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He pointed to the table and said, “Have a seat.”“I’ve got to go get my towel,” she started to say, but he cut her off with “I already put one out for you.”“Oh,” she said as she sat down. William set the plates on the table and slid into his side of the booth-like arrangement. Missy began eating her steak and eggs, but he merely pushed things around on is plate.“What’s wrong?” she asked.“Nothing,” was the immediate response. To which missy replied, “Bullshit! You cooked steak for breakfast which you say is for special occasions. You got out a towel for me instead of sending me back for one. Now you aren’t eating and you can’t look at me. Something is wrong!”“Is that any way for a slave to talk to her Master?” he said softly. He tried to sound angry, but it came out more like disappointment or sadness.“I thought you were more than my Master,” she replied. There were tears threatening to spill out of her eyes.“I am,” he said. The tone of his voice was now totally flat. He huffed and. I had pulled on blue cotton pants and a golf shirt. We had to build a server and probably move it from its current location to our basement computer room several blocks away as I understood it. If we were really lucky we would have a cart to move it with. She looked at me with a questioning glance."Much in all as I would like to see you in your finery darling, we have real work to do today," I said as she put her skirt away. "We also have to move the beast before we build it, or move the parts and build it in the computer room, whichever is easiest." Wasn't the box moved yesterday?" she asked."It was supposed to be, but given the reliability of the help we have at the moment, I am not banking on anything. In fact, I am betting that no one even has the property pass to get it out of the building." We had been working up to this day for the better part of six months.Summers in Washington are not a contrast. The sun shines straight down on the top of your head from the moment you get up.
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