‘No!’ I said, straightening. ‘That’s one thing the dice won’t decide.’
‘But you should be able to show your father you can play his games if you wanted to.’
‘If I want to make love tonight,’ Larry said, ‘we’ll make love. If not, not.’
Kim raised an eyebrow.
‘No matter what I want, is that it?’ she said.
‘I’m not going to cast a die about anything serious.’
‘The first option,’ Kim said, ignoring me, ‘could be that tonight I’ll be your total sexual slave.’
Somehow that caught my attention. However, using the willpower that had made me a number-one trader, I continued to look stern.
‘Of course, we also have to give the devil his due,’ she went on easily. ‘So if the dice comes up a “two” or “three” we sleep in our own separate rooms and are as celibate as nuns and priests.’
I couldn’t stop an instinctive scowl.
‘How come celibacy gets twice the chances of sexual slave?’ I found myself asking.
‘Risk-taking,’ she answered. ‘No pain, no gain.’
My mind, egged on by my loins, searched desperately for a good argument against giving any chance to the prospect of our not making love, but flailed and failed.
‘If the dice rolls a “four”,’ continued Kim, ‘we’ll make natural instinctive love the way we would without any dice business.’
‘Hear, hear,’ I said.
‘Why don’t you create the last two options?’ Kim suggested. ‘It’s only fair.’
‘I create the last two options?’
‘Right. What else shall we offer up to the dice?’
‘It’s “die",’ I said with unaccountable irritation. ‘If you’re only going to toss one then it’s called a “die”.’
‘Well?’ Kim persisted.
‘If it’s a “five”,’ I finally said. ‘I’m going to leave here and give up my search for my father.’
‘That’s a good one,’ she said seriously. ‘One more.’
I threw my feet off the bed and stared down at the rug. Now that I’d surrendered, the game was oppressing me. I felt like a man taking his first step down the slippery slide to hell. At that moment I didn’t even feel much like making love. Was my father now in the process of making me impotent?
‘You make up the last one.’ I said dully.
‘Let’s see,’ said Kim from behind me. ‘I suppose we could let you be my sexual slave for the night.’
Was that good? Would a real stud permit such an option? Should I protest? While my mind bounced around these questions my prick stiffened, giving its assent and effectively overruling my mind.
‘No …’ she said and looked around the room as if there were hints there that might help her. ‘No, not that one. If it’s a “six” we can make love, but no matter how much we want it you can never enter me – any part of me. We’ll be virgin lovers.”
Shaking my head, I swung around to face her again on the bed. She was sitting up against the headboard gazing at me.
‘No matter what the dice say,’ she said with sudden seriousness, ‘I think I love you.’
That little piece of lightning exploded through me but was energetically repelled, a healthy male fear of commitment being my instinctive response to the word ‘love.’
‘You plan to follow the die no matter what it falls?’ I asked.
‘Of course,’ she answered. ‘No risk, no reward. But let’s say that if a lovemaking option is chosen it lasts for only two hours.’
Only two hours. Jesus. What son of a woman was this?
‘And we must obey,’ she continued. ‘To show your father your strength.’
‘Shit,’ I said.
‘Good.’ She began shaking the dice in the palms of her hand as if she’d been doing it for years.
I watched.
She shook the dice hard in the cup of her hands and dropped one on to the bedding between us. It was a ‘one’.
The significance of the ‘one’ didn’t register – the various options not being tightly linked in my mind with any number on the die – until Kim uncoiled from her sitting position and slowly crawled across the bedding towards me, finally falling forward on to her chest in front of me, burying her head near my feet and lap and clasping my ankles. Her golden-globed buttocks arched into the air in front of me.
‘How may I serve you. Master?’ asked Kim.
I decided to give the dicelife a try.
FROM LUKE’S JOURNAL
Chance contains an element of order. Like a game of tennis, chance depends on the net and lines of order to play. Chance is the playful side of order. With two perfect tennis players – two totally consistent, rational, perfect players, there would be no game – no variety, no winners and losers. It is imperfection, randomness, chance that makes the game possible, makes life possible, makes happiness possible.
Humans perversely pursue order when in fact our health and happiness depend on both order and chance. Could we learn to introduce chance into our lives as intelligently as we try to introduce order, ah … then …
36
Love, at its best, is, of course, a form of madness. It is a euphoria in which not only the beloved is perfection incarnate but the whole world seems to be shining. It is a state in which we feel we are incapable of taking a false step since the Gods are clearly on our side. And besides, the beloved can and will approve even of our pimples. We can’t lose.
The theory that one can’t lose has, to say the least, a chequered history. In general, those who have lived by the theory have usually been disappointed. The universe, even in its most benevolent moods, tends to let the rains fall pretty much at random on the just and the unjust, on those who know they can’t lose, and on those who know they can.
When Larry and Kim were awakened after three or four hours’ sleep by an aspiring opera singer in the shower next door, they giggled and mooned dewy-eyed at each other and, after Kim had insisted on casting a die, made love again. When they were finished, they became aware that it was 8.30 in the morning and, in theory, they were already late for their breakfast clean-up assignment.
Kim leapt up and ran to the shower to begin the day. Larry, though as sated as a male can be when first involved with a passionate woman, was still inclined to remain in bed and waylay her when she came back again. So he lay back with his hands folded beneath his head and considered what life had wrought. What the die had wrought.
The die had been generous. Kim had been his sexual slave for two hours and then had commanded them – as if they needed commanding – to make natural and instinctive love. As far as Larry was concerned it was like being released from the anteroom of Heaven into the real thing. For though Kim as sexual slave was incredible, as instinctive woman she was incredibler. The sexual slave bit had let him express an uninhibited masculine power that pleased him considerably, although it sometimes had sadistic elements that disturbed him. And it let Kim express a total surrender of her mind and will that was both intoxicating for him, but again, somehow disturbing. Although in purely sexual terms they didn’t do anything special, it was totally different.
Although at first he enjoyed ordering Kim about, after a while he found himself wanting to order her to be spontaneous, natural, innovative. He realized that he had wanted to make love to her since he’d first met her, but to Kim, to a very specific and special Kim, that he wanted to know who she was, to be intimate with her in every way, and the sexual slave game prevented that type of intimacy. He missed sexual initiatives and naturalnesss. Kim never did anything unless he commanded her to. She even suppressed most of her moans and groans until he ordered her to moan and groan. Then, of course, he worried that she was faking it.
And when the die released them from the slave game into naturalness he knew immediately that he was right. Kim threw herself at him with an unrestrained passion that awed him. Within minutes he knew how much he had missed by being her master. Now she would sud
denly abandon a perfectly delightful position and manoeuvre him and herself into an even more delightful position. Now she laughed and joked and romped as if she were playing puppy again. Now she loved him with her body, her eyes and her words, and, naturally, Larry found it disturbing.
But marvellous. What a woman. When she finally appeared out of the bathroom dressed in jeans but with no bra or blouse on, he shook his head again in awe.
‘Come here, my loving slave,’ he growled.
‘Not now,’ she answered, continuing on to the chair where she had put her overnight bag. ‘I want to get
‘Give me a chance,’ he protested.
Kim turned to him with a smile, pulled a die out of her jeans, frowned momentarily in concentration, and then glanced into the palm of her hand.
‘No more this morning, says the die,’ she replied, and turned to bury her face in the blouse she pulled over her head.
And from that moment on, the day was all downhill. The first hint of trouble was that Kim seemed to associate the die with their newly discovered passion for each other.
‘Chance has thrown us together,’ she said gaily as he less than enthusiastically began dressing. ‘And Chance will keep us together. Nothing will ever separate us.’
Larry might have conceded he was in love, but not that much.
‘The dice had nothing to do with our – or rather they just let us do what we wanted to do anyway,’ he said, pulling on his trousers. He felt groggy with sexual satiation and lack of sleep.
‘They let us discover and express the deepest part of ourselves,’ she insisted. ‘We can freely experiment with other options because they’ll never uncover a more basic us.’
‘Fine,’ said Larry, wondering how Kim managed to look so fresh and trim. ‘In that case we can give up the dice since they’re no longer necessary.’
‘But you miss the point,’ insisted Kim. ‘If our relationship is sound then nothing chance chooses for us can weaken it. We can test ourselves!’
As they left the room and began clumping down the stairs of the old inn, Larry had not the slightest interest in testing himself or Kim or anyone. All he wanted was breakfast and a chance to go back to bed.
‘Sweetheart,’ he said, ‘I have no –’
‘Larry, Larry,’ she interrupted, taking his arm as they reached the lobby. ‘Remember the challenge! To be the best! Let yourself go!’
Larry let himself be led out the door into the warm sunshine, which immediately had him squinting and grimacing and wondering if he had also drunk too much.
‘OK’, she said as she released his arm. As they headed towards the café kitchen where they were already a half-hour late, she took out a die. ‘If it’s odd I’ll spend every second of the morning with you; even, I won’t.’ Before Larry could muster more of a protest than a groan, Kim shook a die and revealed the result in her palm: a ‘six’, even; she wouldn’t.
In the hundred paces it took to reach the café she consulted her die two more times, and matters only got worse. First it picked a one-in-six shot and said in the morning she should do something outrageous. Then it picked another one-in-six shot from among several vaguely outrageous things and said she should try to proposition Michael Way.
That little gem came just outside the café. They both stood looking down at the stupid die in the palm of her hand absorbing what it implied, Larry so dull-witted from the night’s exertions that it took him several seconds longer than Kim.
‘Satisfied?’ he said dully. ‘The die is destructive. It can’t be trusted any more than human beings.’
Kim stood in the sunlight looking down at her palm with a puzzled expression. Then she shrugged.
‘It’s stupid,’ she said, ‘but it must mean something. I suppose it’s a test,’ she added, shrugging again, and smiling
‘I want to eat,’ announced Larry, assuming they were through with the dice business for a while and that Kim was aware, or soon would be, of her folly.
Although the café manager that morning insisted Larry do some dishes before having a cup of coffee or breakfast, Larry managed to sip some dregs from someone else’s cup and filch three slabs of bacon and generally sample the café wares before officially being seated and granted his own plate and cup.
Kim did her assigned chores and ate her breakfast separately, but they left the café together and headed for the orientation centre. Larry didn’t know whom he would question about what he and Kim had seen on the mountain, but it would be someone, and soon. Although slightly revived by coffee and food, he still felt dull. He took Kim’s hand as they walked and, just outside orientation, whispered into her ear, ‘You were magnificent.’
‘You too.’ whispered Kim and stretched up to rub her nose against his.
Inside her training room Larry was glad to collapse into the nearest chair, but Kim strode up to the front of the room to talk to Kathy. She returned a few moments later.
‘He’s working at home today,’ she said.
Larry stared at her blankly.
‘Who?’ he asked.
‘Michael. He’s working at home.’ She leaned over and kissed his forehead. ‘Have faith. See you at lunch.’ And with her usual energy she strode from the room.
Neither before, during or after lovemaking is the human mind a thing of great speed and precision. It tends to take a holiday during such periods, or certainly should, figuring correctly that other elements of the being are on duty and the mind would just get in the way. So Larry sat a full ten seconds before his mind managed to make it clear that Kim was apparently on her way to proposition Michael Way. How could she!?
His head aswirl, he remembered their night together, the fall of the die that had ignited it, and now of Kim letting another die send her off to Way. Was it all just a game to her!? Kim last night had been everything he had always dreamed of – and more, since his dream life was rather limited – yet she was going to try to see Way. She had told him with starry eyes and a juicy pussy that she loved him, yet she was going to see Way. She was the most fascinating, creative, uninhibited, warm, loving woman he’d ever known. And was going to see Way. Chaos had come.
That morning Macavoy had bad news for Agent Putt. He had been unable to relocate Luke Rhinehart. Someone else was now staying at number six Boxcars Street, and Rhinehart had failed to show up at the orientation building.
Putt took it calmly. He ordered each of the two new agents and Hayes out into the field to seek out Rhinehart in what Putt considered the four key areas: the orientation building, the parking lot (Rhinehart senior might make a run for it), the Hazard Hotel (the heartland of his demonic creation), and the guard gate (Rhinehart senior might make a run for it). Macavoy was to move around the town in general since only he might be able to recognize their prey. Each of the others was to pretend to be a seeker after the ultimate dicelife and express a longing to meet the real Luke Rhinehart. If anyone found him they were to stick to him until 14.00 hours and then either entice Rhinehart on some pretext to come to Putt’s temporary headquarters in the Hazard Hotel lobby, or, if enticement didn’t work, to bring him there by force. At 14.00 hours all agents were to report back to the lobby.
Agent Hayes was to go to local police headquarters and request that they send two men to the lobby at 14.00 hours to help control any disturbance from his followers when they made the arrest.
At 11.18 the agents dispersed on their assignments. Putt remained behind, seating himself in a comfortable lobby chair and puffing on his morning cigar. He didn’t even let himself get upset at the sight of an elderly man dressed as Superman.
37
A few minutes after Kim had left I wandered out of the classroom into the bright sunshine of Lukedom, Kathy making no effort to stop me. I was headed down the street towards where I knew Way lived when Rick, dressed all in black leather, including a black leather riding cap and dark sunglasses, came up to me.
‘I didn’t know your father was in town,’ he said. ‘I’d really like to meet
him.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, stopping.
‘Some guy in a business suit said he’d heard the great man himself is here today,’ said Rick. ‘He wanted to meet him. Asked me where he was.’
‘It’s all just more bullshit,’ I said, starting to walk further along the sidewalk towards Way’s.
‘Yeah, maybe, so my dice told me to tell him I’d last seen Luke in the Do Dice Inn hanging out with you. But then another well-dressed guy over at the pool hall asked me the same thing, said he knows Luke is here. Both the guys looked to me like narcs. Is your big dicedaddy really here?’
Looking at him, I wondered if Rick were playing another random role. There was no sense in asking him, of course, since whatever Rick said would be unreliable. The FBI stepping up their looking for my father?
‘Yeah,’ I said to Rick. ‘My dad’s here. But he’s trying to
‘Hey, man, sure! That’s great! Where’s he at?’
‘Can’t tell you, pal,’ I said, punching him playfully on the chest. ‘It’s a kind of test. My father wants to see who recognizes him first.’
‘Excellent!’
As Rick turned and rushed off in the opposite direction, I continued on until I’d come to the small recently-built house of Michael Way. It was at the end of a street of the usual old renovated miners’ houses – two-storey clapboard affairs with all the charm of shoeboxes. Way’s house was a modern one-storey ranch house with a lot of glass.
There was no sign of life. No one there? I suddenly realized I didn’t really want to find out. After a few seconds I turned around to walk back towards the centre of town. It was time to talk to Jake about the airfield and doors in the mountain.
When I located him in a large meeting room of the church, Master Ecstein was busy teaching three youngsters dice proverbs. The kids looked barely eligible for kindergarten.
‘You’ve been playing games with me,’ I said, ignoring the fact that I was interrupting.