“One, I’m not his chick, and we’ve never made any promises to each other. Two, ‘snaking his chick’ is not a felicitous turn of phrase …”

Wil opened his mouth in an O and made a pumping gesture with his hand. “You said felicitous.”

“Why do guys always do that? Three, I wouldn’t recommend gloating over Ian. Not that he’s jealous.” I remembered how he’d acted as if my love for Oswald was a temporary annoyance. “And, four, this is just a travel fling. Nothing counts when you’re on a trip,” I said, even though this hadn’t exactly worked for me in the past.

“It counts to me, cutie,” Wil said, and I was touched by his tenderness.

“Do you play Hendrix for all your dates?”

“Advance planning. I’d hoped you’d come back with me,” he said. “You’re a natural top.”

“Thank you.” I arched my back to display my ample assets. “They’re genuine.”

He laughed. “No, I mean sexually. You’re a top.”

“I don’t think so. I believe that relationships should be between equals.” I was going to say other things, too, thoughtful things, but then Wil’s hand went between my thighs and literary references didn’t seem so important.

I awoke in the early morning when I heard the bedroom door open. I pulled up the sheet to cover myself and shook Wil, who put a pillow over his head.

A middle-aged man in a dark suit stood in the doorway. His stern expression and conservative haircut and clothes made him seem as if he was from a different era. “Good morning, Mr. Spiggott. Will you take tea in bed, or the breakfast room?”

Wil took the pillow away from his head and twisted around toward the doorway. “I can get my own tea, Matthews. I told you, just Wil.”

“As you please, sir. Would your lady friend like anything?”

“Milagro, this is Matthews. Matthews, this is my friend, Milagro.” Wil sat up and asked me, “Do you want toast or eggs or anything?”

The man had entered the room and picked up the plastic snack debris on the table. I didn’t want him to see anything else, including the ropes we’d used.

I said, “No, thank you very much, Mr. Matthews. If we could have privacy, please?”

“Certainly, Miss de Los Santos.” He left and closed the door.

“So he knew who I was. You were right about word getting out fast. Who is he?”

“My houseman,” Wil said. “His family has been with mine forever.”

“It’s a little creepy.”

“I’d rather have his hot bitch daughter, but my parents and Matthews objected, and she wouldn’t oppose her father. They thought we were consorting in too equal a fashion.”

“Were you?”

“Not at all. She was definitely, as Americans say, the boss of me.” He smiled and looked off.

“Do you like having a thrall?”