jasmine. I had expected you to go for the diamond cluster or the rubies. What made you choose the emerald ring and necklace?"
"I don't know. I like several of the other sets, but this ring somehow calls to me. If you think it inappropriate, I'll happily change my choice."
"No, that won't be necessary. Choosing jewelry is a very personal act. You like what you like. But you said it called to you. What did it say?"
I could be trite and say 'pick me, pick me', but that isn't what I sense. It's more like an energy flowing into me through the ring. It's as though a former wearer of the ring has left her imprint in the ring and she is communicating with me. I try explaining what I sense to Ellen.
"I'm sorry, I know I'm being foolish," I say when I finish my lame explanation.
"Interesting," says Ellen in reply. "The ring is very old. I've never sensed what you describe, but my great-aunt always claimed that the ring spoke to her."
"So the ring and necklace have a history then?"
"The necklace is a more recent piece my great-aunt had made to go with the ring. The ring, however, is hundreds of years old. It is reputed to have been made for the daughter of a great ruler. Legend says that she was a warrior princess who rode into battle at the side of her father. When her father died, and her brother became ruler, the princess devoted the rest of her life, and her considerable wealth, to helping the poorer people of her lands. It is a perfect match for you Jasmine."
I try my best to stifle a laugh. Ellen must be joking with me. Warrior, princess and wealth are three words which have never been associated with me, nor are they ever likely to be. Ellen doesn't pay my reaction any mind, and begins placing the lids back on the other jewelry boxes. A knock at the door stops Ellen before she can finish. She leaves me alone while she answers the door.
Chapter 9: The princess and professor
Ellen goes to the door, but she doesn't admit the caller into her room. I can hear Ellen and another woman talking, but I can't make out what they are discussing. It soon becomes apparent that they could be a while. I resume what Ellen had started, and close the lids on the remaining jewelry boxes. Then I remove the emerald ring, necklace and earrings I've been wearing and return them to their box, placing it to one side. Ellen still hasn't agreed to allow me to wear the emeralds tonight, but I remain hopeful.
On impulse I open one of the boxes Ellen had dissuaded me from opening earlier. Inside is a large piece of jewelry. At first glance it looks like a large multi-strand necklace with several gold chains, each slightly longer than the one above, meeting at a single point at the back of the wearer's neck. The chains are decorated with small red gems that catch the light. But what makes the piece unusual are the two small shaped metal discs on the lowest chain. The two discs look like flattened cones, and each is engraved with a strange symbol. I carefully lift the piece out of its box to examine the engraving. Too late I realize I'm not alone.
"What are you doing, Jasmine?" asks Ellen.
"Oh! Oh! I'm sorry," I stammer. "I didn't mean any harm. I was just looking."
"Well, well, well, Ellen," says the woman standing next to Ellen. "I can't believe you still have that piece."
I look up and see that Ellen has invited two people into the room. The woman looks very like Ellen, so I presume she is Ellen's sister or cousin. My heart sinks when I recognize Ellen's male guest is one of the other contestants. One I've tangled with before. Paulo!
"What's going on?" I ask, suddenly feeling very wary.
"Don't worry, Jasmine," replies Ellen. "This is my sister, Sylvie. The Argonaut organizers have assigned her to support Paulo's dormitory. Paulo you know, of course."
Of course I recognize Paulo. He's the man who deflowered me last night. Seeing him here like this does funny things to my emotions. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm attracted to him. An attraction which could spell disaster to my chances of succeeding in the Argonaut. Ever since I first saw him I must constantly remind myself that Paulo is a dangerous rival; not someone I should be trusting with my affections.
Sylvie takes the necklace from me and holds it up to my breasts. I almost die of embarrassment. I now realize the purpose of the spring-clips on the inside of the metal cones. Ellen was right; this isn't something a decent young woman should wear. But Paulo's presence and my self-preservation skills save me from revealing my naivety. I remember the golden rule which my father instilled in me when we hunted together in the woods; 'Never show weakness in front of a dangerous predator'. I brazen the episode through by making light of the situation.
"What do you think, Paulo?" I tease. "Do you think I should wear this tonight? Will the sponsors in the audience like it?"
My self-confidence takes an enormous leap forward when I see Paulo is struggling for words. Sylvie saves him from having to answer my questions.
"Don't flirt with Paulo, Jasmine," she admonishes. "What you wear is up to you. If you want to look like a prostitute, then that's up to you."
"That piece has never belonged to a prostitute, Sylvie," exclaims Ellen. "You know it was made for our great-aunt Sophie."
Paulo and I just stand and watch as Ellen and Sylvie have an extended spat over the occupation and morals of the great-aunt in question. In other circumstances their quarrel would be funny. But inside this small room, their quarrel is making me feel uncomfortable.
"We could go for a drink or something while they finish scratching each other's eyes out," says Paulo. "I saw a café of sorts just down the corridor."
"Um; Yeah, sure," I reply, anxious to get out of here.
"Paulo and I are going to the café while you two sort out your differences," I manage to say to Ellen during a moments respite in her row with Sylvie. I don't wait to see if what I say registers in her mind.
Paulo shows me the way to the café he saw earlier. The café is quiet since almost everybody in the complex is busy preparing for this afternoon's television show. Fortunately I carry a small amount of pocket money for situations like this. It seems Paulo's does the same. We each order a drink and sit down at one of the tables.
"You really are an enigma," says Paulo in a pleasant tone. "Would you really wear a piece of jewelry like that?"
"Perhaps," I reply, knowing I wouldn't really do any such thing.
"So, how did you manage to get back in time for this morning's roll-call?" asks Paulo.
"That's for me to know, and you to worry about," I reply, not entirely forgiving Paulo for his part in Chloe's dirty trick of chaining me to a table while I was asleep.
"Fair enough. So tell me about yourself."
I'm not going to fall for that one! Paulo must think me really stupid if he believes I'll reveal all my strengths and weaknesses to him. I'm not going to forget that we are rivals. I'm relieved when I see the expression on Paulo's face. He's just fishing, and he knows I won't tell him anything important.
"I'm really a warrior princess who rides into battle alongside my father," I say, playing along with Ellen's story about the emerald ring's history. "When I'm not fighting battles, I spend my time helping the poor people of our realm."
"Oh, really?" replies Paulo. "And I suppose Jasmine isn't your real name."
"No, of course not," I reply. "It's; um; Mihrimah."
"Ah! Mihrimah. A name which means 'the sun and moon' does it not?" laughs Paulo. "We obviously read the same books. How does the line go? Ah yes, I remember, 'The Ancients believe that mih ri mah, the sun and moon, protect the emerald forest.' I think you aren't being entirely truthful with me, princess."
I can't help but join in his laughter. There are hundreds of books available on the local feeds. It's the only form of free entertainment open to serfs. What are the chances of Paulo reading the same book that I like?
"So, I've told you about me. What about you?" I reply.
"Oh me? I'm but a humble scholar who studies history; law; science; um," begins Paulo.
"Really? I would never have thought a foot soldier would be so well educated, professor," I tease.
"There is a lot you don't know about me, princess."
"I know. It's a shame we can't talk to each other like normal people," I say. "There's too much at stake for both of us."
"But we can at least be civil to each other," replies Paulo. "We must have a lot in common. We both like the same books, and we are both crazy enough to have accepted a sponsor's nomination to be here."
"What made you accept your nomination?" I ask.
"Winning the Argonaut will secure my future," replies Paulo. "I didn't want to sign up for another ten years in the military. Nor did I want to spend the rest of my life as a serf working in the pack-houses for twelve hours a day, and being paid inadequate wages. I can't afford any of the other ways of acquiring a work permit for a city job."
"Winning the Argonaut may simply give you a more comfortable prison," I say. "How many Argonaut winners do you know of who have gone on to live a carefree life? None, I bet. Most of them are at the beck and call of their sponsors. According to the news-feeds, only a few have ever married and had children."
"You have obviously studied the subject," replies Paulo. "You are right, I suppose. But I've no intention of ever having children, and I'm strong enough to avoid seeking comfort in alcohol and drugs. How about you? Despite a bleak outcome if you win, that hasn't deterred you from applying for an assessment. Wouldn't you rather have a family of your own?"
"Me? Like you I must take risks if I want to be free of serfdom. And I wouldn't be so irresponsible as to bring a child into the world we live in. Our rulers ensure our laws keep them secure in their privileged position."
"But if the world changed, would you want children then?" asks Paulo.
"Perhaps," I muse. "But changing the ways of our rulers doesn't seem likely. What we did last night was probably a once-only event for me."
"You still have time."
"To do what? To change the ways of our rulers? Hardly."
"No. To solve your other problem."
"Is that some form of pick-up line?" I laugh. "When and where do you suggest we do the deed? Might I remind you we have to perform on a television show this afternoon; and tomorrow's schedule won't make it any easier."
"I shall work something out. I'm greatly encouraged by the fact you don't reject the idea out of hand."
Chapter 10: Game in progress
I'm surprised. Not by Paulo's words, but by my own behavior. For some reason I'm not being my normal shy and easily embarrassed self. Not that I mind. This whole conversation makes me feel so alive. I lean forward and look into Paulo's eyes, daring him to respond. He matches my movement and we are sitting face to face, only centimeters apart.
Then everything turns into chaos. Just as I am contemplating sharing a kiss with Paulo, Ellen arrives. She's not alone. Sylvie and three security guards are with her.
"What on earth do you think you are doing, Jasmine?" growls Sylvie. "I raised the alarm when I realized you had left Ellen's room. Don't you remember any of the personal safety instructions you were given?"
I glare at Sylvie, trying my best to restrain my anger. I'm about to let fly with a tirade, when Paulo places his hand on my arm.
"Jasmine and I came out here while you two had a sisterly reunion," says Paulo. "Jasmine told Ellen where we were going. It's hardly Jasmine's fault if Ellen didn't listen."
"Hum, Well; OK; I suppose," blusters Sylvie, unable to find anything wrong with what Paulo has just said. "But you two should not be together without supervision. Come on Paulo. We shall return to your dormitory."
"We were hardly unsupervised," Paulo replies. "The café proprietor was here."
Paulo seems to have quietened Sylvie's thunder. I'm still angry with her, but I will hold my wrath in check until we are somewhere more private.
"Thank you for a pleasant interlude, professor," I say as I stand up. "As you can see, we are summoned back to reality. Such are the trials of a Argonaut contestant."
"And thank you, princess, for bestowing a humble scholar with the honor of your regal company," replies Paulo in a mischievous tone.
I can't help but laugh, despite my anger with Sylvie. On impulse I lean over and kiss Paulo on the lips. I don't know whether I do it simply to annoy Sylvie, or to fuel Paulo's interest in me. Either way, my action succeeds on both counts.
"We must do this again sometime," I reply.
I don't get to hear Paulo's response. Ellen takes my arm and guides me back to my dormitory. Neither of us says anything on the journey back along the corridors. Only when we arrive at my dormitory does Ellen show her relief and delight at finding me safe.
"Well? Are you going to explain yourself?" asks Ellen firmly, but without the venom Sylvie added to her same question when I was with Paulo.
"Paulo told you what happened. You and Sylvie got into a row, so Paulo and I stepped out while you sorted out your differences. End of story."
"Not 'end of story', Jasmine. What were you and Paulo discussing?" persists Ellen.
"Ellen!" I say, barely holding my anger in check. "I appreciate your help and advice, but you are not my mother. I don't have to explain to you what I say and do with a man."
"Yes you do," replies Ellen, unmoved by my reply. "While you are here in the Argonaut complex, I am responsible for your safety. Your battle for victory doesn't start with this afternoon's television show. The Argonaut has already begun. Until you are either eliminated or declared a victor, I need to know about your every move so that I can protect you. Now, I repeat my question; what were you and Paulo discussing?"
I look at Ellen. As soon as I do, I realize that this isn't an argument I'm going to win.
"Fine! Have it your way," I sigh. "We were just talking about a make believe life and family."
"And what was the meaning of the kiss?" asks Ellen, still not willing to let the matter drop.
"It's what a man and woman do when they like each other," I reply.
"You like him!?" splutters Ellen. "In case you've forgotten, he's going to be trying to eliminate you from the Argonaut!"
"And I him," I reply. "That doesn't mean that we don't like each other. The officials can put us through all the tests their warped minds can devise, but they can't tell us who to love or hate."
"I can't believe this," sighs Ellen. "Is there anyone who can make you see sense."
"I know you think I'm obstinate and moody," I say before Ellen can begin a lecture. "You don't have to help me if you don't want. I know my chances of winning are slim, but I want live my life on my own terms. I won't think any less of you if you simply wash your hands of me."
There's a stunned silence. I've taken Ellen by surprise.
"What did I tell you?" says Vincent, who has been sitting on his bed watching our argument. "There's fire in her soul. I for one will be proud to help Jasmine if she needs me."
"Yes, me too," says Ellen. "When we are finished here I shall fetch the emeralds you liked, Jasmine. You'll knock the audience dead wearing those tonight."
"Does that mean you are allowing me a free reign to do what I want later?" I ask Ellen.
"No. Of course not. You're still a novice at the underhand games which will be played out behind the scenes this afternoon and tonight. In fact they've already begun. Doesn't it strike you as strange that Sylvie and Paulo just happened to call at to my room while you were there? Was it you or Paulo who suggested going to the café when Sylvie started arguing with me? Do you think Paulo is really interested in you, or is he simply trying to gain useful information which he can use against you?"
"Those thoughts had crossed my mind," I reply. "I agree. I don't believe Paulo's presence in your room was a coincidence. But which of us gains the upper hand as a consequence is still a game in progress."
"What do you mean, Jasmine? What game?"
"I intend to see Paulo again when I can. He may be physically stronger than me, but very few of the Argonaut's tests rely on muscle. However, when it comes to mind games, I think I am better than him. I shall find out when I next see him."
"You are playing a dangerous game, Jasmine. I advise you to abandon your quest. If you fail, Paulo and the other contestants will target you for early elimination tomorrow."
"I think my contestant profile that the Argonaut's organizers have published already marks me as a target. Paulo's appearance this morning only confirms it. My best chance is to weaken Paulo's resolve to attack me. He must either fear me or love me."
"If that is your strategy, then I salute your cunning," says Ellen. "But I still advise against it. There is very little I can do to help you."
"I don't ask for your help. All I ask is that you don't hinder my hunt."
"Very well," says Ellen. "Providing you keep me or the reception desk informed of your whereabouts. Kidnapping a contestant is a very risky tactic, but it has been tried before. Remember, if you fail to turn up for a roll-call, you will be automatically eliminated."
"How about you let Jasmine's try on her dress with the jewelry she has chosen," says Vincent. "The others will be returning soon for lunch. It will be better if you have finished the fitting before they arrive."
Ellen nods in agreement and goes to fetch the emerald jewelry I picked.
"Where is Patrick?" I ask, suddenly remembering he left the dormitory a few hours ago for a run.
"He finished early," says Vincent. "He went down to one of the private rooms to practice his interview skills."
"Is he still angry with me?" I ask.
"Angry with you? Why do you think he is angry with you?" asks Vincent.
"We travelled here together, but as soon as we arrived he suddenly didn't want anything more to do with me. Something I did must have made him do that."
"You have already identified the reason, Jasmine," says Vincent. "You said your best chance of winning is to make your rivals either fear you or love you. Paulo isn't the only man who will be competing against you."
"But why would Patrick fear me? We were getting along fine until we arrived here."
"He doesn't fear you, Jasmine," says Vincent. "Well, not much."
"Then he; oh!" I say, suddenly realizing that the strange looks Patrick has been giving me had a deeper meaning than I thought.
Chapter 11: A little tenderness
I take the studio supplied dress from my wardrobe, and I quickly change into it. I'm busy admiring myself in the mirror when Ellen returns with her emerald ring, necklace and earrings. She fastens the necklace for me, and for the first time I see the combined effect of the dress with Ellen's emeralds.
"Perfect," says Ellen. I can't help but agree with her. If looks alone could see me through this afternoon's performance, then I would be home and dry. But I must still navigate my way through an interview, or make myself noticed if I'm not one of the ten contestants chosen. If I'm interviewed, I need to be eloquent and confident in my responses to the hosts' questions. Not just because I want to impress any potential employers, but because Paulo and the other contestants will be watching my every move.
"Do you think Paulo will like my outfit?" I ask Ellen.
"Paulo? Hmmm; I think you will snare him with these emeralds."
"Do you think I have a better chance if I wear that piece which belonged to your great-aunt Sophie?" I ask, remembering Paulo's reaction when he saw it. "Who was this great-aunt of yours anyway?"
"Sophie? Oh, she was a famous dancer. Her stage name was Desire. She lived a very bohemian life. My parents regarded as the black sheep of the family. But I liked her. I used to visit Sophie quite often when I was young, so I knew Sophie much better than did Sylvie or any of my other sisters. That's why Sophie left her jewelry to me when she died. The emeralds were hers as well. A gift from a man she lived with for many years."
"Have you ever worn her jewelry?" I ask.
"The emeralds, yes, but not that piece you were looking at when Sylvie intruded. I've never been in a situation where it was appropriate to wear it. It's not the sort of jewelry you wear in public places, and it takes a certain amount of confidence and practice to wear it. You do understand how it should be worn, don't you?"
"Yes. Thanks to Sylvie's demonstration, I know how it fastens," I say, giving Ellen a demonstration using my fingers to represent the spring-clips. "You would need to be wearing a thin top to stop it sliding off, though."
"Or no top at all," laughs Ellen. "But we are getting side-tracked. The others will be here soon. If we are done I suggest you change back into your regular clothes.
"Ellen, could I borrow that piece of Sophie's I saw earlier?"
"What!? There is no way you are wearing that on the television show."
"No, of course I won't. I do have some sense of propriety. But I might be able to use it to snare Paulo."
I put on my most winsome smile and Ellen finally agrees after some hesitation. She must have anticipated my request as she has the box with Sophie's piece in her bag. She hands it to me.
"You knew I was going to ask to borrow this," I say.
"I didn't know, but I suspected you might ask when you noticed Paulo's interest," smiles Ellen. "You had best try it on. You might not be able to keep it in place."
I find a thin top and change out of the dress. Fortunately Vincent has decided to go for lunch. He's harmless enough, but I think I've treated him to enough eye candy for now. Ellen hands me the jeweled piece and watches as I nervously place the discs in position. I anticipated a certain amount of discomfort from the pressure of the clips on my nipples, but the initial pain is almost unbearable. Fortunately the pain soon passes and after a short while I can only sense the weight of the piece tugging on my nipples and breasts.
"Now try walking about," says Ellen. "Try to shake it loose. We need to see whether it will stay in place."
I do as Ellen suggests and try moving into several different positions. The piece remains firmly in place, but several movements cause me to wince in pain as the weight or tension in the linking chain pulls against me. After a few minutes Ellen seems satisfied with my first attempt at wearing it.
"OK," says Ellen. "You can take the piece off."
What sounds like the simplest of tasks turns out to be the most excruciatingly painful experience I could imagine. As soon as the clips are removed, the numbness in my nipples quickly goes, and my body protests strongly. I bite my lips to prevent myself from crying out. If I fail this last test, then Ellen might not let me borrow the piece. I rub my chest gently to ease the pain, and after a while only a little tenderness remains.
"Hmm. Do you still wish to borrow this piece?" asks Ellen as she places it back in its box.
I nod and Ellen hands me the box. I give her a hug in thanks, being careful not to aggravate my tender breasts. The sound of Patrick's voice coming from the corridor prompts me to finish changing and join the others for lunch.
To be continued in part 3, by Rachael Jane for Literotica.
