Back home, my skin still steamy from my bath, in a towelling robe, I wander into the bedroom.
My Master is there ahead of me, already in bed, sitting up with the blankets roughly pulled up to his waist, chest and shoulders exposed. Soft music plays in the background. He pats the space beside himself. “Come and join me.” Then, repeating my words to him of only a few days ago, “Be with me.”
Be “I"ll just be a moment, Master.” He smiles, resting his head back, watching as, extracting clips and pins, I finger-comb my hair loose. Despite being pinned up from the water, the steam penetrated and as I shake out long tresses, it tumbles over my shoulders in a damp tangle. Taking my brush from the dressing table, I perch on the edge of the bed, working at the dishevelled mess. The ends have snarle
