Mistress Mine

4

He was waiting by her bed when she woke, kneeling so close, on one of the pink rugs she had, it startled her. "What are you doing there?"

"Waiting, Ma'am." He said, his face a clean mask. She couldn't get anything out of it. Not emotions, and not expressions. "What would you like for breakfast. Sida has still not arrived."

Ignoring thequestion, she ran a hand through her hair. "What time is it?"

"Seven in the morning."

"How long have you been kneeling there for?"

"Less than half an hour, I didn't think you'd be up before seven."

She stretched her arms, yawning. Remembering the events of the last few days, she felt ready to go right under the covers again. She took a look at the watch on her nightstand, as if confirming the timing he'd told her, then sighed.

"I can help you relax, Ma'am?"

Absent mindedly, she checked her phone. "Hmm?"

"I can help make you feel better. I know how to please."

Her tone sarcastic, she said, "Of course you do."

"I can make you feel good."

"You've said that already."

He, taking that as a que, reached for her cover. She slapped his hand away, sending him a glare. "Try that again, and you'll suffer."

"Apologies, ma'am. I only meant good."

He lowered his head, eyelashes fluttering. If there was anything that had passed on his face, she'd missed it. She felt the tug to force his head up, to see what he felt. But she quickly discarded the thought. Instead, she found herself saying, "Get out. Go to your room. Don't come out til I call for you."

She had planned on keeping him confined until very well into the night, not wanting to see him at all.  It she ended up getting him out of the room much sooner than anticipated, her mother demanding his presence as they left for another one of her furniture hunting trip.

"It's perfect." Her mother told her, waving a manicured hand around, Where different decor settings were glamorously presented, "You'll choose from here, and they'll pick it from the stores in your area. It'll be ready before you even arrive."

Except that it wouldn't.

She only had half of what she was going to do planned. The other half, she had left for chance. She was hoping she'd get lucky, because she still hadn't told the man in her life any of what has unfolded.

The days after that blended through one another, and she was ready to get out of her parent's scrutinizing gaze at last.

It wasn't just her living arrangements they'd commented on, it was everything bout her. Her mother kept calling her the new Suzannah, pointing at her jeans and comfortable sweatpants in distaste, crunching her nose when her daughter got out of her room in her glasses instead of the lenses. Small things like that, built up every day, until she was ready to explode.

Packing for travelling was a quick process for her. She had only brought the essentials, she'd only planned for the time spent to be light and among family. Tea parties and outings weren't on her agenda when she emptied the closet.

Another short jeans on the already compressed suitcase, and she was ready to zip it. Only realizing she was being watched halfway through, she turned to face the man who had become her shadow for the last couple of days. He'd pop up everywhere, and anywhere, offering help. She declined the hand of help more often than not. But this time, perhaps because of exhaustion and her less than adequate sleep routine as of late, she nodded her head at his extended hand, getting off the suitcase she was trying to zip.

He made it look much easier than it was, and quickly set it on its wheels. She turned and grabbed her backpack, "Grab your stuff, and my suitcase, and let's go."

She was already out the door of the room when she heard him call back, "I dint have anyting I'll be taking with me, Ma'am."

She whipped her head around, scanning him. She'd seen him emptying his closet the day before. "Where did all your cloths go."

She had the same attire, since she's gotten here. Well, multiple changes of the same attire. A white button up shirt and black trousers, it was what all the male slaves wore in the house.

Her mother appeared at that moment, carrying an envelope in her hands. "I thought it would be a good idea if he started anew. All the cloths he had are bland, I'm sure you'd find more fun things to put on him, build a whole new closet." She beamed, handing her the envelope. "These are the keys, you know the address." She winked, "I've had something extra sent there for you. I'm sure you'll love it." She looked over her daughter, "Why are you still in your pajamas?"

Suzannah rolled her eyes. "These are work out cloths. I'd be more comfortable travelling in them."

Emalyn frowned, ready to argue back. But was slowed down by her daughter rushing past her, mentioning for the slave behind, "C'mon. We're going to be late." 

Keith followed her, infringing his head to Mrs Cruz, as if in final goodbyes.

She argued throughout the whole way to the airport, holding the phone to her ear and looking anywhere but at the slave who sat beside her.

He was ushered away from her as soon as they arrived, and brought back to her as soon as she found her luggage.

He was sore from not being allowed freedom of movement, and felt a throbbing headache. She stoped him as soon as he lifted up her suitcases to put them in the trunk of the taxi. She motioned for him to get in, speaking to the taxi driver in a low voice, handing him a wad of cash.

She turned to Keith at last, rummaging through her back til she found the small envelope her mother gave her. She handed it to him, lowering her face til he could see her through the window of the car,  "He'll drive you to the apartment. You stay there til you hear from me."