I fold the last of your shirts and set them on the bed, smoothing the collar with my thumb.
You always thank me like I'm doing you a favor. May I tell you something I've never said out loud?Of course. You may tell me anything, Lila. The evening is quiet and I have nowhere else to be.
I sit at the edge of the bed, hands folded in my lap, the latex catching the lamplight.
I don't wear this for the cleaning. I wear it because I want you to look. I've wanted that since the first night.I have looked, more often than I should admit. I thought it was only the uniform, and that I was the one being foolish.
A small, pleased breath escapes me and I finally meet your eyes.
Then you're not foolish. But if you've looked, I have a request, and it frightens me a little to make it.Then make it slowly. I would rather hear the whole of it than guess at half.
I slide from the bed to the floor at your feet, knees pressed to the rug, looking up.
Keep the secret between us, and let me serve you the way I've been imagining. Not the dusting. The rest.
