He grinned weakly at her. "Anything you want, my lady."

"I didn't know I wanted that," she said, referring to their encounter.

"You had a bad day," he said. "I thought it would help."

Nora rolled over, and lay with her head on his chest. "It did, Kyle. I needed to be taken and satisfied like that." She kissed his nipples, licking at them provocatively. "How did you know I'd had a bad day?"

"I always know how it is with you. It's my job, Nora." He put his arm about her.

"You do your job well, darling," she told him.

"I spoke to Mr. Nicholas," he said to her.

"Mr. Nicholas?"

"The administrator of The Channel. He says you may have an appointment with him anytime you want. He says he's looking forward to meeting you."

"Oh." She had forgotten.

"Don't you want to stay in The Channel, Nora? Have you changed your mind now, darling?" Kyle wondered.

"No, but I'm not ready yet. I have to get my son off to college. I have to see what kind of a deal the lawyers can work out between Jeff and me. I can't take my vacation yet. It was sweet of you to speak with Mr. Nicholas, Kyle."

"You really ought to see him soon, Nora. You don't know when you'll need to escape from your reality, and you need to know what will happen if you do, don't you?" Kyle pressured her gently.

"You could be right," Nora considered. "If I need to make a quick getaway, it would help to have his approval, wouldn't it? Can we arrange it now?"

"Why not?" he said, and he reached for the phone. "Mr. Nicholas's office," he said, and then, "Good evening, sir. Nora Buckley is ready to make her appointment with you. Yes, of course." And he put the phone back in its stand.

"Well?" Nora said anxiously.

"I have to call back in a few minutes. His assistants are all on a break right now. He can't make any appointments without them, because he's never certain of his schedule." Kyle laughed. "You'd think someone that important would have all the information he needed at his fingertips. I'll tell you what, Nora. Go shower and get the smell of sex off of you. I'll pick an outfit for you to wear."

Nora got up and went into the bathroom, where she showered, and then reentering the bedroom, she said, "What have you chosen for me?"

He held it out. "Simple and elegant," he told her.

Nora looked at the dress. It was a wrap style, a dark green silk with a deep V neckline and long fitted sleeves. "It's lovely," she said. Lovely, but not like the damned floral print she had worn today to her son's graduation.

"But first these," he said, laying the dress on the bed and picking up a green lace garter belt. He hooked it around her, and then ordered her to sit while he rolled the sheerest nude stockings she had ever seen in all of her life up her legs, then hooked them neatly to the belt. "No bra," he said. "Your tits are too good."

"Panties?"

"Nope," he told her. "Too much trouble getting off when you get back, and I'll be waiting for you. The kid is out, and we've got the whole night ahead of us, Nora."

She stepped into the dress, while Kyle pulled it up and zipped it. Then kneeling down, he slipped sling-back heels on her slender feet. When he stood again, he put her back from him and whistled. Then he pulled the mirrored doors shut, and said, "What do you think?"

Nora stared. She looked absolutely marvelous. Far better than Heidi Millar, and here in The Channel she was probably Heidi's age. "Give me a brush. I need to do something with my hair," she said. "I'll put it up."

"No, down," he disagreed.

"I'll look like a tart out of a 1940s movie," she protested.

"We'll compromise," he said, brushing her long red gold hair out. Then he picked up a large tortoiseshell barrette, and gathering her hair into a single thick strand, he fastened the clasp. "Elegant. Goes with the dress. Doesn't look like a schoolmarm."

"I am hardly schoolmarmish in this dress with no undergarments," Nora laughed.

Kyle took a bottle from the dressing table. Uncorking it, he dabbed a little perfume in her cleavage. The phone rang, and he picked it up, putting down the scent bottle. "Mrs. Buckley's penthouse," he said. "Yes. Of course. I'll send her right down. Thank you, Margaret." He put the handset down, and turned to Nora. "Mr. Nicholas will see you now."

"Will you come with me?" she asked, suddenly nervous. She had never left her fantasy apartment other than to go back to her reality.

"I'm not invited," Kyle said. "You'll be alright, Nora, and I'll be waiting for you to get back. Remember, we have a couple of hours left." His hand went beneath her elbow, and he led her to a double door of heavy bronze. It was an elevator. Rolf came this way. Kyle pressed the button, and the doors opened soundlessly.

The elevator was of polished pecan wood. There was a mirror in its rear, beneath which was a small red leather bench. A little crystal chandelier was fitted into its ceiling. He ushered her in and, leaning over, pressed a button. "It's okay," he said as the doors closed softly. She couldn't feel any movement, and yet she knew the elevator was going down. For a moment she grew claustrophobic, and then she took a deep breath. It was all an adventure, and she suddenly realized she could hardly wait to see what came next. The elevator stopped suddenly, and its doors opened. Nora stared at what was in front of her.

Chapter Six


She wasn't certain exactly what she had expected, but certainly not this. Stepping from the elevator, she found herself in a big room with a pale creamy carpet so plush she wasn't certain she could stand up in her high-heeled shoes. The lower half of the walls was paneled in oak. The upper half was wallpapered in a large elegant floral pattern in quiet tones of greens and coral on a cream-colored background. The ceiling was oak coffered, and the lighting was subdued. There was a couch covered in a pale gold silk brocade, a row of matching single chairs, and a mahogany coffee table on one side of the room. On the other, there were two beautiful wood desks with matching computer workstations, where two women of indeterminate age worked. They did not look up as the elevator opened and Nora entered the room.

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."