By Jane H. Aubrey
The doorbell rang. Isabel was upstairs, listening to loud music, listlessly doing her homework. Kate went to answer it; she wore a neat grey sweater with the sleeves rolled up, a calf-length floral skirt, and a smart, freshly ironed hunter-green apron. It was Tom. ‘Good evening, sir,’ she beamed, and he gave her a long kiss before she helped him out of his coat and hung up his scarf. He sat on the sofa in the living room and Kate brought a tray with a glass of red wine, before kneeling down and carefully taking off his shoes, which she would clean and buff later. Then she looked up at him and waited, peacefully. He unzipped his fly and Kate took him in her mouth, keeping her hands neatly folded behind her back as Tom preferred, while he sipped his wine. After she had brought him off, she kneeled back; ‘Thank you, sir. May I do anything else for you?’
‘No, darling. Just get on with dinner.’
