She stirs. The covers rise as her chest heaves. She turns in her sleep, and I sit there. I watch her from several feet away, as instructed. As I had almost every day since I came here.
She'd be so disappointed were I not ready the moment she woke. But it's a false alarm. Her nose twitched, and she was still again. The only sound within the room was the soft tug of breath she gave. My knees had begun to throb over an hour ago. But still I sat, hands over my thighs, and waited.
Moments pass, and I see her eyes flutter open. She stirs yet again, and rolls on her side to face me. She brings her palm to her eyes, and rubs her exhaustion away. She swallows, and looks to me.
"Sean, water. Now please." she mutters.
"Yes, Miss Cia. Right away." I say. I rise, and my knees let out a loud pop as I cross the chamber. I enter the bathroom, and grab a glass tumbler. I turn the tap, and fill it, and walk back towards her. I extend my hand, and she sits up and lets out a stretch. I avert my eyes, and stare at the floor.
There was a time and a place I was allowed to look. She takes the glass from me, and I hear her swallow. She places the glass back in my hand, and says "More. Now, please," and I swiftly comply. After the second glass, I see my mistress swing her feet over the edge of the bed. She calls for her slippers, which I fetch. Her robe, which I help her into. After which, she rises from her mattress, and motions towards the door. I cross the room and open it, my eyes towards the floor as she approaches.
She lets out a chuckle, and reaches towards me. I flinch, but hold still as she clasps my shoulder.
"Thank you. Now be a dear, and make breakfast." she says.
"Yes Miss Cia. Is there anything you'd particularly like this morning?"
Her grip tightens, and she drops her tone as she says "The usual. And make steak and eggs for yourself."
I feel my stomach drop, and I look up at her. She's smiling. It's one of the few times I've seen her lips curl that way, so I dare to speak once more.
"Are you sure, Miss Cia?"
She giggles, her chest jiggling witch each chuckle. "Absolutely," she says, "And don't ask again. I need only speak once, correct?"
I give a nod, and break a small smile back at her.
"Yes, Miss Cia. Right away. Thank you, Miss Cia." I say. I wait for her to exit the door, then duck through it myself. I cross the hall, and open the door to the servant's stairs. I bolt down them two at a time, and arrive just as she's stepped foot on the final flight. I duck into the kitchen, and begin preparing our meal.
I bring hers out first. Strawberry crepes with caramel glaze, and a glass of red wine. I place them before her, and she lifts her silverware. She cuts into the crepe and takes a bite, a low moan escaping her lips as she chews. She looks over at me, and tilts her head. She swallows, and says "Didn't you fix your own breakfast yet?"
"Not yet, Miss Cia. I was going to wait until you allowed me to."
She lets out a smirk, and says "Good boy. Go make yours. You may sit and eat with me."
"Thank you, Miss Cia. Right away."
I make my way to the kitchen, and cut the steak. As it's just turned beyond pink, I hear her call out.
"Sean? What business do we have today?"
I turn the burner on low, and pace my way back to her side. I cross my arms behind my back, and clear my throat.
"The merchants who were going to arrive at three PM today have rescheduled. They will arrive tomorrow. I have already compensated them for the order, and instructed them to be precise on your behalf." I say.
She gives a nod, focused on her plate.
"Do go on, Sean."
I return the nod, and say "Likewise, I need to answer your mail at some point today, perhaps after breakfast if that would suite you. Otherwise, today is very much open, Miss Cia. The world truly is yours."
She takes the last bite of her crepe, and snaps her fingers. I bend near the table, and grab her napkin. I wipe away at her lips, and place the napkin back down. I resume my position, and cross my arms again. She smiles at me, and nods towards the kitchen.
"Don't forget your breakfast. You may eat."
I finish cooking, and return to the table. Just as I've raised my fork, I hear her cluck her tongue. I set my silverware back down, and look towards her.
"Thank you, Mistress Cia, for this delicious breakfast. May it strengthen my resolve, and make me a more capable servant." I say. I give a small smile, which makes her giggle again.
"That's a good boy, Sean. Eat up. We're going to handle the mail, and then you're going to entertain me. Understand?"
My cheeks flush, but I stuff a cut of steak into my mouth to hide it. I swallow hard, and say "Yes, Miss Cia. Anything you ask, I will lovingly comply with."
"I know, Sean. I know."
@@@@@
The mail went quickly. Mistress stood over me, and watched as my pen wrote checks, letters of recommendation, and more. She gripped my shoulder as I finished, and spoke in a tone that dripped of exhaustion.
"Good work, dear. I feel tired just from watching your quill whip. Meet me in the library, now. And do bring those lavender oils I so enjoy."
Still gazing at the desk, I say "Yes, Miss Cia,". I wait for her to leave the room, and rise at a madman's pace towards the servant's stairs. I broke into a pant at the top, but hold my breath as I enter her bedroom, and find the oils. Sweat beads on my forehead as I bound down the steps again. I take the edge of my shirt, and wipe it away with a deep breath.
Mistress so hates to see me tired.
As I approach the library, I compose myself. I check a nearby mirror, and run my fingers through my hair. I smile, and grab a tray upon a nearby end table. I level the oils upon them, and grip the door handle. I turn it slowly, and enter.
The library's light is a small has upon spotless, dark furniture. The books-exactly eleven-hundred and seventy-two-all appear well in order. On the far corner I find Miss Cia, now clad in only her robe, feet propped upon the arm of a plush couch. Her pipe is in her hands, and she takes a long drag from it as she looks upon me with heavy-lidded eyes.
"Sean, finally. Come here, now. Start with my feet. Tell me a story, as well." she says, ashing the pipe into a tray.
I approach, and place the oils down on the floor. I fall to my knees, which pop yet again, the sound echoing against the walls. I roll up my shirt sleeves, and oil my hands liberally. I rub my palms together, and begin to rub my thumbs against the pads of Miss Cia's feet.
"What would you like to hear today, Miss Cia? Shakespere? Arabian Nights? Perhaps something more modern?"
She stares at the ceiling a moment, then smiles as she settles deeper into the cushions. She says, "Romeo and Juliet. Start at their first meeting. I do so love that scene."
"Yes, Miss Cia."
I recite the play from memory, and work my way down from her pads to the balls of her feet, then her ankles. As the scene ends on my lips, she looks at me.
"Sean, what do you think of the play? I've heard it a dozen times. I want to hear your thoughts, though. Speak freely."
My hands pause, and she snaps her fingers. I begin rotating my thumbs along her shin, and swallow.
"Well, uh, Miss Cia, I-"
"Sean, I said speak freely. I'm not going to bite you, unless you upset me. And you rather seem to enjoy that."
