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Elena's own power emerges amidst amazing revelations.

We leave all that to the ladies."

"How long have parties like this been going?" asked Mark.

"For many years, Mark. You are probably far too young to remember the Profumo affair which happened in the early nineteen sixties . . ."

"I saw the film," chimed in Mark. "I remember the two girls involved were Christine Keeler and Mandy Rice-Davies. They swam naked before a grouop of men including some politicians."

"That's right. The parties started in a small way that long ago. Then they tended to be in large houses and only lasted a few hours. Our party is spread over many acres and lasts all day."

"I've heard there are some cfnm parties in America. Are they the opposite?"

"Well . . . I've heard a few rumours about them but I believe they are quite small affairs. I think they are mainly a gaggle of feminists who manage to persuade some lap-dog type men to wait on them in the nude. I don't think you can compare them with what we do here."

"So the men at Patriarch Palace Party dominate all the women all the time."

"Absolutely."

"Sounds a great idea! You must have a wonderful capacity for organization uncle Max."

"Thank you Mark. So will you help me?"

Mark was enthusiastic. "Definitely. But how can I help?"

"Well, this pile on my right I've already sorted. They are the women who have been before and have perfomed well, so I'm going to allow them to attend the next party." He then picked up the pile of papers on his left. "But this lot are new and there are far too many applicants so I have to find a reason for refusing most of them."

Mark joined his uncle on the other side of the desk and looked at the papers. "Are those photographs of the applicants?"

"That's right. We insist on seeing their photographs. Some send in several. I have a small committee who then help me to interview all the successful applicants and they are asked why they want to attend. The rules and conditions are fully explained to them so that they know they must be subservient to our male guests and must accede to their slightest demand without question. I have to make sure they measure up to our requirements. Failure to comply in even the slightest degree means immediate dismissal from the place, and, if they are waitresses, they go without payment. We want naturally feminine and compliant women. We don't want any with boob jobs, dyed hair or hair pieces. We want women without any augmentation. If they do suit us I photograph them nude and they are put on the list to be invited. Only about one in ten is selected. I then write to all the others to tell them that they've been rejected."

"Wow! Uncle Max. So you have a sort of private strip show?"

"I suppose I do," he returned with a laugh. "But what I'd like you to do is have a look at the photographs and say which of them you like the look of. In return for your help I'll give you an invitation to the party."

"Count me in! This will be a pleasure." He pulled up a chair close to his uncle as he selected the papers and photograph of the first applicant.

Slowly, one by one they went through the pile sorting them into a "yes" pile and a "no" pile. Mark thoroghly enjoyed the process, especially as some women had sent in nude photographs.

Suddenly he sat bolt upright with a cry, "What?" He grabbed the photograph from his uncle's hand. "Yes! Yes, it's her. I know her."

"Oh, who is she?"

"She's a third year student in my art section, Alison Beck."

"Oh. What's she like?"

"She's a right pain in the butt."

"Right! I'll put her in the 'no' pile then."

"Good idea," said Mark with enthusiasm. "She's always throwing her weight about with those of us in the first year. She wanders around in a variety of tacky outfits looking for someone to be unpleasnt to - generally men. Being in the third year gives her a false sense of power. She's one of those feminist women who, in years to come, will describe herself as a 'forceful personality'."

Uncle Max was looking at the application form.

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