His Wet Nurse

The morning after *** (40)

She reached for the monitor by her bedside table wondering why it hadn't blared from the awakening cries of baby Sam who was an early riser but felt nothing, only the smoothness of the sheets and the soft touch of the mattress beneath her. Her eyes flew open with shock, she shut up to a sitting position, her sleepy eyes drinking in the unfamiliar surroundings until everything came back.

She was in Theo's bed, she'd slept with her boss Theodore freakin Newman! And like that, details of the previous night came reeling back in her head, her skin flushed red.

Sadly she'd woken up alone on the large bed, cold and lonely—not really.
He'd probably left her to sleep to her satisfaction, she assured herself as she tore the duvet off her and planted her legs on the floor to catch her breath. That was when her eyes flew to the wall clock and the time read 8:30 am.

"Oh my God, oh my God!" Jema chanted as she searched fervently for her robe and whatever other piece of clothing was missing from her. The door to the bathroom snapped open and she stood to look at the intruder.

"Sorry ma'am,"

"Who... who are you?" Jema held her beating chest as she tried to understand what the male dressed in rubber gloves was doing in the master's bedroom—bathroom to be precise.

"I'm Felix, I'm, I was..." he stuttered.

"Right Felix, what are you doing here?"

"The master... I was just cleaning up his bathroom, it's Friday morning."

"Oh!" Jema wasn't sure what to make of the scenario, she'd just been caught sleeping in the master's bedroom by one of the workers. The last thing she needed was for rumors about her and Theodore to spread beyond the mansion walls. It wouldn't do her any good and not if the Madame got a whiff of it.

By the time she got to the baby's room, nurse Lilian had attended to Sam and he was fast asleep in his crib. She thanked the young nurse and headed to freshen up afterward. She needed to catch up with Theodore at the breakfast table or miss having a word with him until whenever he decided to return home. He was a mystery, entirely different from the norm in the way he thought and the things he believed to be right and wrong.

The man was no people-pleaser, he did things because he wanted to and no compromises. If it were some other lover she'd shared such an intense night of pleasure with, they'd have at least held her through the night, kissed her temple in the morning when the sun rose and probably shared breakfast in bed while getting to know more about one another. That was basic morning-after-lovemaking etiquette.

"Jema, sweetheart, you're glowing this early in the morning. I had my doubts you were alright," Martha's concerned voice called at her as she stepped into the servant's breakfast room.

"Morning Martha, and why would you doubt my health?" She narrowed her eyes at the lady in an apron with a spatula at hand ready to flip the egg.

She tsked. "Madame said something like it this morning when I asked after you, it's unlike you to get up late."

"Oh, that," her cheeks felt warm. "I overslept last night, I'm fine."

The other lady didn't seem to buy all that but went ahead to make whatever it was she was cooking.

"Is the master's breakfast served?" Jema asked while buttering a slice of bread.

"I was just about to do that when you came in, I have my hands full since Madame took off so early in the morning."

"Did she say where she's headed?"

"Nothing, her usual stealth."

"I'll help you serve him," she reached for the trolley when Martha stopped her. "What?" She couldn't understand the sullen look on Martha's aged face.