We also caught up on the gossip from our circle of acquaintances.When the lasagna was ready, she opened a bottle of red wine and only then I noticed she was and had been as nervous as I was all the time. I told myself I had to forget about being so nervous, get rid of my shyness, build up some courage and take up the reins right there.She was already sitting at the table. I was standing, about to serve a portion of lasagna. Instead, I left the tray on the table, circled back behind her and kissed her on her head. Her hair was still a bit damp, and I smelled the same perfume that she had used last time.In just a fraction of a second I forgot about the lasagna and, well, everything. The next few seconds everything became blurry. All of a sudden I had lifted her from the chair and was kissing her. Then I tasted something salty and when I took her head in my hands to have a look at her face, I saw she had tears on her cheeks.I didn't ask, but she told me she had missed me more than she'd. Needmore. Thank you." "I will get right to the point, Ms. Chantel," Desiree said, with a grimace. "I am in need of a Governess, not for my children, of which my husband and I have none, but indeed, for my husband. He is a bad boy, and I have no time or desire to discipline him as he ought to be." Chantel nodded, and waited, looking first at Desiree, and then at the huge desk, covered with magazines, crazy magazines, and strange sex toys. There was not much there that she had not seen before, though the one, as she glanced, seemed a bit unusual: Forced feminism? Hmmm. That, she thought, that, could be interesting. Then she said, "I understand. I am familiar and experienced with this. I have been-" "Are you?" Ms. Needmore asked, archly. "Please do not be sanguine, Ms. Chantel. My husband slept with my maid. He paid her money. He was disloyal!" Desiree Needmore stood up, slapped the desk with a fine nailed hand, and burst out, "That bastard is going to be fucked, transformed, made to be.
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