Hi Ho, Hi Ho...

It's off to work I go. Today is my last day alone for about a month. I did work three days this week, helping get the new principal guy up to speed on a few things... (he seems okay... I knew him from a job I had about eight years ago. I will make a genuine effort to not hate him because the last guy left me so heartlessly.) ...and doing back to back nonviolent crisis intervention trainings, and just generally tidying up around. It is amazing how much pure crap a school can accumulate. Next Tuesday is the big day, first day back for kids. The new guy is too green, we are not ready, he has no idea what all needs to be done and I cannot do all of his job for him. He will have to learn by the fine art of falling on his face a few times.

But let's not think about work... after all it is my last really day "free" for many weeks... yes I have Monday, Labor Day, but Master will be here and when he is home all my focus is on him. When he is here, I am so aware of him, hyper alert to his moods and needs, each time he moves, my attention is drawn... I watch him.

Like yesterday afternoon, I have a really good friend from work who is a consummate hunter gatherer/wheeler dealer and he had bartered some rhubarb he that had begged from me for some totally awesome tree ripened peaches. He gifted me back one peach and ended up with both rhubarb and peaches himself. (I was just happy to find someone who wanted some rhubarb... the peach was an unexpected prize.) I am sure my friend expected me to eat it instantly... but he does not know how much my Master (otherwise known as 'husband' at work) LOVES peaches. My friend, with his peach connections, does not know how much my Master/husband mourns the neighbor's dead peach tree and waxes rhapsodic about the "really good" peaches of the past. My friend does not see the wistful regret in my Master's eyes each time he bites into a dry, tasteless, pithy peach from the supermarket. My friend did not see that the light in my eye at that perfectly ripened peach had nothing to do with greed or appetite, that it actually had everything to do with a plan to surprise Master with this bit of peach perfection.

It came wrapped in layers of newspaper to protect its tender peach curves from damage and I gently unwrapped it and displayed it in a position of prominence, thinking that Master would see it the instant he came through the door, but sweetly he had eyes only for me, ears tuned to the patter of happy feet running to greet him, appetite only for the curves of my ass and his wish to pour out the accumulated frustrations of his work day before he even sits down... purge the angst and frustration and reenergize his spirit with a quick, exacting series of sharp smacks.

He did not notice or comment on the peach. It was nearly two hours later when I presented a plate with the peach carefully pitted and quartered and stood back with expectant eyes. And as that first delectable slice disappeared between his lips his eyes rolled back and he grunted with joy. "Ohhhh, ohhhhh, oh honey, oh pretty girl..." I stood back in the kitchen, and I cannot begin to tell you how much I enjoyed watching him eat that peach, tasting it through his lips, his taste buds, his orgasmic moans. For almost an hour after he raved, reliving the experience, comparing this peach with all the others, bestowing upon it the "best ever" crown, and carefully archiving the memory.

I had only eaten the tiniest morsel, a paper thin slice to confirm that what I was putting before him was going to live up to my hopes. It wasn't until some hours had passed that Master realized that I had not eaten any more than that one taste, that I had just watched him eat... he protested that I should have had some and I tried to somehow explain to him that while his delight stems from the consuming of the peach, my soul is fed on act the giving it to him, watching his face, listening to his moans of pleasure.

He did leave me with a list and it is pretty long so I better get going, clean the bathroom, sweep and vacuum the floors, mop the kitchen, get nails done and work on Demon Child. (I love it when he orders me to write.)