“I shall not beat you, Tai,” he said finally. He looked now at the handle and thong which held his wrist. “Tai,” he said, “are the petals a secret, really?”
“Yes, Master,” said the boy, smiling shyly.
Drew held out his delicate fingers.
Blushing, and timidly approaching, Tai bowed over his master’s hand; and in his moment of adoration murmured a little prayer his mother had taught him. Then taking a small, scented package from the breast of his tunic, he ran toward the bathroom, turning once in the doorway to bow his devotion.
When he had gone, Drew replaced the whip and laid his arms across his face. And as he heard the sound of small feet on the tile and the water running for his bath, he looked again into the vanity and cried out in a high, soft voice an unintelligible name....
Tai twisted a white satin robe about Drew’s slender form as Floyd, the hairdresser, was announced.
“Is everything in readiness for Madame’s coiffure?” asked the expert, mincing forward.
“Yes, Florabelle,” said Drew, standing once more before the vanity.
Tai withdrew with backward steps.