The Shoot. Part 2
My original intention was to have 'The Shoot' be a one part, stand alone story.
I often think that sometimes it can be better to have readers imagine for themselves what happens next.
But given the number of comments and texts I received asking for a sequel, including from my own muse who kept popping ideas into my head, I couldn't help but put my own imaginings to print.
So here are my thoughts on what happens next in 'The Shoot. Part 2'.
I hope it doesn't disappoint.
As always, it would be best to read the original story first, to better understand and appreciate the characters and happenings in this one.
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That first Saturday was magical. He arrived at my door at 8 AM on the dot.
"Good Morning, Alan" I greeted him with a smile, inordinately thrilled within that he had indeed come. I had no desire to appear, or be, nasty, stern or domineering. That was not me. I would be demanding and expect obedience, and as long as I received it to my satisfaction I would always be pleasant, and at times when I so wished, even more.
"Good morning, Miss Angela" he replied with that delightful sheepish smile of his own. He was dressed in jeans and a work shirt. I didn't know what his expectations or hopes were, but I had no intention of having him toil in the raw. We were far, if ever, from that point.
I ushered him in and gave him a quick tour of my apartment. It was a one bedroom, with a reasonably sized living room, a dining area, and a full sized kitchen. There was a fair sized bathroom off the hallway to my bedroom, and next to it an enclosed nook with a washer and dryer. Also, two storage closets in the hallway, and a larger one in my bedroom. It wasn't fancy or much, but with night school it already stretched my salary with tips as a waitress. That's why my part time 'acting' was so useful and necessary.
The place really was a mess. I had had a class the night before, after the shoot, and I hadn't had any chance to tidy up, so it was even more unkempt than usual. Perfect for my needs today.
"I've drawn up a list of your chores for the day" I said to him as I handed it to him, after we had completed our circuit. "Every room is to be thoroughly cleaned, and there are some other tasks there as well."
"I hope to complete them all beyond your expectations, Miss Angela" he said upon reading it.
"Well, I expect no less. Even beyond" I grinned back. "I'll be in the living room, catching up on my emails and texts, and doing some reading. Maybe even take a nap. It's been an exhausting week."
"I'll try to be as quiet as possible, to not bother you, Ma'am."
"That would be nice. But feel free to ask any questions along the way. I don't want any mistakes made out of ignorance. That wouldn't please me at all. Do you have any now?"
"Not that I can think of yet, Ma'am."
"Good, then it's time for you to get to it. Hip hop."
I smiled again, and turned to settle down on my living room couch with my lap top and cell. I had no real plans for a nap, but I also wasn't going to follow him around and watch over his shoulder as he worked. How relaxing would that be? I would be making a full inspection at the end of the day, but I did intend to keep furtive track of his doings throughout. That was an important part of the kick.
He made his way first down to my bedroom, and for a long while it was silent in there. I imagined him changing my used bed linens and making my bed with fresh ones, and then picking up my strewn worn clothes, before straightening up my closet and my mussy bureau top and night stand. After a time he closed the door and I heard the muffled sound of the vacuum go on. He really was taking seriously trying to be as quiet as possible.
When the vacuuming there was done, I heard him open the door, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him put two large baskets just outside of it in the hallway. He then came down to me in the living room.
"Excuse me, Ma'am. I hate to bother you, but I want to get the laundry started as I'm doing other jobs, and I thought I should really have to ask you; do you wish me to hand wash your ... intimates?"
My laundry!!! It had not actually been on my list. I had never thought he would have enough time with everything else. Yet it was the household burden that I hated the most, and usually put off for as long as possible. There had to be well over two weeks worth in the large hamper, in addition to a full laundry bag in my closet. And hand wash my undies? I never did that myself, and to have him do so seemed to be very far away from where we currently were.
"Uh ... yes Alan ... Uh, the laundry" I stammered. "Uh no, I usually never hand wash anything, so I don't want you to do so either."
Was that a flicker of disappointment in his face? Maybe not. But it was further than I was ready to go. Maybe someday, came an unbidden thought.
"Just wash and dry everything, fold them, and put them all away" I hurriedly concluded.
"Of course, Ma'am. And I'll iron anything that needs it."
"That would be wonderful" I responded, astonished. My iron and ironing board hadn't seen the light of day in ages. I was surprised that he had even seen them, buried in the corner of the hallway closet.
"I'm happy to do anything that you need, Miss Angela."
This was hardly a convincing appearance of a Domina in complete command. But I felt a real warmth inside that he had taken the initiative on his own to do a job that I loathed, even as he didn't know that. And he had even made it seem that it had all been my idea. The warmth began to intensify in a particular area of my body, and I knew that I had to distract myself quickly. This was not where I wanted things to head. I turned my eyes back to my open lap top, and he thankfully took this as his cue of dismissal.
After he put the first load of wash in, having carefully separated the colors from the whites, the bathroom was his next order of business. As it wasn't as far away, I could faintly hear him scrubbing and brushing, far more than I would have thought necessary. He came out a number of times to transfer a load of clothes into the dryer, and put another load into the wash. When the first set finished drying, he took it out and transferred the next load in. He carried the basket of dried clothes, with the ironing board and iron, back into my bedroom. I was dying to watch him in action, but I refrained. I didn't want to signal any interest or approval until everything was done. It was close to an hour before he came out to collect the final dried load, and over a half hour later before he came out to put the iron and board away. It was well past noon as he came down the hall and approached me again.
"I was wondering Ma'am, if you would like me to make you some lunch, and while you're eating, I'll clean the living room."
"There's not much in there to make" I answered, startled.
"Well, I did see a number of eggs in the fridge, along with some cheese and mushrooms, and an onion. I could whip up an omelet. I do make a mean one, if you allow me to boast a little bit" he added with that sheepish smile I was coming to covet.
"Then how can I refuse" I responded with a little laugh. "But only on one condition" I said with an addition of my own. "You can clean the living room later. I want you to make one for yourself as well, and eat with me."
His smile became one of delight.
His omelets were even better than advertised, seasoned to scrumptious perfection. But it was our conversation during that was even more enjoyable. He was so easy to talk to, and he listened avidly as I went on and on, more than I had ever before, and certainly more that I thought anyone would ever want to hear. I told him all about my job as a waitress, that I probably had two more years of night school to get my degree, and finally become a teacher, then likely five more years of night school for the required master's degree to continue on in my dream profession. It was why I moonlit in the films that we did, to help in any way to pay for it all.
I drank in the quiet but sincere laudatory praise he offered about my aspirations, and my work ethic to attain them, when I realized that I hadn't asked him anything about himself. There wasn't much to say, he asserted. But you're a writer, I insisted, and as he had indicated before, a fairly successful one. He acknowledged that this was true. I asked what kind of stories he wrote, and he said they were mostly in the Fantasy genre. I admitted that this was a field where I hadn't read much, but that I would very much like to read one of his. His smile was a joy to behold.
"I truly hope that you have enjoyed our conversation as much as I have, Miss Angela" he suddenly interrupted as if he was afraid of losing himself in the moment, "but I really do need to get back if I'm going to complete all of my work to your expectations by the end of the day. With your permission, may I please do so."
As much as I might have desired to continue our discussion, for even the whole of the rest of the afternoon, that wasn't the purpose of this day. For either of us.
"Of course, Alan" I smiled demurely, "I wouldn't want to be the cause of any failure on your part. I'll go spend some time in my bedroom while you attend to the living room, and to this mess here," indicating the dining table. "Come for me when you're done with these two rooms, so I can come back out."
"Yes Ma'am" he promised as he pulled my chair out for me to depart.
While I was disappointed in the ending of our talk, I was very anxious to see what all he had accomplished in my bedroom. The bed been made with almost military precision, certainly top flight hotel level. I was almost surprised that there wasn't a chocolate on top of the pillows. Opening the folding French doors of my closet, I was immediately struck by the top shelf which ran the length of it. It is usually a jumble of thrown in sweaters, sweat shirts and pants, a large number of scarves, and a variety of baseball type hats that I like to wear. Now they were all smartly folded and lined up, or stacked very nicely across.
Likewise, all of my hanging clothes were neatly arranged, including those just washed and pressed. My two waitress uniforms had never looked so crisp. While I don't have much of a shoe collection, mostly cross trainer walking shoes for comfort as I'm on my feet most of the day waitressing, they're all usually in a pile on the bottom. Now they were all paired and set up in a row, and the few pairs of boots and real shoes that I own had indeed also been shined.
I next looked at my tall bureau. The myriad odds and ends on top, as well as on my night stand, had all been organized. Opening each of the drawers of my dresser, I found all my clothes carefully folded, including all of my freshly laundered lingerie. I was astounded by it all, but as I heard the vacuum being shut off in the distance, and he finally came to tell me that I could return to the living room, I made sure to maintain a non-committal and serious appearance. His evaluation would come at the end of the day, not before.
