The Diaries of Ayesha

I'm not much of a party person, at least not in the formal sense as I've mentioned before. Most of the formal parties that I'm required to attend as the husband of Minkin Dawes-Forbin are company functions requiring black tie and tux.

I used to suspect the Mistress thrived on these functions, until the evening she was scheduled to attend a dinner without me and commented that she would rather attend stoned than straight, the people bored her so much.

She's too much of a professional to indulge in that however, so off she went head held high, to do or die for Dawes, Jones, Mosley and Grubbs.

She came in after I had gone to bed and didn't awaken until noon when she made her way into the kitchen and settled in a chair after starting the kettle for tea.

"Would you please fix breakfast for me today?" she asked, yes asked, not ordered.

"Eggs and bacon?" I asked reaching for the fridge door.

"Not this morning. You see the small book on the counter? Please follow the recipe marked in the middle for me."

I did, a protein concoction involving peaches, strawberries, protein powder, almond butter (I didn't know there was such a thing) and distilled water stirred but not shaken in a blender.

I followed the directions as written with her asides as to change in portions and poured the resulting mixture in a glass and set it before her followed by her Twining's Number One tea and soy milk.

"I'm trying to eat healthier to compensate for all those stupid dinners," she said sipping at the glass.

"That bad huh?" I offered sympathetically.

"The last time I had any real fun was the first time we attended our first company dinner together," she said with an impish grin.

"Oh Goddess, that was nerve wracking for me," I said sitting down and pouring myself a cup of tea.

"And is that why you always use that picture of us at that dinner for responses to fan mail Dr. Forbin?" she teased.

"Well it's not like you've had a lot of pictures taken of us together," I complained.

"Nothing you could use in public anyway," she reminded me.

"You know exactly why I was a little nervous during that whole affair," I said blushing slightly.

"You mean the wine?" she asked innocently.

"You bloody well know it was the wine!" I said spilling my tea and then having to mop it up as she watched amused.

"You know you never have written that story," she said pouring me a fresh cup of tea. "You should."

"Must I?" I asked.

"You must," she replied sweetly.

Oh well. They say confession is good for the soul.

Whoever they are.

There I was, at the insistence of the Mistress as well as the pointed suggestion of Mrs. Cabazon the HR Director of the Bank.

I'd only been back with the Mistress for a couple of months when the company Christmas party was announced with the location for the affair being at the Belvedere Yacht Club near Marin City.

This was not territory I knew at all well, and I was still rather reclusive, so my first response was to decline the invitation.

That lasted all of about an hour before Miss Dawes called me into her office and announced I would be attending come Hell, high water or the National Guard.

"Miss Dawes, with all due respect, I'd rather not," I said.

"And the reason you're declining is what?" she asked. "And I don't want to hear, you have nothing to wear, because you have the tux that Mr. Levy tailored for you."

"I'm not comfortable around large crowds," I explained.

"You seemed to do all right at the opera, so I don't quite understand the problem," she said.

"Well I was with you. At this thing I'd just be standing around making dull polite conversation, explaining what I do or don't do for the Bank and what it's like working for you."

"And how do you like working for me?" she asked seriously.

"Permission to speak freely?" I asked formally.

"Granted."

"I enjoy working for you, and I love being with you. What I don't enjoy is the people around here who wonder how I got the job and managed to survive, considering your reputation," I answered honestly.

"Tell them the truth. I only want the best around me, and that's you. Period." she replied." I knew you could do this job while you were in training at the Rancho. The things you did at the Spa only convinced me further that I could have you near me and make use of you as well as make use of you in other ways. I like having a practical pet."

"Thank you Mistress," I said noting her use of the term pet. "Do I really have to attend the Christmas party?"

"Unless you want me to go alone, yes," she replied.

"You want to attend the party with me?" I stuttered.

"Why not? I attended the opera with you as a company function, I don't have a boyfriend currently, and there isn't anything wrong with you. And besides I know you'll mind your manners and not get frisky."

"Are you sure about that last part?" I said with a wry grin.

"If you do, I'll kosher you with a dull fruit knife later," she said with a smirk.

The night of the party Mistress Minx arrived with the limo at my house to pick me up and we rode through the late December rain across the Bridge and to the club.

Of course escorting the boss has it's perks as we were ushered in and shown to the main table in the ballroom where the Mistress sat down and I took the seat to her right.

She accepted a glass of white wine from a waiter and raised her eyebrows as I refused it.

"None for you? You're not driving you know," she said.

"Miss Dawes, I don't drink," I reminded her. "I'll just stay with water."

"We'll see about that," she said standing up. I started to get up myself and she indicated I should stay seated.

"I'll be back," she said and walked out of sight through the party crowd.

I did my best to make polite conversation with the other people seated at the main table until the Mistress returned bearing a wine glass filled with a golden hued liquid.

"Here's that special vintage I promised you earlier," she said handing me the glass.

I thanked her automatically and raised the glass to my lips.

My nose gave me the first indication of it not being a common vintage, as it smelled fruity, but yet bitter in some way.

"Oh no, she wouldn't do that at a party would she?" I thought.

I sipped it carefully and confirmed my suspicions.

It was indeed a little vintage called Golden Nectar of the Goddess, an uncommon wine, desired by many and given to few.

Mistress Minx looked at me and waited.

"This is very good Miss Dawes, thank you," I said setting the glass down.

"If you'd like more, I can get you some," she said cheerfully.

"That's very kind of you," I said looking into her eyes and seeing the pride in at my acceptance of her golden wine.

"What vintage is that?" the gentleman to my left, Frank Jennings ,one of the senior accounting VP's asked me.

"It's a fine dry white wine from a little vineyard in England that my family has an interest in, "the Mistress said glibly.

"May I try a sip," he asked me.

The punch line from Utah Phillips "Moose Turd Pie" flashed through my mind and for a nanosecond I thought about handing him the glass and then restrained myself.

"It's up to Miss Dawes, " I said nodding towards her.

"I think you should finish that up Mr. Forbin and I'll have a bottle sent over to your place Frank," the Mistress said.

I was about to drink the last of it when a photographer came up to the table and asked us to pose for a picture. I rose to stand behind the Mistress and after the photographer took the posed shots I sat down and raised the glass in salute towards the Mistress when he took one final shot.

I drained the glass and set it down carefully and tried to ignore the lingering scent and turned my attention back to being socially acceptable.

Of course I did have a serious protocol question: Is it proper to use a breath mint after drinking the Mistress' urine?

I considered the circumstances and figured it was a Bart Simpson "Damned if you do and damned if you don't" situation and popped a breath mint into my mouth.

The Mistress smiled and gave me her "good boy" look and returned to her conversation with the person at her left.

The dinner went well, I didn't make any terrible social errors like ordering my gazpacho soup hot, and even had the privilege of dancing one waltz with the Mistress.

On the ride home the Mistress placed her feet in my lap and ordered me to give her a foot rub which I did gladly and cheerfully.

"Did you enjoy the wine?" she asked merrily.

I looked into her eyes and smiled.

"Yes, Milady," in my best British butler accent.

She laughed delightedly.

"I've always wanted to do that and never had the chance," she giggled. "I really wasn't sure what you'd do."

"I serve you Mistress and you honored me with the test," I said seriously. "Thank you for your golden wine."

"You're welcome slave," she replied teasingly. "Perhaps next time I'll arrange for a brownie for you."

I just kept my mouth shut.

It's safer that way sometimes.

Chapter 32 Sections 1 to 6
Pass Me By
Vive la Compagnie
Bubbles in the Wine
Merry Birthday To You
Japanese Banana
I'm Not a Very Good Damsel in a Dress Am I