“They’re coming for us.”

He set down the bags and noticed, behind Betty, a set of narrow railway tracks. A moment later a small tram came down the mountainside and stopped. It was something like a rollercoaster car with a canvas top to keep off sun or rain.

“Hop in,” she said.

He placed their bags in a luggage rack and got in beside her. She pressed a button, and the car started up the mountain. Stone looked back at the desert behind them; he reckoned they were at least four thousand feet above the desert floor now, and his ears were popping regularly.

The car leveled off and came to a stop beneath an awning; a young man in a polo shirt and Bermuda shorts stepped up and took their bags. “Welcome to Tiptop,” he said. “Please follow me.”

They walked up a short flight of steps and suddenly they were at the mountaintop. They were in a small lobby with windows that looked out over both sides of the mountain range, and the view was spectacular. Betty signed a registration card, and the young man took them out a rear door, past a large pool, and to a cottage just beyond.

“Lunch begins at noon,” he said, “and your program starts at one.”

Stone tipped him and he left them alone in the spacious and beautifully decorated cottage. There was a sitting room, a bedroom, a bath, and a wet bar. “Our program?” he asked.

“I told you,” she said, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him, “no questions. It’s nearly noon; we may as well have some lunch.” She took his hand and led him to a table at poolside. Half a dozen other couples were seated around the pool now, and two of them were naked.

“Well, I guess it’s warm enough,” Stone said, nodding toward them.

“Clothes are optional,” she replied. “I’ll be shedding mine when our program starts, and I won’t be putting them back on until dinnertime, if then. You can do whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Stone said. “I certainly don’t object to nudity where you’re concerned.”

“Order,” she said.

Stone had a delicious lobster salad, and they shared a bottle of very good chardonnay. “Don’t I get to ask you any questions about anything?”

“Not until we leave this place,” she said. “Until then, you are mine to command. Try to keep that in mind.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sipping his wine. He was relieved that Ippolito’s men were not sharing the table with them.

“Isn’t this a beautiful spot?” she asked.

“It certainly is. How do you know about it?”

“I’ve been here once before. It’s very private; the phone number is unlisted, and in order to get your first reservation, a former guest has to recommend you. It’s practically a club.”

“I like the clubhouse,” Stone said, looking around, “and I can’t wait to start the program.”

“Looks like we’re starting now,” Betty said, nodding toward an approaching young woman, who was wearing a short cotton robe.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Southard,” she said, “and to you, Mr. Smith. Your mud bath is ready.”

“Mud bath?” Stone repeated.

“Shut up and do as you’re told,” Betty said. “I apologize for Mr. Smith,” she said to the young woman. “He’s a New Yorker, and he’s experiencing culture shock.”

“That’s quite all right,” the woman replied. “He’s not our first New Yorker. They seem to loosen up after the mud bath.”

Stone stood up. “Do with me as you will,” he said.

24

T he young woman led them down a flagstone path rimmed with dense desert plantings for a hundred yards, then opened a high bamboo gate. They were outdoors, except for the bamboo screen through which they had entered, and a thatched roof that kept off the strong sun. Under the roof were two rectangular tubs, carved from stone and filled with steaming, bubbling mud.

“I’ll take your clothes,” the young woman said. “By the way, my name is Lisa.”

“How do you do, Lisa?” Stone said, stripping off his clothes and handing them to her. Betty did the same, and with Lisa’s help, they lowered themselves into the tubs.

Tags: Stuart Woods Stone Barrington Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net