L. Marie Adeline- S.E.C.R.E.T

“I wish he would stop buying me things. It’s too soon.”
“Nonsense!” she said. “Take it while you can.”
Back in the safe connes of my own apartment, I opened the card attached to the box.
Step Seven: Curiosity. How apt, I thought. Anna would pass with ying colors. Next, I
opened the velvet bag. Had she seen what was in it, she might have fainted.
The next day, just after sunset, the limo pulled into the U-shaped driveway and
deposited me directly in front of the Mansion. The previous time I had been here, the
limo had pulled into the side entrance. This time the car came to a full stop at the grand
front entrance. I had become accustomed to waiting for the driver to open the limo door
for me, something a girl from Michigan could never have imagined before, and again he
obliged. I stepped onto the cobblestones wearing the heels, which were, to my surprise,
quite comfortable. Perhaps because they had cost a small fortune. Looking up at the
house that night, I saw every room was ablaze with that same ocher glow, as though it
was waiting for me before it could come alive again. An Arctic chill nipped at my bare
ankles, and I was grateful for the full-length coat covering the rest of me.
I slowly ascended the wide marble stairs that lead to the front double doors, my
stomach lurching at the thought of what tonight’s fantasy would bring. I hoped that I
had attained enough fearlessness, trust and condence from the previous steps to really
go through with this one. Those were the qualities I’d need to muster, Matilda told me.
Plus, I needed something fullling and heady to push the nal thoughts of Pierre out of
my body, and Will out of my heart. I felt around in my pocket for the velvet bag. I had a
feeling I’d accomplish both tonight.
Two knocks and Claudette greeted me in the foyer like an old acquaintance, falling
short of the intimacy you’d use to meet a friend.
“I trust your ride here was comfortable?”
“It always is,” I said, looking around the imposing entrance, taking in its beautifully
curved staircase. I was grateful that the room was dim and warm, almost too warm, the
heat coming from the parlor to my left where I could see a roaring re. I noted the gold
balustrade and plush red carpet running up the middle of the steps. The black-and-white
oor tiles formed a spiral that culminated in a coat of arms inlaid in the center. The
design featured a willow tree shading three nude women, each with a dierent skin tone
—white, brown, black—under which were carved the words: Nihil judicii. Nihil limitis.
Nihil verecundiae.
“What does that mean?” I asked Claudette.
“Our motto: No judgments. No limits. No shame.”
“Right.”
“Did you bring it?” she asked.
She didn’t have to specify what “it” was. “Yes, I did.” I pulled the velvet bag out of my
pocket and handed it to her.
“It’s time,” she said, taking the bag from me and stepping behind me. I could hear her
open the drawstring. Seconds later, she was securing a black satin blindfold across my