Happiness is not just a word
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This is the 4
th
, and final, part of the story about a woman who is a dominatrix for recreation and a hitwoman for work. Each chapter can be ready as an independent story but there is a link and I think they are better read in chronological order. But it's up to you as the reader.
..........
Three years ago
I scanned the city from my penthouse. There wasn't a building anywhere nearby as tall and the full height windows even allowed me to see the lake which must have been all of thirty miles away. The number of occasions I had spent time there at my little log cabin relaxing away from the internet and media. Looking down I could see the ants below scuttle around, and although I was too high to see, I knew they would be holding the obligatory coffee in a branded cardboard cup. The thought of being part of that world was a nightmare. The house phone rang, disturbing my reverie.
"Hello," I said, knowing it wouldn't be anyone else but the concierge.
"I have a young man here, Miss. Apparently a Mrs Trench has asked him to call and see you."
"Ask him his name, Patrick." Freya has sent someone to see me? This was a first. She herself had visited me several times, sometimes with Alexander, and we had spent some enjoyable evenings at a club, just a few miles away, that catered for our needs.
A few seconds passed and then Patrick came back. "Adam, Miss."
This was interesting. Freya wouldn't have done it without a purpose.
"Send him up, Patrick."
I stood facing the doors of my penthouse elevator as they split open.
"Come in, Adam," I said, in a voice which showed the warmth I felt for him. He held a white envelope, knelt down, and offered it to me. "What's this, Adam?"
"Mistress Freya sent me to give you this envelope, Mistress, and after reading it requested you let her know your decision."
My Dear Hela,
Adam has completed his basic training and I'm satisfied he's ready to move on to the next stage. It was clear to me when you last visited you had more of an interest in him than as a Mistress. Since you left Adam has mentioned your name at every possible opportunity. Occasionally at times I've deemed inappropriate and I have punished him, but not very hard, just enough to satisfy my wicked sense of humour. I could, of course, advance his training further myself but wondered if you would like the responsibility? I realise you are occasionally away on business, for varying lengths of time, but I'm sure Adam would be able to look after himself, and be trusted, in your absence. If you decide it's not feasible send him back, he does have a return ticket, and I'll continue to advance his training. Naturally I wouldn't have sent him if I thought it was a bad idea.
Love,
Freya
"Are you aware of the contents of this letter, Adam?" I said, quietly. I would know from his reaction, no matter how small, if he had looked. I hoped he hadn't and was so pleased when his body, as well as his voice, told me he hadn't let me down. He didn't say anything other than '
no, Mistress'
but it was obvious, even though he would never dare to say so, how offended he was by the implications of my question. His head remained bent in deference, hiding the expression on his face. There was no way he felt entitled to look me in the eye. Nor was he entitled.
My finger under his chin raised his head, allowing him look in my eye. "That was all Mistress Freya said?" My voice, still soft, took on a positive note.
"To give you the letter, Mistress, and wait for your instructions," he said, his wish to please echoing through his words.
"I see. I have to consider the contents of this letter which will take some time," I said, half talking to him and half talking to myself. "You will need to stay here overnight."
He was unable to contain the smile spreading from ear to ear. "Whatever you wish, Mistress. What do you require of me while I'm here?"
I raised an eyebrow, crossed my arms, and gave him a quizzical look. I got the response I expected. His jacket went first, which he folded and carefully placed on the floor next to him. Then his shirt. He looked at me for permission.
"You may stand."
He finished undressing and picked up his clothing, putting his shoes on the top. I gestured for him to follow me and led him into the walk-in wardrobe adjacent to my bedroom. As he followed I knew he was checking out the room, particularly the rug by the side of the bed. I indicated a shelf on which he placed his clothes, and then he turned to me with a hesitant but excited look.