"14 - Fighting Slave of Gor v2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norman John)

"But you are very beautiful, and very feminine," I said.

"I do not even believe in femininity," she said.

"Have you told it to your hormones," I asked, "so abundant and luxuriously rich in your beautiful little body?"

"I know I'm feminine," she said, suddenly. "I cannot help myself. I simply cannot help it. You must believe that. I know it is wrong and despicable, but I cannot help it. I am so ashamed. I want to be a true woman, but I am too weak, too feminine."

"It is not wrong to be yourself," I said.

"Too," she said, "I'm frightened. Last summer I did not even take a pleasure cruise in the Carribean."

"You feared the famed Bermuda Triangle?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "I did not want to disappear. I did not want to be taken away, to be made a slave girl on another planet."

"Thousands of planes and ships, year in and year out, safely traverse the Bermuda Triangle," I said.

"I know," she said.

"You see, you are being silly," I said.

"Yes," she said. Then she asked me, "Have you ever heard of the planet Gor?"

"Certainly," I said, "it is a reasonably well-known fictional world." I laughed, suddenly. "The Bermuda Triangle and Gor," I said, "have, as far as I know, absolutely nothing to do with one another." I smiled at her. "If the slavers of Gor have decided to take you, my dear," I said, "they certainly will not sit about waiting for you to take a trip to the Carribean."

I looked at her carefully. She was beautiful. I wondered, if there were Gorean slavers, if she might indeed not be the sort of woman they regard as suitable for their chains. Then again I tensed myself, scarcely daring to move. The thought of the lovely Miss Henderson as a helpless Gorean slave girl, at the mercy of a man, so aroused my passion that I could scarcely dare to breathe. I held myself perfectly still.

"You are right," she said. "Gor and the Bermuda Triangle have presumably nothing to do with one another."

"I think not," I said.

"You are comforting, Jason," she said, gratefully.

"Besides," I smiled, "if the slavers swoop down and carry you off, perhaps you will eventually, sometime, find a master who will be kind to you."

"Gorean men," she said, shuddering, "are strict with their slaves."

"So I have heard," I said.

"I am afraid," she said.

"It is silly," I said. "Do not be afraid."

"Do you believe Gor exists?" she asked.

"Of course not," I said. "It is an interesting fictional creation. No one believes it truly exists."

"I have done some research," she said. "There are too many things, too much that is unexplained. I think a pattern is forming. Could it not be that the Gorean books are, in effect, a way of preparing the Earth and its peoples for the revelation of the true existence of a Counter-Earth, should it sometime be expedient to make its presence known?"