The Collector

 That lunch-time she was in bed when I went down. She just looked over the bedclothes at me, she said she wanted just some soup and tea, which I brought, and left. It was more or less the same at supper. She wanted aspirins. She hardly ate anything. But that was the game she played once before. We didn't speak twenty words together all that day.

 The next day it was the same, she was in bed when I went in. She was awake though, because she was lying watching me.

 Well, I asked. She didn't answer, she just lay there.

 I said, if you think you take me in with all this lying in bed lark you're mistaken.

 That made her open her mouth.

 "You're not a human being. You're just a dirty little masturbating worm."

 I acted like I hadn't heard, I just went and got her breakfast. When I went to bring her her coffee, she said "Don't come near me!" Real poison in her voice.

 Supposing I just left you here, I said, teasing. What'd you do then?

 "If only I had the strength to kill you. I'd kill you. Like a scorpion. I will when I'm better. I'd never go to the police. Prison's too good for you. I'd come and kill you."

 I knew she was angry because her game wasn't working. I had the cold, I knew it wasn't much.

 You talk too much, I said. You forget who's boss. I could just forget you. Nobody'd know.

 She just shut her eyes at that.

 I left then, I went into Lewes and got the food. At lunch she seemed to be asleep when I said it was ready, but she made a sort of movement, so I left.

 At supper she was still in bed but sitting up and reading her Shakespeare I bought.

 I asked her if she was better. Sarcastic, of course.

 Well, she just went on reading, wouldn't answer, I nearly snatched the book away to teach her then, but I kept control. Half an hour later, after I had my own supper, I went back and she hadn't eaten and when I commented on that she hadn't, she said, "I feel sick. I think I've got the flu."

 However, she was stupid enough to say next, "What would you do if I needed a doctor?"

 Wait and see, I answered.

 "It hurts so when I cough."

 It's only a cold, I said.

 "It's _not_ a cold." She really shouted at me.

 Of course it's a cold, I said. And stop acting. I know your game.

 "I am _not_ acting."

 Oh, no. You never acted in your life, I said. Of course not.

 "Oh, God you're not a man, if only you were a man."

 Say that again, I said. I had had some more champagne with my supper, there was a shop I found in Lewes with half-bottles, so I was not in the mood for her silliness.

 "I said you are not a man."

 All right, I said. Get out of bed. Go on, get up. From now on I give the orders.

 I had had enough, most men would have had it long before. I went and pulled the bedclothes off her and got hold of her arm to pull her up and she started to fight, scratching at my face.

 I said, all right, I'm going to teach you a lesson.

 I had the cords in my pocket and after a bit of a struggle I got them on her and then the gag, it was her own fault if they were tight, I got her on a short rope tied to the bed and then I went and fetched the camera and flash equipment. She struggled of course, she shook her head, she looked daggers with her eyes, as they say, she even tried to go all soft, but I kept at her. I got her garments off and at first she wouldn't do as I said but in the end she lay and stood like I ordered (I refused to take if she did not co-operate). So I got my pictures. I took her till I had no more bulbs left.

 It was not my fault. How was I to know she was iller than she looked. She just looked like she had a cold.

 I got the pictures developed and printed that night. The best ones were with her face cut off. She didn't look much anyhow with the gag, of course. The best were when she stood in her high heels, from the back. The tied hands to the bed made what they call an interesting motif. I can say I was quite pleased with what I got.

 The next day she was up when I went in, in her housecoat, like she was waiting for me. What she did was very surprising, she took a step forward and went down on her knees at my feet. Like she was drunk. Her face was very flushed, I did see; she looked at me and she was crying and she had got herself up into a state.

 "I'm terribly ill. I've got pneumonia. Or pleurisy. You've got to get a doctor."

 I said, get up and go back to bed. Then I went to get her coffee.

 When I came back I said, you know you're not ill, if it was pneumonia you couldn't stand up even.

 "I can't breathe at nights. I've got a pain here, I have to lie on my left side. Please take my temperature. Look at it."

 Well I did and it was a 102 but I knew there were ways you could fake temperatures.

 "The air's stifling here."

 There's plenty of air, I said. It was her fault for having used that game before.