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There were significant differences in people hunting practices in England from those in the U.S., which Callie already knew when she accepted the challenge from Anthony and Anthea. The essentials were the same: there were such things as group hunts, but usually two people, hunter and quarry, went out in the woods and usually both of them came back, but sometimes one of them didn't; if one didn't come back, it was most often, but not always, the quarry. It was also true that neither hunters nor their quarry were allowed to use infrared, telescopic, or electronic means of locating the other. The only traps that were allowed were those that could be constructed onsite the day of the hunt. One of the differences was due to the fact that the Brits did not share the American fascination with firearms. The weapon of choice for most English people hunters was the bow and arrow, and no arrow had yet been designed that would work in the same way as a drug ball, rendering the quarry immobile without causing serious injury. A special arrangement would have to be made if Callie was going to be hunted in the manner she was familiar with and if she was going to be taken alive and relatively unharmed so that she could enjoy her month of pampered living before her roast. A related difference was in the size of the hunting grounds. With the vast tracts of land available in the western states, Callie was used to having as much as ten to twenty square miles to roam while a hunter tried to find her, and she was able, with her one-hour head start, to put enough distance between herself and the ranger station that most hunters never even came close to her. In England, people hunts were held on private estates that, at the most, were a thousand acres or so in size, or at private hunting lodges with grounds no more than three miles wide at their widest point. The smaller range meant that a rifle was not necessary to bring down quarry. Stealth would be much more important than sheer speed in eluding her hunters, though speed could still be a factor. It seemed natural in the case of Anthony and Anthea to accept a challenge from them as a team. This would not have been true of any other members of the diners' club, even the married couples. Anthony and Anthea seemed much more than brother and sister. Although she had never been sexually involved with them, observation had led Callie to the conclusion that Anthea seldom, if ever, paired up with anyone unless Anthony was also included in the arrangement. Callie thought that there was more than simple kinkiness involved: it was as though each balanced and completed the other. It could be that theirs was a union such that to be with only one of them would be like being with a person who was withholding or concealing significant aspects of him or herself, or perhaps androgyne manifesting only the masculine or the feminine. Or maybe it really was just a matter of kinkiness. Callie found herself excited by the prospect of Anthea hunting her. Although Anthea seemed properly demure and usually it was Anthony who took the lead in social interactions, Callie suspected that this was something of a cover for the true nature of their relationship. In all her years running as quarry, Callie had never been hunted by a woman. In the U.S., there were men who preferred to hunt other men because they considered women unworthy opponents and, due to widespread homophobia, any sexual overtones to male-on-male hunts were deeply suppressed. While there were female hunters, and many of them were out-of-the-closet lesbians, they preferred to hunt men; they were motivated by hostility toward the opposite sex and openly declared that motivation. There may well have been a deep hostility toward women in the men who hunted them, but that was usually denied by the hunters, who were decidedly heterosexual in their stated preferences. It was well known that, in many carnivorous species, even though the male demonstrated his prowess in defending a territory against other predators, it was the female who did the actual hunting. Providing nourishment was part of the essence of being female among mammals. Among humans, social conventions fairly consistently assigned men the role of hunters and women the role of gatherers, but Callie felt that the imposed separation had nothing to do with a natural order. In fact, she had a feeling that, if somehow an epidemic of mass amnesia were to break out coinciding with a disaster that disrupted society to the extent virtually eliminating "civilization as we know it," and humans were to find themselves back in a state of nature with no assigned roles, the natural instincts of women to serve as providers of food might well make them better suited temperamentally to the role of hunter than men. Or it might turn them all into spit muffins, but Callie didn't think that was likely. Callie's career as an athlete had been entirely a matter of competition against other women and that had taught her that women like winning at least as much as men. Even deeply felt sisterly love, such as that between tennis players Serena and Venus Williams, did not lessen the desire for victory over an opponent. In the absence of such affection, a female victor could manifest absolute glee in defeating another woman. In any event, Callie looked forward to this hunt with a sense of excitement that was completely new to her. Never having been to England before, Callie scheduled the hunt to coincide with the end of a package tour arranged by her university's alumni association. Within ten days, she managed to visit the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, Westminister Abbey, the London theater district, Windsor Castle, Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwick Castle, Bath, and Stonehenge. She spent so much time the tour bus so much that riding on the "wrong" side of the road had become natural to her. She was one weary traveler by the time she landed on Anthony and Anthea's doorstep on the Thursday before the hunt planned for Saturday. There was only time for a few civilities before Callie retired to rest and recover from a debilitating case of tourism. Early Friday morning, Anthony drove Callie to the estate where the hunt was to take place. She was shown around the wooded area of the approximately 900 acre estate by the head groundskeeper and then she was given the afternoon to explore on her own. Although unstated, it was understood that this was so she could assure herself that no traps had been set. She had been given a rough map of the estate and she used it to make notes on the location of patches of especially thick cover, climbable trees, ravines, and other features she might be able to make use of. It was possible that Anthony and Anthea knew every inch of this place and it was almost certain that they had developed a plan to get her. Callie was sure she would need all the help she could get from the environment. That evening after dinner, Anthony showed Callie the weapons with which she would be hunted. At considerable expense, Anthony had engaged a gunsmith to adapt a pair of antique dueling pistols so that they could fire the drug balls. Callie found the pistols quaint and beautiful, but when Anthony demonstrated the difficulty of loading them, she realized that she could easily cover more than a half mile in the time it would take him to reload, something from which she could derive a sense of security. If, that is, Anthony wasn't exaggerating the difficulty of loading the pistols. While Callie didn't think her hunter-hosts would cheat outright by using illegal equipment, she did suspect they were capable of trickery on the level of appearing a bit more inept than they actually were, something akin to pool hustling. She thought it might be possible, with practice, to reload the pistols in ten seconds or less. It occurred to her to suggest that they could spend part of the evening playing cards. Experience had taught her that much could be inferred about the character of people by observing their conduct at the card table. Callie had heard it mentioned that Anthea painted as a hobby and she was interested to see what sort of work her hostess produced. Anthea was not overly anxious to show off her art, but she did agree to give Callie a brief tour of her studio. Callie found the subject matter of some of Anthea's paintings interesting and quite possibly revealing. While Anthea did her share of conventional landscapes with a melancholy or even eerie twist, the most striking pictures seemed to be the product of imagination - at least Callie hoped that was the case. These were depictions of women being tortured, dismembered, eaten alive. What struck Callie at first as really strange about them was that all of the women appeared to have same face - that of Anthea herself. The more she thought about it, though, this did not seem so odd after all, especially if the relationship of the brother and sister could be seen as single complete entity divided into two personalities along sort of Jungian paradigm. As the anima, or feminine component, Anthea would be the gateway to the "shadow self," the dark side of the personality. For Callie, this confirmed her growing conviction that she should regard Anthea as the more dangerous of the two siblings. Callie refrained from giving any positive sexual signals during the quiet evening in which she played chess with Anthony and backgammon with Anthea. Callie wasn't very experienced at either game, but she could see that both her opponents were real competitors. She elected to make an early night of it so that she could rest up for what she expected to be the most dangerous hunt of her career to date.
"And were your expectations fulfilled?" Colonel Stoneridge asked. "Let's say that my suspicions were confirmed in an unexpected way," Callie replied.
Callie was beginning to get impatient as she waited for Anthony and Anthea to emerge from the rooms to which they had withdrawn to change into their hunting clothing upon arrival at the estate the next morning. It had taken Callie only ten minutes to change into her usual quarry outfit and, although each of the hunters had brought a suitcase, she couldn't imagine why it was taking them more than a half hour to present themselves. Callie understood the moment that she saw them. She also developed the conviction that Anthony and Anthea were "having her on," if she understood the British expression correctly. Apparently the brother-sister team had decided to put on a little show for her, appealing to what they imagined was a standard American stereotype of a British hunter, straight out of a classic film. Both were wearing bright red jackets, white riding breeches, high black leather boots, and red caps. They looked so much as if they were costumed for a fox hunt that Callie felt she should attach a bushy tail to her shorts. Okay, Callie thought, they want me to think I'll be able to spot them with half the forest between us, even if it starts to pour rain in buckets. I don't believe this for a minute, but I'll play along. Besides, that apparel really becomes Anthea very nicely. She looks as though she was born to wear it. "My, but you two look very impressive," Callie complimented them. "Thank you," said Anthea, with a tone that would have sounded warm coming from anyone else. "And I must say you look absolutely delicious in that bright white sporty number you're wearing." "Thank you," Callie said. "I suppose that charming outfit is completely reversible, isn't it?" There was a smile on Anthea's lips, but her eyes shot a penetrating gaze that made Callie feel like someone had just put an ice cube on the back of her neck. "Uh, yes, it is," Callie admitted. She figured that the club members who had hunted her had spread the word about her clothing by now. It was the way that Anthea called attention to the fact that she knew that gave Callie a chill. "I'm suppose that the pattern on the other side of the fabric is a lovely arrangement of shades of green and brown and yellow. Of course, I'm sure we'll have a chance to see for ourselves before long." Anthea spoke with disturbing certainty. "Possibly," Callie allowed. Looking at his watch, Anthony observed, "It's almost nine. Time for you to be off, Callie. We'll all meet back here after the gamekeeper sounds a horn in twelve hours - unless, of course, we happen to encounter one another before that, eh?" "Yes. Unless." Callie extended her hand first to Anthony and then to Anthea. The former gripped her hand firmly but not crushingly; the latter let her hand lay in Callie's like a dead fish just pulled from an icy stream. "Good luck," said Anthony. "Be seeing you," said Anthea. Callie wanted to say, Tally ho! but instead responded, "I hope you two have a pleasant day." As she turned to head out the door and north for the woods, Callie could feel four hungry eyes upon her, two of them almost searing the back of her neck. From their respective choices in board games, Callie inferred that Anthony liked competitions in which pure strategy was all-important, while Anthea preferred to mingle her strategies with intuition in competitions in which luck was a factor. Callie was unsure what sort of game plan would have evolved from a blending of these diverse competitive styles. The wooded area in which the hunt was taking place was just over 600 acres, which made it a bit smaller than Callie's Uncle Jake's farm. It was more or less rectangular, about one and a quarter mile east to west and a bit less than three-fourths of a mile north to south. It was, by far, the smallest hunting ground Callie had ever risked her life in. She was taking it for granted that Anthony and Anthea would split up in order to cover more ground. Two hunters starting out from the southeast and southwest corners could cover the area completely in eleven hours if they walked in parallel lines south to north and then north to south, narrowing the gap between them with each change of direction, eventually meeting in the center. However, they would each have to advance twenty-five yards toward the other with each pass. There were a lot of trees to hide behind in a strip twenty-five yards by three-fourths of a mile, and Callie could expect to be relatively safe if she just found a good hiding place and stayed there all day. She was sure, though, that Anthony and Anthea had something more complex in mind than that, and she decided she should come up with something better, also. She spent most of her one-hour simply running through the trees, particularly where they grew in thick clumps, and a little practice at dodging around obstacles would not hurt. She did establish two obstacle-filled paths running from south to north and two running east to west that she could run in a few minutes, probably leaving a pursuer far behind. Then she returned to a point near where she had entered the woods, leaving ample room between herself and the tree line, to watch for the hunters. Right on schedule, they appeared, and they seemed to have better tracking skills than she had expected. She had not made a bee-line for the woods, but had meandered a little and the hunters were following her every step. No big deal, Callie thought. It's not hard to follow footprints in long grass if there's a little morning dew. It doesn't make them Daniel and Danielle Boone. From a distance, it was difficult to tell which was which because they were both wearing their jackets open, so Anthea's slender figure was not obvious. After watching them walk a bit, though, Callie could distinguish them. Anthea did not have much in the way of hips, but she worked what she had very well. The two stopped suddenly and Anthea pointed into the trees, almost exactly at the spot where Callie was peeking out from behind a tree. Though Callie was sure it was just a coincidence (She can't possibly see me! There's thirty feet of open field and twenty feet of trees between us), it made her shiver to see Anthea's finger aimed at her After a moment's conference, Anthea took off at a fast clip, veering to the west as she made for the woods while Anthony headed due north, right towards Callie, moving slowly but with determination. It was very rare for Callie to see her opposition during a hunt and the sight of the two of them - particularly Anthea moving with long-legged, booted grace - stirred something within her. For a split second, she stood fascinated and frozen, a deer watching approaching headlights. But only for a split second. She turned, bolted, and didn't stop running until she was nearly at the northern edge of the woods. Confident that she was at least momentarily out of danger, she took stock of her situation externally and internally. Uncle Jake had told her many times that the Boot Hill cemeteries of the Old West were filled with gunslingers and gamblers who had underestimated their opposition. Toastmaster General George Jessel had once said, in the early days of the Cold War, "Just because Russians dance sitting down, that doesn't mean they can't build an atomic bomb." Anthony and Anthea might be inappropriately dressed, quaintly equipped, and inexperienced, but they were also intelligent, sly, motivated, and very connected as a team. The sight of Anthea bounding off in earnest pursuit of her had given Callie an incredible thrill which she knew could distract her into misjudgements. For example, Anthea couldn't really have moved as fast as perceived wearing those boots that were so ill-suited for running. Callie figured her mind was playing tricks on her. The siblings had a plan. Apparently Anthony was going to pursue Callie directily while Anthea attempted to outflank her. There were plenty of songbirds in the woods and Callie had little familiarity with what species were common in this region: her pursuers could have worked out a system of birdcalls to communicate with each other and Callie would be clueless as to which sounds were natural and which were of human origin. Her opponents had probably figured that she would try to spot them as they entered the woods to see if they had tracked her through the grass (she had noticed that it was long the day before but she did not regret not having requested that it be cut) and to see if they had remained in costume. Anthea had headed west; that meant that Callie should head east - unless they knew she would be watching them and would instantly try to put distance between herself and them; in that case, once in the woods, Anthea could double back, crossing Anthony's path. That would mean that Callie should head west - unless Anthea figured that would be her response. Callie was dealing with another female mind here. Anthea was at least as intuitive as Callie herself. Anthony was a sensible male who knew when to yield to his sister. So, be alert. Take nothing for granted. Stay sharp. Tune in. Sense the hunger. She could feel a resolute appetite demanding to be satisfied, steady and patient - that was Anthony. There was hunger blended with a desire for triumph and supremacy - that was Anthea. Anthea not only wanted to eat her; she wanted to beat her. Anthony had no challenges to his position as alpha male, but Anthea might be defending her alpha female status. Callie couldn't specifically locate the origins of those energies, other than to say that they were to the south and not far apart. She cautiously headed south by southwest. Around noon, she caught a glimpse of red fabric to the east. At least one of the hunters was still dressed for a fox hunt. Callie quickly moved further west, not sticking around to identify the hunter. About one o'clock, Calle came upon something unusual: a pile of leaves and twigs, deliberately arranged, not thrown together by the wind. A nest? Not likely because it offered no protection while being conspicuous. A trap? Possibly, though Callie would have to be pretty careless to step into it, even if she were running. Not a trap, but bait for a trap? Yes. An odd phenomenon for her to investigate and while she was satisfying her curiosity... Callie hit the ground. Ears, eyes, nose, and spider sense engaged. She heard a small animal skitter away, startled by her sudden movement. She saw and smelled nothing out of the ordinary. There was the same general sense of hunger and desire for victory. Also, the same birdsong she had been hearing all day. No immediate danger. Okay, I'll bite. Callie got to her knees, grabbed the longest stick handy and probed the pile of woodsy debris. And saw red. Clothing. One of the hunters had changed appearance. Which one? A little more investigation revealed undergarments and, unless Anthony had a secret side, the clothing was Anthea's. And besides jacket, shirt, breeches, hat, and lovely black lingerie (oh, Anthea, you quiet sexpot!), there was a pair of what looked like leather sleeves. The boot tops! That explained Anthea's ability to move so quickly: she was wearing running shoes cleverly disguised as riding boots. Having these made probably cost at least as much as having the dueling pistols refitted. These people really wanted to bag their quarry. So, the plan was that Anthony would parade around in his red coat, giving Callie something to look and at stay away from, while Anthea was lurking about, possibly wearing a camouflage leotard or body paint. Callie smiled at the image of Anthea in her studio, using her own body as a canvass. Her intuition told her, though, that Anthea was out there, naked and dangerous, possibly having rolled around in some dirt. In any event, Callie was sure that Anthea would not be seen unless she wanted to be seen. Callie was impressed, thrilled, and a little frightened. Her efforts at maintaining maximum alertness were disrupted by flashes of fantasy: naked Anthea crying out, "Brother! I've bagged the prize! Come! Dinner is served!" Callie moved with stealth, caution, awareness, and a wet pussy. She knew she was probably gushing out pheromones like a bitch in heat. If Anthony was anywhere about, he would be sure to pick up on them, unless the wind was really in Callie's favor. Would Anthea? Hours of expectation, anticipation, excitement. Visions of Anthea triumphant, exalted, standing with her foot on Callie's prostrate body, crying out, "Come, Anthony! Behold the bounty your sister has provided!" Eventually, Callie began to feel that perhaps her imagination was playing tricks on her. She was picking up on something different. This new energy was darker than hunger or a desire for victory. Yet, it did not seem as dangerous. Curious. Hard to identify. Was something or someone else in the woods? This new energy seemed attractive, drawing her. Was Callie's own shadow self somehow stalking her? At about what Callie had come to think of as tea time since coming to England, she heard... A shot. She fell to the ground.
Colonel Stoneridge had been jotting down notes furiously as Callie described her thought process as she decided on what course of action to pursue, finding everything she had to say very interesting, but at this point, he did make a few comments. "Since you're here to tell the tale, obviously you weren't hit. I take it that you fell to the ground as a self-protective measure, because the drug balls are not supersonic." "Right," Callie confirmed. "Quick reflexes can be helpful." "Of course, if the shot had come from a poacher using real bullets, I'm afraid the quickest reflexes in the world would have been to no avail. Poachers have been known to intrude on private hunts, as dear Rachel found out twice. Was that the source of the new energy you felt? A poacher?" "No, not a poacher. In fact, the source may have been my own imagination," Callie confessed, "but I actually think it was something that had been there all along, but only presented itself shortly before the shot was fired." "From the way you phrase that, I gather you are unable to prove that assertion, but subsequent events tend to support it." "You can say that." Callie laughed. "I might say something a little less elegant, being a small town girl from the Midwest. Do you know why so many Midwestern farmers send their daughters to East Coast colleges?" "I wasn't aware of the custom. Why do they?" the Colonel asked, prepared for a punch line. "So the girls can learn to say 'Incredible!' instead of 'Horse shit!' "
Callie lay low for a few seconds, then got up and ran before whichever hunter who had fired the shot could reload. Callie thought the shot had sounded far away, but she had never heard the antique weapons discharged. She was stopped in her tracks by an anguished cry of "Augh!" followed by "Help! Help!" It was Anthony's voice. Callie threw her back to a tree, expecting a trick. "Callie, if you are within range of my voice, please come quickly," Anthony shouted. Callie wasn't about to move or respond until she heard more. "The hunt's over," Anthony continued after not receiving an answer. "Olly, olly oxen free, or whatever American children cry out in Hide and Seek. Game called. Word as a gentleman. Scout's honor. I've shot my poor sister and I need your assistance." Credible enough, Callie thought, though if he only hit her with a drug ball, there shouldn't be any real problem. If they actually had bullets in the pistols, then fuck ‘em both. "Really, seriously, Callie," Anthony pleaded. "It looks as though I've killed her. I know that's the idea of the drug balls, but I've never seen this before. Besides, she may have hurt herself when she fell." Well, I might as well go see what's up, but I'm not yelling anything until I'm sure it's not a trick. Callie stepped away from the tree and began to move in the direction of Anthony's voice. "Can't say I blame you for not responding, but I do hope you're on your way. I can understand that you might not trust me completely." You got that right. "I can see that she's breathing regularly, so I guess there's no serious harm done. Not sure how I could carry her by myself. Not even sure if I should try to move her at all, actually." I wonder if he would have been as worried if he had hit me. "Really hope you're on your way. Pity I can't give you more assurance. Pity I don't even know if you can hear me, though I've been told my voice carries well. But this is the outdoors and there is a breeze to be consi..." "All right, Anthony," Callie shouted from behind a tree about twenty yards away. "Don't turn around. If you want my help, hold your gun over your head and fling it behind you as far as you can." Anthony obeyed. "There. Completely disarmed." "Her gun, too." "Her gun? But she's... oh, yes, sorry. I quite understand." Anthony located the second pistol, raised it so that Callie could see it, and prepared to throw. "UNLOAD IT BEFORE... oh, shit!" The pistol discharged upon landing, causing an exclamation from Anthony. He tried to cover with humor. "Good job I didn't shoot myself, eh?" "No fucking shit. I couldn't carry both of you," Callie muttered as she strolled to where Anthony was standing, her fingers tapping the knife that she often carried in a hunt, but never had used as a weapon. "Sorry about that. Not much used to firearms," Anthony apologized. "No problem." Callie looked down at Anthea. It was easy to understand why Anthony had been alarmed. Anthea did, indeed, look very much like a corpse, naked except for her shoes. Her wide-open eyes stared blankly and her mouth gaped. She clutched a fistful of leaves in her left hand. "She's okay. She just blinked," Callie assured Anthony. "Her involuntary responses are working. I doubt that she hurt herself when she went down. I did a little experiment once - had a friend shoot me. The effect of the drug isn't instantaneous. She had time to break her fall." "That's reassuring. Still, I don't understand how this could have happened. What could have possessed her?" "What do you mean?" Callie asked. "Well, she must have seen me. The red coats were a part of a plan. You see..." "I think I've figured out the plan." Callie tried to avoid smirking. "Uh, yes. But it's as though she deliberately put herself in my way." "Maybe she did," Callie said with a shrug. She didn't see any point in reminding Anthony that his sister was only immobile, not unconscious. He was a bit shaken by the accident. It might, in fact, be useful to let him prattle on as though Anthea couldn't hear. "Can't help but wonder..." Anthony's voice trailed off. "Wonder what?" "Well, you see, Anthea has often spoken about being roasted someday, but she's never actually... I think a proper metaphor from sports would be to say that she has often gone out on the diving board and bounced up and down, but she has never taken the plunge." "I was in track and field, but, yes, I think that works." Callie decided to probe a bit further. "So, are you thinking she was trying to tell you something?" "Well, yes. I'm wondering if maybe she recognizes that she'll need some assistance in overcoming her reluctance and this is her way of, uh, declaring her willingness but also prompting me to take some, ahem, initiative." "You mean, treat her as though she were the quarry and send out invitations for a roast?" "Something like that." "And you thought you were shooting at me?" "Yes, of course." There wasn't any significant pause before he said that. "What I don't get is why you are so positive that she must have seen you and yet you apparently thought I wouldn't have noticed you." "I imagined that I was having a bit of beginner's luck," Anthony said, with a weak smile. Callie wasn't sure that this all wasn't some kind of elaborate hoax. Maybe the shooting of Anthea wasn't really an accident. Maybe the shooting hadn't happened at all; maybe Anthea was just very good at playing possum and there was still a trick in store. She decided to test this proposition. "I would think that she would have said someth... oh! Is that an adder?" Callie said, glancing aside curiously, mimicking mild surprise and interest. "I've heard they're poisonous. Its bite might interact with the drug if it bites her." "What? Where?" Anthony looked around calmly "I can't see anything. Adders aren't at all common around here." "Oh, it was just the wind, I guess." Callie had noted that Anthea didn't even flinch and, therefore, was probably really paralyzed. Callie had the amusing thought, though, that it wouldn't be a total surprise to find that a woman of such dark imagination actually liked snakes. "Anyway, it's true that a lot of women have a problem being explicit about their desires. Even then, though, they usually drop a hint. Has she done that?" Anthony snorted,"That's the bloody hell of it. She hints all the time, but with ambiguity. How's a man to make do with that?" "Of course, you really can't do anything drastic unless she's signed a consent form," Callie reminded him. "Oh, she's done that often enough, but something always comes up - an allergy attack or some such thing. I don't think we destroyed the last one she signed - probably still valid. Have to check the date." Callie was picking up a strong vibe from Anthea, which she identified as at least akin to the energy she had tuned in on earlier. "I don't think, though," Callie said, "you should take anything for granted - unless, of course, as her brother, you think you know her mind really well. Are you two, uh, close?" "Relative term," Anthony said dryly, looking at Anthea's naked, motionless form. Callie let him contemplate for a moment before mentioning,"Well, she'll be able to tell us her feelings in three or four hours - five at the most. "Yes. Very true." "In the meantime, we could prepare her by shaving her, but I see she's already taken care of that. Can you infer anything from that?" "Not really. She's been known to do that rather often." "But even though you don't know why, you're sure she deliberately put herself in your line of fire." "Don't see how I could think otherwise, considering that we had worked out a system of communication that she could have employed to let me know she was about." Callie was about ninety-seven percent sure that the energy she had felt earlier was that part of Anthea that indulged in self-destructive dark fantasy. She was sure that Anthony would not spit her without explicit permission, even if she had signed a release form. However... "Of course..." Callie seemed to be thinking aloud. "Yes?" Anthony encouraged her. "It could be that she didn't do this so that you would think it was okay to roast her. It could be that she did it so that you could, well, play with her." "Play with her?" Anthony was interested. "Yes. Now, forgive me. I really don't like to stereotype, but I'm afraid we Yanks have a very pervasive image of the English - especially the upper classes - as being, well, into bondage and discipline. B&D, I think it's called.": "Um. Yes. I've heard the term." Anthony stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Now, I have no way of knowing if Anthea's really into that sort of thing or if she just likes painting pictures of it. For example, I don't know is she's into being, well, suspended by ropes." "Hmm." Anthony was deep in thought, but listening. "You know, the effect of the drug balls is sort of like the ultimate bondage, but without any hardware in the way. Of course, some people like the hardware, I guess." "So I've heard." Anthony shifted weight from one leg to the other. "But, anyway, here she is, completely helpless, totally vulnerable." "Indeed." "Some one could do anything at all to her. Anything." Callie tried not to sound too much like an evil temptress - not TOO much. "Ah, yes." "It wouldn't have to be something nasty. One could dress her in exotic clothes that she might wear in privacy, but not want to be seen in." "A possibility," Anthony agreed. "Or a man could take an opportunity like this to show a woman how well he understood her needs, how skillfully he could be at pleasuring her without instruction." "So he could. So he could." "She could even be driven to heights of pleasure beyond what she would normally allow because she doesn't like to give way to, uh, displays that she might consider vulgar." Anthea was becoming very flushed now and her breathing was rapid. This could have been from anger at being discussed in the third person, but Callie suspected not. "Well," said Anthony, seeming to awaken from a daydream,"she might be cold lying there on the ground. She should probably get her home. Maybe rather quickly. You say this state lasts at least three hours." "And maybe five, depending on her constitution." Callie's words caused a fleeting smile to cross Anthony's lips. "I have no idea where she left her clothing." Knowing that the clothing was at least a half mile away and not on the most direct route back to the mansion, Callie said, "I'm sure it will be fine. I don't think red is in this season among the badger and weasel set. I will get the pistols, though. I think I saw just where they landed." Callie stuck the guns between her belt and her hips, aware that they set off her butt nicely. She returned to find Anthony gently stroking his sister's cheek. "I'll take her legs. You take her shoulders. That way she will be able to see your reassuring face," Callie said, thinking And you'll also have a nice view of my ass and her jiggling breasts as we carry her. She knelt down between Anthea's legs, took one calf in each hand. "Ready?" "One the count of three. One, two, three." Together, they lifted the fallen and, Callie was sure, extremely aroused hunter and began the walk back to the mansion. Callie let Anthony appreciate the view in silence until they had covered about a quarter mile. "So, do you think you two will want to have another go at me in a few days?" she asked. "I'm afraid it's pointless," Anthony sighed. "In my estimation, it would take a hunter the equal of Amanda Blake to bring you down." "Amanda Blake? You mean the tv star? The one who does that sword and sandal thing with - what's her name? - Rachel Jones as her sidekick." "Yes, that's the woman." Callie laughed. "I've never considered a career in show business. What are you suggesting? That I audition for the role of an evil Amazon queen who kidnaps Rachel for my sex slave? Then Amanda tracks me down and..." "Interesting premise, I'm sure. No, I'm talking about real life. Surely, you know Amanda is a hunter of considerable reputation." "Well, yes. And I've heard that other stars are great tennis players or golfers. I figure that what they are actually good at is hiring press agents. I know that sometimes the hype is true. Paul Newman was a good race car driver. Omar Sharif is a life master at Bridge. Katherine Hepburn was an excellent all-around athlete. On the other hand, I've heard that William Shatner's rep as an equestrian..." "I assure you, Amanda Blake is genuine. She was a hunter before she was a tv star. Actually, it was her hunting that led to her stardom. Haven't you seen that documentary cum horror flick in which she hunts and kills the soap opera star Carol Something-or-other?" "No, but I did watch 'The Blair Witch Project' once with a roommate who was convinced that was the real thing. Anthony, I'm frankly surprised. I can't believe you're as gullible as Jody." "And I'm rather surprised that you would pass judgement on something without having seen it." "Touche!" Callie said over her shoulder. "Tell you what. I've got the film on DVD - deluxe edition with interviews and extra footage. Even a few chats with other people who've been hunted by Amanda and lived to tell about it. I'll put it on for you to watch while I tend to Anthea." "Sounds good." Callie figured that she needed some way to pass the time. It was her suspicion that Anthea would require a lot of tending.
"So, that's how you became acquainted with our Miss Blake. Interesting. I do find it odd that you didn't already know about her," Colonel Stoneridge commented. "I always did a lot of research on the hunters I ran for," Callie explained, "but I never considered Amanda because it's so difficult for foreign nationals to get licenses to hunt American citizens - unless, of course, they are members of the Saudi royal family. Special consideration was given them during the younger Bush administration." "Ah, yes," said the Colonel."I take it you were impressed with Amanda." "Ah, yes." Not an exact echo of the Colonel's words: the feeling behind Callie's statement was much different.
Amanda, naked, painted with tiger stripes, stalking the beautiful blonde actress. Amanda on the prowl, muscles rippling as she moved with feline grace. Impressive when viewed in profile - downright terrifying when she spotted a semi-concealed camera and glared directly into it. Amanda deftly spitting the hapless captured Carol, treating her dinner with kindness and civility, because it felt right to do so and perhaps because she preferred a "happy" dinner. Kindness and civility, yes; mercy, no. Amanda tending to her roasting meat, anticipating how delicious Carol would taste. Amanda had business to attend to with the film crew who had manipulated both her and Carol, but first things first - make sure dinner will be tasty. Then came the grand feast with the entire film crew present and chowing down on Carol How, Callie wondered, had Amanda compelled the whole film crew to attend the banquet? In that sequence they looked subdued, beaten. One or two looked injured. Had she really outfought them all? Amanda chewing on Carol's cooked arm while making advances to a female crew member named Belinda. And not merely sexual advances. Amanda frankly wanted to hunt Belinda, kill her, eat her - the hunting part was not required if Belinda would consent to the rest. Appraising Belinda without modesty. Desire and appetite so powerful that Amanda seemed endowed with an almost irresistibly seductive charm. Snake hypnotizing its prey. Belinda successfully resisting, but clearly feeling she had had a very narrow escape. Amanda radiating with crystal clarity that Belinda would be utterly helpless if Amanda chose to let her self-restraint lapse. Television interview. Amanda saying casually, but with chilling sincerity, that she liked to eat people. Seeming more aroused than intimidated, the interviewer clearly imagining, along with most of the audience, what it would like to be taken by Amanda. Three interviews with young women who had survived a hunt with Amanda. Only one of them, an obvious spit muffin, was willing to have her face shown on camera. The women would not discuss details of what had happened in the field and they had very different attitudes about Amanda. The spit muffin was such a pure example of her type that she seemed almost disappointed that Amanda didn't eat her. The second woman had no fondness for Amanda at all and would, in fact, have enjoyed killing her, but she had been gratified by some compliments the huntress had paid her; she refused to repeat the compliments. The third woman didn't like Amanda much, either, but said she was a woman of honor with a sense of fair play; she said that, although Amanda was partly motivated by strategic considerations in pursuing her, the huntress had made it clear that she was desirable on her own merits and this was oddly very pleasing. All three women had respect for Amanda's skill as a hunter, but agreed that what took their feelings beyond respect to something approaching awe was the motivation that drove Amanda, which they could identify only as her hunger for human flesh - their flesh. When asked what it felt like to know that Amanda wanted to eat them, there were three different reactions. The spit muffin nearly had an orgasm on camera. The second woman looked dangerous. Not so much as the obviously overwhelming Amanda, but there was something about her, an edge. "Makes me want to kill her," the slender, brown skinned woman said bluntly. Callie thought she looked Indian but the accent was some sort of British. Yorkshire? "Do unto, but do it first as they say in Barnsley. Wouldn't mind having a crack at it, if I were daft enough to think I could. Tried that once, got second prize. She's too bloody big and too bloody good. I'm not suicidal." The second woman said, "Just makes me want to do the same to her. If I could level the playing field between us, I'd give her another chance at my tasty bits for a chance at hers." The third woman had a mixed attitude about her experience with Amanda. "It was simply terrifying, though when she caught me she made me feel that it was some sort of a compliment. The odd thing was that I did actually feel flattered." After watching the DVD, Callie went to Anthony's computer, got on line, and did some research on Amanda. The huntress had an incredibly high success rate in hunting both men and woman and she ate what she killed. Most of her record as a hunter had been established before she came into television stardom. Callie scanned some interviews in print media. She did an image search and discovered enough unposed shots of Amanda to convince her that the huntress's impressive physical appearance in the film was not trick of lighting, makeup, or selective editing. The woman was truly awesome. Callie also found some stills from the film itself, including a close up of one of those moments when Amanda looked directly into the camera. Seeing the image frozen in time, Callie could study it intently, dissolve into it. It was as though everyone at a diners' club roast was staring at her: all of the hunger and desire a roomful of people could generate compacted into the eyes of one woman. But there was even more than that. Amanda's desire ran deeper and she was willing to invest more of herself into satisfying it. Amanda's eyes said to Callie, "I want you so badly, I'll risk my life to have you. I won't buy you; I won't seduce you; I'll take you - all have to do is agree to let me try." Long minutes passed as Callie sat glued to the computer screen. The spell was broken by the sound of someone entering the room. "Sorry to intrude." Anthony stood in the doorway looking relaxed, casual, and happy. "Didn't mean to leave you on your own for so long. Trust you found a way to occupy yourself." Callie suddenly noticed that the fingers of her left hand had found its way to her crotch. She was also aware that she was feeling very warm, in every sense. "Uh, oh, yes. I was doing some, uh, research on, uh, Amanda. She's a very, uh, interesting person. Good hunter." The events of the afternoon came back to her. "Is Anthea all right? Is she up and around?" "Very much so." It was Anthea who answered, stepping up beside her brother, putting an arm around his waist and her head on his shoulder. She was wearing a slinky black nightgown and she radiated utter satisfaction. The darkness was still there, but even the darkness glowed. Callie had never seen her look more beautiful. "It's still rather early and we're both feeling refreshed. I do feel that I owe you something special." Spoken in a lascivious tone. "Because I spoiled the hunt, of course."A wink. "Is there anything we could offer you in the way of hospitality?" Callie's eyes went from Anthea to Amanda to Anthony to Amanda to Anthea. "As a matter of fact, yes. Uh, let me print out something first though." Until after midnight, three highly erotically charged people took turns giving each other pleasure. On her way from Anthony and Anthea's bedroom to her guest room, Callie stopped by the computer room to pick up the picture of Amanda she had printed out, which she spent some quality time looking at before drifting off into a dream-filled sleep. She awoke a little after three a.m., following a particularly arousing dream featuring Amanda. Excited and restless, Callie got up and went to sit by a window, taking the picture of Amanda with her. Callie often expressed difficult to articulate emotions by singing a song by her favorite composer, but on this occasion her feelings were so jumbled that she made up her own medley stringing together lines from various songs. Looking from the moonlit landscape to Amanda's picture, she sang: " 'In the still of the night, Callie returned to bed and to a sound sleep. She awoke in the morning with the firm resolution to seek out Amanda Blake and challenge her to a hunt.
"And so," Colonel Stoneridge summarized at the end of Callie's story, "you believe that you have found in Amanda Blake the one person whose hunger and motivation are so strong that she alone can give you something you can't find anywhere else. Is that about right?" "Exactly," Callie confirmed. "The thrill that I've felt in the presence of the woman eaters, knowing that they wanted me in such a fundamental way, is present every time I'm with them. But even when I've been hunted by them, I've always had the feeling that they would rather that I just sold myself to them and, if they don't get me, well, they can get what they want from someone else. They eat women because they can afford to. If it didn't come easily to them, they'd do without. "I think Amanda is different. I'm sure that if a woman just offered herself to Amanda, she'd accept - she as much as told me that. But I'm even more sure that if the only way Amanda could eat someone was to catch her in hunt and if women were allowed to hunt only if they first ran as quarry, Amanda would sign up in a minute. And, from what I've read of her martial arts skills, she'd probably end up eating the hunter. "Your Sir Edmund Hillary is much admired in the States and his answer as to why he wanted to climb Mount Everest is as well-known as any Shakespearean quote. 'Because it's there.' Classic! But it raises questions. "What if Hillary hadn't known that Everest was there? Would he have still wanted to climb it?" Stone smiled knowingly. "I mean," Callie went on, "could he have been burning with a desire that he didn't know how to fulfill? Maybe a desire that he didn't even know that he had until he saw its object? Is it possible that there was a moment when he learned that Everest 'was there,' and he said, 'that's it! That's what I've got to do!' "And what if, somehow, he never heard of Everest? Would he just have found some other great thing to do? Would there have been anything else that would have fulfilled him? "When I first saw the look in Amanda's eyes, first saw her stalking her prey, I had a 'That's it!' feeling. I felt that I have to experience the feeling of having that woman, that huntress, that hunger, that desire, that power, that intelligence, that magnificence focused on me, in pursuit of me. "Now that I know Amanda 'is there,' I can't ignore her existence. I'm convinced that I can find a fulfillment in being hunted by her that I would be incomplete without. The excitement that I've felt up to this point, I believe, is only a prelude to what Amanda can give me. There is a longing within me for something. If I can fully satisfy that longing just once, it may be enough. It may be a memory that I can carry with me forever, a state of being that I can go back to time and again and be refreshed by it. "I can't just say, 'Amanda is there, but so what?' and walk away. I had to challenge her to a hunt or betray my inner self. "Can you understand?" "Yes, I believe I do," Colonel Stoneridge said. "You mentioned Hillary. Sir Edmund is an amazing man. Cut quite a figure for a Kiwi beekeeper. It might surprise you to know that I once asked him a similar 'What if' question to one you posed just now. I won't try to quote his response from memory, but I made a very detailed journal entry after that conversation. I'll be glad to send you a copy if you like." "Oh, yes. Please do." Callie didn't try to conceal the fact that she was impressed. "Very well. I'm sure you know that Everest was really only the beginning for Sir Edmund. An auspicious beginning. Coinciding with the coronation of a new Queen, it really gave us cheer about after a long period of war and stress. "He has many other achievements to his credit. Led the first mechanized expedition to the South Pole, for example. "But what's really remarkable is the way he devoted his energies beginning in the 1960s to improving the lives of the people of Nepal, the home of Everest. He aided in the development of clinics, hospitals, and schools. He persuaded the Nepalese government to designate the foothills of Everest a national park and then went home to New Zealand and influenced his own government to fund the establishment of the park. "He's a great example of how an individual cannot only achieve greatness but can go on to utilize that greatness to perform good works and promote good causes. "No, having met the man, I can not conceive of him ever saying, 'Everest is there. So what?' "Callie," Stone said, looking at her intently, "I understand that you feel that challenging Amanda is something you must do in order to fulfill a longing inside yourself to experience a sensation you can not be content merely to imagine. "I won't try to persuade you that challenging Amanda is a bad idea. "Quite the contrary: I think challenging Amanda is exactly the right thing for you to do. But, having said that, I'd like to make a few points about Amanda and to tell you a story if you will indulge me." Callie nodded and then listened intently to what Colonel Stoneridge had to say. |