Her Duchess |Lesbian Story|

- 4 -

Clare carried her empty tray back to the kitchen. The heat from the stoves and ovens started to make her body perspire and her face flush. All the kitchen staff wheezed about the counters, but her orders had been sent out, so Clare headed for a cooler area to sit down.

Against the walk-in freezer, she found a fold-up chair and settled on it for a little break. She gently massaged her right arm. The muscle had gone sore and stiff. Her feet were in a semi-state of cramping. It had been three hours now that she had stood on those tight wedge pumps, another two hours walking around at her retailing job at the mall.

"Hey, Clare, are you alright?" called out Trevor, the restaurant manager.

"Yes, I'm fine, sorry."

"That's okay. You can go home early today if you're not well," he said, eyeing her with concerns.

"No, really, I need this shift," she said and got back on her feet and headed towards the kitchen. Trevor strode over to catch up with her.

"How about I drive you home after work?" he offered. Trevor was always kind to her, more so than other female staff. He had an Audi and lived in a high-rise apartment. Trevor was also a nephew of the restaurant's owner. Everyone, including Clare, knew that Trevor fancied her. It would be so easy to accept his affection. It meant stability and a comfortable life. Clare had imagined the two of them being together as lovers, strolling along the beach with their little children running around and maybe a charming poodle, but she couldn't imagine herself falling in love with him. It was no different than living a lie.

"No, I'm good. I already promised to go with Christina and do some grocery shopping, sorry," she lied.

"I see," he said. "Let me know if you need anything though."

She managed a smile at him before turning back to her work. Another hour to go before she could drop on her warm bed and repeat her day when the next sunrise came.

Clare returned home with a leftover casserole from the restaurant. The head chef was kind enough to leave some for each waitress as a thank-you for today's work. She put it down on the table with a fresh pot of tea. She refilled her cup as she sat in silence. Clare looked around the kitchen, appreciating the sight of orderliness again. 

A moment later, her father came in. David Leighton hadn't left the house ever since that drunken night. He was embarrassed and depressed about the whole situation. Her mother had gone out to see some friends, but Clare knew that her true agenda was to seek some bits of financial help.

"I got you food, Dad," Clare said. "Have you eaten?"

"No, but I'm not hungry," he said and came to sit down. "I can't thank you enough for everything you've done, honey. I'm so sorry I have been a useless idiot."

"Oh, Dad," she said and came to embrace him. After a while, they pulled away and sat down at the table. Clare had reheated the casserole before serving it to him.

"I'm thinking of moving to Alaska to find a job," he said, much to her surprise. "I know a friend there who manages this construction firm. He might be able to offer me something."

"But Dad, is there any other way?" Clare asked.

"I don't know, darling," her father sighed. "We probably have to move or we will end up homeless."

The door squeaked open. Her mother had returned. By the look of her long dry face, it was no doubt that there was no answer to their prayers.

Clare got up and went to bring another plate for her.

"Mom, come and have dinner," she said.

"I'm not hungry, honey, please go on, I'm fine," she said with a wave of her tired hand.