\I sit in my favorite rocking chair by the bed sipping on a glass of amaretto. The chair was a gift from my brother. He had made it for me one Christmas. I love my brother. There is something about being twins that has made us close and keeps us that way. I sit here and the smell of the ocean is on the breeze. The moonlight comes through the window and bathes my lover in its glow. I think of how beautiful she is and smile. She looks so peaceful with wisps of hair falling across her face and the blanket pulled up tight to keep her warm. I set down the drink and walk to the bed. Very carefully I crawl into bed and curl up next to my love; I brush the hair from her face and kiss her cheek. I am smiling as I lay my weary head back on the pillow and fall back to sleep.
Morning seems to come too early; the sounds of the gulls are relentless. I wonder sometimes how I ever thought that was sound I would never tire of. I turn in bed to find myself alone. I sit up. Today is Sunday. She must be downstairs. I put on my robe and head for the kitchen. The smell of coffee starts to clear my head. I definitely drank too much wine last night and the amaretto didn't help. I am so weak when it comes to a good bottle of wine I can never stop with just a few glasses. It was such a beautiful evening though the wine never seeming to catch up with me till now. She looked so beautiful in her dress. When she smiles she can still take my breath away. I turn the corner wanting to see that smile and find myself alone. I walk to the coffee pot and see the bottle of Baileys next to my favorite cup. I pour the coffee and Baileys into my cup, take a sip. It never taste as good as when Adrienne does it. I don't know how she does it but everything she touches always turns out good. I look for the note I know she left and don't find one. As I look across the counter and I see her through the window coming up the drive. She is wearing the blue sundress I bought her last week. I wonder if she knows that the sun shines right through the dress and leaves little to the imagination. I know I won't tell her. She was so happy when I gave her the dress she looked wonderful in it. She was a vision. She is a vision. I remember that she had made me so angry with her the night that I gave her the dress. I almost took it back. Her tears, my sore hand, the blood rushing to the surface of her skin turning it a bright red; I know she needs to be reminded. I smile.
PART 2
"Hello Mistress I went to the bakery to get you some fresh bagels." She is smiling as she comes over to give me a kiss on the cheek. The smile I love to see. I can smell her perfume and the freshness of her hair. I wonder how early she got up to be showered and dressed and out the door so early. I look at the clock on the wall and realize that it is already 11am. I must have been wiped out last night.
"I got your favorite bagels Mistress cinnamon raison" she cuts one in half and puts it into the toaster.
"I didn't think it was so late...." My thoughts are cut short as she takes the coffee cup from my hand so she can make it the way I like it.
"I thought you would sleep longer Mistress. I guess the gulls woke you up"
"Yes they did." She knows me so well.
"I like the sound of the gulls. It is like music in the mornings." She is like a child with her love of the beach. She hands me my coffee with a smile. It is made to perfection. She takes the bagel from the toaster and spreads butter on it. I move to have a seat at the counter. She hands me the bagel, melted butter filling every nook and cranny. She puts a bagel in the toaster for herself. She comes up behind me and kisses my cheek again this time her lips linger a little longer. She pours herself some coffee, butters her bagel and comes to sit across from me at the counter.
SLAP....she whimpers "That was for last night. You embarrassed me in front of my guests."
"Did you think that I would have had so much wine that I would forget?"
"Do you think that running to the bakery for bagels would make it up to me?"
"No Mistress" she looks down at her plate. "I know what I did was wrong but......"
SLAP
"There is no but. I heard you. You said you knew it was wrong. So you willfully disobeyed me. Is that what you are saying?"
"No Mistress I would never disobey you."
SLAP...she starts to cry.
"So tell me, what did you do?"
She comes around the counter and kneels at my feet. "I am so sorry Mistress. I was disrespectful to you and I... and... I ...." She is crying harder now.
I sip my coffee. I look down at her. "Go upstairs and wait for me"
"Yes.. yes... Mistress" she gets the words out through her sobs and hurries upstairs.
I know that she is in the room kneeling on her pillow waiting for me. The pillow sits on the floor next to the bed. From the kneeling position you can almost see the ocean through the glass doors and over the balcony. I know she isn't trying to look out, her head is down. I had asked several times last night for her to get more coffee for our guest and she was busy talking to her friend across the room. She didn't think to come over until I had to excuse myself to my guests and stand up with coffee carafe in my hands. She came over immediately. To me it was already too late. She saw the look in my eyes. I smiled and I thanked her for taking the carafe to the kitchen to get it filled. I sat back down with my guest and continued my conversation.
How long do I make her wait? Anticipation is always the worst part. I remember getting into trouble when I was a little girl and my mother was so mad at me. She couldn't think of anything to say except "Just wait until your father gets home." There was this lump in my throat at hearing those words. I sat in my room and waited. That was the longest afternoon of my life. The punishment didn't seem as bad as I had imagined it would be. All I remember was the waiting. I go outside to get the paper.
There are the usual headline about world events and political corruption nothing seems to change much. I read a story about a business merger that might affect one of my pending sales. I write down some notes and think that I need to make a few phone calls on Monday. I finish my coffee and bagel. I want more coffee but never like the way I make it. I put down the paper and look to the stairs.
Part 3
I walk over to the bottom of the stairs and look up. I know she quietly waits for me. I start walking up the stairs and the third step from the top squeaks, it always does. It is very quiet in the house I know she can hear me on the stairs and now knows just how close I am. I stop at the entrance to my room. She is there with her back to the door. She kneels naked on her pillow, her skin is flawless. I could never mark that skin. I know she feels me staring at her. I see her tense ever so slightly. I still remember the first time we met. She was a free spirit with fire in her eyes. I never wanted to extinguish the flame that burned so brightly in those eyes. I wanted to tame it, control it, and make it mine. She was a challenge. I saw in her what she never saw. She wanted to be controlled she needed to be controlled she denied this in herself. How many times did I see the mischief in her eyes and want to smile at what she did? She was the little girl trying to get her mothers attention. I was the mother wanting to laugh at her but knowing that she needs to be punished for what she did. She needed to learn.
I wonder if the anticipation has been building. I step into the room. I sit in the chair in the corner. My robe falls open. I look at her and through her hair I see that her eyes are closed and her hands are in her lap. She is biting her lower lip.
"Adrienne." She tenses at the sound of my voice.
"Yes Mistress" she says in a small voice. She keeps her head down and her eyes closed.
I take my time. I watch her. Her breath is starting to quicken. I see her skin flush. Her hands squeeze her thighs ever so slightly. She is beautiful.
"Adrienne, look at me." Her head rises and turns to face me, her eyes are moist with tears and have a longing in them. She wants my forgiveness. She wants my approval. She wants to make me happy.
"Come to me dear."
"Yes Mistress" she whispers. She starts to crawl over to me. Her supple body moves like poetry. She is a dancer who only dances only for me. She moves slowly. I don't mind. She comes to me with her head down and kneels at my feet. I look at her; her chestnut hair catches the light coming through the windows. I am tempted to run my fingers through it. I lean forward and stop I can smell the fragrance of her perfume. She is wearing my favorite. I wonder if she put it on when she came upstairs.
