When Rachel finally got back to her flat the next afternoon, she had a lot to reflect on.

Sex with Amanda had been terrific, but even if it had not been, at least one good thing about being with Amanda was that she did not have to pretend she was with someone else.

Rachel had awakened beside Amanda feeling refreshed, restored, and rejuvenated. If life could be filled moments like this, or even with the memory of them, how could a women ever let her life be controlled by fears about the future, growing old, anything?

Rachel knew that she could be analytical and try to separate her attraction to Amanda as a person from her feelings about the appetite for her flesh that was inside Amanda, but what would the point of that be? Rachel had met other hunters, other eaters of girl meat, and she had not felt the same draw to them. But, then, those other hunters had not been within a split second of gutting her and feasting on her roasted meat.

There were special moments in their love-making, like the many times that Amanda took a mouthful of Rachel's breast, upper arm, thigh, rump, or even her nether lips (commonly referred to among eaters of girl meat as her "filet"), and bit ever so slightly, sending a powerful thrill through Rachel, perhaps related to the thought that within ten weeks - unless one of them withdrew from the hunt - Amanda would probably be chewing and swallowing as well as biting.

But there were other moments - the full body presses, the stroking of each other's hair - that had nothing to do with cannibalism but still seemed more intense with Amanda. And no other lover had ever made Rachel feel as secure as she felt in Amanda's arms. She had no doubt that Amanda would fight fiercely to protect her from any danger - right up to the moment that Amanda herself took Rachel's life.

This is absurd, Rachel told herself. The woman wants to kill me and eat me and I feel more safe in her arms than I ever have in my life. If I'm a sane person, how can that possibly be? Perhaps wearing Amanda's skin would, in fact, give me a feeling of - oh, shit, drop that thought! It's not going to happen! I don't want it to happen! Do I?

Compared to their previous sexual encounter, there was more reciprocity in the pleasures they exchanged. Rachel was surprised the first time her touch sent a quiver through the tiger-taut body of the amazon. It made Rachel feel that Amanda was viewing her as more than just a pretty thing to eat. When Amanda went into an earth-moved-and-the-sky-split-open orgasm, something told Rachel that Amanda had let herself go, let her pleasure take her in a way that she had seldom done before. Could it be that Rachel's talk about wearing Amanda's skin as a garment had triggered something within the woman that had never been released before? The fact that she could provoke such a reaction from the red-headed goddess of the hunt gave Rachel not only gratification but something akin to a feeling of power.

Of course, Rachel told herself with a laugh, it could be just that making love to the same woman twice was more or less a novelty for Amanda.

Then, Rachel decided that wasn't so funny after all. Amanda had to have had experiences with women other than those that she killed and ate. But, of those lovers who lived beyond their first encounter with Amanda, how many of them would have come back for seconds?

Well, maybe quite a few, Rachel decided. But how many would even consider a long-term relationship with Amanda, even if they had no problem with her diet?

Probably none.

Even if Amanda became a vegetarian, her personality was so powerful that few women would be confident that they could avoid being overwhelmed by her. Almost any woman would expect to find her individuality being lost as she became "Amanda's girlfriend" in the eyes of everyone around them. Amanda could absorb another woman metaphorically as easily as she could literally. Of course, there were plenty of very submissive women out there who would adore being taken over by Amanda, but would that be at all satisfying for Amanda?

No. Not anymore than joining some kind of "Spit Muffin of the Month Club" would satisfy Amanda's urge to hunt.

In a way, that was very, very sad.

And what made it even sadder was that Amanda would probably not accept any sympathy for her situation.

Of course, Amanda was attractive enough that she could have three hundred and sixty-five one-night stands a year, and one more in leap years.

Rachel remembered that she had found Amanda as beautiful as she was terrifying at first sight. Rachel's first thought upon seeing Amanda was to compare her with the comic book character Red Sonya, another almost invulnerable Amazon condemned to a life of success that made her virtually unapproachable.

Well, all of this would be a fine topic for a speculative discussion on the darker aspects of eroticism except for one thing: Amanda and Rachel really had agreed to a contest which only one of them would be expected to survive. And Rachel had no illusions about who that survivor was likely to be.

It had all become a lot more real when they arrived at the lodge and Amanda made arrangements for a one-on-one hunt on June nineteenth. Amanda had informed Greta, the lodge's desk clerk, of the special conditions of the hunt and asked that, should she return empty handed, someone be present who could take her into custody to await Rachel's return.

Should this warden be armed? Greta wanted to know.

"Well, if I'm not honorable enough to keep my word, you may trust that I won't return to the lodge at all, but that I will have to be hunted down by a small army," Amanda said huffily. But then she added, "If it makes him feel better to have a cattle prod or something to wave at me, fine. He can even have a hypodermic ready to stick into my arm, for that matter."

Rachel signed up as an available runner for at least eight practice hunts during the next ten weeks, on the condition that, in return for forgoing the usual runner's fee, she be allowed to accept only those hunters that she chose. The clerk thought this an odd stipulation but, after Amanda shot her a hostile look, she made a note of it.

Taking a copy of the current membership list, Amanda and Rachel went to the lounge, ordered drinks and began to scan the list. Amanda made notes by the names of those whose challenges Rachel should be willing to accept. They were halfway through the list when they were approached by a male member of the lodge.

"Amanda, who's your pretty companion? Did you finally find a replacement for Vicky?" The man referred to the would-be poacher whom Amanda had once turned over to her fellow hunters for roasting.

Looking up and smiling, Amanda said, "Steve, this is Rachel Jones, my friend, my quarry, and, I hope, my future dining pleasure. Rachel, this is Steve. He's one of the good ones. Here's his name on the list. I've given him four stars."

Steve's blinking reaction to Amanda's introduction of her made Rachel feel a need to speak for herself lest people begin to think of her as the-quaint-little-thing-that-Amanda-picked-up. She extended her hand and said, "Glad to meet you, Steve. Amanda says you are a cut above most of the dirty rotten scoundrels around here who think they're real movers and shakers. How would you like to hunt me? In a practice run, that is. Help me to brush up on my elusiveness so that Amanda is less likely to sink her teeth into my scrumptious rump."

Amanda looked at Rachel as though she would have said, if they were not in the presence of a man, oh, you didn't seem to mind last night.

Accepting the handshake, Steve seemed a bit bewildered until something dawned on him. "Rachel Jones? Aren't you the runner who knocked Amanda on her ass with that spring trap?" When Rachel nodded, Steve grasped her hand tighter and smiled broadly. "Rachel, I'll be happy to hunt you. I may be making a leap of faith, but if by a simple twist of fate, I catch you faster than Amanda did, I'll be proud as the father of the bride at a wedding."

Manifesting what Rachel took to be a bit of territoriality, Amanda said with some sternness, "Do keep in mind, Steve, that this is only a practice hunt."

Rachel wanted to say, don't be acting like I'm your possession, Amanda - remember this was my idea. Instead, she said, "Yes, Steve, I've promised Amanda that she's the only one who gets to hunt me for real. Maybe I can have 'Exclusive Prey of Amanda Blake' stenciled onto my deerskin top right about here." Rachel provocatively traced a line across her breasts with her finger, noting that Steve's eyes followed her gesture very carefully.

A bit of a snarl in her voice, Amanda said, "Maybe, Rachel darling, we can stop by a tattoo parlour on the way home and have it put right across here." Intending to illustrate where she meant by slapping Rachel's posterior, Amanda instead struck the seat of Rachel's chair. "Ouch!" Amanda inspected her middle fingernail for damage.

"Oh, Amanda, dear, you didn't break a claw, did you? I hope it wasn't your bowfinger," said Rachel in mock sympathy before turning to Steve and saying, "So, shall we make a date?"

"Sure. May I sit down?" Receiving a nod from both women, Steve seated himself and said, "That's better. Now we look like three amigos instead of two beautiful women and the lonely guy trying to move in on them." He pulled out an agenda and said, "Let's see. I'm leaving for a tour of the Grand Canyon in a couple of weeks. I love traveling by planes, trains, and automobiles. How about if we have our practice run a week from Wednesday?"

"That will be fine," said Rachel, making a note in her own agenda. "By the way, Steve, that is a lovely plaid shirt."

"Oh, thanks. I always wear plaid when I come to the lodge."

"Why is that?" Rachel inquired.

"It's a sort of good luck thing. You know, accidents can happen here, sometimes deadly ones. But I feel safe when I wear a shirt like this because everyone knows that dead men don't wear plaid."

Yes, Rachel reflected when she got home, that had been great fun, flirting and watching Amanda apparently get jealous. But, in ten weeks, the fun would be over; things would be deadly serious.

Oh, this is the dumbest thing I've ever done, Rachel scolded herself as she poured an unusually stiff drink and slumped into a chair. This is dumber than the first hunt. At least somebody had to talk me into that. This was all my own idea. One thing I should have learned the last time is don't tease Amanda; she'll rise to the bait every time.

Why did I have to come up with this stupid proposition just to get Amanda's attention so that I could tell her how I felt, Rachel wondered. She would have listened. She would have understood - she wouldn't necessarily have agreed, but she would have understood. I don't want to die and I don't want to kill Amanda. Of course, I didn't say, in just so many words, that I would kill her, but all that talk about using her for wearing apparel and having her be the special feature at a banquet, well, that doesn't leave me much room.

Rachel reminded herself that, at Amanda's suggestion, they had agreed that either one of them could back out of the agreement right up until the morning of the hunt and there wouldn't be any hard feelings. But somehow it seemed to Rachel that it would be monstrously cruel to Amanda to pull the offer off the table. It would have been much kinder never to have seen Amanda at all.

Whenever Rachel found that herself feeling like she wanted to escape from her life for a while, listening to music that had been recorded before she was born could be a great way to put herself into another time, another era. Also, when she felt in need of some guidance, randomly selecting some music could serve the same purpose for her that opening a book and reading the first sentence that one's eye fell upon sometimes served for others.

Rachel blindly grabbed a cd from a package that her aunt had sent her from America. It was by a Las Vegas nightclub entertainer and the songs were recorded during the late 1950s and early 1960s.

"Louis Prima: Collectors Series."

She remembered that her aunt said this would be a fine disk to listen to if she ever needed something lively to pep her up. "Louis never switched to decaf," according to Aunt Jayne.

Having popped the cd into her sound system, Rachel could understand her aunt's comment. No, a person couldn't sleep through this "jive."

As for musical messages, Rachel perked up her ears at "That Old Black Magic," a duet with Prima and his wife Keely Smith, but decided, no, if Amanda had any magic, it wasn't black. Maybe red with a touch of green. Red hair, green eyes. Yeah, that fit.

No doubt about the way Prima kept things moving. Even "Up the Lazy River" hardly had any laziness about it when Prima sang it.

The next song on the disk, however, almost sent Rachel into a state of shock.

It was a Cole Porter classic, another Prima-Smith duet.

"Oh, jeez!" Rachel exclaimed aloud. "If that's the message I'm looking for, my rump is as good as roasted!" Then she thought for another moment. "Or maybe not."

That night Rachel had a dream.

A night club stage with two microphones, a spotlight focused on each.

Announcer: And now, for your listening pleasure, a duel featuring the Dolcett - excuse me, I'll read that again - a duet featuring the dulcet vocalizations of Amanda Primal and Kill-ee Jones.

Looking more beautiful in male drag than Marlene Dietrich or Julie Andrews, Amanda stepped to the left microphone and began to sing.

Amanda: I've got you under my skin.
I've got you deep in the heart of me.
So deep in my heart
That you're really a part of me.
I've got you under my skin.

Clad in a strapless, sparkly blue evening gown, Rachel stepped up to the other microphone.

Rachel: I tried so not to give in.
I said to myself
"This affair never can go so well."
But why should I try to resist
When, baby, I know so well

Amanda: I've got you under my skin.

Rachel: I'd sacrifice anything
Come what might
For the sake of having you near,
In spite of the warning voice
That comes in the night
And repeats and repeats in my ear:

Amanda: Don't you know, little fool,
You never can win?
Use your mentality!
Wake up to reality!

Rachel: But each time I do,
Just the thought of you
Makes me stop
Before I begin.

Amanda: Because I've got you
Under my skin!

Rachel: Oooo!

Amanda: Baby, under my skin!

Remembering the dream the next morning, Rachel had to admit that, actually, the "chemistry" between herself and Amanda as performers could be just fine.