“I thought that you might like to know about my family and me.”
I was still angry, and it wasn’t a chore at all to turn my lips into a frown and shake my head at him.
“No, I had no interest in hearing about your family.” I swallowed hard. “Now, if you’re done being sentimental, as a reminder, you are to address me a ‘Mistress,’ or ‘Mistress Elise.’ Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mistress Elise.”
I stared him down for a moment, then turned and continued leading him to the garage. I held the door open that led from the house to the garage and walked over to a tarp that I had set out on the ground. I pointed to a box that was lined with a black trash bag.
“That box is your laundry hamper. You are permitted to use the washer and dryer between 8 a.m. and noon on Saturdays. I suggest you plan accordingly.” I looked at him to make sure he understood.
“Yes, Mistress Elise,” he replied and nodded.
“These four boxes are your dresser drawers. I suggest you shake your clothes out each morning in case bugs crawl into the boxes. Basically, I don’t want to see an ounce of your existence in my home. You are here for my pleasure. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress Elise.”
“Good. Well, go ahead and unpack. I’d like to make sure you followed directions and were able to count,” I said sarcastically and put my hands on my hips.
Andrew set his duffle bag down on the tarp and held up six pairs of socks and then set them in a box. He then presented six pairs of black boxer briefs and then set them in the same box as his socks. Next, he showed me four shirts and four pairs of pants and then pointed to the pants and shirt he was wearing as the fifth pair of pants and shirt.
“I’m also wearing the seventh pair of socks and underwear.”
“Good, Andrew. I’m glad to see that you were able to count.”
He put his pants and shirts in a box and then used another box for his work uniforms.
“Show me what you brought in your brown bag,” I instructed.
I was very curious to see what this man brought. He showed me his cell phone, cell phone charger, two books, a notebook, a small photo album, a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, hair gel, and a comb. I picked up the two novels and flipped the backs over.
“I’ve never heard of these. What are they? Mysteries?”
“Yes, Mistress Elise,” Andrew replied. I could tell that he wanted to elaborate, but he kept himself in check and only answered with the information that was asked of him.
“Are these your favorite books?” I asked.
“Yes, Mistress Elise.”
I nodded and dropped them on the tarp. I picked up his notebook and thumbed through it. Many of the pages were filled. I couldn’t tell if these were notes for something or what.
“What do you write in the notebook?”
“When I feel like I need to get some things out, I write in the notebook.”
“Clearly, you write in the notebook. I deduced that when I opened it and saw writing. I don’t understand how you can even manage to fulfill coffee orders accurately.” I shook my head in wonder at him. “Let me dumb this down for you so you can understand. What…Do…You…Write?”
I over accentuated the words so he would realize that he made another error by not replying to the question being asked.
“I write things that are on my mind. Sometimes it’s poetry, Mistress Elise.”
His response bothered me, though I wasn’t sure why. He was apparently one of those people who were in touch with their feelings. Such bullshit. I grew annoyed and angry.
“You write about your feelings? Little girlfriends not giving you blowjobs or letting you fuck their asses?” He stood there quietly and calmly taking what I dished out, which pissed me off even more. I slapped him in the face again because he hadn’t answered me. “Answer me, Andrew!”
“I write about loss,” he said calmly.
Loss. Bullshit. What could this fucking twenty-nine-year-old know about loss? I was beyond irritated and tossed his little feelings notebook down on the ground beside his books.
