“What’s your name, kitten?”
“May it please them, this one’s name is of such little importance that whatever they please to call it will be a boon.”
“Cut it, cut it! Use equals speech.”
“I don’t really have a name, sir. Mostly they just say, ‘Hey, you.’”
“All right, I’ll call you ‘Kitten.’ Does that suit you? You look like a kitten.”
She dimpled. “Yes, sir. It’s ever so much nicer than ‘Hey, you.’”
“All right, your name is ‘Kitten.’ Tell everybody and don’t answer to ‘Hey, you.’ Tell them that is official because the Chief Researcher says so and if anybody doubts it, tell them to check with the Chief Domestic. If they dare.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Kitten, Kitten, Kitten,” she repeated as if memorizing it, then giggled. “Pretty!”
“Good. Is that my breakfast?”
“Yes, sir.”
He ate in bed, offering her bits, and discovered that she expected to be fed, or at least allowed to eat. There was enough for four; between them they ate enough for three. Then he learned that she expected to assist him in the bathroom; he put a stop to that.
Later, ready to go to his assigned duties, he said to her, “What do you do now?”
“I go back to sluts’ quarters, sir, as soon as you release me. I come back at bedtime-whatever time you say.”
He was about to tell her that she was charming and that he almost regretted passing .out the night before but that he did not require her services on future- He stopped. An idea had hit him. “Look. Do you know a tall slut named Barbara? Oh, this much taller than you are. She was adopted something over two weeks ago and she had babies, twin boys, about a week ago.”
“Oh, yes, sir. The savage.”
“That’s the one. Do you know where’ she is?”
“Oh, yes, sir. She’s still in lying-in quarters. I like to go in there and look at the babies.” She looked wistful. “It must be nice.”
“Uh, yes. Can you take a message to her?”
Kitten looked doubtful. “She might not understand. She’s a savage, she can’t talk very well.”
“Mmm- Damn. No, maybe it’s a help. Wait a moment.” His quarters were equipped with a desk; he went to it, got one of those extraordinary pens-they didn’t stain and didn’t wear out and appeared to be solid-found a piece of paper. Hastily he wrote a note, asking Barbara about herself and the twins, reporting his odd promotion, telling her that soon, somehow, he would see her-be patient, dear-and assuring her of his undying devotion.
He added a P.S. “The bearer of this note is ‘Kitten’-if the bearer is short, blond, busty, and about fourteen. She is my bedwarmer-which means nothing and you’ve got an evil mind, wench! I’m going to hang onto her because she is a way-the only way, it would appear-for me to communicate with you. I’ll try to write every day, I’ll darn well expect a note from you every day. If you can. And if anybody does anything you don’t like, tell me and I’ll send you his head on a platter. I think. Things are looking up. Plenty of paper and a pen herewith. Love, love, love-H.
“PPS-go easy on ‘Happiness.’ It’s habit-forming.”
He gave the girl the note and writing materials. “You know the Chief Domestic by sight?”
“Oh, yes, sir. I’ve warmed his bed. Twice.”
“Really? I’m amazed.”
“Why, sir?”
“Well, I didn’t think he would be interested.”
“You mean because he’s tempered? Oh, but several of the executives like to have a bedwarmer anyhow. I like it better than being sent upstairs; it’s less trouble and you get lots more sleep. The ‘Chief Domestic doesn’t usually send for a bedwarmer, though-it’s just that he checks us and teaches us manners before we are allowed to serve upstairs.” She added, “You see, he knows all about it; he used to be a stud, you know.” She looked at Hugh with innocent curiosity. “Is it true what they say about you? May one ask?”
“Uh. . . one may not.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” She looked crushed. “I didn’t mean any harm.” She glanced fearfully at his whip, dropped her eyes.