She had an appointment at the solicitors office at 9 o’ clock : Forbes of Swan, Joyce, Forbes and Jewkes had been the family solicitor for over three generations and was aware of every little skeleton hidden in the family’s rather copious and dusty closet. The boy dressed her, pulled on her boots, held the mirror before her to confirm all was right with her reflection . They then walked the short distance in the time perfected formation of their lives, he in her wake ready for the vaguest hint of a command.
Boy waited cap in hand in the outer office while She entered the dry dusty interior. Forbes rose to shake her hand and with no preamble she thrust the document into his hand. She sat, back straight, calm, determined to get the outcome she desired. The wall clock with it’s painted dial and oak case ticked the minutes as Forbes absorbed the words before him. He licked his lips and sat back, looked up at her, formulating his response. As he opened his mouth to speak she held up her hand,
“ I know it is somewhat unusual, but I believe all the instructions in the document are well within the law”
She was not asking and he knew it. A longer silence followed , measured by the wall clock in heart beating time; accentuating the expectation that impregnated the air. Then his response…..
“ I should advise you that whilst the letter of the law is adhered to in your will, administering it might prove somewhat difficult”
His words were delivered slowly as if he were seeking a way to prevent her wishes being granted, yet could find no chink in her carefully scripted final wishes, which lay flat and accusing on the desk before him.
“Forbes,” ( she pronounced his name in a way that ensured he realised he was in the fortunate position of managing her affairs)
“I am confident you can and will arrange my last wishes precisely as the document dictates”
She sat perfectly still and waited until with the slightest inclination of his head he confirmed he would comply.
She rose to leave before more could be said, offered her hand; this time he bent to kiss the ring less fingers and arthritic knuckles. She contained the smile that threatened to reveal her exultation ; clicked her fingers as she left the room making her boy leap to his feet and take up his proscribed distance behind her.
Relaxation followed the early morning achievements; the sort that made her jubilant and euphoric. Boy was strung up like the piece of meaty property he was, bull whip resting in her hand the tail teasing his exposed inner thigh as he faced her; single tail play was her all time favourite, the sweet clean cracks the melody of her life; their lives. The whip was like lightning from the hand of some ancient goddess snaking through the air; languid, precise, savage and sensuous. He bore the whip scars of earlier years now silvered as was his hair, each one cherished, each moment remembered. Every gentle stroke with its arcing graceful form more powerful than any strong, untutored swing. The air resonated with power and animal passion as the boy was washed into the space betwixt the worlds, she led, he followed, nothing could permeate or contaminate this perfect existence.
Later, still naked with fresh bruises to delight her gaze he served her a light luncheon. The icy winter wind invading every crack and crevice of the room served to remind him that he would soon warm the daybed on which she took her siesta, these days he was invited daily to share it her body drawing the heat from his, and he giving it willingly. He requested to prepare for this eventuality and to his surprise she denied it, announcing that she had other plans…..tbc
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