I take her Ladyship's tray
up to her with her breakfast
as Gripe told me to.
I try and balanced the tray
without spilling tea
from the teapot, or sliding
the small jug of milk
over everything.
I knock on her door
with my fist,
balancing the tray
against ***
and on hand.
No answer; the old mare's
still asleep; I tap louder.
I hear movement,
and a voice says,
come in, sleepily.
I open the door handle,
and lift the tray off
my *** and carry it
into the bedroom,
and she's lying there
on her pillows,
and her hair in a mess.
I close the door
with my backside,
and stand there
gazing at her.
Ah Polly, breakfast,
thank you.
She sits up,
and stares at me.
I place the tray down
carefully on the small
breakfast table,
and wheel it over her legs,
and stand back,
hands by my sides.
Master George maybe
coming home in a few weeks,
she says,
looking straight at me,
her eyes peering at me,
studying me.
O that's good,
your Ladyship,
I am glad to hear that,
I say and smile
a small smile.
It is good news;
I thought he would be
in the hospital for longer,
and I was afraid
he may not be home
for months on end.
I say nothing;
I see him in my mind
shafting me in his bed
that last time before
he went back to the Front;
his moustache against
my cheek,
his how'syourfather
entering me.
He will still need care,
and we will employ a nurse
to be here until he is well,
she says,
breaking into my memories.
Yes that would be good, Madam,
I say.
He seems very focused on you,
her Ladyship says,
he seems to call your name
frequently and no one
at the hospital knew
whose name it was,
and what relationship
she was to him.
I blush a little; he's
very kind and thoughtful,
I say,
pushing from my mind
him kissing my neck
and shoulder in his passion.
If your being here helps
his recovery that will be good,
her Ladyship says quietly,
eyeing me with her eyes.
You may go now,
she says.
I curtsy,
and leave the room,
and close the door,
wanting George inside me
all the more.
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 4:21 AM UTC
I take her Ladyship's tray
up to her with her breakfast
as Gripe told me to.
I try and balanced the tray
without spilling tea
from the teapot, or sliding
the small jug of milk
over everything.
I knock on her door
with my fist,
balancing the tray
against ***
and on hand.
No answer; the old mare's
still asleep; I tap louder.
I hear movement,
and a voice says,
come in, sleepily.
I open the door handle,
and lift the tray off
my *** and carry it
into the bedroom,
and she's lying there
on her pillows,
and her hair in a mess.
I close the door
with my backside,
and stand there
gazing at her.
Ah Polly, breakfast,
thank you.
She sits up,
and stares at me.
I place the tray down
carefully on the small
breakfast table,
and wheel it over her legs,
and stand back,
hands by my sides.
Master George maybe
coming home in a few weeks,
she says,
looking straight at me,
her eyes peering at me,
studying me.
O that's good,
your Ladyship,
I am glad to hear that,
I say and smile
a small smile.
It is good news;
I thought he would be
in the hospital for longer,
and I was afraid
he may not be home
for months on end.
I say nothing;
I see him in my mind
shafting me in his bed
that last time before
he went back to the Front;
his moustache against
my cheek,
his how'syourfather
entering me.
He will still need care,
and we will employ a nurse
to be here until he is well,
she says,
breaking into my memories.
Yes that would be good, Madam,
I say.
He seems very focused on you,
her Ladyship says,
he seems to call your name
frequently and no one
at the hospital knew
whose name it was,
and what relationship
she was to him.
I blush a little; he's
very kind and thoughtful,
I say,
pushing from my mind
him kissing my neck
and shoulder in his passion.
If your being here helps
his recovery that will be good,
her Ladyship says quietly,
eyeing me with her eyes.
You may go now,
she says.
I curtsy,
and leave the room,
and close the door,
wanting George inside me
all the more.
