Silver / clay

⊱ 6 ⊰

Amala twisted her foot one way, then the other, examining the wine-red loafer, while Caleb sat eagerly on the edge of a low foot stool, peering up at her face, searching for a clue to her judgement, hoping to catch a glimpse of delight.

"The navy blue," she said, to the assistant, slipping the shoe free.

"Thanks for letting me join you," said Caleb. "I didn't think you'd say yes."

"Why not?" said Amala, calmly, as if she had all day.

"I dunno," said Caleb, his eyes wandering, until they were caught by Amala's.

"You're entitled to your feelings," she said, seriously. "All of them."

Her face radiated a pure beauty. It happened whenever she smiled. This was the first time he'd seen her outside the gloomy club scene, and he wasn't disappointed. Instead of down and wavy, her espresso hair was pulled back and tied behind her head, but still with elegant strands poking out in interesting angles. This was unintentional, and yet gave her a natural vibe, as if she wasn't trying too hard. She didn't appear to be wearing any make-up, either, not that she needed to, with her full lips a pleasant desaturated crimson. Whenever she spoke, or smiled, her top teeth revealed themselves first. But mostly she held herself with a grace unmatched by any pretenders.

He immediately chastised himself for comparing her to others once more, for lowering her to their level.

"It's nice to see you in the real world," he said. "And in real light."

"Yes," she said. "Real is good."

They walked past a particularly needy rack of high-heels on their way to the register.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to try anything else on?" said Caleb.

"Do you want me to?" she said.

He did, but was it for her benefit alone, or what he wanted? His mind seemed to be recalibrating to the new reality, the truer reality. "I only want what you want," he said.

She seemed pleased by this, sharing with him a dampened enthusiasm. Her pleasure was his, and so the feelings rubbed off.

He gladly paid for the shoes and wore the bag around his wrist, along with a plain plum top she'd discovered earlier. He fell in behind her strides as they passed through the shopping centre. It felt good just being near her, as if the embers of her warmth carried through the air. He caught himself quietly whimpering at her scent.

"Is there anything else you need?" said Caleb, desperately. "Or want?"

"Is there something you'd like to give me?" said Amala, stopping in the middle of a busy thoroughfare.

Caleb had to shift constantly as the moving traffic bounced against him. "I know this isn't about me," he said, answering her question, "but I have these feelings that I can't quite... What's happening to me?"

"Don't be afraid, my sweet," she said, placing a gentle hand on his forearm. "What you're feeling is completely natural. I know it can be a painful process, especially in this phase. You are confused, scared, and yet drawn irresistibly to me. The best advice I can offer is to not fight it. You must decide how much of yourself to let go."

"Are we in-- Is this some kind of Dee ess relationship?" said Caleb.

She stared back impassively, long enough that he felt he needed to explain, further.

"I already go to a-- To someone, but it's so different with you. The way you talk to me, it's as if I'm actually important. And the way you dress," he said, holding the bags in the air, "you just don't seem like a normal, you know..."

"They wear what they wear, and act the way they do, because they're performing a role. The masks these actors wear allow them to become someone they're not."

"But she says she likes it," said Caleb. "She, you know, gets off, when she forces me onto her."

Even as the words left his mouth he felt shame at speaking them in her presence. It felt somehow dirty. It also felt as if he was admitting to infidelity.

"Who is really in control, my sweet?" said Amala, calmly. If her mind was awash in jealousy she hid it well.

The bags were beginning to weigh him down, and cut into his wrist.

"What does she receive out of serving you?" continued Amala. "She knows what you want and acts in a way that will give you pleasure. It's all about what you want."

He couldn't disagree. But then he couldn't disagree with anything Amala ever said.

"I'm not like them," she said. "I wear these clothes and speak like this because this is me. There is no need to own a mask if you are truly yourself."

It made complete sense. Deep down he'd always known his Mistress was playing a role for pay and that he was a willing accomplice, suspending his disbelief in order to scratch an itch he could never reach alone. But what if that wasn't necessary?

"Only you can choose your future, my sweet," said Amala. "If you want it, this relationship can be something completely unlike any you've dreamed of."

Caleb didn't need another invitation. He fell to his knees, to the bewilderment of passers by, and stared up into her emerald eyes. "How can I serve you?" he said.

"Yes," she said, nodding, smiling, bearing her beautiful teeth. "That's the question you wanted to ask."