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I didn’t want him to hear, didn’t want him to know. he was up in the main house, and I knew he hoped to high hell I’d forgotten what today was. I was nearly to the bottom of the stairs when I heard Xander say, ‘Woman, you come down here in what you think is a hush but I hear you clompin’ in them shoes a mile away. I know what you’re doin’,’ and I froze in my tracks. ‘Xander, I’m sorry,’ I muttered, as his shadow fell over me, ‘I know I said I wouldn’t but…SHE WAS OUR DAUGHTER, goddamn it!’ ‘Come on, then,’ he said gently, coming down the stairs to meet me. He took my hand and led me down the last two steps into the root cellar. He was nude and smelled of mint, having just showered, this glorious man for whom I’d long ago given up my so-called life in New York and come out to the flat plains of the Midwest. I touched the tribal tattoo on his chest, looked down at the red earth of the cellar floor, and said quietly, ‘I’ve been keeping the box there,’ pointing to a spot under a tarp. He. Alan loved it of course and was soon fucking me everywhere in the house. I was safe nowhere, and I loved it.Then the thing took a new direction. It all started one morning when I was dusting the lounge. The doorbell went, and Alan just told me to answer it.“What dressed like this?”“Yes, you haven’t forgotten that you are a whore!”I hadn’t forgotten, but I never expected to go through it again. I went to the door and opened it.The postman was standing there. He could not take his eyes off me. I suppose I was a bit of a sight revealing quite a lot.“Registered letter requires a signature, love,” he said, smirking.“You had better come in for the Master to sign for it then,” I replied.I led him into the lounge, where Alan signed for the letter. Then he seemed to notice the attention that the postman was giving me.“Would you like to fuck her?”That took us both by surprise.“Would you like to fuck her?” he repeated.“Well, yes,” said the postman.“Up the fanny or up the arse?”“Well, up the.
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