Not Even Death-Eternally Your Master Read Free

raised lettering
on the once fancy looking business card. “Markus Cruz, President
and C.E.O.-Cruz Enterprises” She recalled the good-looking,
well-dressed man from the alley. He did say he could help.
    With hope she hurriedly emptied the contents of her
bag onto the tile in front of her. Sifting through her possessions
she looked for as much change as she could find. Detective Sheridan
had done such a good deed, so, allowing some of her cynicism to
fall away, she considered the suit. “Maybe, not everyone has a
fuckin’ angle.”
    After re-packing her bag she jumped up in search of
a payphone. Her hands trembled as she fed the change into the
antiquated machine. The phone started ringing and she thought of
what she was doing. She had to hang up, and run, not walk to the
New Yorker. Just then, the ringing stopped.
    “ Hello, Markus Cruz here.” The smoldering voice on
the other end of the phone changed her mind instantly.
    “ Hi…it’s umm...me….the girl from the alley. You
said you could help.”
    ~x~X~x~X~x~
    She drifted in and out of sleep and dreams,
uncertain of reality and imagination. The time since the funeral
had been filled with these strange fugue states. Time meant
nothing, and nothing mattered.
    Now, she had a purpose. She was a
slave and her Master was still at the reigns.
    With hope, she allowed herself to drift off.
Where dreams found her, Markus was sure to be. The rest of the
night she tossed and turned, finding him over and over again. What
beautiful dreams he’d created.
    She woke as the sun lit the curtains around
her. They glowed in beautiful, jewel tones, coloring her day as she
rolled over and stretched out long. For the first time since
Markus’ illness she woke with a smile. He wasn’t really gone, just
a little further away than usual.
    Her feet welcomed the dewy grass as she
ambled across the sprawling grounds. Looking down at her wet toes
she realized how she’d neglected the small details. Note to
self: Get pedicure.
    Padding into the kitchen she startled at the
sound of her feet hitting the tile. Everything had been silent and
now she could hear it all. Grabbing coffee she returned to the
morning. She sat in the garden, smiling and listening to the birds.
Their song returning to her heart brought new hope.
    Each day without him had rolled along in a
bleak, gray mist, building one upon another. But this day, this
morning, was unfolding itself for her eyes to behold and cherish.
It would not be enveloped by the storm; it would rise above, stand
apart; it would chase the storm away.
    She felt him in everything she did, he was
alive within her. She hung her head, in momentary shame for having
allowed him to die so easily. It is not your place to punish
you, that place is mine alone Kitten. His voice in her heart,
physically, jolted her back to her place. Her head snapped to
attention as she remembered the hard learned lesson.
    She’d always had to learn the hard way, and
Markus was skillful when it came to teaching her lessons. He never
just gave in, never allowed her to control things by topping from
the bottom and the lessons were always absorbed.
    The sun shone high in the sky as the
afternoon arrived. She hadn’t seen the sun from where she’d been
almost exclusively residing since the funeral. Behind the closed
curtains and confines of the Master’s suite, there was no sun, no
moon; there were only tearful memories and sleepless nights.
Looking up to the sky she felt the warmth on her face, the light of
the sun grazing her skin. She’d missed it.
    As she sat in the garden, taking in the sun
she heard the sound of footsteps approaching in the distance. She
jumped and adjusted her eyes to the light as she tried to focus on
the figure. It was the mailman.
    She’d let the mail pile up in the small box
before yesterday. There was nothing she’d wanted to see, no one she
cared to hear from; until, his letter. Now, she skipped toward the
gate at an excited pace. Hoping…
    “I