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"If it is permitted," enquired the old gentleman with a slow smile, "I would like to drink this to a very pretty face?"

Surprised, she merely followed the rise of her eyebrows with a short nod of assent.

He raised the glass. "Charming. Indeed."

She felt a rising desire to giggle and, to help overcome it, she returned, "That was very sweet of you."

"Sweet?" He became deprecating. "At my age, that's about the only weapon left."

His companion, a much younger man and very easy to her eye, lowered his glass to the table and said, "I think, after breaking the ice in your old fashioned way, perhaps you should offer the young lady a glass of wine too?"

"You're very kind ..." she began but the elder one was already calling to the waiter for another glass.

"Please, don't be embarrassed," he said. "It's not too often that an old codger gets the chance to entertain a fine looking lass."

The old man lifted the bottle and began to pour.

"Not for me, Josh," said his younger companion looking at his watch. "I really must be going." Turning to the girl, he added: "Sorry to run away but ... if you will excuse me ...?"

She accepted the glass and acknowledged his salutation. It really was a fine wine and tingled pleasantly on her tongue after the instant coffee which had been her lot for the last two years or so.

"I've seen you in here before?"

"I come in every Friday. It's my weekly treat to myself. In fact I practically starve the rest of the time to pay for this."

He gave her a surprised look. "You eat alone? Surely, with your assets ... I'm surprised you even have to consider footing the bill. Young men were much different in my days."

She coloured deeply and rapidly which made him instantly apologise. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to pry ... and certainly not to criticise."

"No, no. It's not your fault. I do have boyfriends... or at least would-be ones. It's just that they don't stay around for long."

"Ah, " he said. "You want marriage first?"

"In a nutshell ... yes." But she met his gaze firmly.

There was a short pause during which she regained some of her former composure. And then: "Young lady, I gave up sexual encounters... no, no... to be honest, they gave up on me some... ten years ago. Without any risks whatever... would you allow me the pleasure of buying your dinner tonight? Do say that you will keep an old fool company."

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It wasn't by chance alone that she had asked to share their table although to be sure, the place was crowded. She had hoped that the younger man might be as interested in her as she was with him. But he had been on the point of leaving. However, his older companion had provided her with an excellent meal, some fine wine and had continued in the same charming manner in which he had offered that toast.

Over coffee, the conversation drifted round full circle. "No," she said with a touch of bitterness. "Young men today are not interested in marriage, family, home. All that occupies their minds is a quick screw."

He winced. "I do so hate that word. And it diminishes women to the status of an object. Most of them are wonderful creatures, far superior to men and deserving of worship."

She laughed merrily. "I am afraid you are in what is known as a very large minority," she said. "But I find the idea intriguing. Just how does anyone go about worshipping a woman?"

"Not at all easy in today's world. Women seem to have lost the art of attracting men's extreme respect. They dress so as to arouse bedroom thoughts in the middle of the town square. There is precious little room for fantasy in life these days."

"Fantasy? Do you think that fantasy has anything to do with reality?"

"Certainly not. It belongs in the realm of escapism... that which makes life with all its tribulations bearable."

"Are you talking in the past or, with perhaps more time on your hands, do you still indulge?"

"Oh definitely. Now I can do it without being constantly interrupted by duties and requirements that cannot be ignored."

"Will you tell me what those fantasies are?"

"Will you tell me what are yours... in return?"

She wrinkled her brow and slowly shook her head. "I would. But I don't think I have any. I just spend my life filling shelves in the supermarket, going home to eat, watching television and going to bed. The nearest I get to any fantasy is my Friday night gorge in here."

He thought a moment: "Perhaps ... perhaps you might share in one of mine?"

"Can you share in someone else's fantasy? What is it?"

"It will definitely change after today. I'm an old man and can only dream of the beautiful bodies of young women. There is no point in kidding oneself. As an eastern potentate, for example, I might be able to buy exotic looking slaves but the pleasure would have to be one-sided; no young woman is going to wax ecstatic about my touch. And... " He gave a short laugh. "A touch is about all I can offer today. But, in the land of fantasy, anything can be. I can't apologise... but, from here on, you are bound to figure in my fantastic dreaming; my slave girl will bear your face... and... the rest I'll have to imagine."

"Sounds like you're pretty good at imagining. But... how could I enter this... um... realm?"

By acting it out for me. For one evening, say... Be my slave girl."

"You've got to be joking!"

"Not at all. But it has to be your decision. You would have to enter the game voluntarily. Or, if you like, I could employ you to be my slave girl."

"Employ?" Incredulity gave way slowly to a smile. "Now, as a hard-up shelf-filler that at least makes it a practical fantasy... if you see what I mean? Incredulously, "How much would you pay?"

"How much would you charge?"

"For an evening?"

"For an evening. For an afternoon, or a day or even a weekend."

"You're nuts," she said but it was obvious that the idea was beginning to intrigue her. And then she sobered suddenly: "This would be a slave in the sense of working slave?"

"Sex wouldn't come into it at all. You would never get into my bed... you might kick all night for all I know and my old joints won't take that any more."

She dissolved into laughter. "No. It has to be me that's nuts." She was silent for a while. "Tell me more about this fantasy girl of yours. What does she wear?"

"Hmm. This I fear is where you get off the train. My girl is dressed in the manner so beloved by the old film-studio moguls - dirty old men all. Their idea of a harem girl was dressed in transparent silks and they wore yashmaks that, incredibly, were equally transparent."

"You," she accused. "You are a dirty old man too. No way."

"Ah well. That is the way of fantasies. Sooner or later you have to wake up. But there is a difference... I am prepared to pay my slaves and grant them the privilege of terminating the matter at a moment's notice."

She sat there quietly thinking over the matter. "Would you like some more coffee?" he asked.

She raised her gaze to his face. "For several reasons, it's time to be heading for home."

"You're not driving I hope?"

"A privilege I can't afford. I walk."

"You've had quite a lot to drink and it's getting late. I'll get you a taxi." She started to protest but he waved it aside. "You can share mine or have one of your own?"

"There's no reason you shouldn't know my... How much would you pay for the weekend?"

He was startled at this sudden change. "As I said before... how much would you charge?"

She drew a deep breath and, as though to finally kill off the matter, said with a challenge; "Two hundred and fifty pounds."

"For two days... that would make it five hundred. Done. If it starts right here and now."

She seemed stunned at the mention of such a large sum. "I'm not a whore," she said.

"I'm not buying sexual favours. Just your company and a little indulgent fun."

He knew that the wine was working on his side and equally clearly the idea itself was getting her aroused. He waited. "Let's go then," she said.

It was a large double-fronted house in what once had obviously been a fashionable street although she wasn't quite sure where they were. It was approached up a short flight of steps; the ground floor held all the day rooms, the floor above the sleeping quarters, the floor below the roof had once been the servants' quarters and the basement contained the kitchens and other domestic areas.

He showed her into a very pleasant room with its own services and plenty of large built-in wardrobes and cupboards. "As a slave-girl, you should be on the top floor - the servants' quarters," he said, "but as a special guest in a house with plenty of room, I feel this is more appropriate."

"For me, " she said quietly, "this is about the ultimate in luxury."

"You have a shower in there," he indicated a door. "Freshen up and I will bring you your uniform for the weekend."

She wasn't drunk but most certainly had taken enough alcohol for one evening. The hot water made a difference and she began to consider just what she had got herself into. There came a knock on her door, she wrapped the huge towel around her and called, "Come in."

The old man entered and he carried two small plastic carrier bags. "This," he handed her the larger bag, "is your costume. I'll leave you to get dressed."

"If it's anything like your description of it... there seems little point in your leaving," she said and dropped the towel.

Looking at herself in the long mirror she was aware of very mixed feelings. She adored what she saw; she felt indecently exposed. She hesitated to turn around until she realised that he was looking at her in the mirror. "Well?" she enquired.

"You look very good," he said. "That costume could have been made for you. About everything I ever imagined... and I've been imagining that for many years."

"What's in the other bag?"

"The rest of your uniform." He put the bag on the floor with a distinct jangle and drew from it a long chain on each end of which was a cuff. "All the best slavegirls wear chains," he said with a twinkle.

"You didn't mention that before," she accused.

"As always... it's your choice. Sorry if I forgot but it is part of my fantasy."

"But why do slaves wear chains?"

"The police use cuffs for control, they say. You're much younger than I am; if you get obstreperous I might end up as the slave."

She laughed and held out her hands. He fitted the cuffs and closed them carefully ensuring that they would move around her wrists but were as tight as possible. Then he extracted a key from the bag and locked them.

"I thought you needed a key to take them off? Why to put them on?"

"It's called a double lock," he said. "Ensures that the cuff cannot be accidentally tightened and cut-off the blood supply."

"Hmm. And what other surprise have you got for me in there?"

"Same again. Only these are for your feet."

She seemed doubtful but stood nevertheless while he hobbled her ankles. "Makes it inconvenient to run away."

"That I can certainly believe."

"Here's another trick." From the bag he produced a small padlock. "Now, should you get disobedient... " He moved round behind her, took hold of her hands and pulled them back. She heard the lock click and he released her hands. But they stayed behind her with the chain encircling her waist. "It is at this point, " he said quietly, "that the villains of old said - Now you're mine, me beauty."

For a few moments, she tugged and wriggled and found herself getting more and more excited. It was the feeling of being helpless, of being entirely dependent on somebody else. "You haven't tried to run away, " he said. His voice was full of wonder. She stepped back and would have fallen headlong, had he not caught her by the chain around her waist. He was standing on the hobble chain.

She let out a funny little squeal, "Ooh ... owooh."

"Even that can be controlled," he said. He caught her by the hair and dragged her head backward but she never got as far as protesting. He thrust a red rubber ball from the bag into her mouth and secured it by a strap behind her head. With both hands, he cleared her hair and then jerked the strap tight.

Now she felt fear; it was the first time he had shown her anything but consideration and that yank on her hair had hurt. He emptied the bag out on to the chair and fitted a leather collar to her neck. The other item was a length of chain with a snap hook on its end; it was like an over-sized dog leash.

She knew she was caught. Even if there had been any place to run, she was unable even to walk properly and struggling - any sort of fighting - was definitely ruled out. She was a slave in reality. She hadn't been overpowered, beaten, drugged or offerred any violence; simply led step by step into captivity.

He crossed to the door, opened it and called out, "Right. All done, David. Hope you brought that thousand pounds. Personally, I think she's a bargain at twice the price."

She was being... SOLD. A thousand pounds. And she had agreed to this for only five hundred which, now, would never be paid. No wonder he had agreed so readily to such a high fee. He stood to one side and the man who entered was none other than the young man whose presence at the dinner table had enticed her to join them. Had she been set up then?

David handed a large buff envelope to the old man and, in return, received the end of her chain leash. He pulled on it gently and she had little choice but to follow him obediently from the room. Down the passage, he led her until they reached the top of the stairs: "I think maybe... " and he stooped, caught her around the middle, hoisted her to his shoulder and carried her unceremoniously to the lower floor.

Despite her predicament she half wished that he would continue to carry her; with her limbs bound in this immutable steel, she somehow relished the feel of being upside down over his arm. Once again on her feet and he led her into a comfortable room with a large fire dancing in a huge hearth and finally he pushed her gently down into a large leather-covered armchair. It felt distinctly cold through her flimsy garments.

The old man followed them into the room and closed the door. "I think some coffee might be a good idea, David?"

"You do come up with some great schemes Josh," and David departed through a second door.

Josh crossed the room to stand by her chair. "Don't be afraid, my dear. I can see it in your face and you can't be blamed for that in any way. In truth, we have treated you abominably but... maybe... just maybe... you will find it in you to forgive. Lean forward for me please, will you?"

He unbuckled the gag and, holding a large handerchief under her chin, gently eased it from her mouth. "At least we chose a small one. It was naughty of me to pull your hair like that when I put it in but... you see... it seems I'm not quite so old or so dead as I thought. With you standing there helpless and in those clothes... I found it irresistible. Forgive?"

Unable to comprehend and not over her fright, she could only nod.

"I'm afraid you've been the unwilling... and unwitting... victim in a little double bet between David and myself. He's not my son... more's the pity... but a long time protegee. He bet me one thousand pounds that I couldn't pull a young girl, get her into that costume and sell her to him in chains. Between us we've cost him a grand. And incidentally the thousand pounds is for you... five hundred from each of us. Unfortunately for you, the bet was no sooner accepted than you joined us at our table and... well... it seemed as though fate... ?"

A feeling of relief was quickly followed by one of near-disbelief to be chased away by anger. She leaned back against the chair and closed her eyes. "David holds the keys to your manacles," he explained, " so that I didn't have any room for mistakes. He'll be back soon and will unlock you."

She suddenly opened her eyes. "Where did this costume come from? You didn't buy this off the shelf."

"Ah, yes. That indeed is a good question. A very good question. David had a girlfriend whom he took to a fancy dress party. She didn't reveal her costume - that costume - until she removed her coat at the party. It caused a scandal, as I'm sure you can appreciate. But, while everybody expressed distaste, they all queued up to dance with her and run their hands where ever they could get them. It caused a row between her and David and she took off in a huff and we've never heard from her since. She left a few things behind including that. You could say I suppose that she is the original sin that caused your abduction tonight."

A smile was beginning to stretch the corners of her mouth. Momentarily, she tugged at her captive hands.

"I'll go and get those keys."

She stopped him. "No, don't bother," she said, "I'm not actually in any trouble. You were very careful when you put them on me. I must confess too that... er... well they feel... there is something about being like this."

"If you don't let him unlock you, he will have to feed you your coffee."

"Is that a bad thing?"

He liked the look in her eyes and the wicked-looking little curl to her mouth: "I wonder... yes... it may not be too safe to unlock you at all."

They were both laughing when David came in bearing a tray of many things. "I thought we might lace the coffee, " he said, "Isn't brandy supposed to be good for shock?"

"Definitely not," she said. "And anyway, don't you think you've fed me enough booze for one evening of deception?"

David held up his hands. "Not guilty. Never fed you a drop. But I must admit there are some very crafty and dirty old men in this neighbourhood. Let me get those cuffs for you."

But as he pulled out some keys, she leaned back again in the chair. "I'm quite enjoying them," she said demurely. "However though, as part of my compensation for physical and mental abuse, I require that somebody feed me with coffee."

Surprised, David looked at Josh uncertainly.

"Afraid we picked a humdinger, " said the old man. "You'll either have to take her back upstairs and chain her to the wall or call on the point of law that says a woman can't give evidence against her husband."

David blushed outrageously and seemed to be looking for a deep hole.

A thought occurred to the girl. "You said you had a double bet?"

David jumped as though stuck with a pin. "You didn't ... ?"

"Not me," said Josh with all the innocence of a fox stalking a grounded flock of pigeons. "But since she's guessed... Yes, I said that I would pay my share of the thousand pounds if he later married the girl I sold to him."

When she stopped laughing, there were tears all over her face. "Lend me a hanky, someone," she pleaded and it was David who got to her first.

As he wiped her cheeks for her, he asked anxiously, "You're not mad then? You can be released from those shackles immediately you say the word."

"I would never hold a man against his will," she replied. "Whether he had me in chains or otherwise. But I am capable of BENDING his will... I think. Now, if it is all right with my masters... I would like to start my weekend of captivity by going to bed."

"Like that?"

"Exactly like this."

David pulled her from the chair and once again put her over his shoulder. He walked very slowly... Meanwhile old Josh hugged himself.

He saw the little smile on David's face when he returned and reckoned that, upstairs, someone next to naked was chained to a bed. I hope he thought to provide a potty...