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opera house and had been the family box for as long as there had been a Metropolitan Opera House. It was known that Emily and Henry Stanton sat only in their own box at the Met. Had there been such a thing as a royal box and a crownedhead among the patrons, the entire opera world in America would have known where the throne was. Emily actually found Chantal’s invitation pushy. And pushy was another negative in the Emily Dean Stanton book of etiquette. It ranked even lower than a social gaffe.
    Everyone in the house seemed to be on the move, making ready to leave for the country. Emily and Elizabeth, the last to depart, remained only to check Lara’s appearance, and for Emily to give a directive: ‘Jamal is a good friend to the family. But a degree of respectful aloofness towards the mother – essential, Lara.’
    Lara, peeved to be made to dress hours before she was to go out, merely to pass muster before the two women, detached herself from their fussing. The two women could not agree about the wide, emerald green satin sash around Lara’s waist. They sanctioned everything else. Lara’s evening attire was a shocking-pink silk taffeta blouse with voluminous short puffed sleeves and a moderately low oval neckline. It showed off her lovely young shoulders and slender, graceful neck. Elegant and feminine, yet not in the least provocative, was their verdict. Provocation would emanate from within that night, but that lay beyond even Emily’s sharp eye. The cobalt blue taffeta skirt made the evening outfit both sophisticated and youthful, a rare achievement. Its combination of colours seemed stunningly pretty and right for a young woman to wear for any grand evening out. At last Emily gave in and sided with Elizabeth. The emerald green sash was indeed right, a stroke of genius. Monsieur St Laurent was an artist, Emily decided.
    With an inward sigh of relief, Lara thought, thank God for that. Earlier, when the two women had first arrived in her room, she had done a twirl for their inspection.She had been so pleased with herself for the way she looked, only to have her confidence momentarily shaken by their beady eyes and quibbling. Emily had removed the pearl-and-diamond choker from Lara’s neck, saying, ‘No, dear. Last night, for a private evening, but in public – well, I think not. A low profile, no jewels. Especially when one is first coming out. You must wear your own charm as if it were a jewel. That should suffice.’
    Lara detected a changed attitude towards her in her mother and sister. It had happened between yesterday, at the tennis courts, and today, here in her room. In their minds she was no longer a child. They were now treating her as a young adult. Lara accorded due credit to their perceptiveness. She was no longer a child. Willed consent to carnality removes childhood and adolescence at a stroke. Having sex for just a few hours with Sam did much more than end what she felt as her overprized virginity. More even than ease her sexual frustrations. It allowed her to open up as a woman. She felt free of that stifling state of not being one thing or another, free of the anxiety of adolescence. She felt able to go forward and explore her own self, her sexuality, be her own person. Explore without guilt or embarrassment her natural erotic needs. It was as if life were beginning for her, really beginning. Like Eve in the garden, until then, she had had only inklings of how divine freedom and being a woman could be.
    Lara had to swallow a smile when she thought how appalled her mother and sister would be if they knew their pet had been fucking madly for hours with Sam before daylight. That she had actually found a way to be happy without them pulling the strings. Was that mean? Well, maybe so, but it was satisfying. How devastated they would be to know that she had yielded her virginity without a wedding band, without their permission. Evenworse, how shocked they would be to know how much she enjoyed the