Looking pretty in case her husband brought home his new business partners.
Mercédès’ schedule for today could be summarised by this. Being a beacon of beauty whilst striding otherwise pointlessly through the contemporary residence, or, like now, biding in the technocraticly styled conservatory. After all, her husband was known to be a connoisseur of decorative objects, a collector of everything pleasant to behold.
And wasn’t it her sacred duty as a wife to fulfil his standards? Continue reading
Visiting the McIntoshs
He was with her. She knew it. Riona knew the cheating bastard was doing that blonde slut this very second. Like he did for the last couple of weeks.
Working late. That Glasgow project again, you know. Don’t stay up for me.
Standing at the kitchen island, one hand clenched around the stem of her wine glass, she stared into empty space, her jaw set, muscles working. Tightening. Straining. The clock at the far wall of the vast room headed for midnight, finding itself in agreement with the display of the double wall oven. Continue reading
Screams of my Mistress
with special thanks to Polly Plummer
A glass of lemonade! Nina’s eyes flew open, fixing the cool patterns of moonlight reflected from hidden smooth surfaces onto the ceiling of her bedroom. The urge had come suddenly, and it had come strong! Half a glass, no more. That would be sufficient. Orange flavour.
She looked at the alarm clock on her bedside table:
Surely Mistress Selene would not be around the ground floor anymore. Continue reading