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---First Day of Service to Sandy --
I wake up at 7am having barely slept. Every time I’d manage to drift off to sleep on my front, I’d
wake up soon after having rolled onto my aching buttocks. I’d then have to struggle to get all the
images of yesterdays humiliation out of my head and ignore my tender buns ‘till I could drift off
again. But I may as well get up now and not put it off any longer. I’m so mortified by what
happened yesterday I’m reluctant to even look at myself in the mirror as I brush my teeth. When I
shower I think part of me is trying to wash off the memories. I enter the living room, the room of
my destruction, trying to ignore the part of my brain that wants to replay every embarrassing
comment they made. On my computer desk is the pile of paper I wrote out my lines on. It was too
sore to sit down so I had to kneel as I wrote them out, slapping my poor balls and thanking the girls
out loud with each one. I put a cushion on my computer chair and gingerly sit down. It makes me
sharply intake air between clenched teeth but at least I’ve regained the ability to sit. Once I’ve fired
up the machine and opened my browser I click on the address bar to go to my website and check my
sales. A list of porn sites I’ve visited appears before I type in the domain name. There’s a swelling
in my pants, the lightest pair of tracksuit bottoms I own, and I’m tempted to go straight back to my
own habits. Kerry’s voice condescends inside my head “I will not look at porn, like the monkey
spanking jerk off addict that my three gorgeous neighbours know that I am, without their
permission”. I even feel a slight urge to slap my balls again and say ‘Yes Miss Kerry’ for even
considering it. Instead I delete my internet history. Obeying her does nothing to deter my rising
boner. “And no playing with yourself either until we think you’re ready” sounds through my head
as if she’s saying it into my ear. I can almost see her knowing smile. I concentrate on work, taking
my mind off the tent in my lap, grateful that Sandy isn’t here to call me a disgusting pervert for
having it.
Simon will be here at 2-ish. Other than that I could stay holed up in my house all day and
not speak to another soul. And believe me I want to. I spend the next 3 hours working, even though
I only really have 2 minutes of updating my inventory that really needs to be done before Simon
calls round. But I find work, like looking up the popularity of various new books I could get from
my suppliers and seeing what ‘people who bought this also bought this’ messages come up when I
look at the books I’m selling on rival websites. But by 10am I know I need to go knock on my
neighbours door. If Jessica wants to sell my stock through her fitness classes I really shouldn’t pass
that up. And if I want to start a good business relationship with her I need to start it now rather than
after days of them saying God knows what about me in that house. As difficult as it is, I’m ringing
the doorbell.
Kerry opens the door, and her eyes light up when she sees me. I see the beginnings of that
familiar smug smile start to take shape. But this is a business call and I keep my voice calm,
friendly and with an underlying assertiveness “Hi, I was looking for Jessica if she’s in?”. My tone
catches Kerry off guard and she breaks eye contact “Oh yeah um she’s here..”. She hurries off to
fetch Jessica, I think I might even have seen a flicker of disappointment in her but I’m reassured
that she isn’t responding like they’ve all decided how to react next time they meet me. If I’d put this
off a day or two I suspect they would have. Jessica comes to the door, but not too quickly. Despite
the air of confidence she exudes I’m sure she too hasn’t figured out what attitude to take and that
lets me take the lead, as any good salesman would. “You were saying you might want to get some
of my books for your clients, I have my supplier coming today and I’m filling out my order. If you
have a minute would you like to come over and pick out the ones you want? I can show you his
inventory too if you’d like to see it.” Like Kerry, her mind was working a hundred miles a minute
and responds like her brain is still catching up. “ Oh yeah, sure .. I could have a look”.
I get her talking about the books as she enters the basement and starts to look through them.
She recognises some by the title and a couple just by the author, so I know she’d be interested in
more from that person. As she talks to me I can see she’s avoiding eye contact. I remember how
easily she shifted from one attitude to the next yesterday, so my instinct tells me if I give her a
power boost in the conversation she’ll engage more “Do you mind if I ask, does Kerry have a
boyfriend?”. The effect on Jessica is obvious, she starts to smile broadly and looks at me “Not as far
as I know” she says coyly.
I just smile and go back to discussing the books. I’ve never met a woman who didn’t enjoy
the prospect of playing matchmaker and my question makes me seem a little vulnerable, that makes
Jessica relax and chat openly about what she wants. I just casually connect my products to her needs
and everything about our rapport is pleasant and constructive right now. “Do you think you might
get more clients with an ad on my website? A lot of people go to it for the fitness stuff”. “Yes that’s
…” I can see Jessica’s realised something, her smile broadens and eyes narrow like she’s rumbled a
sneaky friend. “I see you Chris, identifying my needs and making suggestions. What tipped you off
that I’m struggling to get clients?”. “I guess the way you didn’t buy the books yesterday that you
obviously wanted, even when Sandy put you under pressure to buy some”. There’s no dishonesty in
that, though I wasn’t even really aware I suspected her business was struggling until she asked.
Still smiling and holding eye contact she speaks coolly but pleasantly “You’re a very
perceptive man Chris. Maybe Kerry should be worried. And I think the ad is a brilliant idea, I‘ll talk
to you about it later”. After we trade numbers, Jessica leaves as the happy, assertive businesswoman
that she is after a good meeting. I’m confident that she won’t hesitate to call me whenever she needs
something, she‘ll talk up my products to her client base which I‘m sure will grow and from the
looks of things she‘ll keep this relationship separate from all the things she thankfully didn‘t bring
up when she was here. Plus, instead of moping around the house, mortified at yesterday’s events, I
can console myself that I’ll be getting much better press from Jessica then I otherwise would.
Simon comes with the latest delivery. I let him talk about work and he tries to interest me in
the wide variety of publications he wants to offload, but he understands I’m not looking to branch
out at the moment but I have plenty of new stock to order so he isn‘t really disappointed. I like
Simon, course I like most people, he’s a chatty friendly sports fan who always has some story to
tell.
I met him in a pub a while back when he was celebrating getting a large bookstore to sign
him as a supplier, he gave me the idea for my business. “By the way my cousin Isabella’s landed a
job in your old place, lifestyle insurance. She’s in accounts though so she hopefully won’t have that
wagon of a boss you had”. “Yeah she was a nightmare, bullied everyone, though I got her to stop
doing it to me in the end” I hide that I don’t want to talk about my experiences at Lifestyle and add
“I’m sure Isabella won’t get her if she’s not in sales”. I’ve peaked Simon’s curiosity though “how’d
you get her to lay off?”. I take a breath, remembering the event.
“I asked her out”.
Simon laughs with amused confusion “you what?”
“Yep - would you be a bastard to a girl you shot down?”
He believes me, and I am telling the truth, but he can’t see how would work. Still, he finds it highly
entertaining. “Chris, you’re either a genius or a maniac! I gotta get going anyhow, I’ll give you a
ring next weekend if you fancy a pint”
As I close the door after Simon I feel for a moment like I’m done for the day. But a dull ache
in my buttocks reminds me of the pile of hand written lines I need to hand over. My golden rule in
relationships is sooner rather than later. I don’t know what to think about Kerry’s ‘no jerking until
we think you’re ready' policy, but Sandy’s lines might appease her some. No - the lines can wait till
tomorrow, I had a good meeting with Jessica and I should leave it for a day. As I sit back at my
computer and feel my ass complain I get that familiar tenting and a desire to use it to forget about
my problems. I fight off the urge for hours by watching random non sexual things on the internet,
cooking dinner and doing housework but its always there. Eventually I decide this is the time to
give over the lines and be done with it. I put them in an envelope and go knock on their door.
Kerry opens again, wearing makeup this time “Hi Chris, come on in”. She seems happy to
see me, but this time expecting me. “I just came over to drop this off” I hold up the envelope for her
to take but she doesn’t. Her response sounds oddly compassionate “I know, but you need to come
into our sitting room. Sandy wants to say something”. Kerry leads and I follow, trying not to look at
her cute round bum in tight jeans and putting out of my mind the idea that I might be the reason
she‘s wearing them. In the room Jessica sits on a couch to my left and Sandy is on a seat on the
right wall. Jessica at least says “Hi Chris” with that same sympathetic tone and Kerry invites me to
sit on the right side of the couch Jessica’s on. With Jessica to my left, Sandy to my right and Kerry
standing against the far wall I feel a bit surrounded, but its clear we’re all waiting for Sandy to talk.
“Chris. I realised something earlier today that I think you should know. It was when I saw these two
running around singing your praises all day. Jessica talked about how ‘perceptive’ you are, and I
think she’s right. Perceptive … and manipulative”. That last word is not a kind one, and I can tell its
implications have been hotly debated in this room before I got here by the way she looks away from
me when she says it. Her accusatory attitude being tempered by Kerry and Jessica. But there is
nothing I’ve done today I need to be ashamed of, so I’ll let her lay her cards on the table and then
I’ll flip them over. “Tell me Chris, what do the three of us have in common?” For some reason this
is a very important question for her.
“I don’t know” and I don’t. Sandy eyes me for a moment “I believe that’s true” I feel like I’ve
passed a test but I don’t know for what. “Subconsciously however, you do see a connection so don’t
think about it, just say what comes to mind”. I play along, thinking it will at least get this over
quicker “well you’re trying to be a psychologist” “Yes” Sandy responds like this proves some point,
but I can tell the others are unconvinced. “Clearly” Jessica adds, which makes me feel less
surrounded and takes the wind out of Sandy‘s sails. “Kerry’s a nurse” I can’t help but feel that
whatever this test is it all depends on my next answer. “Jessica is …” sitting on my sore buns one
answer overrides the others even though it makes no sense “a therapist?”
I feel like Jessica and Kerry didn’t really expect me to give that answer but Sandy did. She
continues “Think about it Chris: a man with a porn and masturbation addiction lives next door to a
nurse who works in a sperm bank, educated in every masturbatory issue a man can have and is
dedicated to helping them, a spanking therapist who wouldn’t hesitate to pull out a bag of tricks to
alter a man’s behaviour and .. um.. A budding psychologist who is member of a women’s group and
… um … might have some issues and things that might make me strongly condemn that type of
behaviour” There are several things in my mind I chose to ignore. I can think of objections like the
fact that much of this I was led into such as calling Sandy a psychologist and that she references
things I didn’t know at the time to make her case - like where Kerry worked. But there’s a strange
familiarity to much of what she says.
“Why, Chris, at the first open-door opportunity you get would you come over here and leave
your phone behind?” That’s one thing I can’t deny: I’ve never ever let my phone get out of arms
reach, I need to be permanently ready to answer the next call. “…your porn infested phone. After
you invaded our space you probably though we’d look through it. Of all the houses in the world
why for the first time in your life would you steal underwear from this house? Why would you
leave it balled up beside your computer full of porn? Why wouldn’t someone as perceptive as you at
least try to stop Jessy and Kerry from going into your living room?”. I feel like the ground has
fallen from beneath my feet. If what she says it’s true this is me committing actions without my
knowledge. That frightens me. I’m out of control. “Chris, you have paid for your crime and I cannot
punish you again”, I’m sure that’s Jessica and Kerry’s influence, “ but without some discipline,
treatment and training in your life it may be only a matter of time before you relapse back to your
old behaviour. If what you did was partly a cry for help then one night of punishment won’t fix your
problems.” Kerry comes over and sits beside me, I know she looks concerned even though I’m just
staring ahead. I don’t even know what I’m feeling but when I blink tears stream down my face. She
squeezes my hand as Sandy talks.
“I think we can help you Chris. I think you want us to help you. I think you need order and structure
and supervision to change your behaviour in the long run and I think we can provide you with that
if you agree to follow our direction. I don’t want to interact with your sexuality but if I believe what
I say I must be willing to help you. You should go home and think about it. If you want we can
forget all about it, but if you decide you need our guidance, our therapy, then you will report back
here tomorrow and ask for it. Do you understand?”
I can feel Kerry’s grip on my hand, trying to give me some support, but Sandy’s words wash over
me and I don’t know what to do with them. “Excuse me” is what comes out of my mouth and I
leave.
It’s a strange thing to be analysed. Your conscious mind seems to be slipping away to reveal
someone elses mind underneath. I don’t know who I am but more than that I don’t trust myself. If I
sit at my computer log enough I’ll sink back into my old habits. Why am I so isolated? Why am I
not getting Simon to arrange a date with me and his cousin, since I’m pretty sure that’s why he
really brought her up. Why am I not the head sales person at Lifestyle insurance instead of running
a business from my basement. But most of all, why do I do what these women say? Submitting to
punishment, writing lines after they’ve left and not masturbating because Kerry said not to. I can’t
trust anything right now. I can’t be sure why I invited Jessica over today, or why I really went back
to give in the lines. I already know what I want to do but my mind won’t accept it yet. I go to bed
early to sleep on it, wondering if all I really want is for Kerry to play with my privates again. I just
don’t know. I wake up lying on my front, naked on the bed. Reaching down my buttocks feel
somewhat bruised but nothing to worry about. It’s 9 am. I shower, shave, get dressed, eat a good
breakfast and accept the decision my mind has made. I knock on their door and take a deep breath.
“Chris” Sandy says when she opens the door, without surprise. “Follow me” Sandy goes into
the living room. I’m assuming the others are at work now. “I don’t want to see your bits like the
girls do Chris, so you will wear those shorts when I’m around”. She’s pointing to a pair of white
shorts on the couch. “Um…” I start to say but she already knows what I want to ask. “Just the shorts
Chris” she leaves the sitting room saying “join me in the kitchen when you’re done”. I strip. It feels
strange to be naked in someone else sitting room like this. When I’m completely nude I step into the
shorts and pull them up. They zip up the front and they’re very tight, leaving little to the
imagination. I can feel exactly where my penis and each ball are. Once I’ve folded up my clothes,
perhaps to give myself an extra moment away from Sandy’s eyes, I walk barefoot to the kitchen.
Sandy stands upright and formal, impeccably dressed and looking down on me, her attitude
emphasises the height difference as much as her high heeled shoes. I feel like I’m being summoned
by the head of human resources about my behaviour. I know Sandy has no interest in my body but I
can tell she enjoys my awkward vulnerability at being so naked, though she tries to hide it. “Well
boy, if you want me to give you the order and discipline you so clearly need, you should get down
on your knees and ask for it, shouldn’t you?” “Yes Miss Sandy” I kneel down on the kitchen floor,
my feet and knees slightly sticking to the lino and look up to meet her superior gaze. “Please Miss
Sandy, please give me the order and discipline that I need”
“You understand I will often be strict with you”
“Yes Miss Sandy”
“I will not destroy your personality, but you will learn obedience and submission to authority and in
this house you may consider every woman an authority figure.”
“Yes Miss Sandy”
“You will welcome them on your knees and in your shorts unless commanded otherwise.”
“Yes Miss Sandy”
“You will treat every woman with absolute respect and you will appreciate her guidance”
“Yes Mi..” Sandy cut me off with a hard slap across my face, my cheek stings but I remain in
position.
“Lesson number one, no matter what a woman does to you, accept it without argument and any
anger from you will be considered disrespect”
She eyes me carefully looking for any trace of ‘disrespect’.
“Yes Miss Sandy”
“Good boy. Now stand up and turn around”
I do what she says almost without thinking and find myself facing the chores list on the kitchen
door. All the names have been changed to Chris. My name is written larger than the previous names,
giving me the impression the writer may have taken some satisfaction in it. Perhaps I should be
grateful it doesn’t just say ‘boy’.
“You will complete your assigned chores within 3 hours. You will do an excellent job. I’m sure
you’ll understand why laundry is not one of your assigned chores?”
“Yes Miss Sandy”
“Look at me when I talk to you. You will find cleaning products under the sink and you will
complete your tasks in order. Now get to work”.
“Yes Miss Sandy”
Her heels sound out loudly on the floor as she strides out of the kitchen. I look back at my first task
- clean the kitchen floor. I don’t see a mop anywhere in the room. I open the cabinet under the sink
and see a bucket with a label ‘FOR THE FLOOR’ written on it. Inside is a tiny cloth and a bottle of
floor cleaner. I guess she wants me on my hands and knees for this and if I ask for a mop I suspect
another face slap would be my answer. As I mix the floor cleaner with hot water in the bucket, put
on rubber gloves and start to scrub the lino floor I wonder what psychology theory she might be
employing. The cloth barely covers my fingers, which makes me think of a soldier being made to
scrub the floor for hours with a toothbrush. But I’m not convinced this is actually punishment.
Maybe its to do with the idea that the path to changing behaviour is long and laborious. She clearly
wants this to take time anyway.
Aside from the bedrooms, which are off limits to me, I clean the house from top to bottom. I
make sure not to leave a single smudge or blemish anywhere. I take special care to thoroughly clean
everywhere I might neglect if I was cleaning for myself, like behind the toilet bowl or inside the
cabinets in the kitchen. I make sure the floor of the bathroom is good enough to eat off, just in case
she had something like that in mind for me. Sandy periodically came in and checked on my
progress, looking for faults. I would kneel and there was usually a slap in the face for missing
something but eventually each room was cleaned to her satisfaction. The last room to clean was the
living room
In the living room Sandy sits comfortably on the couch reading a book while I clean as
quietly and discreetly as possible. I feel naked as I clean the fireplace, on my hands and knees with
my butt in the air and Sandy behind me. I’m not sure why but this feeling of being naked and
serving a strict commanding woman causes a twitch in my shorts. I do my best to concentrate on
polishing the fireplace but I can’t take my mind off it. My traitor of a penis starts to grow. I carry on
cleaning the fireplace hoping it will go down before I have to face Sandy once more. After a few
minutes Sandy speaks up “I think that fireplace is done now boy, you may start with the dusting.”
“Yes Miss Sandy”
I have no choice now but to get up and go get the duster.
“STOP!” Sandy yells while sharply putting down her book and standing up. She glares at my
tenting crotch and then at me “And what is THIS, boy?”
“I’m sorry Miss Sandy, I couldn’t help …”
Sandy cuts me off with her trademark hard slap to the face.
“You should be focusing on the tasks I assigned you, not getting excited!”
“Yes Miss Sandy, sorry Miss Sandy”
Sandy relaxes a little but is still annoyed at having to deal with this development and very much in
the frame of mind to lay down the law.
“Well Chris, the purpose of this exercise if you haven’t guessed yet is to begin to direct this sexual
energy of yours to something productive. We already know how excited you get when you obey a
dominant woman and I know you struggle to control yourself but it is not acceptable to get an
erection in the presence of a lady without her permission is it?”
“No Miss Sandy”
“Then you should kneel down and request a punishment to correct your behaviour shouldn’t you?”
“Yes Miss Sandy” I’m blushing furiously as I kneel down. For a moment I look down and see just
how obvious my shameful arousal is in my shorts. Kneeling up my penis head gets pinched my the
inside of the zipper, making me wince, but I know to make myself kneel up straight when I address
Sandy.
“Please punish me for my lack of self control Miss Sandy”
“Very well. I think 12 strokes of the cane should fix you. You will not remove your shorts. You may
use the arm of the couch for support and I want you to bend over and have your legs straight with
your backside high in the air when I return. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes Miss Sandy”.
Sandy leaves the room to fetch her cane and I assume the position. I want to adjust my privates to
make them more comfortable but I’m in such a submissive state right now I daren’t even do that.
Sandy returns and I hear her take up position behind me and to my left. I hear the swish of the cane
and tense every muscle in my body even though hasn’t struck me yet. I keep my legs as straight as I
can and my back arched, which makes my buns feel well above the rest of me. My hands strongly
grip the couch arm. Sandy pats the cane on my vulnerable buttocks
“You will count and say thank you for each stroke”
“Yes Miss Sandy”
“And if you break position I will add more to your punishment”
“Yes Miss Sandy”
THWACK!
“AHHHH! O-one thank you Miss Sandy” Its like being electrocuted through a burning rod and I
want to jump up and grab my butt.
WHACK!
“TWOOOOO Thank you Miss Sandy” It takes all my willpower to not lift a foot off the floor and
I’m sure I won’t be able to take 10 more of these.
The cane makes a sharp swishing sound as it cuts through the air.
“MMMMMMM, Th-three thank you Miss Sandy”
Sandy pats the cane on my cheeks giving me at least the tiniest moments reprieve. My body is
trembling uncontrollably while she delivers another perfect painful slice across my rear.
“AAAAAAHHH! FOUR THANK YOU MISS SANDY!” I can’t help but move with this one,
rising up on my arms and lifting a foot off the floor. I force myself back into position as quickly as
possible while breathing like I’ve just run a marathon. If there is the slightest erection left in my
shorts now it couldn’t be further from my mind.
“There’s no need to shout boy.” Sandy says with authority “And hold still or you’ll get more”
“Yes Miss Sandy” I try to control my breathing and prepare my mind to endure the pain without
moving or crying out.
Sandy pats my buns three times with the cane this time before she lets me have it.
For a moment I can’t make a sound at all, my mouth opens as if to silently scream. Then through
clenched teeth “… five. Thank you Miss Sandy”
“Better” I think she might actually have been impressed when she said that. It helps me stay focused
on controlling my reaction to the pain.
THWACK!
“ … six. Thank you Miss Sandy” my voice wobbles a little but I control the volume to Sandy’s
satisfaction.
“Now Chris, tell me again what you are being punished for”
She’s a clever girl Sandy, it occurs to me. I had stopped thinking of what I was being punished for
and was only thinking about the my pain. Then I was concentrating on pleasing the powerful
woman with a cane at my vulnerable ass.
“I am being punished for failing to control my sexual excitement, Miss Sandy”
“Yes Chris, and its not because I’m using you as some kind of symbol for all the pervy men I have
to deal with in work…”
(Though I suspect that might be part of the reason she‘s being so hard on me)
“… its because you must learn to respect a woman’s boundaries before your own desires…” Sandy
leans in to speak closer into my ear “… and you will learn to respect a woman’s boundaries won’t
you Chris?”
“Yes Miss Sandy, I will”
“Yes you will. And I’ll make sure you learn the discipline to control even your urges”
“Yes Miss Sandy, thank you Miss Sandy”
“Good. Now you can remember what you’re thanking me for”
WHACK!
“ … seven, thank you Miss Sandy” there’s a new hint of sincerity in my voice that even I can hear
through the pain.
Sandy swishes the cane in the air, perhaps to see if I flinch. I surprises even me that I don’t.
My mind is starting to gratefully accept punishment, to accept her discipline. I’m no longer just
saying the words like a robot, I mean them. Never the less, I’m beginning to well up and by the
tenth stroke tears are slowly rolling down my cheeks. A sniffle alerts Sandy to this.
“You better not blubber on my couch boy or I’ll cane you in the garden!”
Well I don’t believe she would do that, Sandy is a very conservative, dignified woman who would
never wish to make a spectacle of herself. She does sound like she might slightly enjoy the fantasy
of making a spectacle of me though.
“Yes Miss Sandy”
“I’ll have you grabbing your ankles out back hoping the neighbours don’t look out the window.
You’ll learn not to shout out then won’t you”
THWACK!
“ … eleven, thank you Miss Sandy”
“And if any of the ladies around here see you I’ll have you march right up to them and explain
yourself! And we’ll see if they want to help teach you a lesson! How would you like to be asking
Mrs McKenzie in number 17 if you should be taking your shorts down for your spanking?”
WHACK!
“… twelve, thank you for disciplining me Miss Sandy”
I instantly regret the extra words, even though I meant them. She might interpret that as trying to
tell her to stop, which might provoke more punishment and she sounds like she’s getting into the
swing of things and could go on for some time. There’s a pause before she speaks like she’s
considering it.
“Very well. I’ll be leaving for work in about ten minutes, that should be enough time for you to
finish your dusting. I trust you don’t still have a problem down there do you?”
“No Miss Sandy”
“Good, then get to work”
Sandy leaves the room quickly and an unlikely thought crosses the back of my mind as I rush for
the dusting spray and cloth - for a moment towards the end the always professional, reserved Sandy
actually let loose and had fun. Of course she couldn’t have been turned on by me that’s not her
nature but … suddenly I see Mrs McKenzie in a whole new light. Not that I ever called her Mrs
before, you don’t call someone the same age as you ‘Mrs’, just one of ‘the McKenzie’s’ when her
husband was alive. She’s not even Sandy’s neighbour, number 17 is round the corner. As I sense my
mind wandering towards possibly sexual territory about Angie McKenzie and Sandy, I do, with a
newly established discipline, successfully concentrate on the dusting.
Sandy returns about 10 minutes later. I have frantically polished every dustable surface in
the room.
“Well Chris, you have completed day one of your new routine. You will be here every Monday and
Thursday from 9am until I say you are finished. I mostly start at 12:30 on those days in the library
so you should make sure you are available until then. The girls should be back any ..” There is the
sound of a key in the door and Sandy slightly breaks her authoritative tone. “Speak of the little
devils… wait here Chris”
“Yes Miss Sandy”
Sandy is already heading into the hall and I can hear the women talking gleefully, though its hard to
hear what they’re saying like they’re deliberately speaking in hushed tones at times. I can hear
laughter and Kerry’s voice in a mock version of a drill sergeant, or possibly a mock version of
Sandy, saying things like “And this place better be spotless!”
Intuition tells me Kerry and probably Jessica like that they aren’t the ones being given a cleaning
schedule by Sandy anymore and this may be releasing some tension between the three. But Kerry
especially is giddy, and I know it’s because she’s about to have me at her mercy. Even though its
finished I find myself thinking about the dusting again.
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