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Matt told Kitten, “Re-dress then wait here.” He then followed Jean-Marie over to the consultation table.Kitten re-dressed as she had been ordered and then having nothing else to do, she assumed a ‘sit’ pose. Her master and Jean-Marie were not so far away that she couldn’t hear them at all, but they were speaking too softly and too quickly for her to make out what they were saying.After awhile Matt came back over to Kitten and led her up to the cashier’s counter. An assistant of Jean-Marie met them at the cash register and handed Matt a large box. Matt paid and they left the tailor’s shop.As they drove away from the shop Kitten asked “Master, Jean-Marie didn’t seem to be affected by me very much, is he...”“Gay, yes; but do not bring it up ever again with anyone. He’s the best tailor on Dominion, several of the founding families use his services. It would be a shame if he got hurt or if his shop was damaged by a mob of angry women.” Matt answered.“Angry women?” Kitten asked. Matt’s. I think if he had had the courage he would have kissed me there and then. He was that grateful! I got him to bring his bike to the side of the house, near the kitchen door. I went into the kitchen and fetched a bowl of cold water, whilst Jason turned the bike upside down. I came out with the bowl and squatted down, and using a couple of spoon handles, worked the inner tube out of the tyre. I then submerged the inner tube in the bowl, and concentrated really hard on looking for the bubbles. Jason was squatting down opposite me, and I assumed he was similarly engaged! It slowly dawned on me that I was still wearing my knee length dressing gown. No knickers, no bra – nothing but the dressing gown. I was squatting down with my knees wide apart, bum nearly touching the ground. The belt was loose and the dressing gown was starting to come open near the top. And young Jason was squatting down opposite me obviously getting an eyeful, and having the time of his life! He could certainly see my.
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’ He went on to tell him that if the light was on she was receiving visitors, but neglecting to tell him that it was never lit on Sundays. He dithered for a few weeks, now yes, then no, before he gathered his courage one evening after a quick winter storm had left a couple of inches of white loveliness over the grimy streets. He pulled up at the corner nearest her house and parked his two-person carriage under the dim streetlight and walked down the dirt lane a few yards to her house. All was dark, the candle was not lit over the door. There was a dim light seeping around the edges of the closed shutter over the one window in the front of the log cabin. Feeling overwhelmed by his need for contact with another person he timidly knocked at the door. After a few silent minutes, she opened the door a bit, ready to chase the unwanted visitor away. ‘I’m sorry, Sir, I don’t see anyone on Sundays.’ He stood there a brief moment, then with slouched shoulders he started to turn away..

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