In the Clear Daylight

The following morning Mary awoke in her own bed and realised that it had not been a dream. She had cleaned off the traces of sex along with her clown makeup, but every sensation was burned into her memory. Too bad Madame De Vere Carter had been timing them... Mary smiled wryly to herself. In her hour of passion she hadn't even asked the poor boy's name. Was she really so shallow as to only value someone for their body? The hostess hadn't told her... she had just given her a calling card and said with a little laugh that he had different aliases, but was working as her stud just then. Mary flipped over the card she had left on her bedside table and scanned over the list of aliases again. Randy, Romeo... what was this? An attempt to depersonalise that poor boy? She would never forget his gorgeous face, the feel of his warm caress or the taste of his lips... In order to settle her thoughts, Mary realised she would need to talk them over with a friend and knew exactly who it should be. Switching on her vidcom, she called her friend Alison, begging her to come over right away.

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Alison arrived a short while later. After a little small talk, Mary raised one of her friend's favourite topics - that of male rights in their matriarchal society.

"You would challenge the rules laid down about paternal rights?" Mary asked her friend.

Alison gave her a serious look; "As I have said Mary, a man is more than a walking stiff penis. Why shouldn't his decisions carry equal weight when deciding on the custody of his own child? His feelings matter too. But the matriarchy tells you otherwise."

Alison had a funny way of referring to this 'matriarchy' concept as if it were something sentient.

Mary flicked a strand of hair away from her eyes. "I'm glad you had such a loving relationship with your father. I never had one. My mother said she did not need a man in her life."

Alison made a scornful sound. "Pssh, the matriarchy encourages the single mother household structure because it breeds daughters who have a low opinion of men."

"I don't!" said Mary.

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"I know you don't dear. You'd never exploit boy or man."

Mary swallowed. She knew she would regret asking, but blurted out anyway; "If the man gave sex in exchange for money, shouldn't he have paternal rights...?" she bit her lip, but Alison answered readily enough:

"I would harbour grave doubts about the morality and the ethics of a lady who bought the services of a lad. Doesn't matter if it's for brief passion, or to give her a child. The proper way to have those things is to build a loving relationship with the right man. I know what goes on behind closed doors, but why people do that..." Alison shook her head.

Mary felt herself blush deeply and knew that she would never confide in her friend what she had done. "M - men and boys all have feelings, I know," she stammered. "I don't know... I mean, why people would forget that..."

Alison seized on the subject; "I couldn't agree more," she said, a solemn look in her grey eyes. "An example of sick misandry cropped up the other day - there were these awful harpies gloating about a case where a man broke into a shop and the proprietress, who was skilled in martial arts, beat him and then raped him. They spoke as though she were some kind of heroine and not a felon!"

Mary felt sick. "What! Was this true? It sounds sensationalistic." She rubbed her cheek and struggled to find words. "Are - are they mad?"

"I noticed they came up with strange leaps of logic on why she should not have been arrested," said Alison, shaking her head and causing her dark curls to bounce. "Someone said it was justified because once there were very primitive cultures in the world that were rigidly patriarchal and some of the men in that era did horrible things. I suppose she must have been crazy if she thought her reasoning made any sense."

"That's really sick," said Mary. "Live and let live, that's what I want. I don't know why it should be difficult."

"It's all part of the objectifying of men," said Alison, sounding like she was reciting a slogan. "A great example was when we were on the walk for the festival of the moon - it was just mum, dad and me. And some of the women wolf-whistled dad. And that's somehow acceptable, whereas it wouldn't be if another man did it. Try thinking outside the box. Think how things would seem if other men treated men the way some women do. What if a man had to sell his body to a man, how would he feel then?"

Mary shuddered at the thought, feeling queasy.

Mary was thoroughly unsettled by this discussion and she began to worry for her sexual partner of the previous night. Why had he had to sell his own body? Was he in some kind of trouble? She resolved that she should at least prove that she valued him as a person, not merely for his pretty looks and sexy body. To do that, she would have to become his friend first, that was certain and offer him her help with his situation. The only trouble was that she had no idea where he might go once his service to Madame De Vere Carter had finished. Her only chance would be to sneak into the De Vere mansion that very night. The bare idea made her feel faint, but suddenly she realised what she must do - she must do what had always given her confidence hitherto and assume her role of clown once more. Such a desperate clown persona required more work than the guise of Cutie the Clown. This time she plastered so much makeup onto her face that she could barely recognise herself, painted her mouth as red as blood and outlined her too-large eyes, so that the gaze of her reflection sent shivers down her spine. This night she would defy De Vere Carter and hold the young stud in her arms again, come what may.