Fic: Rainbow's Freedom (Shadow Of The Bat Arc) (11/35) (Part 2)
Title: Rainbow’s Freedom (Shadow Of The Bat Arc) (11/35) (Part 2)
Author: BradyGirl
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Clark/Bruce, Hal/Steve, Elias Stark, Dax Mantell, Harvey Dent, Lex Luthor, Ollie Queen
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. The wealthy freeman Bruce Wayne acquires a highly-prized pleasure slave whom has fallen in love with him…but can the Prince of Gotham ever return that love? And will it all be moot as a weak abolitionist movement slowly gathers strength while the Galactic Empire remains in a perpetual state of Cold War? The entire series can be found here.
Categories: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Master/slave dynamics dominate the second day and evening of Halloween Week.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): April 28, 2007
Date Of Posting: September 11, 2007
Disclaimer: I don’t own 'em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1905 + 2282 (Total: 4187)
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
“Is there anything more pathetic or ridiculous
than a Master falling in love with his slave?”
Professor Reed Martin
“The Master/Slave Dynamic”
2246 C.E.
XI
MARBLE HEARTS
Steve and Hal entered the Gotham Art Museum, the quiet a stark contrast to the noisy revelry outside. Their footsteps echoed on the polished floor, marble columns gleaming under the vaulted ceiling. An ancient Greek mosaic was roped off, occupying the center of the marble floor. The ceiling sported a Renaissance fresco and several Victorian-era circus posters were framed on the walls, advertising a planned exhibit in the spring.
The current exhibit was advertised on a free-standing sign. Amazons In Chains was emblazoned in red on a blue background. Hal picked up a catalogue and flipped through it. “They have paintings, sculpture, and photographs. Should be interesting.”
Steve picked up a catalogue, too. He frowned as he perused it. “Looks like all contemporary studies.”
“Well, I told you. They’re not about to emphasize the Amazons’ Warrior past. They want people to see them as slaves.”
The men started walking down the corridor toward the exhibit.
“Yes, the Government’s made sure they turned Paradise Island into a brothel for the idle rich and high-ranking brass.”
“Yeah.”
They entered the first room of the exhibit, quickly becoming immersed in the paintings and sculpture.
“Not all contemporary after all,” Steve said. “They range from 1863 to the present.”
“Figures, as 1863 is the year they were conquered.”
“Weird to think they’re immortal.”
“If I was a slave, I wouldn’t be too keen on being an immortal.”
“Hmm, point taken.”
They moved on to the next sculpture, a full-length marble of a regal woman, her dignity belying her nudity and chains. Steve frowned. “That pose of hers is familiar.” He checked the catalogue. “Ah ha! It’s the same pose as the Hiram Powers’ statue, ‘The Greek Slave’.”
Hal frowned, then his eyes brightened. “That was a statue that caused quite a fuss during the Victorian era, right?”
Steve nodded. “The statue’s nudity was unusual in the way that the Victorians accepted it. They considered it ‘pure’ and ‘innocent’, and it went on exhibit all across the country with many copies being made. Of course, that was the official story.”
“Yeah, a nude young girl in chains must have been of prurient interest.”
“Well, the pornography industry in Victorian America was pretty widespread. They were the masters of hypocrisy, and the sexual side of life was the most hidden and hypocritical of all.”
Hal studied the statue. “This isn’t some young innocent.”
Steve consulted the catalogue again. “You’re right. It’s Queen Hippolyta.”
“It’s a beautiful statue.”
Steve agreed. As Hal continued to study the statue, Steve moved on to paintings, then stopped at another statue.
This slave was kneeling, wrists chained behind her back, her nude body in profile, head turned, hair obscuring part of her face by falling softly over one eye.
Steve felt a strange lightheadedness. He took a step closer, a frown creasing his brow.
The woman’s face.
The sculptor was very talented. Despite the marble, one could almost see the skin tones of the woman. The curve of hip and breast looked warm, not stone-cold.
The face was haunting. A nobility shone through despite the collar and bracelets. He half-expected to see sullenness, but the eyes reflected a calmness that almost suggested serenity. No shame, no contempt, perhaps a touch of anger?
Steve studied the face for a long time.
“Steve?”
Steve jumped. “Oh, sorry, Hal.”
“She’s beautiful woman” Hal tilted his head. “Something about her…”
“I know.”
“Says here she’s the daughter of the Queen.”
“The Queen?”
“Yeah. Her name’s Diana.”
“The name fits,” Steve said almost dreamily.
“Hey.” Hal touched his arm. “We’ve got more to see.”
Steve reluctantly allowed Hal to lead him away.
The next room featured photographs. Hal read off the different time periods: Civil War, Gilded Age, Edwardian, the Great Depression, World War II, the Korean War, the New Frontier…the Amazons remained the same, immortal and unchanging, yet enslaved for hundreds of years, and for hundreds of years to come…
Steve found the Princess in a photograph. She was clothed in a Greek-style dress, the gauzy material offering tantalizing glimpses of her body, which Steve appreciated, but once again he was drawn to her face.
A slight smile curved her lips, an almost kittenish quality about her that disturbed Steve.
It’s almost as if she’s posing as a whore in defiance.
It was an odd thought and probably totally off-base, but the statue and photograph had a haunting quality to them.
“Can’t believe they’ve been conquered for so long,” Hal murmured.
Steve had been so absorbed by the photograph that he hadn’t heard Hal walk up beside him.
“1863 was a long time ago.”
“Right.” Hal softly rattled off the facts, his hands loosely clasped behind his back. “Confederate Admiral Matthew Stark and his men ran ashore on Paradise Island. The Amazons insisted that they stay aboard, because men were forbidden to set foot on the island. They laid out a carpet and Stark used it to meet the Queen.
“He learned about the Bracelets of Submission, their interest in the American Civil War, and how they supported the North.”
“If the Bracelets…” Steve looked at the cold metal encircling the Princess’ wrists “…are linked together, the Amazons lose their strength.”
Hal nodded. “Stark managed to bind Hippolyta, his men swarmed from their ship, and…”
Steve felt queasy as he could only imagine what the Amazons had suffered during the conquering rampage. He became aware of Hal’s hand on his shoulder.
& & & & & &
An hour later, as they were leaving the museum, Steve paused in the lobby and looked at the various pamphlets advertising upcoming exhibits, tourist attractions, and conferences. One in particular intrigued him and he scooped it up, hurrying to catch up to Hal.
& & & & & &
With Hal and Steve in town and Lex in the study on a business call, Ollie and Bruce were alone in the library enjoying drinks.
“Interesting meeting today,” Ollie said.
“Very.” Bruce sipped his iced tea. He would take a glass of wine at dinner but had to keep a clear head for his nocturnal activities. “At least there aren’t any more skirmishes on the Rim.”
“You know the Cold War way of things, Bruce. There will always be incidents somewhere, hit-and-runs, and then the little wars that threaten to become big and hot wars.”
“Like the Virillian War four years ago?”
Ollie nodded. “A brush fire, except for the people caught up in it. Our forces did well. Hal and Steve were decorated for their heroism as young hotshot pilots fresh out of the Academy.”
Bruce smiled, then he glanced toward the painting of his parents. Ollie understood that pain. He raised a glass. Bruce stood still for a moment, then raised his glass, too.
After they drank, Ollie said, “Quite a legacy they left.”
“Yes.”
“It’s hard to live up to at times.”
Bruce knew that Ollie understood. “Yes.”
They were both contemplative for a few moments, then Ollie smiled. “I think that doing you a favor in obtaining Melody has brightened my Household. I’m going to have her start academic lessons next week.”
“How much does she know?”
“Not too much. It’ll practically be from Square One as to reading and writing. She’s a bright little thing.”
“I’m glad. Clark was delighted to learn that she’s residing at Queensland.”
“Excellent. And speaking of Clark…” they sat down on the couch, Bruce refilling their glasses from the pitcher on the silver tray that Alfred had provided “…he obviously has education as he serves as your secretary. Lex and I were impressed by the report he’d written for our last Gov meeting. My notes were hardly as well-organized as his. He’s got a flair for writing.”
Pride shone in Bruce’s eyes. “He does.”
“I know he can get muzzy due to his illness, but there’s a sharp intelligence there, Bruce.”
“I know. Clark and I discuss books we’ve read, articles in the print and e-papers, all sorts of things.”
Ollie was pleased that hid old friend had found an intellectual companion in the alluring form of his pleasure slave. “You’ve got it all in one package.”
Bruce laughed softly and sipped his tea. “I can agree with that wholeheartedly.”
Ollie laughed, too. “Well, his primary role’s attributes are obvious, but he seems like a good, gentle person.”
“That’s accurate.”
“I wonder if his shyness is because of his status or is natural to him?”
“I’d say natural to some extent, though as you say, the manacles can cloak a slave’s real personality. Still there’s a goodness to Clark that would be there, free or not.”
Ollie felt uneasy. That goodness made Clark vulnerable in an oft-cruel world.
He leaned back. “I must say, Bruce, Halloween in Gotham is very intriguing. Your city seems to attract…interesting…people.”
Bruce laughed. “Yes, like the Abolitionist convention last week.”
“Exactly.” Ollie’s eyes sparkled. “Did you attend?”
Bruce snorted. “Only in disguise.”
“Well, they’re not all flakes. Your cousin Kathy is involved, isn’t she?”
Bruce nodded. “She’s the state chapter head.”
Ollie glanced at the painting. “Your parents weren’t slave-huggers, but didn’t they make a change from slaves to free help except for Alfred?”
“Yes.” Bruce stared down at his drink. “Ollie, can I rely on your discretion?”
“Always, Bruce.”
Bruce looked up, a small smile on his face. “Thank you.” He let out a small sigh. “My father owned a pleasure slave, a beautiful young man named Jeremy. My mother had one as well, a lovely young woman. Anyway, my parents had an argument one night. I was six at the time. I heard loud voices but couldn’t make out the words.
“Soon after my parents sold off the slaves except for Alfred, including their pleasure slaves. They never owned bedslaves again.” Bruce looked directly at Ollie. “When I grew older…after they were gone...I’d heard whispers in Society that my father…had fallen in love with Jeremy.”
Ollie’s stomach fluttered. He had heard the rumors years ago, but they were generally regarded as false. Now it appeared that they might be true.
“So you think that was the reason behind their change from slaves to freemen?”
Bruce rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know. Mom had always been interested in the work of the Abolitionists. Maybe Dad falling in love with his slave gave her the perfect opportunity to implement changes she was already considering. Maybe she did it out of revenge. Then again, maybe the rumors were just rumors and Mom and Dad changed their domestic policy purely out of principle.” Bruce took a long draught of his iced tea. “I really don’t know.”
Ollie felt uneasy again. Masters falling in love with their slaves was a problem. It was one thing for a slave to fall in love with a Master, but the other way around…
A Master could be kind, considerate, even affectionate toward a slave. Love? Perhaps one could say, “I love my dedicated, loyal slave to pieces,” but saying one was in love with a slave meant loss of status, ridicule, and other social disasters. The higher the social status, the greater the fall.
If Thomas had been guilty, Martha Wayne would have been furious with her husband because while pleasure slaves were allowed to married couples (in fact, it was practically required at that social level), Thomas falling in love with his slave humiliated her and tarnished the Wayne name.
“’Falling in love with a slave…”
“…is like falling in love with a piece of furniture’, I know,” Bruce completed the old saying.
Ollie carefully looked for signs that Bruce had fallen in love with Clark. He was certainly protective of and affectionate toward the beautiful young man gracing his bed, but that didn’t mean there was romance involved. Ollie hoped that was the case. It would not be an easy path for his friend otherwise.
& & & & & &
Ollie grinned as he gave Dinah a kiss, then rose from their bed. He pulled on a green robe, his lips still curved in a smile, then it faded as he asked, “Pretty Bird, how much do you know about the old gossip on the Waynes?”
“Old gossip?” Dinah frowned, then she asked, “You mean…about Thomas Wayne and his slave?”
“Yeah.” Ollie turned to look at his lady, her dark hair spilling over her breasts.
“The speculation is that he fell in love with his bedslave.” Ollie winced. “Yes, I know.” Dinah sat up. “But no one ever knows for sure. The Waynes did get rid of all their slaves except Alfred. Still, the family has had a history of abolitionist leanings. I mean, Bruce’s cousin Kathy Kane is prominent in the movement.” Dinah frowned. “Do you think that Bruce might be…in love…with his bedslave?”
Ollie shrugged. “Who knows?”
“Let’s hope not. That wouldn’t be easy.”
“No kidding…” A small knock on the door made Ollie smile. “Come in, Little Pretty.” Dinah slipped on her robe.
Melody came in, carrying a breakfast tray, a huge smile on her face. Ollie ruffled her hair as Dinah took the tray.
& & & & & &
Bruce smiled as if reading his friend’s mind. “Don’t worry, I’m not that far gone yet.”
Ollie relaxed. “Still, beauty and intelligence isn’t bad in one delicious package, eh?” He winked.
Bruce laughed. “Yes, I’m pretty lucky.”
As if on cue Clark appeared. “Master, do you require anything else?”
Bruce’s eyes glittered. “No, not right now.” After Clark nodded and left, Bruce said softly, “Not until tonight, my Prize.”
& & & & & &
A bio of Hiram Powers and a picture of The Greek Slave can be found here: pihttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hiram_Powers
Victorian dichotomy: http://www.assumption.edu/whw/IconsFemale/TheGreekSlave.html
Author: BradyGirl
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Clark/Bruce, Hal/Steve, Elias Stark, Dax Mantell, Harvey Dent, Lex Luthor, Ollie Queen
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. The wealthy freeman Bruce Wayne acquires a highly-prized pleasure slave whom has fallen in love with him…but can the Prince of Gotham ever return that love? And will it all be moot as a weak abolitionist movement slowly gathers strength while the Galactic Empire remains in a perpetual state of Cold War? The entire series can be found here.
Categories: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Master/slave dynamics dominate the second day and evening of Halloween Week.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): April 28, 2007
Date Of Posting: September 11, 2007
Disclaimer: I don’t own 'em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1905 + 2282 (Total: 4187)
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
“Is there anything more pathetic or ridiculous
than a Master falling in love with his slave?”
Professor Reed Martin
“The Master/Slave Dynamic”
2246 C.E.
XI
MARBLE HEARTS
Steve and Hal entered the Gotham Art Museum, the quiet a stark contrast to the noisy revelry outside. Their footsteps echoed on the polished floor, marble columns gleaming under the vaulted ceiling. An ancient Greek mosaic was roped off, occupying the center of the marble floor. The ceiling sported a Renaissance fresco and several Victorian-era circus posters were framed on the walls, advertising a planned exhibit in the spring.
The current exhibit was advertised on a free-standing sign. Amazons In Chains was emblazoned in red on a blue background. Hal picked up a catalogue and flipped through it. “They have paintings, sculpture, and photographs. Should be interesting.”
Steve picked up a catalogue, too. He frowned as he perused it. “Looks like all contemporary studies.”
“Well, I told you. They’re not about to emphasize the Amazons’ Warrior past. They want people to see them as slaves.”
The men started walking down the corridor toward the exhibit.
“Yes, the Government’s made sure they turned Paradise Island into a brothel for the idle rich and high-ranking brass.”
“Yeah.”
They entered the first room of the exhibit, quickly becoming immersed in the paintings and sculpture.
“Not all contemporary after all,” Steve said. “They range from 1863 to the present.”
“Figures, as 1863 is the year they were conquered.”
“Weird to think they’re immortal.”
“If I was a slave, I wouldn’t be too keen on being an immortal.”
“Hmm, point taken.”
They moved on to the next sculpture, a full-length marble of a regal woman, her dignity belying her nudity and chains. Steve frowned. “That pose of hers is familiar.” He checked the catalogue. “Ah ha! It’s the same pose as the Hiram Powers’ statue, ‘The Greek Slave’.”
Hal frowned, then his eyes brightened. “That was a statue that caused quite a fuss during the Victorian era, right?”
Steve nodded. “The statue’s nudity was unusual in the way that the Victorians accepted it. They considered it ‘pure’ and ‘innocent’, and it went on exhibit all across the country with many copies being made. Of course, that was the official story.”
“Yeah, a nude young girl in chains must have been of prurient interest.”
“Well, the pornography industry in Victorian America was pretty widespread. They were the masters of hypocrisy, and the sexual side of life was the most hidden and hypocritical of all.”
Hal studied the statue. “This isn’t some young innocent.”
Steve consulted the catalogue again. “You’re right. It’s Queen Hippolyta.”
“It’s a beautiful statue.”
Steve agreed. As Hal continued to study the statue, Steve moved on to paintings, then stopped at another statue.
This slave was kneeling, wrists chained behind her back, her nude body in profile, head turned, hair obscuring part of her face by falling softly over one eye.
Steve felt a strange lightheadedness. He took a step closer, a frown creasing his brow.
The woman’s face.
The sculptor was very talented. Despite the marble, one could almost see the skin tones of the woman. The curve of hip and breast looked warm, not stone-cold.
The face was haunting. A nobility shone through despite the collar and bracelets. He half-expected to see sullenness, but the eyes reflected a calmness that almost suggested serenity. No shame, no contempt, perhaps a touch of anger?
Steve studied the face for a long time.
“Steve?”
Steve jumped. “Oh, sorry, Hal.”
“She’s beautiful woman” Hal tilted his head. “Something about her…”
“I know.”
“Says here she’s the daughter of the Queen.”
“The Queen?”
“Yeah. Her name’s Diana.”
“The name fits,” Steve said almost dreamily.
“Hey.” Hal touched his arm. “We’ve got more to see.”
Steve reluctantly allowed Hal to lead him away.
The next room featured photographs. Hal read off the different time periods: Civil War, Gilded Age, Edwardian, the Great Depression, World War II, the Korean War, the New Frontier…the Amazons remained the same, immortal and unchanging, yet enslaved for hundreds of years, and for hundreds of years to come…
Steve found the Princess in a photograph. She was clothed in a Greek-style dress, the gauzy material offering tantalizing glimpses of her body, which Steve appreciated, but once again he was drawn to her face.
A slight smile curved her lips, an almost kittenish quality about her that disturbed Steve.
It’s almost as if she’s posing as a whore in defiance.
It was an odd thought and probably totally off-base, but the statue and photograph had a haunting quality to them.
“Can’t believe they’ve been conquered for so long,” Hal murmured.
Steve had been so absorbed by the photograph that he hadn’t heard Hal walk up beside him.
“1863 was a long time ago.”
“Right.” Hal softly rattled off the facts, his hands loosely clasped behind his back. “Confederate Admiral Matthew Stark and his men ran ashore on Paradise Island. The Amazons insisted that they stay aboard, because men were forbidden to set foot on the island. They laid out a carpet and Stark used it to meet the Queen.
“He learned about the Bracelets of Submission, their interest in the American Civil War, and how they supported the North.”
“If the Bracelets…” Steve looked at the cold metal encircling the Princess’ wrists “…are linked together, the Amazons lose their strength.”
Hal nodded. “Stark managed to bind Hippolyta, his men swarmed from their ship, and…”
Steve felt queasy as he could only imagine what the Amazons had suffered during the conquering rampage. He became aware of Hal’s hand on his shoulder.
& & & & & &
An hour later, as they were leaving the museum, Steve paused in the lobby and looked at the various pamphlets advertising upcoming exhibits, tourist attractions, and conferences. One in particular intrigued him and he scooped it up, hurrying to catch up to Hal.
& & & & & &
With Hal and Steve in town and Lex in the study on a business call, Ollie and Bruce were alone in the library enjoying drinks.
“Interesting meeting today,” Ollie said.
“Very.” Bruce sipped his iced tea. He would take a glass of wine at dinner but had to keep a clear head for his nocturnal activities. “At least there aren’t any more skirmishes on the Rim.”
“You know the Cold War way of things, Bruce. There will always be incidents somewhere, hit-and-runs, and then the little wars that threaten to become big and hot wars.”
“Like the Virillian War four years ago?”
Ollie nodded. “A brush fire, except for the people caught up in it. Our forces did well. Hal and Steve were decorated for their heroism as young hotshot pilots fresh out of the Academy.”
Bruce smiled, then he glanced toward the painting of his parents. Ollie understood that pain. He raised a glass. Bruce stood still for a moment, then raised his glass, too.
After they drank, Ollie said, “Quite a legacy they left.”
“Yes.”
“It’s hard to live up to at times.”
Bruce knew that Ollie understood. “Yes.”
They were both contemplative for a few moments, then Ollie smiled. “I think that doing you a favor in obtaining Melody has brightened my Household. I’m going to have her start academic lessons next week.”
“How much does she know?”
“Not too much. It’ll practically be from Square One as to reading and writing. She’s a bright little thing.”
“I’m glad. Clark was delighted to learn that she’s residing at Queensland.”
“Excellent. And speaking of Clark…” they sat down on the couch, Bruce refilling their glasses from the pitcher on the silver tray that Alfred had provided “…he obviously has education as he serves as your secretary. Lex and I were impressed by the report he’d written for our last Gov meeting. My notes were hardly as well-organized as his. He’s got a flair for writing.”
Pride shone in Bruce’s eyes. “He does.”
“I know he can get muzzy due to his illness, but there’s a sharp intelligence there, Bruce.”
“I know. Clark and I discuss books we’ve read, articles in the print and e-papers, all sorts of things.”
Ollie was pleased that hid old friend had found an intellectual companion in the alluring form of his pleasure slave. “You’ve got it all in one package.”
Bruce laughed softly and sipped his tea. “I can agree with that wholeheartedly.”
Ollie laughed, too. “Well, his primary role’s attributes are obvious, but he seems like a good, gentle person.”
“That’s accurate.”
“I wonder if his shyness is because of his status or is natural to him?”
“I’d say natural to some extent, though as you say, the manacles can cloak a slave’s real personality. Still there’s a goodness to Clark that would be there, free or not.”
Ollie felt uneasy. That goodness made Clark vulnerable in an oft-cruel world.
He leaned back. “I must say, Bruce, Halloween in Gotham is very intriguing. Your city seems to attract…interesting…people.”
Bruce laughed. “Yes, like the Abolitionist convention last week.”
“Exactly.” Ollie’s eyes sparkled. “Did you attend?”
Bruce snorted. “Only in disguise.”
“Well, they’re not all flakes. Your cousin Kathy is involved, isn’t she?”
Bruce nodded. “She’s the state chapter head.”
Ollie glanced at the painting. “Your parents weren’t slave-huggers, but didn’t they make a change from slaves to free help except for Alfred?”
“Yes.” Bruce stared down at his drink. “Ollie, can I rely on your discretion?”
“Always, Bruce.”
Bruce looked up, a small smile on his face. “Thank you.” He let out a small sigh. “My father owned a pleasure slave, a beautiful young man named Jeremy. My mother had one as well, a lovely young woman. Anyway, my parents had an argument one night. I was six at the time. I heard loud voices but couldn’t make out the words.
“Soon after my parents sold off the slaves except for Alfred, including their pleasure slaves. They never owned bedslaves again.” Bruce looked directly at Ollie. “When I grew older…after they were gone...I’d heard whispers in Society that my father…had fallen in love with Jeremy.”
Ollie’s stomach fluttered. He had heard the rumors years ago, but they were generally regarded as false. Now it appeared that they might be true.
“So you think that was the reason behind their change from slaves to freemen?”
Bruce rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know. Mom had always been interested in the work of the Abolitionists. Maybe Dad falling in love with his slave gave her the perfect opportunity to implement changes she was already considering. Maybe she did it out of revenge. Then again, maybe the rumors were just rumors and Mom and Dad changed their domestic policy purely out of principle.” Bruce took a long draught of his iced tea. “I really don’t know.”
Ollie felt uneasy again. Masters falling in love with their slaves was a problem. It was one thing for a slave to fall in love with a Master, but the other way around…
A Master could be kind, considerate, even affectionate toward a slave. Love? Perhaps one could say, “I love my dedicated, loyal slave to pieces,” but saying one was in love with a slave meant loss of status, ridicule, and other social disasters. The higher the social status, the greater the fall.
If Thomas had been guilty, Martha Wayne would have been furious with her husband because while pleasure slaves were allowed to married couples (in fact, it was practically required at that social level), Thomas falling in love with his slave humiliated her and tarnished the Wayne name.
“’Falling in love with a slave…”
“…is like falling in love with a piece of furniture’, I know,” Bruce completed the old saying.
Ollie carefully looked for signs that Bruce had fallen in love with Clark. He was certainly protective of and affectionate toward the beautiful young man gracing his bed, but that didn’t mean there was romance involved. Ollie hoped that was the case. It would not be an easy path for his friend otherwise.
& & & & & &
Ollie grinned as he gave Dinah a kiss, then rose from their bed. He pulled on a green robe, his lips still curved in a smile, then it faded as he asked, “Pretty Bird, how much do you know about the old gossip on the Waynes?”
“Old gossip?” Dinah frowned, then she asked, “You mean…about Thomas Wayne and his slave?”
“Yeah.” Ollie turned to look at his lady, her dark hair spilling over her breasts.
“The speculation is that he fell in love with his bedslave.” Ollie winced. “Yes, I know.” Dinah sat up. “But no one ever knows for sure. The Waynes did get rid of all their slaves except Alfred. Still, the family has had a history of abolitionist leanings. I mean, Bruce’s cousin Kathy Kane is prominent in the movement.” Dinah frowned. “Do you think that Bruce might be…in love…with his bedslave?”
Ollie shrugged. “Who knows?”
“Let’s hope not. That wouldn’t be easy.”
“No kidding…” A small knock on the door made Ollie smile. “Come in, Little Pretty.” Dinah slipped on her robe.
Melody came in, carrying a breakfast tray, a huge smile on her face. Ollie ruffled her hair as Dinah took the tray.
& & & & & &
Bruce smiled as if reading his friend’s mind. “Don’t worry, I’m not that far gone yet.”
Ollie relaxed. “Still, beauty and intelligence isn’t bad in one delicious package, eh?” He winked.
Bruce laughed. “Yes, I’m pretty lucky.”
As if on cue Clark appeared. “Master, do you require anything else?”
Bruce’s eyes glittered. “No, not right now.” After Clark nodded and left, Bruce said softly, “Not until tonight, my Prize.”
& & & & & &
A bio of Hiram Powers and a picture of The Greek Slave can be found here: pihttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hiram_Powers
Victorian dichotomy: http://www.assumption.edu/whw/IconsFemale/TheGreekSlave.html