'He likes variety, Helenna told her as the salon rendezvoused back with the fitting room.

The classic little black dress had never fallen out of style. And looking at the one the fitting room's apprentice sorceresses had conjured up for her, Araminta could see why. She felt randy just slipping into it — so Ozzie alone knew what effect it would have on any male that crossed her path. It clung disgracefully, yet allowed her breasts complete freedom of movement. She blushed the first time she walked in it. Somehow the high hem and silk-gloss microfabric sprayed on her legs made her calves and thighs slim down to that same nineteen-year-old ideal Helenna's spell had blessed her face with for the night.

Pre-dinner cocktails were served to the household and Likan's guests in the music room, which had claimed his office's lake view. Araminta walked in with her head held high, knowing just how great she looked. Likan's double take, and the smiles from the harem, Clemance's little bounce as she clapped her hands excitedly, were all the accolades she was simply due. It all helped buoy her confidence close to levels of arrogance. So when Likan introduced her to the Prime Minister and her husband, she was perfectly civil, and treated them as if they were almost her equal.

All the while as she made small talk and sampled weird-tasting canapes she kept wondering how Bovey would behave if he were here. He enjoyed his culture, and could be as snobbish about food and wine as anyone. But the company she mingled with; the world's powerful and wealthy, and a few merely famous — she just couldn't get away from the idea of how he'd turn his nose up at them.

Yet here I am, holding my own.

The evening did have a downside. The Prime Minister's husband, who she was seated next to at the dinner table, was fantastically boring. Thankfully, Eridal, one of Likan's older sons, sat on her other side. As smart and charming as Likan, he ran a finance house in Ludor; but he lacked that bullish determination which drove his father. She dutifully tried to not spend the whole evening chatting to him.

When it was all over, after the dining hall had descended to ground level so the guests could walk to their capsules, there was just Likan and eight of his harem left. The door contracted and the walls resumed their sparkle; everyone gave a spontaneous laugh of release which Araminta joined in wholeheartedly.

Likan gave her a congratulatory kiss. 'Damnit I'd forgotten how awful that dickhead was, he told her. 'I wanted to smack him one, and he wasn't even talking to me. Thanks for putting up with him.

Doors were opening into various bedrooms around the dining hall. The harem were vanishing through them. Out of all the women at the dinner, they were undeniably the most beautiful, most of them astonishingly so. Despite all Helenna's efforts, Araminta couldn't help but feel like the poor relation in their presence.

'Go and get ready, Likan told her. 'We'll be waiting.

He turned and left through a door into a small darkened room. Araminta stared after him for a moment, then summoned her own bedroom. That whole alpha male issuing orders thing just didn't do it for her. For one, he didn't have the charisma to pull it off, not with his dress sense and throwback physical appearance. On the other hand to have accomplished so much was darkly compelling. She grinned at her own inner argument. What the hell, at least Clemance will be fun.

'Dress me the way he'll enjoy, she told the waiting Helenna. A process which turned out to be more elaborate than she anticipated. For a start it involved Nifran again, who chided her about lack of proper exercise, and how he couldn't relax her enough. What he did with her legs was virtually sex in itself.

Helenna applied some fabulously scented oil which acted in conjunction with Nifran's pummelling to make her flesh glow.

'He's not into sadism or anything, is he? Araminta asked. These preparations were all very detailed. Her usual idea of getting ready for a hot night was wearing something a man could remove quickly.

'Not to worry, sweetie, he enjoys sex the way he enjoys his women; tasteful.

Pondering that, Araminta allowed Helenna to dress her. The white negligee was mostly straps, yet perversely managed to cover more of her body than the black dress. She checked herself out in the mirror. So his idea of tasteful is a Slut Princess? How very male.

Her bedroom whisked her away to Likan's boudoir — no other word for it. Vast bed in the middle, naughty-shaped furniture, low rose-gold lighting. Harem in attendance, and yes, dressed elegantly in silk and satin, with open gowns swirling, lounging on couches sipping champagne as they watched two of their number make love on the bed.

Araminta strolled in, trying not to appear too apprehensive. Likan greeted her, wearing a black robe. 'Champagne? he offered.

'Thank you. She took a crystal flute from Marakata, who gave her a detailed appraisal. There was something alarmingly erotic about the way the aloof woman seemed able to look right through the negligee.

'You two should kiss, Likan said.

Araminta pressed herself against the statuesque woman, enjoying the sensual touch. Marakata certainly knew how to kiss.

When they'd finished Araminta took a sip of the champagne as Likan took her hand and led her slowly over to the couch where Alsena was waiting. Araminta knelt down, and began the kiss.

As she went on to kiss all the other women as he instructed, Araminta decided the experience wasn't so much tasteful as formulaic. Likan had ritualized his lovemaking. Finally she kissed him. After that she was taken over to the bed. There was a specific way of kneeling he wanted her to assume, very sex kittenish. One of the harem helped arrange her hair decoratively over her shoulder.

Clemance removed Likan's gown. Araminta stared at his huge erection.

'I have a gift for you. 'Yes, she said emphatically. 'I see that. 'A program. 'Huh?

'A melange I've composed myself over several years. It allows you deeper access to your own mind, opening levels that verge on the subconscious in the way the old yogis achieved through meditation.

'Right, she said dubiously. Talk about killing the mood. He smiled fondly, and stroked her cheek. 'I use it myself to focus. It helps to clean your mind of extraneous thought. You can revert to the animal basics which form our core identity. His face came close to hers. 'There are no inhibitions to be had in such a state. Whatever you pursue is unashamedly pure. 'No inhibitions?

'Clarity is a helpful tool for business. But also for lovemaking. You can concentrate on the sensations of your body to the exclusion of anything else. It helps to amplify even the smallest nerve signal.

'You mean I can make a climax stronger? It sounded like an electronic version of the sex aerosols she and Bovey used.

'Yes. There are also adapted biofeedback routines which can influence your physical self. Once you determine the origin of your body's pleasure, you can repeat it. His voice became softer, tempting. 'As many times as you have the physical strength for. Her u-shadow told her he was offering the program. Suddenly, she was feeling very hot in the negligee. 'Scan it for infiltrators and trojans, she told her u-shadow as she held his level gaze.

'It's clean.

'Load and run. Through her exovision she watched the program expand into one of her lacunas. It had many similarities with a learning program, which she allowed to mushroom into her grey matter. Instinctive knowledge bubbled away in her mind.

'Don't be afraid, Likan said softly. 'I'll use it with you. It will make our first time spectacular.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Now she considered it, clearing her mind was a simple process; following the rising sleep cycles yet never accepting them. Her breathing steadied, and she grew aware of the body's rhythms, the flow of nervous energy. Heartbeat. Peripheral thoughts fell away, allowing her to centre herself in the boudoir, on the bed. Her awareness grew of the light touch of fabric against her skin. Tiny beads of perspiration clung to her. The sound of bubbles fizzing in the crystal flutes. Likan's breathing. She saw his arm move out, a finger beckon.