FIVE YEARS LATER

Gretchen, Dean Porter's secretary, pressed the intercom button on her phone. "Kathleen Sadler is here for her interview, sir."

Kathleen took a deep breath as she heard the dean's voice say, "Thank you, Gretchen. Send her in, please." All these years preparing, ran the thought through Kathleen's mind. It all comes down to this. No!, another voice insisted. This is just a stepping stone. It's all aimed at my hanging. She directed a smile she hoped looked confident at Gretchen, who smiled back and said, "You can go in."

Kathleen pushed the door open, and saw the dean rise behind his desk, smiling, offering his hand. As she shook hands with him, she vaguely felt she had met him before. She knew where and when it would have been, but couldn't recall for certain. She sat in the chair in front of the desk, and said, as the dean resumed his seat, "Did we meet before, Sir?"

He smiled again. "Indeed we did, at your sister's hanging."

She had long since decided that honesty was her only option. "I really don't remember much about that day, Sir, other than Megan's hanging. I relive that every night before I go to sleep, but everything else from that day is kind of a blur."

He chuckled. "I've run into that phenomenon before. A lot of our students are here because of a particular hanging serving as their inspiration. Including Megan herself."

Kathleen nodded. "Yes, Sir. That would be my Aunt Serena. She died before I was born, except she lived on in Megan. My dad told me more about her after Megan's hanging."

The dean nodded. "Now, I often start an interview by asking the prospective student why she wants to be at the Academy. I think we've covered that ground already..."

THIRTY MINUTES LATER

The dean sat once more. "Thank you, Kathleen. You can put your clothes back on now."

"Yes, Sir." She stood again and reached for her panties, still feeling the tingles, and the wetness, from the choking test the dean had just given her. Another facet of her excitement was the feeling of certainty that the dean had liked her body. She had always been self-confident about it, but there was still a certain tension in knowing she had to pass muster with this one particular man. She had spent years in an exercise program to make her body look like Megan's, to the extent she could remember it. That, she decided, has paid off.

Fully dressed once more, she resumed her seat, as the dean asked, "Now, do you have any questions you wanted to ask me?"

She nodded. "I did have one, Sir. At a lot of colleges, they have a policy that students can test out of certain courses, and get credit for them, by proving they already know the material. Is it possible to do anything like that here?"

The dean began his automatic answer, but stopped suddenly, almost made dizzy by an intense deja vu. An instant later the memory returned, of Kathleen's sister, looking so much like her, asking essentially the same question -- not in the interview, but during the orientation session for new students. They really are very much alike, he thought, and not just visually.

He looked at her thoughtfully. Years of practice behind her, and obviously ready to be a Hanging Girl in so many ways -- he'd rarely read quite the level of arousal he'd seen in her during the choking test -- but also a little aloof. Again, so much like her sister. At present, not yet ready to connect with a hanging audience. Of course, she didn't have to be ready now.

He quickly matched up the observation with another recollection, one that was never far from his mind during any interview. A memory of the very last thing Amy had requested of him, years ago.

Sometime, Amy had said, you'll get another applicant like Megan. Technically perfect, unlimited potential. You'll feel positive you want her as a student. But she's sort of deficient in social skills, maybe. When that happens... get her together with someone like me.

He pulled open a desk drawer, then realized he still hadn't answered her. "Oh... No, we don't do anything like that. In any class where you've mastered the material, your contributions to classroom discussions can be of invaluable aid in the learning process of other students." He located the file he'd been looking for and opened it. He tore a blank sheet off a small notepad and began copying some information from the file.

Disappointed, Kathleen responded, "Yes, Sir," and watched him curiously. He seemed distracted. "Sir?"

He finished writing and, to her surprise, handed her the note. "This is another one of our applicants for the next entering class. I'd like you to contact her in the near future, meet with her, and get to know her." He smiled, seeing a need to reassure her. "I think a mutual acquaintance would be valuable to both of you." He chuckled again. "And don't read into this an offer of admission. We still won't decide on that for some time yet."

She frowned as she looked over the note. A name, an address, a phone number. Maybe, she decided, they always do this -- match up girls in pairs before admission. Maybe they do roommate choices this way? But what if one of us gets in and the other doesn't? Is my admission contingent on contacting this girl? But how is he even going to know whether I have or not? It's probably not a big deal. He must see us as the two major incoming powers. He wants us to be friendly. That makes sense. "Yes, Sir." She politely put the note in her pocket. I don't need anybody else, she told herself. If he wants me to meet her, I'll do that, and see what I have to work against.

The dean leaned forward and pushed a button on his phone. "Gretchen, send Runner in, please." He stood and, once more, offered his hand to Kathleen. "Thank you, Kathleen. As you probably know, we'll be sending out admission letters in mid-August."

She stood and shook hands with him again, and nodded. "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

The door opened, and a student entered, wearing what Kathleen, from her research, recognized as a Second Year uniform.

Kathleen looked, and her eyes shot open wide. Not that she'd ever met this girl before. She was positive she would remember that, even if it had been at Megan's hanging. Kathleen herself was accustomed to instantly attracting every eye in any room she entered. I'd have some pretty stiff competition, she told herself, if this girl was there too. The glowing, coppery skin, the perfect face framed by blacker-than-black hair flowing like an ebony waterfall. So exotic, so obviously from Somewhere Else. Kathleen hadn't realized the scope of the Academy's outreach program.

And that body...!

Kathleen caught herself wondering what it would be like to be in bed with this girl. Does she know sex tricks we don't know about here? Has she been teaching them to the other girls? Not yet recovered from her choking test, she felt the residual tingles intensify.

Kathleen took a breath. She demanded internally that she get hold of herself. Fine, she told herself, she's a stunning, sexually magnetic girl. I've been able to hold my own in that department. And there's no way she arrived here better than I am at hanging. Nobody is. I'll beat anything she can do.

Her eyes fell on the girl's metal collar. "Runner -- Property of the Hanging Academy." Okay, she thought, I did hear the name correctly.

The girl smiled and held out her hand. "I'm Runner. The dean asked me to show you around, if you want."

Kathleen shook hands with her, and gave her a small smile. Don't act impressed, she reminded herself. "Sure. I'm Kathleen Sadler."

Runner's grin spread wider. "I would have known that, even if the dean hadn't told me. You look so much like your sister."

Kathleen blinked. "You couldn't... Oh, her head is here, isn't it? You would have seen that."

"Well, yes. But I feel like I know her better than from just seeing her head, and I can see a lot of her in you. Amy told me all about her. Even a little about you, too. I just couldn't wait to meet you..."

It took Runner's words a moment to register, before Kathleen sucked in a deep gasp. "You knew Amy?? Wait, there's no way! She must have been hanged five years ago!"

Runner laughed. "I've been here awhile. It's a long story. Do you want to see your sister?"

Kathleen blurted, "Sure!" before quickly ordering herself to calm down. She worked to slow her breathing. Never let anybody think they have power over you, she reminded herself. She cleared her throat, and said more softly, "I'd like that."

Kathleen jumped slightly when the dean spoke. She'd almost forgotten he was there. "Runner, here's her file, if you want to take a look at it." He handed Runner the folder he'd had in front of him through the interview, the one Kathleen knew to be hers -- not the other one he'd drawn from a drawer near the end.

"Thank you, Sir." Runner opened the folder, and her fingers flipped through the three pages in a few seconds. As she handed it back to him, Kathleen frowned at the girl's rudeness. If the dean was going to let her see a file, the least she could do was actually read it. Especially if the subject of the file was standing in front of her.

Runner looked at the dean. "Is that all, Sir?"

He nodded, and chuckled. "Don't let her break anything."

Runner gave him a mock-serious look. "I'll cover the cost of any damage." As the dean laughed and waved in dismissal, she said to Kathleen, "He's just kidding, really. You can break stuff if you want."

Kathleen blinked and shook her head slightly as she followed Runner through the outer office. Walking down the hallway, Runner said conversationally, "I see you've read Tannin's book on breath control. That's a good one. We've got more comprehensive studies here in our library, but that's a good beginning."

Kathleen frowned. "How did..." Then she remembered the bibliography she'd included in her application. "So you already read my file earlier?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. Just now. Anyway, most girls don't have the kind of reading background you've got when they first come here, so you have a head start."

Kathleen looked back towards the door of the dean's office and replayed, in her head, Runner's quick glance at the file. How the hell, Kathleen though, did she do that? Did she read all of it? To get back to the question foremost in her mind, she said, "You said you knew Amy? We're talking about Megan's roommate?"

Runner gave her a softer smile than she'd seen so far. "Right. We were... wait, let me show you this." She stopped walking and, from a pocket in her uniform shorts, she extracted a photograph, encased in tough protective plastic. She handed it to Kathleen.

Kathleen stared at the picture. Yes, that was Amy, all right, just the way Kathleen remembered her, except for having much shorter hair. And there was Runner herself, looking several years younger than she did now, sitting on the ground at Amy's feet, looking up at the camera while holding one of Amy's legs lovingly. Runner and the two girls flanking Amy were all inexplicably naked, while Amy was clothed.

Runner was looking over Kathleen's shoulder, and pointed. "That's Jana, who developed most of the bound-foot hanging choreography we use now. And this is Melissa, and you've got something in common with her -- her older sister graduated from here too. That was Miranda. Miranda was Amy's inspiration to be a Hanging Girl. Like Amy was mine. And Megan was yours."

Kathleen coughed, trying to collect her thoughts, stunned at how much Runner knew about her. Looking again at the picture, she said, "You guys were all really close."

Runner nodded, and appeared to brush a tear aside. "Very." She took the picture back, and began walking again. "Another advantage you have is that you've spent a lot of time getting sexual experience. Some of the girls' background in that is a little iffy, when they first get here. We do teach them a lot here, of course, so pretty soon they get caught up. But you've already spent a lot of time at the local hook-up clubs."

Kathleen coughed again. Another item of information Runner had apparently taken in during her glance at Kathleen's file. "Uhhh, yeah. That, and my Dad recently started letting me sleep a couple of nights a week with our slavegirl, Maya. She taught me a lot about sex with women, and gave me some good pointers about men."

Runner looked at Kathleen. "That does sound helpful. Still, there's nothing like really meeting men at the clubs..." She stopped suddenly, and looked more closely at Kathleen's face. "You did go to the mixed clubs a couple of times, but mostly you went to the all-girls. You like sex with girls a lot better."

Kathleen stopped walking and stared at Runner. There was nothing about that in her file. "How did you..." Further words failed her.

Runner patted her shoulder. "You'll learn to read body language here too. And don't worry about what I said about men. You do have some experience, and you'll get more here. We don't assume any of the girls is an expert."

Kathleen looked at her, puzzled. Runner kept saying "we" in reference to teaching. "Aren't you one of the students, not a teacher?"

"Well, both. I'm taking Second Year classes, but I'm also one of the First Year teachers. You'll probably be in one of my classes."

Kathleen felt herself being enveloped by a cloud of awe. This girl can't be just an average student, she told herself. No way are they all like this. She hoped her next question wouldn't cause offense. "Why are you... well, just a Second Year? If you've been here five years?"

Runner laughed, to Kathleen's relief, and started walking again. "Now we're back to that long story. I'll tell you all about it sometime, if I get the chance. The short version starts with the fact I grew up on Purity Island. You know where that is?"

"Ummm... yes. But I thought..."

Runner smiled, with an air of explaining something for the thousandth time. "Yes, yes. But there were natives there when it was discovered. I sucked up all their genes when I was born, somehow."

How many surprises, she wondered, is this girl going to come up with? "I believe you when you say it's a long story."

Runner laughed again. "Really. Anyway, I couldn't even read when I came here. I spent two years studying for my high school equivalence test, and then the dean let me spend a year taking classes at the university. Internet, I mean, not in person. I got my two-year degree, and then finally started as a student here."

"Didn't you say you did the university stuff for one year?"

Runner nodded. "They call it a two-year degree, but they don't literally make you spend two years. It's all a matter of finishing a certain number of courses. Oh, there was a bonus, too. The university sent some people here to make sure I really was doing the work I claimed to be doing, and one thing led to another, and I ended up in contact with Dr. Devor at the university, who was interested in doing research on Hanging Girls. So we're working together on a project to see if we can figure out which is more important to making a woman a Hanging Girl, genetics or environment. I mean, is there a gene for it, or is there something about the atmosphere of the home? My roommate is Mindy Warren, who's the youngest of five sisters who've all been Hanging Girls -- including Melissa, who you just saw in that picture, and her older sister Miranda. After Melissa came Maria and Melanie, and now there's Mindy. Melanie was just hanged a few months ago, so there's just Mindy left. Now, the question is, why did they all become Hanging Girls? Is it because they all shared some kind of Hanging Girl gene, or is it because they all grew up together? I'll want to talk to you, too, because I know your sister and your aunt were both Hanging Girls."

Kathleen nodded. "I never knew my Aunt Serena, though. She was hanged before I was born. So it's not like being around her affected me. And the truth is I never paid much attention to what Megan was doing either."

Runner's eyes lit up. "See, that's useful. Anyway, I'll want to talk to you more about it. And so will Dr. Devor, if that's okay. We're leaning towards it being genetic, because I had absolutely no Hanging Girls to emulate growing up."

There was a quickly-approaching pounding sound from around a corner up ahead, and an excited bark. Kathleen, startled, had time to reflect that she wouldn't have guessed there were dogs here, before two puppygirls burst into view from the adjoining hallway and galloped towards Runner and Kathleen on four stubby limbs each.

The one in the lead had short hair in an eye-catching pink, matching an elaborate harness seemingly made of pink felt, and also matching her upraised, wagging tail. The girl trailing her had a similar harness, but with a color scheme (including hair) a more normal-looking brown.

Kathleen shook her head in amazement. A puppygirl had made that sound? As the pink-haired one skidded to a stop in front of Runner and began licking her leg, with another bark and a very dog-like whimper of excitement, Kathleen said, "I've never heard a puppygirl who could bark like that."

Beside the pink one, the brown-haired one looked up at Kathleen and gave her a very shy-looking smile, then rubbed up closer to the pink one and kissed her shoulder. Kathleen wondered whether they'd been in the middle of something when the pink one heard Runner's voice. It was clear there was some special relationship between the pink puppy and Runner. Runner had dropped to a crouch and put her hands on either side of the pink one's head, and rubbed noses with the girl affectionately.

To Kathleen, Runner explained, "She's had lots of practice. This is Puppy. She trained her entire life to be a dog. She came with me from Purity Island. That's how they do it there." Runner gave Puppy a kiss on the lips. "The dean let us get Daisy as her mate a year ago. Daisy's a more standard puppygirl, from a local petgirl store." Runner giggled. "As soon as Puppy saw Daisy's tail, we could tell she wanted one just like it. Right after the surgery it looked like she might not be so sure about it, but she loves it now, and she can wag it like any puppygirl." Puppy was indeed wagging her tail enthusiastically. Runner pointed back the way the puppygirls had come. "Puppy, go find Mindy. Okay? Find Mindy."

Puppy quickly turned, with another bark, and pounded back around the corner, Daisy following in her wake. Runner stood. "She can't talk, but she can understand most of what we say."

Kathleen blinked. "Literally can't talk?"

Runner nodded. "Never learned. She doesn't even imagine she'd be capable of it. I assume Daisy can talk, but I've never heard her. She just follows Puppy everywhere." She giggled. "Puppy love. I think Daisy sees Puppy as the perfect model for the puppygirl Daisy wants to be." She resumed walking.

They arrived at a door, which Runner opened. Kathleen followed her in. "This is the Hall of Honor," Runner explained. "All girls who've been hanged on-campus are here. Mostly they were hanged at demos or at parties. You know about those?" Runner quirked an eyebrow at Kathleen.

Kathleen nodded. "Megan didn't talk about it, but I've read all the Web site info about the Academy."

"Good. Now, along all the stacks here are the demo and party girls. Your..."

Kathleen suddenly stopped short and pointed, her jaw hanging slack in astonishment. "Why have you got a Zoey Hillcrest mannequin? I can't remember her having anything to do with hanging." What appeared to be Zoey, looking especially out of place with a full body in a room occupied otherwise only by heads, was reclining in a lounge chair, her arms resting on the chair's arms, one knee upraised, wearing a tiny green string bikini and dark glasses, looking for all the world as though she were sunning herself poolside.

Runner started laughing, and eventually sputtered, "I didn't even stop to think, you don't know about Linda. We're all used to her here." She gave Kathleen a more serious look. "Linda was a Hanging Girl. She really gives us a lot of inspiration, because she shows us how dedicated to our craft we can all be. She went through major facial reconstruction to look like Zoey Hillcrest, because we had a client who wanted that -- to hang Zoey. And afterwards Linda was processed by Full Body Associates, if you know who they are. Her meat has been eaten, and replaced with a synthetic substitute, but everything else is Linda. The client kept her for several years, and when she found she didn't need Linda any longer, she returned her to us, because she knew this was Linda's home. We all think of the Academy as our home -- me more than most, I guess, but we all do."

Kathleen was still staring at "Zoey." "So... now she just sits on display in this room?"

Runner giggled. "Ummm, well, no. Any of the students can sign her out for a night. Just so long as they clean her at the end and put her back the way she is now. Linda was Amy's closest friend, other than Megan, and I know, from Amy, that Linda would really adore the idea of her body being used and loved. We do love her. She's one of us. One of the best of us."

Kathleen's attention was drawn from Linda to something seen from the corner of her eye, and she turned that direction. There was a head standing alone in its own niche in the wall across from the general shelves. Kathleen's hands dropped to her sides, her heart fluttering. Softly she breathed, "Megan," and stepped closer. For the moment she was oblivious to Runner's presence.

Slowly, she reached out and stroked Megan's cheek. My sister, she thought. My inspiration. My model for everything I want to be, everything I will be.

She was startled when Runner stepped closer, suddenly reminding Kathleen of her being here. Kathleen asked, "Has she been here ever since... that day?" The day, Kathleen thought, when her life ended and mine began.

Runner nodded, and said quietly, "Amy knew Megan would want to be in here. This room really was special to Megan."

Kathleen looked at Runner. "Why?"

Runner looked at Megan's face now, so similar to that of the one living girl in the room beside her. Almost whispering now, she said, "In this room, Megan learned what being a Hanging Girl really is. That it's not something you can do alone. We're not really a school full of separate girls. We're one Hanging Girl. We all learn by sharing with each other, because we all have the same goal. We can't elbow each other out of the way to get to that goal. We get there by pulling each other along, lifting each other when we fall." She turned once more to look at Kathleen, and Kathleen's eyes were drawn away from Megan to look into Runner's. Runner went on, "Megan would want you to learn that too."

Kathleen was about to respond that she knew what a Hanging Girl was, but as she looked at Runner, then at Megan again, she was no longer so sure. She swallowed. "I... I'll try. If you'll help me."

Runner gave her a soft smile. "We all will." She startled Kathleen then by putting her arms around her for a gentle hug. Kathleen had little experience with hugs outside of sexual play, yet she was immediately aware that this hug had nothing of a sexual nature in it. It was, she suddenly realized, her first lesson in being a Hanging Girl.

Kathleen's attention was caught by two nearby heads, sharing a niche just beyond Megan. Two redheads, looking happy, bubbly -- and identical. Each wore a choker with a glittery letter dangling from it, one an "A", one an "O". Rather than strictly upright, their heads were leaning against each other, in a way that conveyed love for each other. Kathleen, surprised, said, "You've had twin Hanging Girls?"

Runner let go of Kathleen and stepped towards the redheads, kissing each on the cheek. "Sisters, but not twins. They were actually born a year apart. Just another one of those tricks genes play."

"Were they hanged together, though?"

"Uh-huh. After years of performing shows together at parties. Erotic pair hangings. Like Megan and Amy did."

Kathleen, startled, looked at Runner. "Megan and Amy?"

"Oh, you didn't know? That's right, I guess you never would have seen that. But yes. Holly and Haley learned how to do it from Megan and Amy."

At the mention of their names, Kathleen looked at the plaque below the heads, identifying the girls as Haley Maitland and Holly Maitland. Her mind spun in neutral for a moment, trying to think why those names were somehow familiar.

At last it came back to her. She pulled from her pocket the note the dean had given her, and saw the name on it, at which she had glanced very briefly before -- Hayden Maitland. She showed the note to Runner. "This must be their sister."

Runner looked at the note, startled. "Where did you get that?"

"The dean gave it to me. Just now. He said she's another applicant this year, and he wants me to contact her."

Runner eyes glowed. "Really? You should, you really should. I know some stuff about her. She's been practicing hanging for as long as you have -- even just a little longer, in fact. Hey!" She looked back at Hayden's sisters. "I just thought. That pairs hanging thing I was telling you about -- only two pairs have ever done it. It started with Megan and Amy, and they taught it to Holly and Haley. It's really very different from regular hanging, and it takes a lot of work to learn it. But it just occurred to me, you and Hayden are so experienced already -- and you're sisters of three of the four girls who have ever done it! Do you think you'd want to try it?"

Kathleen felt her heart beating faster. "So it's doing shows? In front of people? Like the way Megan did her own hanging here?"

Runner nodded eagerly. "Yeah! You want to?"

Kathleen remembered it all, the way she remembered it every day. The way Megan had absorbed every molecule of attention of an entire room full of people, the way she had controlled them, aroused them -- as only a Hanging Girl could do. Kathleen had assumed she would only be able to do that once, and had dedicated all of her training to that single event. But to do it again and again, to savor the memories afterward... "Yes!"

"Great! I watched Holly and Haley perform and practice for years, and I know how they trained to do it at the beginning. So I could teach you... Wait, first things first. When you get home... Her phone number was on that, right?"

Kathleen looked at the note again. "Yes."

Runner nodded. "Okay, when you get home, give her a call. Get together, see if you get along together. Okay?"

Kathleen nodded quickly. "Okay!"

"And remember what I said. Hayden is not your competition. You need her, she needs you, and all of the girls here need you and you need them. That's what Megan learned, right here in this room where you're standing."

Kathleen looked back at Megan once more. Thinking how obviously close Megan had been to Amy, when they'd come to the house together. How Megan had tried to connect with Kathleen. She wasn't the same Megan who'd left three years earlier. I was being an idiot, Kathleen admitted to herself for the first time. Megan was trying so hard to tell me something. To tell me what Runner is telling me now.

Kathleen stepped towards Megan and kissed her softly on the lips. Okay, sis, she thought. Now I think I know what you were trying to say. We're all one Hanging Girl. I'll try to learn that. And believe it.

Kathleen frowned suddenly, as the nagging thought that something was missing finally surfaced in her consciousness. She looked at Megan again, then at Holly and Haley Maitland. She turned and looked behind her at the heads of the other girls. "Runner, why doesn't Megan have a collar? All the rest of the girls do."

Runner shrugged, and began, "Amy told me..." She stopped, looking more closely at Kathleen -- her hand in particular, which had just twitched, seeming unconsciously, towards the pocket in her skirt. A smile spread slowly across Runner's face. "I didn't quite understand what Amy meant when she said 'Megan's choker will come home sometime.' I understand now. You know something about it, don't you?"

Kathleen stared at her for a long moment, and finally nodded. Her hand went towards her pocket again, intentionally this time, and brought out a bright red strip of fabric, bearing a white script that read "Megan - Property of the Hanging Academy." Looking at it, running her fingers along it, Kathleen said in a choked voice, "I... always have this with me. I look at it every night, before I go to sleep, to remind me where I'm going. Amy sent it to me after Megan's hanging, with a note that said she wanted me to have it, because of how happy I'd made Megan by being at her hanging." Tears were flowing freely now. "I never wear it. I haven't earned it. I know it's a graduate's choker. I just... always like to know it's with me."

She looked at Runner, trying to blink the tears away. "Amy didn't say to bring it back here, or anything like that. But... she knew I would, didn't she?"

Runner, her own eyes shimmering and ready to spill, said, "Amy knew a lot."

Kathleen lifted the choker to her lips and kissed it, then stretched it out to its full length and, without hesitation, fastened it around Megan's neck. Barely able to push the words through her closed-off throat, Kathleen said, "It's home now, Megan."

Runner rested her hand on Kathleen's shoulder, and said, "So are you, Kathleen. Want to see more of it? Tour's not over."

"Sure!" With a habitual gesture, Kathleen patted her pocket. Not, this time, to feel Megan's choker. She wanted to make sure the paper with Hayden's phone number was still there.

Preston Cameron sighed and ended the phone call, folding up his cell phone and returning it to his pocket. He had once again invited Andrew, now living eight hundred miles away and serving as a vice-president of sales for a Cameron Industries subsidiary, to spend a few days at home when he had the chance, and Andrew, once again, had irritably declined to enter the house as long as That Woman was living there.

Preston's mood brightened considerably as Linnie bounded into the room. She had learned to walk at eleven months, and the walking phase had lasted about a month, succeeded by an apparently permanent phase in which all locomotion was done at a dead run.

Preston held out his arms, and Linnie bounced into his lap. Recently turned four years old, she was getting a little big to curl up in Preston's lap, but with plenty of practice behind her, curl she did anyway.

Preston gave her a hug. "What've you got there, Peanut?" He recognized what Linnie had in her hand as a framed photo from his dresser. She'd been exploring again. Tammy, the family's slavegirl-nanny, was allowed a well-earned nap in the late afternoon after Preston returned home, on days when Linnie's mother was working, during which Linnie was to entertain herself within Preston's earshot if she was home rather than visiting a friend's house.

Linnie held up the photo. "Who's this, Daddy?"

Preston smiled. He was sure Linnie had seen the photo, without comment, any number of times, to the point where it barely registered, but recently the "What's this?" phase had come to encompass everything in the environment. "That's your sister..." It was one of the pictures of Amy from the morning of her wedding party -- standing alone, holding flowers, beaming at the camera.

Linnie interrupted, frowning in deep puzzlement. "Megan is in Mommy's tummy!"

Preston chuckled. "Megan will be your new little sister when she comes out of Mommy. This is your big sister. Amy."

Linnie's face lit up in startlement. "That's my name! Linda Amy Cameron! L-I-N-D-A-A-M-Y-C-A-M-E-R-O-N." Linnie was spelling everything these days.

Preston's phone rang. Fishing it back out of his pocket, he looked at the Caller ID, and smiled as he pressed the talk button. "Hi, Steff."

Steffi's voice sounded weary but happy. "I've just got back to the mainland, and I should be home in a few hours. Everything's going smoothly. I can tell you all about it later."

"That's great! Did you..."

He stopped as the phone left his ear, the result of a violent yank on his arm. Linnie was bouncing excitedly in his lap. "Is it Mommy? Is it Mommy? Can I talk to her?"

Preston held the phone up again, smiling. "Uhhh, somebody's claiming priority over the phone, hon. Hold on." He handed the phone to Linnie.

Linnie's face glowed as she shouted into the phone, "Hi, Mommy!" She said, "Yes" twice, with pauses in between, then, "Tammy took me to the petty zoo today." After another pause, she responded, "Petting zoo, yeah. And I got to pet the baby goat, and it said 'Aaa-aaa-aaa' to me." She giggled, then listened for a moment. "I will! When are you coming home, Mommy?" After another pause, she said, "I will. I love you, Mommy!" Apparently under orders, she handed the phone back to her father.

Preston said, "She's been really good. She got a little weepy last night when you weren't here, but I let her sleep with Tammy."

"She's okay now, though?" Steffi had stayed away overnight once before, a few months earlier when work started on the restaurant. She hated being away from Linnie that long.

"Well, let me check..." Preston wriggled a finger in Linnie's armpit, and was rewarded with a squeal and giggle. "Does she sound happy enough?"

Steffi laughed. "That'll do. Anyway, no more trips after this for a long while." Steffi was expecting the birth of Megan in about two months.

At about the same time she had married Preston, Steffi had found, as Amy had requested of her in her living room five years ago, a way to put her personal fortune to positive use, working to find ways to improve the lives of the slavegirls of Purity Island. She had sought advice from sociologists and cultural anthropologists as to how that could be done, eventually assembling a number of interested ones into a committee. All were agreed on the principle that it would be self-defeating to insist to the farmers of the island that they should do things differently, recalling the resistance to change that had led them to settle the island in the first place.

At length one committee member, during a discussion of the many features of mainland culture absent from the island, brought up the fact that there were no restaurants anywhere on the island. He himself didn't attach any particular significance to the lack of such establishments, and it wasn't until another member made a joke about the consequent unfamiliarity with the concept of waitresses that the germ of an idea began to take root.

So Steffi, after personally seeking and obtaining permission from the Onderman Corporation, who decided the operation of such a business posed no threat to their own interests, had funded the construction and hiring of the kitchen staff for a restaurant that had now opened for business in Purity, the largest town on the island. The restaurant took payment in trade, the results of which were then sold to the Onderman Corporation, and it provided the farmers with a pleasant place to eat food prepared and spiced in unfamiliar ways while chatting with neighbors in a relaxed atmosphere. It also introduced the farmers to beer, along with making the familiar wines available.

And significantly, it also introduced the farmers to waitresses. The girls, all of them recruited from the mainland, most of them college students obtaining credits in sociology for a semester, all of them paid for their work on returning home, took orders from the patrons and served the food and drinks -- naked, of course, but festooned in brightly colored cloth bands on their upper arms, wrists, and ankles, and colored ceramic slave collars. Steffi herself had suggested the "uniforms," based on the painting in her home that had so absorbed Amy's attention, which now hung in the bedroom she shared with Preston.

The idea behind the presence of the waitresses was that they would gently tweak the farmers' perceptions of women in a number of ways. Island men generally had little or no experience in dealing with females who didn't belong to them personally, but their tradition of respecting the property rights of neighbors gave them a tendency to treat the waitresses politely, an early step on the road to personal respect. The rare cases of waitresses being treated rudely were handled by temporarily banning the offending customer from the premises. The farmers retained their generations-old abhorrence of clothing on women, but the waitresses' cloth bands, since they were very minimal and not used in covering any part of their bodies that identified them as female, that is, the breasts or vagina, met with no objection -- but planted the seed of the notion that the beauty of the female body could be enhanced by decoration. Eventually the waitresses' covering would include a waistband that would, over a period of months, expand ever so slowly towards their female parts -- it would be discarded, to be tried again much later, if it caused any negative comment. (At present, for their safety, the girls remained naked at all times, even in their off-duty hours in their private quarters in the building. Neither Steffi nor any of the committee members wanted there to be any chance of an "incident.") Finally, and most importantly, the customers in the restaurant could see women performing in a role that required intelligence far beyond anything they had ever given any female an opportunity to display -- the girls memorized the menu and described the dishes on it, relayed orders to the kitchen, and eventually returned with exactly the meal they had been asked to bring, rarely having to ask who got which dish. All of the service was performed with friendly smiles. None of the girls wrote down the orders, since the reaction of the farmers to women displaying actual literacy was not yet known, but plans were being made to experiment carefully later with hints that the girls could read and write.

Construction had now begun on a restaurant in Fairhold, another of the coastal towns, with plans to establish a foothold not only in all five towns, but also, someday, in the more remote areas of the island. The committee had now moved on to a search for further ideas for changing the ways women were perceived on Purity Island.

The restaurant was called "Amy's Place." The locals understood it to be a mainland name. Since they didn't give names to their slavegirls, none of them recognized it as a female name.

On the phone, Steffi now sighed to Preston, "Anyway, it's good to be wearing clothes again. And I don't plan to go back in the near future, so I can grow my hair out again." All of the women working for the restaurant were required to wear their hair cropped very short, in the island style for women, though cut much more neatly than was usual for the local slavegirls.

"Did they have you pull a cart again?" Steffi, if she wanted to be on the island, had no choice other than to appear to be a slave. Impersonating a man was much too dangerous.

"To get from the boat to the restaurant? Yeah. Nothing big, though. I mean, come on, I'm at seven months. Even the locals know that means no heavy work. Oh!" She laughed. "Bart, the manager, actually suggested I ought to wait tables for an hour or two, just to get a feel for it. I just showed him my tummy and begged off. My back was already killing me. I did watch from the kitchen, though. It's all really running smoothly." He could easily hear the pride in her voice, and knew it wasn't for her own accomplishment, as such. It was for what she had been able to do for Amy. "Anyway, I'll see you in a few hours."

"Okay. Oh, and that thing you just said about clothes," he said cautiously, with Linnie still in his lap. "Don't get too used to it."

Steffi laughed delightedly. "I'm sure you've got something naughty planned. See you in a bit. Love you."

"Love you too." He clicked off and folded up the phone.

Linnie was looking at the picture again. "Daddy, did you and Mommy eat Amy?"

He smiled. "We ate part of her. So you got part of her inside you too, from Mommy's tummy." He tickled her again, and was rewarded with another squeal. "We shared her with a lot of other people. She was a Hanging Girl."

Linnie nodded wisely. "Tammy says sharing is good. I share my toys with my friends. What's a Hanging Girl?"

Preston paused and thought how to put it. At last he said, "A Hanging Girl learns how to die in a really special way, so she can make a lot of people excited and happy."

Linnie's face lit up in a way that suggested she heartily approved of that idea. "Can I be a Hanging Girl, Daddy?"

He pulled her closer in a hug. "Peanut, you can be anything you want to be."