White Sheets - 9. Fangs of the Past

Remy stared at the sheet and the stains on it. He could still feel Anduin inside him, still his broad chest against his back, his beard-stubbled cheek against his own. After a loving embrace, Anduin had slipped out to shower in his own room, and Remy had gone to shower as well. He tucked the wet strands behind his ears while a storm raged inside him.

He had his big brother back. Family. Love. Security.

The warm comforting feeling was dampened, however, by the dull throbbing in his butt and the sight of the stains on the sheet. And as for the stains...

He threw the covers and pillow to the floor and stripped off the sheet, crumpling it up so the stains wouldn't show, and left his room.

"You don't have to say yes, Remy, really. Miss Therese told us to be careful with you, and, well... The way you're looking right now, I don't think either of us would enjoy the sex."

Holly. It was only after Holly's words that he had truly understood back then what it meant to have a choice. What the concept Harlaney House was known for really meant. At the time, he had vowed never to scrub his own blood from sheets again.

However, he had never just thrown away a sheet like that without at least trying every trick in the book. It was this very thought that made him pause as he entered the backyard through a side door of the house and his eyes fell on the shed where the garbage cans were housed.

"Good morning, Remy."

With a high-pitched squeal, he spun around to meet the amused gaze of Mistress Ellen, who came out of the back of the garden with a camera bag around her shoulder. "Good morning, Mistress." His heart hammered as he choked out the words.

"Oh my goodness," her smile vanished, "did something happen?"

"What, no. I just-" With his mouth open, he paused and involuntarily pressed the crumpled bundle against him. "You're up early, mistress."

"I've been trying out some new settings, sunrise is an exciting time of day. But that doesn't answer my question, Remy." Of course she wasn't going to be distracted, Mistress Ellen was an intelligent woman.

He lowered his eyes. "I just wanted to... throw this away." He didn't raise his eyes until Mistress Ellen touched him gently on the cheek; concern was written on her face.

"Harlaney House means a whole new stage of life for many girls and a new beginning for every slave. Old patterns and habits have no place here."

He nodded, although his habit of washing the sheets by hand was a very old and very deeply rooted thing in him and nobody had ever complained about it before. Accordingly, it was strange that she looked so critical now because he was going to throw one away.

"Remy, my darling, I have a rough idea of what your life used to be like, and I don't want to..." she paused for a moment, "Whatever used to be between you and Anduin- let it go. It doesn't belong here. You're big and tough and beautiful, and you don't need to have to put up with imposing bullies." A brief but loving smile flitted across her face while Remy squirmed inwardly. "I'll talk to Anduin too, don't worry. And no talking back! Except to pushy interested persons."

He nodded, a cold knot in his stomach. It certainly wouldn't please Anduin to hear anything of the sort. And he had never seen a bully in him.

"Bring us up a big serving of Cain's super smoothie, will you?"

"Of course, Mistress," he murmured quietly, his fingers clawing at the sheet.

She patted his cheek encouragingly, but he was well aware of her tension. For some reason, she had taken a special liking to him, but at this moment, this stupid situation, he wondered if it wasn't more to his detriment.

~

Cutlery clattered and scraped over the plates and bowls, and with a muffled sound one of the water carafes was placed back on the table.

Remy lifted his eyes briefly from his own food and felt his ears twitch. Now that there were five of them, he was to take a seat at the head of the slaves' kneeling table, and the perspective was unfamiliar; that Anduin was kneeling in his old place was actually even discomforting.

Oddly awkward, too, was the silence of the women at the large dining table. Mistress Therese had reminded Claire and Keira of the Blessing Mass and Joy of her early meeting appointment, she had admonished Bella to pack her bags before bedtime, and pointed out to Sarah that the scheduled maintenance at the campus computer center was not yet complete.

Remy poked at his food lacking a bit of appetite, the potato puree was too salty. He'd already switched his alarm clock so he'd be awake in time for his ride to the Blessing Mass tomorrow, and he'd helped Cain put some order into the mess new girls usually left behind when they were asked for lunchbox-ideas.

"Aunt Therese?"

Something clinked loudly, Remy winced, and Flavius across the corner spilled a little water in shock.

"Yes, Claire?" Mistress Therese also sounded as if she had almost suffered a heart attack.

"Joy and I were thinking about having some of the girls from our study group over this weekend," Claire began. "You know, get to know each other a little bit, talk about profs and classes..."

"Making a little contact between the cohorts..." Joy added seriously. "There was almost none of that at Westshire TU, although there weren't even any significant distractions there."

Someone snorted in amusement.

"I don't mind such get-togethers," Mistress Therese explained calmly. "But whatever it's about, you should always get your roommates' approval first and foremost."

"If it's about Sixth-Day, go ahead," Keira said, relaxed. "I have an invitation."

"So do I," Sarah said.

"Don't mind me, go ahead." Bella sounded a little absent minded, but that was nothing new.

Remy looked up and saw Mistress Therese nodding, there was joyful anticipation on Claire's face.

"Well, you'll have to take care of food and drink yourselves," Mistress Therese continued, and Remy saw it twitch on Claire's face. "My slaves can help you with the preparations and cleanup, but they certainly won't take care of everything."

"Of course not," Joy agreed with her, sounding sincere.

"If you want certain other entertainment that my boys aren't willing to give, you'll have to arrange that yourselves as well, and I'd like to be informed beforehand."

Remy saw Claire and Joy nod obediently, though Claire didn't seem overly thrilled by the answer.

Later in the kitchen, Flavius grumbled sullenly: "Rent entertainment my ass!"

"Great Mother, Flavius, don't get all worked up already," Remy grumbled back, setting down a stack of dirty plates. "You don't even know what it's going to come down to in the end. Mistress Therese was talking in general terms."

"Are parties or something usually not happening here, or what?", Anduin wanted to know curiously, placing a tray of dirty glasses next to Remy's plates.

"Not really," Marc said quietly. "Everyone knows Mistress Therese is strict. If you want a good party and don't want to worry when things escalate, you get invited somewhere else. Besides, this kind of entertainment doesn't come cheap."

"I see." Anduin nodded, exuding what Remy at first thought was arrogance, but then recognized simply as life experience. After all, Anduin was the oldest here. "Well, Claire loves parties. With nice entertainment."

Marc sighed, Flavius contorted his face.

"I don't think Mistress Therese will let her get away with that for long. Besides, we're allowed to say no if she should ask us to entertain them," Remy said critically, getting merely a shrug from Anduin in return.

"What about you guys, had bad experiences?" Anduin then turned to the others.

"Any experience in that regard is often merely a knife's edge away from bad," Flavius said, surprising Remy a bit. He must have seen that, because he was now looking directly at Remy. "You know I like to serve women, but preferably behind closed doors and not in public. A lot of women aren't used to slaves being allowed to say no, and a party with alcohol isn't helpful there."

"I understand that, Fla, I really do-" began Remy, but was interrupted by Marc, who nodded gravely:

"You don't have to participate, in any way, if you'd permanently run on adrenaline in the process."

"Would you enjoy it though?", Cain wanted to know somberly.

Marc shrugged. "Probably not. But on the other hand, I don't mind it much either."

Skeptically, Remy looked at him, realizing again that he knew surprisingly little about his fellow slave's background.

"Neither do I," Anduin calmly interjected, which Remy hadn't expected. He had always had the impression that Anduin couldn't stand being watched. "What Claire and her friends can pull off in this setting is by comparison harmless."

By comparison harmless... Remy shuddered as he realized how right Anduin was.

Fittingly, Anduin looked at him. "What about you?"

Remy grimaced. "I'm not exactly a stage burner." And he didn't want to be one, either. Even though he had sufficient experience when it came to the subject.

"I disagree." Anduin winked at him and brushed a strand behind his ear- he was almost proud of himself for not flinching under the circumstances. And he was definitely glad that the others were looking at them strangely, but didn't comment.

Cain then frowned critically, however. "Unfortunately, Flavius is right, though. Women are sometimes unpredictable. And they like to cross limits, especially ours. As long as I don't know that my no will be accepted as such, I'll stay out of it."

Anduin nodded simply.

Remy sighed and patted his arm. "You're quite capable of providing entertainment on your own." Then he turned demonstratively to the dirty dishes.

Cain sighed- probably Anduin made a strange face- and said: "It's really like that. The last big party was just after I got here, and it thoroughly escalated. Since then, it's really just been small gatherings. Which probably no one is really sad about."

"We could also refuse united," Flavius suggested after a small pause in the conversation, during which they had turned their attention to the obvious work at hand.

"Will that do anything?", Anduin wanted to know in a skeptical-tired tone.

"Yes. Claire and Joy and the others would have to hire entertainment if they really wanted any," Remy said, seeing Cain nodding out of the corner of his eye. He himself didn't think Flavius' suggestion was bad at all, but when he lifted his gaze, he could see it sparkle in Anduin's eyes.

"You know Claire can punish me if-"

"No, the house rules apply to you now, too," Remy interrupted him immediately. "You can say no. But do what you want." He held Anduin's gaze, wondering if his brother really feared being punished for refusing.

Finally, Anduin turned away. "Fine. Each as he likes."

~

Remy steered the car over the almost empty streets of Hawk's Roost, the town was not quite awake yet. He himself had slept poorly and had to concentrate anyway to make sure he took the right road to the temple on campus.

Claire and Keira were talking quietly in the back seat, and he paid no attention to the murmuring until he heard his name.

"Hmm?" he made questioningly.

"I just wanted to know what type of woman you are into," Claire said, a little amused.

"I don't know," he returned honestly, stopping at a traffic light. In any case, he was not interested in Claire, which she should be aware of - after all, he had known her since she was a little girl.

"You don't know?" Keira echoed, also amused.

"No. I've never really thought about it." I smiled and glanced in the rearview mirror, where Keira returned his gaze. "I mean, my choices are pretty limited."

Claire snorted. "But you must know what you like. More of a skinny like Bella or too many curves like me."

Before he could answer, Keira said: "Too many? Come on, Claire, there's nothing too many. Your curves are well proportioned. I wish I had a little more of them."

Claire snorted again, but now Remy said:

"Don't even start with diets or shit like that. Life's too short to fuck it up with starvation and nasty shakes."

"And Cain's food is too good, I know." Claire sighed. "Still, I'd rather be a little less curvy."

"You're pretty, don't tell yourself otherwise," Keira insisted, and Remy nodded.

"Besides, there are enough pretty women out there who make themselves ugly by having an ugly character. Whereas pretty is a subjective thing anyway, if you put current societal standards aside."

"That sounds decidedly wise." Keira remarked with a touch of good-natured mockery.

"What can I say? I've served women already, when you weren't born yet." That sounded considerably more casual than he felt about it, but his words had been sincere.

"Oh." she made, puzzled. "How old are you?"

"Thirty-two.", Claire answered for him. "Doesn't look that old, good Remy, does he?"

"No. Really, you don't."

A glance in the rearview mirror told him that Keira was genuinely surprised. He put on a smile. "Thanks."

"And how long have you served Therese and Ellen?"

"Ten years." He turned right, trying to remember if it was now the second or third intersecting street to the left, but Claire's soft whisper reached his ears.

"You know Harlaney House is known for rehabilitating troubled slaves."

Keira made a sound of agreement.

"Most of them stay for about three years, and Ellen can tell me what she wants, but affection is definitely not the only reason he's been here so long."

"But?"

Remy's insides twisted into a knot.

"I heard his last mistress died somewhat mysteriously. Was an embarrassing story. You can take my word for it, I investigated. Anyway, I'll bet you the Slave Authorities are still keeping an eye on him."

"He's not wearing an authority mark." Keira returned skeptically, and Claire made a strange snide sound.

"That doesn't have to mean anything. I think they just didn't have enough to charge him or the other slave involved with murder."

Remy grew hot and cold at the same time, his fingers reluctantly disengaging from the steering wheel to change down a gear. It was an accident, he wanted to say, but his mouth was like glued shut. The sudden mention of the matter hit him like a hammer.

Keira, who had made a skeptical sound, now said, almost relieved: "There's the temple. Hell and Eden, that's clearly more students than I thought."

"It only seems that way because they're all in one spot now," Claire returned, unimpressed.

Remy stopped on the sidestrip with considerably more distance between him and the temple than necessary, but as Claire and Keira disappeared, so did the crackling yet cold tension from the car. The burning cold inside him, however, remained, his hands starting to shake uncontrollably now that the car was at a standstill.

Keira turned around and raised her hand in greeting.

"It was an accident.", he whispered tonelessly, but against his will he had Peter's voice in his ear, philosophizing about what could be done with Mistress Filippa's colorful ribbons.
"It was an accident." he repeated with more emphasis, although he was not at all sure of it. But it was easier to talk himself into it.
"It was an accident." he declared accordingly to the air, as if any other claim was absolutely ridiculous.

Still, his hand wandered to his collar- he never wanted to see an authority mark on it again.