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THE TALE OF PRETTY ASS
BY PAUL ALEXANDER
CHAPTER TWO
How late will Master work tonight, she wonders? 6:05, 6:30, 8:30...One time, He called "down tools" at midnight! She hasn't heard the alarm bell or seen the flashing red light that would tell her" Master needs assistance". Without that excuse, she is forbidden to break position before nine p.m. Permitted to move just enough to keep her body from cramping, such things as rolling her shoulders, flexing her back, lifting her ass off her heels but NEVER closing her thighs. Master could arrive at any moment; it is only a two-minute walk from where His shop is attached to the other end of the greenhouse. Master could come in that way, but then He would be tramping sawdust into the greenhouse, which He prefers not to do. It's a warm spring day today so He will probably use the front door, which she is facing. If she has guessed right, her reward will be a half hour of being kissed and fondled before dinner, if she is wrong, her "punishment" will be bathing her Master before dinner. Master is so cruel to his devoted slavegirl! How did she get so lucky, she muses? Five years ago, she was a recent graduate of Osgoode Hall, an associate at one of the better Bay St. firms, with a promising career in corporate law, perhaps a partnership within a few years. Then, she was invited, with the other associates, to dinner at the Forrest Hills mansion of the Senior Partner. All she remembers from that night is the magnificent rosewood dining room suite; table, eight chairs, two captain’s chairs, hutch and sideboard. That the set was a one of a kind original was obvious at first glance. Lovingly handmade, with care, patience and attention to detail, it glowed, it gleamed. The senior partner took notice and they spent a convivial hour talking about the set, the months of dedicated work it had taken to build. The cost: all the senior said was" If you need to ask, you can't afford it." But he was kind enough to provide the name of the master craftsman who did the work. That weekend, she went to his shop for the first time.
"Good morning, Sir. Mr. Brant gave me your name when I admired his diningroom set this week., my name is Juliet, Juliet Montague and"
"And I suppose your boyfriend answers to Romeo?"
"What can I say, my parents were Shakespeare freaks, what else were they going to name their only daughter?"
"Yeah, right, and every time you're late for dinner, your mom stands out on the porch and calls out Juliet, Juliet, wherefore art thou, Juliet."
"God, how long have you known my mom?"
"Never met the lady, but I suspect I would have enjoyed her sense of humour. Anyway, come in, come in, would you like a cup of coffee, only have Kenya Double A at the moment, the Jamaican Blue has gone the way of all flesh, so we're roughing it, but the pot is fresh brewed this last ten minutes."
"Thank you very much, I'd love a cup, and Kenya Double A is... roughing it?'
"For some of us... if it's worth having at all, then it's worth having the very best you can find! Cream and sugar?"
"Yes, thanks. One lump."
"Darn, another barbarian who insists on adulterating otherwise drinkable coffee. I suppose your day doesn't really begin until after your first pit stop at Timmies."
"Right, I don't get my eyes open till after my first medium double double."
"I guess for a lawyer, that level of caffeine is a basic working tool."
"How did you know I'm a lawyer, am I wearing a sign on my back or something?"
"You mentioned Bill Brant; I don't think he knows anyone but lawyers!"
"He is a bit of a workaholic, I suppose...anyway, nice shop you have here, would you mind showing me around? My dad used to spend every weekend mucking about in his shop when I was a kid."
"What sort of stuff did he work on?"
"Oh, the usual home handyman stuff, I guess, he built me a doll house for my sixth birthday, I still have it, it has pride of place in my living room."
"So what was he in real life, another lawyer, no wait, ...don't tell me... a doctor?"
“God, you're good, a pediatrician actually. He loved working with kids but the stress was horrible; he used to say the only thing keeping him sane was his shop, my mom and me, ...in that order."
"Sounds like a good man, how long ago did you lose him?"
"Six years ago, I'd just finished high school and was trying to decide between med school and law school, we went up to Wasaga Beach for a day in the sun, we'd just got back at seven. Dad went up to lie down for a nap, when mom went up an hour later to call him for dinner, he was...They said it was a massive heart attack."
"How old was he?"
"Sixty-two, we'd just celebrated his birthday the week before."
"Not such a bad way to go, all things considered.... Too early, of course, but it was quick... pretty much painless, he'd just had a good day in the sun with his family...I could think of a lot worse ways to finish."
"You know, ...I never really thought of it that way... thanks."
"S'ok, ...I just have a weird sort of mind... I often think of how I'd like to go... it's what I do when I'm depressed. I think my personal preference would be...swept overboard off a fifty-foot topsail schooner that I'd built and was sailing single-handed around the world. .... I’d want it to happen on the last leg, about 100 miles out of Halifax.... after a voyage of some three or four years and ...a visit to everywhere worth the seeing."
"Ooh, a romantic."
"Yeah, I think I was probably... Lord Byron... in a previous life."
"With maybe a little bit of ...Kipling, as well?"
"I'm impressed, ...do you kipple?"
"Not really, Dad... got introduced to it... during the war, he used to... read me some of the poems and... stories when I was little. I just thought there was ...a taste of... "If"... in your little speech about coffee. Anyway, you were going to show me round the shop."
End of chapter two