The taxi pulled up at the end of the driveway.

"That's the place."

"Aren't you going to drive in?" Sara asked, curious at the behaviour of this British taxi driver.

"That's the place. You owe me five pounds twenty." He said in a surly voice.

Sara realised that she was not going to get anything more out of the man. She paid him, but did not give him a tip. She picked up her large bag and began walking up to the house. The driveway was far from straight and Sara felt a bit disgruntled as she went under the arch of rambling trees. Then she emerged into the gardens of the house. They were well kept, and it looked just how she imagined an English country house to appear. Her tiredness now forgotten, she was soon at the door. She could see why Professor Nash had resigned from her post in the US if this had been what had been waiting for her in England.

Sara rang the bell. She did not wait long before the door opened. The woman who opened it was clearly a maid, in an immaculate costume that seemed to glisten in the autumn sunshine. She stood smartly, her head bowed a little. "Please enter." She said. Sara did wonder at her costume, the white frills around the apron seemed to be classic, but the long boots she wore and their sharp heels seemed a little odd.

"Ah, there you are." A woman probably coming up to forty, with blonde hair showering from her head in braids, hurried up. She wore smooth black leather trousers, no doubt from a leading Italian fashion house. Sara noticed her cropped jacket was also leather, and so was the bustiere she wore beneath it. Her heels were possibly a touch too high. Then again Professor Nash must have inherited money with this place, and in Beverley Hills she would have seemed positively restrained in her wardrobe.

"Sara, Sara Brooke, I presume."

"Professor Nash, it was so great of you to let me come and visit."

"It was nothing. I may have stepped out of academia, but it doesn't mean I've lost interest in the subjects I researched entirely. Though don't call me Professor Nash, here I'm Eleanor, Lady Eleanor."

"Yes, of course, Lady Eleanor."

"Excellent. Come through, we'll have tea, or coffee if you prefer."

Sara looked around as if on a tourist trip as Lady Eleanor led her into a large sitting room. It was not crowded with ornaments as she expected to find in a stately home, instead the furniture was modern, dark shades contrasting with the cream of the walls and the white of the window frames.

"Take a seat." Lady Eleanor gestured to a midnight blue armchair, unlike the typical suite, the leather was polished and shiny, rather than matt. However, as Sara sat down she felt relaxed and comfortable.

In moments the maid appeared with the tea, as she set it down, Sara did ponder how practical her shiny boots and short maid's uniform was, but her attention was distracted by Lady Eleanor.

"We had better press on, I'm sure you have got a lot of questions."

"Erm, yes. Do you mind if I record our talks?"

"Certainly, it's good to get an accurate note of my words."

Sara admired Lady Eleanor's focus, no small talk, no discussion of the trip here. She pulled her pad, with her points to focus on, from her bag and set the mini-disc recorder running on the low table between them.

"Professor, before you stepped down, your work focused on the psychological and neurological effects of augmentation, breast enlargement and such like."

"Yes, that's correct. It's still an area which I am interested in. I do private research here."

"That's great to hear. You no longer publish though."

"No, my ideas are probably too controversial. I will hold on to my results until the world catches up with my thinking."

"Yes, I know what you mean." Sara laughed lightly, then continued. "The most controversial point you made before you stepped down was that women who undergo such augmentation feel that they lose control, that they become submissive to the person, well, not necessarily the surgeon, but the person who arranged for the surgery. Of course most women arrange their own..."

"But do they do it for themselves? Or do they do it for their husbands, their partners, for society?"

Sara hesitated, thinking for the moment. "Yes, that is a point, but I find it difficult to accept that a woman's personality would change, that she would become submissive. You called it the 'master syndrome', didn't you?"

"The Mistress Syndrome."

"Ah." Sara hesitated, uncertain what to say next.

"Have you ever had such augmentation yourself?" Lady Eleanor asked clearly running her eyes over Sara.

"No."

"So, you have no personal experience of what changes it might bring?"

"No, that is true."

"Well, who better to work with, someone who is both knowledgeable and sceptical?"

"A test case?"

"Call it that if you like, but you'd be working with me on the research. We would have two views of the same developments."

Sara laughed again, partly nervous at what Lady Eleanor's suggestions meant, partly excited to be invited to work with her.

"Though I might not be up to it, once the process was complete. Didn't you also say that the intelligence of such an augmented woman becomes less, as she feels herself becoming more of an object, or what was the word you used? More like a pet?"

"Well, she is petted. We alter our pets, cut their coats, dock their tails, neuter them. Surely that is what happens to the woman who is altered, but even more so. She yields to the changes and is rewarded by her owner for how she now appears. She is made more sexually alluring. She does not control what happens to her, she is remade the way her mistress wants."

"So if I went through such surgery I would find myself feeling like your pet?"

"What's wrong with that?" Lady Eleanor seemed to joke.

"It's only a possibility after all, that is what we would be testing." Sara conceded.

"I think it is more than a possibility, but why don't you see?"

Sara fell quiet, thinking through the implications. "Such things are reversible, and it would certainly make a great thesis. Who would fund it? I can't see the university paying for me to get my breasts enlarged."

"I have a small surgery here. I worked in the field for five years before turning to research. We could do all the work here, under controlled conditions."

"I don't know." Sara hesitated.

"You are serious about this research aren't you?" Lady Eleanor fixed her gaze on Sara, daring her to disagree. Then she spoke with a softer tone. "Well you know as well as anyone we can reverse any of the processes, that's if you wanted that after it's done."

"Yes, I suppose so. What sort of things are you thinking about?"

"Nothing too extreme. Plump out your lips, that's very easy, breast implants are a given, filling out your backside is popular these days too."

"Yes, it's becoming as popular as breast enlargement. There are a couple of other things, my nose could be a little more shapely, I've often thought."

"Yes, that's no problem. We could also taper your waist a little and a touch of liposuction will give us material to work with."

"Okay. When will we do this? I'm only over here for a month."

"Oh don't worry. We can handle it tomorrow. I'll just make some calls and double check my surgery."

"That gives me time to get the experiment log set up and start writing in my thoughts, feelings and so on. We'll need a 'before' and 'after' view."

"Certainly." Lady Eleanor said as she stood. "Well, I'll leave you to your tasks and will go and see to mine. I'll see you first thing tomorrow morning." She rang a small bell on the table. "I'll have Layla make up a room for you, get you some food too. You can stay here to recover. It'll be nice to have a guest staying, I have so few."

The maid appeared.

"Layla, can you have Sara shown to the Arabic bedroom?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"See you bright and early." Lady Eleanor smiled and Sara felt reassured.

Sara followed the maid, oblivious now to her clothes as her mind raced through her ideas for this research and thoughts of the research papers that would come from it.