Call me Duchess

Everyone hates Sunday nights

After breakfast we head back home for an afternoon of work. I prepare dinner, he heads into his study. While I wait for the chicken to finish baking, I pop open a bottle of wine and grab my laptop from the office. I open and check my emails, and search for one in particular. I click on the message and with great anticipation I am relieved to know it was my Denise. Well...the Denise, that I wish to make mine.

Denise Mercer:

Hello, principal Timber. My name is Denise Mercer and I wish to meet with you in regard to my nephew. He's been struggling in math and the tutoring program isn't working, I'm hoping that we could discuss a new plan for him moving forward. I look forward to hearing back from you soon.

Regards, Denise

I smile reading this message. Her last name is just as adorable as her first. I finish my glass of wine, and suddenly feel regret. She isn't supposed to contact me. I go back and forth in my mind about what to do, and how this would look if my husband found out. I shouldn't respond. But she's emailing me as a guardian concerned for a student, which makes it a work issue, right? Well then again, it's written clearly in the agreement what would happen if we were to have contact again.

· Thirds/special guests are not to contact either Dom or Sub Duchess or Master following the events of the night before once they leave the property of Timber estates. Violation of this clause will result in immediate legal action.

I take a deep breath and rack my brain as to what I should do. I scroll through the marriage agreement for some sort of loophole. Lord knows I'm no lawyer, but thankfully I have a best friend who practiced law for a while. She knew this damned thing better than I ever could. I have no regrets in sending it to her to look over before I agreed to the terms that my husband and I agreed upon. I shoot her a quick text about my dilemma and pour myself another glass as I wait. Within a few minutes she responds. Her message spells out the exact addendum in which I am legally allowed to have contact with her. With the issue being related to work and the "betterment of youth" as I am a middle school teacher, I am within my legal rights to ensure that the concerned guardian receives proper help with his or her child. I reply with the joy emoji and a quick "thx." She knows I'm up to something and begins to pry. I shut it down and promise to tell her all about it when she visits. I make my response to the email short and sweet with a side of sass:

Reply:

Good afternoon Ms. Mercer, thank you for reaching out. I'm available to meet with you and your nephew Monday afterschool. Please provide a few of his tests and assignments so that we may go over them together. This will provide me with a better understanding of what he's struggling with. Perhaps there are a few things you'd missed while reading over his work, I understand some assignments can be too long and intricate for most parents/guardians to understand.

Principle I. Timber

Send.

Around 3 p.m. my husband emerges from his study, his tie loose, and hair a mess. His posture suggests he's had a stressful couple of hours. I'm nearly tipsy and decide I'm done drinking for the night. I wanted to be in the proper head space for what I had planned for my husband. He gives me a tight-lipped smile as he makes his way into the kitchen, near me. He opens the fridge and grabs a beer. The sigh he lets out gives me confirmation that it's time for my touch. He places his hands on the counter, a cold beer held between two fingers and thumb, the other hand balled into a fist. I watch him intently, placing his weight on his hands and leaning against the counter, with his head hanging low. I make my way over to him and place my hands on his shoulders. he lets out a soft moan as my touch becomes more tender. I massage him slowly, working his tendons around his neck and making my way down toward his back.