Chapter Two
I nursed her for a week. I had plenty of vacation built up and took some. She was a self-employed interior decorator and so had no one to whom to answer.
On Friday, as I was bringing her breakfast in bed she was actually smiling, something I hadn't seen all week.
"Davey," she said, "What in the hell did an old broad like me do to deserve you?"
I laughed at that. It was an old joke between us. I was 26 at the time, and she was 50. The year before for two months I had teased her mercilessly about being exactly twice my age.
"Baby," I said, grinning, "you'd have had to get knocked up at 15 to be my mother, so don't you worry about it."
Her face still showed the bruise around her eye, but it was fading to a pale yellow now. Her lip was down. And she was beautiful.
"Monday," she said, "I'll call Doctor Randall and get my prescriptions started again."
We had talked about this and I told her that whatever she wanted to do was okay with me. I would learn to accept her compulsion. Or we could medicate it out of her. Either way, I assured her over and over, I would love her.
I climbed into the bed and began feeding her. As I was wiping syrup off of her chin from a bite of pancake I said "I think this is going to be a Roman Princess day. You deserve it.
She smiled that wonderful smile at me. She's a tiny woman, barely five feet tall. Her slightly oversized head is round, and her face is round with prominent cheekbones, a small mouth, small ears, and big blue eyes that make you think of the "waif" paintings with the big sad eyes. A sprinkle of freckles give her a youthful look and only the wrinkles around her eyes showed her 50 years.
I kissed her again, tasting syrup, and continued feeding her.
She enjoyed her "Roman Princess" days when I would spend all day tending to her every whim. As always, I fed her breakfast in bed. She was almost catlike in the pure sensuousness as she laid back on her pillow, her eyes closed, accepting each bite I placed into her mouth. She would chew and swallow and then I would wipe her chin and lips.
When she was fed I got the porcelain basin I used for her sponge baths, filled it with hot water, and then started to bathe her. I washed her face, gently, being careful around where her eye and lip were still tender. I interspaced the washing with plenty of kisses and soft "I love you"s whispered into her ear.