Fridays are strange days each week for me because Master Michael is at his office half the day and sometimes back at the Skyway House by early afternoon. He likes to get an early start on the weekend, but sometimes other things come up.

Today my morning was devoted mostly to managing the account with the landscaping service. There have been issues with the quality of the lawn care, some shortcuts taken, and a dispute about the back boundary of the property. This is a new service as of last fall, and Master had them dig out an area in the back for an extended patio. They did good on that, but now are being retained for weekly landscaping, and now they’re screwing up.

I need to back up for those here who don’t know me yet: Master has several weekly chores for me to do. One is to manage household repairs with contractors and vendors and services. He handles so much business negotiation in his firm, he has no patience with it at home. So he has assigned that to me as one of my ongoing slave chores. He just hates doing it. I did a lot of this in my previous life in real estate. But I think he also sees the advantage I may have sometimes as a woman who is his slave (though contractors don’t know that), a girl dressed in short skirts and open blouses without bra and panties. Although one is hopeful that the sans panties part is never something they actually know.

So this morning I marched into the front office of our landscaping service in a skater skirt and loose tee, and did my little Erin Brockovich number on them. It’s so unsubmissive of me, of course, but it’s all in the submissive service of the man who owns me. And then again, I am thoroughbred Irish and can throw some Julia Roberts shade at someone when I need to.

So, an hour later, the head of the company extends his hand to me, and I have to remember what shaking hands is like, repressing the urge to curtsy or kneel. I figure it out and we shake on the new terms.

Such was my morning.

So I rush back to the Skyway House, freshen, and dress in the prescribed outfit, a shirt dress and heels, in order to be kneeling at the front door at one pm for Master’s arrival home.

Except he doesn’t arrive. Which is his prerogative.


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