Nicole Duval - The breeders

The hand-wrought iron sign which hung over the heavy carved wooden doors of the main gate read: ROYAL BENSON KENNELS. But to those who recognized quality, it said 'expensive'.

Carolyn Vance pressed the call button and listened expectantly for the harsh ring of a bell somewhere within the grounds. There was no sound. Perhaps the bell was out of order, or perhaps the buildings were soundproofed. For a large commercial kennel, it was surprisingly silent behind those high walls. No dogs had barked at her approach. There seemed to be no sound at all beyond the high-walled grounds. That was odd, she thought.

Then the faint static of an intercom called her attention to the intricate iron grillwork just above the call button.

"Royal Benson Kennels. May we be of service?"

The voice was definitely male, but veloured by good breeding and years of servitude, like an unobtrusive English butler.

"Yes," Carol answered in the general direction of the soft static sounds. "I'd like to see Mr. Benson please."

"Mr. Benson sees no one after working hours without an appointment. I'm sorry. Would you care to telephone for an appointment tomorrow?" the illusive voice said. "You will find a rack of business cards by the bell, the telephone number is located in the lower right hand corner. Please telephone at your convenience."

Carolyn raised an eyebrow. My, aren't we exclusive, she thought.

"I do have an appointment with Mr. Benson," she said politely, "a 7:00 o'clock appointment and it's just 7:00 now."

"One moment, please," the phantom voice purred.

Carolyn sighed gently. It was such a relief to find a job after such a long time. She was tired. It had been a long walk in high heels from the nearest bus stop, especially carrying a suitcase full of clothes, but she had walked rather than spend her few remaining dollar bills on taxi fare. She leaned against the high wall with its cornice of black iron spearheads. Attractive she thought, sort of 'old worldish' and elegant though rather dangerous if one of the dogs, or anyone else, were to try to go over the high wall.

Carolyn looked hopefully at the intercom and wished they would hurry. Her feet hurt and she wanted nothing more at this moment to get the formalities over and be shown to the room which was to be hers while she was employed by Royal Benson Kennels. Shouldn't be impatient, she scolded herself, just be darned grateful you got the job. It sounded like a marvelous opportunity to her when she first read the newspaper advertisement.

WANTED: Attractive kennel girl, must be single and unattached, 20 to 25 yrs. Experience unnecessary, will receive specialized training. Room and board, plus $300 a month. Box 792 N.Y. Times.

Mr. Benson had been very sympathetic when he learned that she had lost her family several years ago and that she was alone and friendless. New York could be a very lonely place without friends, Mr. Benson agreed. No boyfriends? No neighbors to be concerned if she were to suddenly pick up and move? Yes, Mr. Benson had understood how hard it was for a newcomer to break into the cold aloofness of a busy city's social life. He sympathized and Carolyn was sure his kindly sympathy was responsible for her getting the job. It must have been that, for he had turned down experienced trainers to accept a shy young girl from out of town with no training, no money, no family and no where to go. She wished he had explained more about her duties and what would be expected of her. She asked about that, twice as a matter of fact, but he had been so concerned about her unfortunate lack of friends that she was sure whatever was expected of her, Mr. Benson would be patient and helpful. Just then the intercom crackled to life.

"Mr. Benson will see you now." The voice purred once more. "Press the gate handle as the buzzer sounds."

Carolyn smiled thankfully at the anonymous voice behind its iron grill. She wiggled her tired ankles and waited for the buzz that would open the gates and bring her that much closer to her new job. There was a soft whir and she pressed down on the heavy black latch and the great door swung silently inward. She closed the gate behind her, hearing its lock click softly in place.

It was a pleasant waiting area a small inner patio of pebble-faced concrete squares, neat redwood benches and flat wok bowls with exotic plants in them. Across the small patio was a second door with the same heavy black latch as the outside gate. She heard the familiar whir of the electric lock release and hastened to open the door while she could. It, too, clicked shut and locked behind her. Mr. Benson's dogs must be very expensive to justify such caution and such lovely decor! She looked about the waiting room with its myriad of Great Dane photos and locked glass displays of trophies, ribbons and cups. "Royal Benson's King Lear," a magnificent animal, the black mask markings cleanly defined against his light fawn coat. "Royal Benson's Dominoe Doll," a lovely harlequin female with perfect conformation. "Royal Benson's Goliath," a huge animal with massive breadth of chest and good jaw. Carolyn was impressed. She knew nothing of Great Danes and their intricate conformation but anyone could recognize the magnificence of such fine animals. She hoped she would be working directly with these lovely show dogs.

A door opened quietly behind her and she turned to meet the smiling face of Jason Benson.

"Welcome, my dear," his deep clipped tones boomed across the small room, "welcome to Royal Benson Kennels."

"Thank you, Mr. Benson," she smiled at the older man. "And thank you for giving me the job."

He smiled at the petite girl who stood anxiously before him, a small purse clutched in one hand, a suitcase in the other. Yes, she would do nicely a small narrow body, attractive to look at, long legs, well defined breasts which showed their nipple points erect and proud beneath the blue cotton of her dress. She would do. He smiled.

"You must be tired. Here, let me take that." He reached for her suitcase. "Come, I'll show you to your room and then we'll have a quick cup of tea something stronger if you prefer and then you may retire. We want you to be fresh and full of energy here at Royal Benson."

Carolyn smiled gratefully and followed Jason Benson through the door and down the wide hallway to her room. He unlocked the door at the end of the hall and nodded for her to enter. It was a large airy room spotted with thick padded chairs and an end table with a variety of magazines neatly laid out in order. Carolyn walked past the table and looked out the window. Here were the dogs she had wondered about some twelve or fifteen runs with chain link fencing between, each with a door leading inside the main house and a second door opening into the concrete area in the center. It was like looking down into a tiny gladiator's arena, with its huge muscled canine contenders pacing back and forth in their cells. Realizing her employer was standing at her side watching, she felt she should say something about the many dogs below.

"Is that where the dogs are exercised?" she asked, "In the concrete area below?"

"No, my dogs are exercised in another area of the building." He smiled at her as if he knew a secret no one else knew. Yet. "But that's for tomorrow. I shall tell you all about Royal Benson Kennels tomorrow."

He lifted her suitcase and laid it conveniently on the bed for her. "Have you eaten, my dear?" He asked. "Yes, thank you."

"Fine. That's fine. I shall leave you to your unpacking and perhaps you'd like a refreshing shower." He looked at his wristwatch. "It's a little after 7:00. Suppose I bring you something warm and soothing to drink about 8:00. It will help you sleep soundly. What would you prefer? Tea, cocoa, or a glass of sherry, perhaps?"