Submitting to the Don

Proserpina

That night I lay snuggled in the bed waiting for my husband to join me in bed. He had rushed away soon after dinner when we had been sitting in the living room. He had been sipping his customary after-dinner brandy and had insisted on pulling me onto his lap much to Claude’s chagrin.

Claude was a law unto himself. He decided his bedtime and tonight, he wanted to stay with us. So my family was spread on the floor, on the rich carpet, my children and the dogs- we had three by now and Piers was petting them while Ria leaned against her father’s shoulders, chattering away. Claude kept surreptitiously trying to pull the puppy’s tails and Piers was getting quite annoyed.

My husband stroked my waist, his hands gentle and I kissed his cheek.

*

We would have sat there for ages if he had not received a call. A message

His face darkened as he looked at the phone. It was his private one. I knew it had to be either Schwartz or Danielle.

I stood up, reading his expression rightly. Heftin