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The nearest thing to a first girl was Marcella, who did not care for me, and was the favorite of the kitchen master. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 8, Sentence #1424)

I was not Gorean. "Masters," he would say, smiling, "do not much mix in the squabbles of slaves". Had there been a "first girl," I might have assisted her in her tasks, done much of her work, flattered her, cultivated her, petitioned her, and so on, but there was no first girl. The nearest thing to a first girl was Marcella, who did not care for me, and was the favorite of the kitchen master. It was not much comfort to me that she might regard me as a rival; rather, it was a source of considerable apprehension. As you might suppose, girls are eager to escape the labors of the great kitchen, and make the most of their turns at serving the long tables, hoping to come to the attention of one or another of the guests. I, like the others, in such welcome opportunities to enter the eating hall, rare in my case, would hitch up my tunic, and be somewhat negligent in the adjustment of the disrobing loop. - (Conspirators of Gor)