"She's here!" Andrew's jaw dropped as he looked out the window, watching the limousine roll smoothly to the front of the circular drive.

Andrew gulped visibly. Amy blinked at the sight of her brother displaying any hint of nervousness, then looked back out the window. The limo driver, an enormous man, his expensive suit not hiding his intimidating muscles, had emerged and walked around to open the door on the near side of the limo. Amy watched in fascination as a gorgeous young woman, dressed in tight black leather pants and a short matching leather jacket emerged from the vehicle, a black choker caressing her neck, her eyes hidden behind shades whose lenses matched her outfit. Her black sandals, held by thin straps near her toes and around her ankles, completed the ensemble. Her black hair whipped around as she turned back towards the limousine and bent, reaching in for a large satchel, and it whipped again as she turned back towards the house and walked up the steps towards the front door.

The choker, Amy noticed, was worn very low on her neck, just off her shoulders. To avoid interfering with the noose, Amy decided.

Amy watched the girl, puzzled. "I thought she was supposed to be blonde."

Andrew snarled back, "That's not her, bonehead. That's her assistant. She's..."

Amy heard Andrew gasp, and turned once more to look outside. It seemed doubtful she and Andrew could be seen behind the gauzy drapes from the bright sunlight outside. Amy didn't doubt Andrew, now gawking without trying to hide it, would have played more cool if he'd thought the new arrivals were watching his reactions.

She gasped herself. Another girl was emerging from the car, and there was no doubt of this one's identity. Her straight, shoulder-length blonde hair looked like spun gold in the bright early Saturday afternoon sunlight. Her skimpy clothing supported the color motif established by her hair: a tight skirt ending just a few inches below her perfect bottom, and a halter top with a deeply plunging neckline, that hung over her breasts like a drape and ended just below them, showing a flat tummy with well-defined abdominals. The skirt and halter, both made of a silky silvery-gold fabric, were sufficiently opaque to hide what was underneath, but sheer enough to reveal the superb shape of everything they covered -- she clearly wasn't wearing a bra, and, despite the generous size of her breasts, didn't need one. Her sandals, as well, were gold. She wore a choker like the other girl, this one of a gold color a little darker than the rest of her clothes. Her skin was soft, smooth, and evenly tanned, a perfect match for the color of her outfit. Her well-developed muscles enhanced her femininity, adding shape and definition to every feature that men's eyes are drawn to in a beautiful woman's body: long, toned legs like a gymnast, shoulders and arms like a swimmer. Her eyes, unlike her companion's, were uncovered; they were bright, large, and wide, a perfect match for her smile, her face expressing not so much wonder at her surroundings as pure, simple joy and excitement.

It was Amy's turn to gawk, as she wished fervently she could somehow look like this girl, who Amy thought was probably the most gorgeous woman she had ever seen. The girl exuded charm, confidence, and above all, sex.

At eighteen, Amy was just coming to realize she was on the verge of being a woman, and felt woefully unprepared for the role. Looking at the girl, she was suddenly conscious of her own body. Her breasts had developed late, and she still didn't feel she knew how to carry them or what to do with them. The rest of her body seemed to her formless and vague, like a quickly-sketched cartoon drawing meant to serve as a woman until the artist decided what he really wanted his character to look like. Her mousy brown hair was as straight as the blonde's, but hung limp and shapelessly, around a face that rarely smiled. She looked down at her clothes -- one of Andrew's old t-shirts and a pair of dingy jeans -- and wished she had the clothing sense that could make her look like... well, she'd never be like the blonde, she told herself, but a little more womanly, anyway. Obviously her father could have bought her any clothes she wanted, but she'd grown up a tomboy and, in spite of her awakening consciousness of her gender, she couldn't make herself pick out outfits that would make her more attractive. She felt embarrassed in a dress or a skirt, believing that being seen in one would seem a pretention to everyone who had known her for any length of time.

She had dearly loved her mother, but wondered sometimes if her mom had made a good choice in letting the family eat her when Amy was ten. It wasn't that unusual for a family to decide that a child of that age had absorbed enough of her mother's love to last her a lifetime, but usually only in cases in which the child had older sisters. Amy had the unusual background of growing up from pre-adolescence in a household whose only other members were men.

She suddenly realized Andrew was punching her arm. "Wake up, dumbshit. You need to greet her at the door. I'm going to be out back."

Amy sucked in a shocked breath. "Me?? Why?"

"I want everybody watching when she meets me. Just get her in the house and see if there's anything she needs. Then bring her out back." He turned and almost sprinted back through the house, with a bridegroom-like reluctance to let the girl see him too early.

Andrew projected enough self-importance even on an average day, but this, unfortunately, was his twenty-first birthday. He wanted to make sure he was the object of all attention among his friends and (Amy wondered how there could be such a category) admirers.

Amy, her stomach churning, faced the front door as James, the butler, passed her in answer to the chimes of the bell. Most wealthy men would have a slave-girl answering the door; Amy's father considered that gauche. With such a small population of men in the world, the employment of one in such a role was typical of her father's idea of flashiness.

Amy stood fidgeting, not sure what to do with her hands, as James opened the door and said "Yes?" to the visitors.

The blonde, now standing in front with the black-haired girl and the limo driver behind her, beamed at James. "I'm Miranda... Well, today I'm Princess Miranda." She gave the brunette a look, and they both giggled. "I'm here for Andrew Cameron's party. This is Beth," she indicated the brunette, "My assistant, and this is Big Bill, our... chaperone." The girls laughed again. The huge man, his eyes behind shades as dark as, and much more intimidating than, the brunette's, nodded a bare half-inch, without expression. Big Bill, Amy could now see, stood at least a full head taller than Amy's father, himself a tall man. With shoulders twice as wide, Amy thought.

James responded, "Yes, we've been expecting you."

Miranda laughed again. "Well, I hope so."

"Will you come this way?" James backed away to let them enter.

As she entered, trailed by Beth with her huge satchel and Bill with his huge person, Miranda's bright eyes met Amy's reluctant ones. "Oh, hi. Are you..." Amy could see Miranda's eyes flick down to note that Amy was not wearing a slave collar. "...part of the family?"

Amy stepped forward, offering her hand uncertainly. "Ummm, yeah. Amy Cameron. Andrew is my brother. I'm here to... well I'm supposed to... do you need... anything?" Amy could feel her face reddening, but she was unable to tear her eyes away from Miranda's. When she did at last, she noticed, stunned, that Miranda's choker, symbolically a slave collar, had dark thread stitched into the front which read in a flowing script, "Miranda, property of Andrew Cameron." Amy gulped. She knew she should have expected that, since her father had bought the girl for Andrew. It still boggled her.

Miranda covered Amy's hand with both of hers. "That's so nice of you, and it's really nice meeting you! I think I've got everything I need here, though." She reached back and rubbed the satchel Beth was carrying. "Everything's all set up in back of the house, right? The crew came this week and set up the prep-tent, and the stage and everything? The gallows is all ready?"

Amy looked behind her, as if she could see all the newly-installed equipment through the walls of the house. "Yeah, I guess it's ready. You should probably check."

Miranda turned and looked straight up. "Bill, could you see to that?"

The man nodded mutely and looked around the room. Amy said, "Oh! James, would you show him the way?"

"Yes, Miss Cameron."

Amy turned back to see Miranda gazing around the room curiously. Miranda asked, "Is Andrew here? I'm excited about meeting him."

You wouldn't be if you knew him, Amy thought. "He's waiting out back. I can take you out there..." Amy paused uncertainly.

Miranda tilted her head and gave Amy a half-smile. "Was there something you wanted to ask? We all get a lot of that."

Embarrassed again, Amy stammered, "I, no I just... well, yeah." Feeling stupid, she blurted, "You're really going to let Andrew hang you? For real?"

To Amy's relief, Miranda didn't laugh at her. Instead she simply took a deep breath, as if the excitement was about to burst out of her, and nodded eagerly. "He'd better. I wouldn't want all these years of training to go to waste."

Miranda seemed so happy and friendly, Amy found herself beginning to relax with her, something she rarely did with strangers, especially women whose beauty made her self-conscious. "It just seems weird to spend... well, like you said, all those years, getting ready for something that uses it all up in one day." She suddenly clapped her hands to her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I don't mean you're weird!"

Miranda did laugh this time, and Amy felt herself relaxing again. Miranda patted Amy's arm. "It's okay, really. But I don't really look at it that way. For me it's like... well, for the last several years my life has been pointed towards one thing. One big goal. Everything has revolved around this day. I've been training for this one thing. And that's the way to live, I think. Focused on a goal. It makes me feel like my life has meaning. Or has had." She giggled. "It's about over now."

Amy's jaw dropped. It seemed as if this girl, this stranger, could read Amy's innermost yearning -- that her life should have some meaning. She always feared it had none. She knew a woman had a certain place in society, knew that someday she would be snuffed and eaten, most likely by her family, as they had eaten Amy's mother. But what did it mean? "I -- Well, I mean, I could never go to the Hanging Academy, though. What should I do for a goal?"

Miranda shook her head slightly. "You'd have to find that inside you, Amy. It would have to be the thing you want the most. But I'm wondering why you don't think you could go to the Academy. You look pretty smart. Are your grades good?"

Amy blinked. "My grades? What's that got to do with hanging?"

Miranda exchanged a look with Beth, and turned back to Amy with a grin. "Amy, your grades have everything to do with it! I mean, by the time you finish the Academy, you could impersonate a doctor! You learn all about physiology, for one thing, everything about how your body works. Especially the cardiovascular system, how the lungs work with the heart, everything like that." She smiled again. "And psychology, too. Everything about sexual response -- what gets guys excited, and women too, of course, but mostly men. And fitting your own sexual preferences into your show while you're getting everybody else aroused at the same time, because you want your demise to be sexually fulfilling for yourself as well as others. We work a long time on that."

Amy's eyes grew wider. "But... I mean, you have to be pretty too. I mean, you are so..." She waved her hand vaguely to indicate Miranda's body, unable to find just the right words for it.

Miranda looked down at herself, somehow giving the air of seeing herself objectively. "Well, of course. But really, I didn't look like this when I first started. I guess I was pretty, but probably not more than you."

Amy shook her head in disbelief. "Me? Come on."

Miranda looked at her seriously. "Amy, listen to me." She reached up and pushed some of Amy's hair out of the way. "You have a great face, but you've never learned to do anything with it. You've got great cheekbones, a really cute nose. You have so much potential and you've never known it! You don't use makeup. You could really learn to make magic on your face, with what you've got to start with. And the body... for one thing, you'd have to know how to dress! You'd learn that there! And you don't think my body looked like this when I started, do you? The workouts in the gym have been killers, but it's all aimed at creating this." She raised her arms and did a slow spin. She grinned again. "I promise, in three years you'd look so fantastic that guys would kill for a chance to get you in bed."

Amy was still slightly shaking her head, not so much disbelief now as amazement. "For real?"

Miranda nodded, still serious. "I mean it, Amy. Think about it. You're... what are you, seventeen?"

"Eighteen. I'm just finishing high school."

Miranda blinked. "Well, you could apply right now then! If you..."

Beth, looking at her watch, tapped Miranda on the shoulder. "Sorry, Randi, we ought to be moving."

Miranda gasped. "Oh, right!" She turned back to Amy. "Listen, Amy, I have to go mingle with the guests. But go into the tent before I do and wait there for me. I want to talk to you some more. First I have to spend at least an hour talking to people, so go in there in about... say fifty minutes." She smiled conspiratorially. "You probably don't want your brother knowing you're in there, right?"

Amy nodded, her jaw hanging. "Yeah. I mean, no. I..." She smiled, thrilled that this woman was spending so much time with her, and now was inviting her into her sanctuary. "I'll be there! For sure!"

"Big Bill is going to be guarding the tent. He knows to let your brother and your father in, but he'd stop anyone else. We like to watch out for curiosity seekers. Say the word 'squatcho' to him. That's the password. Say it kind of softly so you're not overheard. But..." She laughed. "That shouldn't be a problem. People don't usually come too close to Big Bill for some reason."

Amy finally laughed along with Miranda, and led her and Beth towards the back of the house and out onto the grounds.