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Wednesday In the garden of the house we share there is a small bower of trees which encloses a seat. When she needs to think it is to that seat that she goes; for the quiet and the lack of diversion. I am not allowed there unless she takes me with her. It is her space. I sat in the room overlooking the garden and watched as she walked to her seat in the late evening sun. She is tall, lithe and graceful. Her dark hair is thick and shines in the sunlight. I watched as she turned and smoothed her long, diaphanous skirt under her as she sat. She crossed her legs slowly and the dress parted so I could see her dancer’s thigh. Her face spoke of sadness and disappointment and it tore at my heart because I was the source of that. I had come home from work that Wednesday evening to find the house empty. She was often home later than I so I was not concerned but put my things away, showered and changed into a dress she liked me to wear in the evenings. I was naked beneath it. I went to the kitchen and prepared the supper, pouring a glass of red wine for myself but leaving her white in the ‘fridge. I heard her key in the front door and got that little surge of excitement I always felt when she came home. Perhaps it was always a slight surprise to my deep consciousness that she cared for me enough always to come back to me. Her heels clicked on the wooden floor as she proceeded down the hallway, I could follow her movements by the sounds. First to the coat hook to shed the long, black coat she wore over her suit, then the clatter of her large handbag and briefcase as they were placed none too carefully on the ottoman in the corner of the hall, a brief hesitation as she checks her hair in the mirror before coming into the kitchen. All of this was so familiar. ‘Hi, Linda.’ She moved with her natural grace across the room to kiss me warmly but not passionately on the mouth. I tried to sustain the kiss but she was not having that. She sat and I poured her wine and placed it in front of her and she thanked me. We exchanged small details of our day – hers in the tall building that housed her PR firm and mine in the dull library beside the canal. I sensed something was not as it should be but could not put my finger on it. After a while Sylvia said she was going to shower and change and she left me to finish preparing the meal of pasta with rosemary and tomato sauce, some bacon and chicken pieces and Anadolu Yakası Escort garlic bread. The room was warm with the scent of it and I felt hungry despite the light lunch I’d had. When she returned the meal was ready and she wore the beautiful, long dress that I adored. It was loose around her gorgeous breasts, tight at the waist and full to the floor, slit up the side to mid-thigh. Her nipples were naked beneath the fabric, dark and large – her trimmed triangle of hair was a shadow between her legs; like me she was naked under the silk. Sylvia had been a professional dancer and that grace and suppleness had never left her. I served, poured more wine and sat facing her. ‘Did you go out to lunch today?’ I said that I had and that I had gone out with one of the girls at work for a panini. ‘Did you see Maria?’ Maria was our friend and neighbor who worked in an office close to my own. I had not seen her. ‘Did you see Hilary?’ I looked up at her and saw for the first time a certain steel in her eyes. Hilary was a friend I had known since school days. She loathed Sylvia and, more importantly, the life that Sylvia and I shared, not because she was opposed to lesbian relationships but because she knew I was Sylvia’s submissive and that I obeyed her and what Hilary considered to be oppressive control. I don’t normally tell people about my nature because few understand but I’d hoped Hilary would. She didn’t. One of the rules I follow is that I ask Sylvia if I may meet people, not people at work but others. If I meet people by chance she expects me to tell her when she gets home. Hilary was persona non grata, mainly because at a party a year before she had publicly scolded Sylvia for treating me like shit. I had strongly denied that that was so but Hilary kept at it like a dog with a bone until the hostess had intervened and taken her aside. The problem was that I had seen Hilary that day. Her mother was ill and I was very fond of her. She’d called and said she wanted to bring me up to date because her mother didn’t have long to go and Hilary wanted me to see her. I knew Sylvia would not allow it but I felt I owed it to Hilary’s mother. It was not the first time. It was the sixth. This is the only regard in which I have ever hidden anything from Sylvia and I had wrestled with the thought often. I had rationalized it by thinking I was not being Anadolu Yakası Escort Bayan disloyal to Sylvia but loyal to Hilary’s mother. Had I asked her permission she’d have had to either allow it and hate it or disallow it and hate that too. I had protected her from that. I know, it sounds like bollocks but I was torn. ‘Did you see Hilary?’ My eyes must have admitted it before I did. ‘You had lunch with her, not a girl from work, didn’t you?’ I nodded. ‘Was this the first time?’ Now I had to make a decision. I could lie and hope she didn’t know or would not recognise the lie or tell the truth and face the consequences. Of all the things I had ever done wrong in pour relationship this was the worst, despite any self-justification I might have had. Sylvia is not a cruel woman. She hates punishing me but we both know that there are times when it is necessary. Rarely are her punishments severe. She knows that to have failed her is as bad for me as it is for her but this was different. This was defiance and lying. I shook my head. ‘Explain.’ So I did. As I spoke I talked faster and faster, gabbling the explanation and hearing its hollowness as I did so. I couldn’t look at her; I didn’t want to see the hurt in her eyes. The trouble was that one lie always led to another and the deceit deepened. Silently she placed her cutlery down beside her plate of pasta, half-finished and I heard her leave the kitchen, her bare feet silent on the tiled floor. Any hunger I had felt was gone; replaced by a painful ache in the depth of me. Her silence was like a blow to me. I went and curled into the chair overlooking the garden and watched her. Sylvia sat motionless in that seat. Eventually I went out into the garden myself and sat on the path that led to the bower. I hugged my knees to my chest and felt tears running down my cheeks. ‘Come with me.’ She walked past me without waiting and I stood and followed her, dreading the next few minutes, perhaps hours or days. She went straight to our sitting room and sat in her chair; a deep armchair covered in a dark brocade. I went to sit but she said I was to stand and I felt like a naughty schoolgirl. ‘Don’t speak, just listen. I hate punishing you, it always feel like I have failed but I only have three of alternatives. I can either forgive you, throw you out or I can punish you and keep you. I have decided Escort Anadolu Yakası already that I cannot simply forgive you. You have hurt me too much for that. I ought to throw you out but I am reluctant to do that simply because I love you. If I decide to punish you it will be on the understanding that if you ever disappoint me like this again I will definitely throw you out, no matter how much it hurts me. Now, go and sleep in the spare room – I will decide and I’ll let you know what I have decided in the morning.’ I knew better than to speak. Tears ran again as I walked to the spare room. I barely slept that night. I curled myself into a foetal position, naked under the sheets and felt cold and alone. Thursday In the morning I showered and dressed for work, went down to the kitchen not knowing if I should take her tea as normal or wait. The decision was taken from me when she appeared in the doorway, she was wearing a long, black silk nightdress and looked utterly gorgeous although I thought her eyes looked a little puffy as I knew mine were. ‘Get the diary.’ I went to the hall and got our diary from its drawer and carried it back to the kitchen where she was now sitting at the table. ‘Now, write this in Saturday’s page. “For disappointing and hurting my Mistress I will be punished today if by the end of Thursday I have written her a letter in which I make a solemn promise never, ever to repeat this cruel deception. My letter will say that I accept whatever punishment or punishments she may choose. If, and only if I mean this with all my heart I can stay, if not I will pack my things and leave.” Until I have received your letter I will not speak to you again. Write it, then go to work.’ She stood, looked at me long and hard and left the room. I wrote it. I wrote the letter in my lunch break. I re-wrote it in the afternoon and again when I got home early and before she got home. It was a heartfelt and genuine apology, declaration of love, expression of remorse and a plea not to expel me. I didn’t try to explain or excuse myself because I knew that would make her wild. I left it in an envelope addressed to her on the ottoman in the hall where I knew she would see it. I sat on the floor in the corner of the sitting room and waited. It seemed like an age before the sounds of her homecoming reached my ears. I stayed where I was and hoped against hope that I had done the right thing. I heard the heels and the clatter of the bags then the heels clicked into her study and I waited in silence. ‘Stand up, Linda.’ I stood, eyes lowered, heart pounding. ‘You will be punished. Now, make dinner.’ She came to me then and held me close, my face buried in her hair. I whispered a thank you and she patted my back and kissed my ear.
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