In the Morning

 

Panties sat on the pink sheets as Miss C sat up in a tangle of bed covers. Nearby were the pink-and-white-and-black nylon panties Miss C had given her for no clear reason. Tongue-tied and nervous, Panties tried to convey her version of a lover approaching the object of adoration. It was a unique and private plea, essentially an audition, which Miss C listened to with her usual gentle thoughtfulness (overcast with her usual slow morning disorientation as her body temperature recovered from its nocturnal lows). She noted Panties’ in her maid’s uniform, kneeling before her and finally spoke: “You’re never going to be my boyfriend. I much prefer you as a servant. We’re developing a kind of friendship where you serve me. You’ll get to be close to me [to do my work] We’ll be very close, just like a couple, but without the sex. I think you should go make me my coffee now.” When Panties returned with a cup of hazelnut coffee (with sugar and soy milk) she again talked about how lucky would be her boyfriend or lover. How wonderful it would be to be the one to kiss her good morning. Miss C sipped her coffee and said, “You can kiss my panties.”