I looked at Arlene. She, naked, was chewing the ice from my boots. She held the boot with two hands and bit and chewed carefully.
She looked up at me, the fur of the boot in her mouth.
"Continue your work," I told her.
She continued to free the fur of the tiny bits of ice, biting and chewing. How marvelous are the mouths of women, so delicate, with their small teeth, their sweet lips, their soft, warm tongues. When she had broken the ice from a place on the boot, she would place her mouth over that place, breathing upon it, softening and melting the residue of ice there. Then, with her tongue, she would lick the fur smooth.
When she had finished with both boots she placed them on the drying rack.
I sat in Imnak's hut, cross-legged. She returned to a place before me, and knelt.
It is pleasant to have a slave girl kneeling before you.
"May I have permission to speak, Master?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Why have you come north?" she asked.
"It pleases me," I said.
"Must I be content with that?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because it pleases me," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Spread the furs," I told her. "Your insolence requires discipline."
"Yes, Master," she said.