I must have fallen asleep because I’m awoken sometime later by a soft knocking at the door. I want it to be Eduardo. I want to see him grovel, on his knees, begging for forgiveness. I want him to be hurting the way I’m hurting.
“What is it?” I ask abruptly.
The door opens a crack and Lester pokes his head in. I’m at once relieved and disappointed.
“What is it, Lester?” I ask, with a hint of irritation.
“Sir, all these clothes…”
“What of it?” I snap.
“I, er. What should I do with them?”
“Leave them,” I say.
“Very well, sir,” he says.
His head disappears and the door begins to close.
“Lester,” I call out.
His head reappears. “Yes, sir.”
“Come here.”
Lester looks like a frightened school child as he walks hesitantly towards the bed. I find his body strangely arousing. It has alwa
