Two weeks had passed since I'd moved in with Peggy. It was a Tuesday when I arrived home from work and Peggy met me at the door as usual to remove my work clothes. That day I was tired, clammy and didn't feel well at all. Once my clothes were stripped away leaving me bare and hairless, she took me right to the master bedroom. She pulled a sheet over my body but wouldn't let me have any other blankets. She left me to get something from her bathroom. When she returned, she was carrying a small towel, a tub of petroleum jelly and a long, thick glass thermometer.
She pulled the sheet away from my naked, smooth body and had me roll on my side away from her. She sat on the bed behind me and asked me to pull my top knee toward my chest. I did as I was told. Usually, I'd be thrilled to have Peggy rub lubricant onto my wrinkled hole, but I felt horrible and just wanted to go to sleep. Peggy held my cheeks apart and after my little hole was sufficiently lubricated, she placed the tip of the glass thermometer in the exact center, right where all the wrinkles met.
In a soft, loving voice, Peggy whispered, "Take a deep breath, my sweet Baby Bird."
I inhaled and when I did, Peggy slipped the thermometer inside. Even though I was sick, it still felt nice. After a short time, Peggy withdrew the glass cylinder and gazed at the line of mercury. She read my temperature out loud, "One hundred and one. Oh, Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."
She wiped up the excess lubricant with the towel and pulled the sheet back over my naked body. She went back to the bathroom and returned with two small pills, a glass of water and a cool, moistened cloth. I sat up in bed with her help and took the medicine. Laying back down, Peggy tucked me under the sheet, kissed my cheek and laid the folded-up washcloth over my forehead.
The next few days became a blur. I slept for the majority of the time. My temperature hovered around 101 and spiked to 103 degrees for a short period of time. I vaguely recall sitting in the bathtub filled with cool water. I remember whining, crying and begging Peggy to let me out.
It wasn't until Friday afternoon that I woke up feeling more like myself. Peggy was at my side when my eyes peeled open. Her large, soft hand was stroking my hair and she was looking down at me with love in her eyes. She was wearing a sleeveless, white summer dress that ended just below her knees. The neckline was cut in a way to leave plenty of her enormous, freckled cleavage exposed. And that cleavage immediately drew my attention.
In a gentle voice, she said, "Hello Sweetheart. You broke your fever very early this morning. How are you feeling?"
Looking away from her cleavage to her eyes, I opened my mouth to talk and learned it tasted like I hadn't brushed my teeth in days. I told her I was still weak but didn't feel like I was going to die any longer. Peggy stroked my hair and told me she was happy I was feeling better. She had been worried about me and nearly took me to the hospital when my fever hit 103.
My mind was still fuzzy and I wasn't thinking perfectly clearly, but I suddenly thought of my job and my boss. I almost sat up in bed, but my head started spinning and I laid back down. I told Peggy I needed to call my boss. He was going to be really upset that I'd missed so much work without calling. Peggy leaned down and kissed my forehead again. She told me she'd taken care of everything.
She explained that on Wednesday morning, she'd called my office and spoken with my boss. According to Peggy, he was very rude and even called me a name. Of course, Peggy wasn't going to allow that to happen, she told him he needed to watch his mouth. That only encouraged him to become even ruder.
Peggy then told me something I already knew. She said my boss was a foul man with a dirty mouth. She said I shouldn't be working or socializing with people like that. My boss told her that I didn't need to go back to work, he said I was fired. Peggy corrected him by saying that I couldn't be fired, that I quit.
Even in my post fever haze, I knew this was wrong. I looked up at Peggy and told her I needed my job. I told her that it was the best job I'd ever had, even if my boss was a jerk. On the verge of tears, I told her I wouldn't be able to pay my rent if I didn't have a job.
Peggy stroked my forehead and spoke in a soft, loving tone, "Baby Bird, I don't want you to leave me to go to work ever again."
When I tried to interrupt her, she shushed me firmly. "Sweetheart, my family wasn't wealthy, but my grandfather and father both did very well for themselves. I was left a tidy inheritance when the last of my family passed away. I don't live extravagantly, but I'm able to get by without having to work. And I have enough to take care of, and spoil my Baby Bird."
I squeaked, "But!"
She shushed me again and went on to say, "When I first met you, I knew you were someone very special. But now, after I've had a chance to know you better, I know for sure that you are too precious to deal with the mental and emotional strain of holding a job and dealing with money. Sweetheart, I want to take care of you."
A tear of joy began its slow descent across my temple.
Laying her large, warm hand on my cheek, she traced my lips with the pad of her thumb while asking, "Baby Bird, will you let me take care of you?"
Tears rolled down my cheeks and whispered, "Yes." I'd never felt so special before. Peggy knew exactly what I'd known all along. I was too nice, too emotional, too innocent and docile to hold a regular job. I couldn't count the number of times I cried the restroom at work due to my boss or a co-worker making a rude comment about me.
I'd always panicked on payday. I've never been very good with math and barely making enough money to cover my bills was extremely stressful. I always wound up surrounded by unpaid bills crying my eyes out.
Peggy leaned down my kissed my forehead. "Baby Bird, you don't need to worry about anything. I'm going to take such good care of you."
My voice cracked when I uttered, "I love you, Peggy."
She kissed my nose and answered, "I love you too Baby Bird."