IV.
We had a visitor yesterday, as I said. It was a
friend of the master's, not mine,
a friend from the university where the master gets money for reading
books
and talking about it to other people. He wanted to talk to the master
about books,
about what to read and what to write about what to read. I was on my
best behavior,
but this person's eyes gave him away, and he kept rubbing his thighs,
sweaty palms,
it's the same affliction they all get.
The master noticed too, and told the person that I
was not available for sport, but as usual,
he didn't take no for an answer.
I moved to a stool nearby so that no close
lounging could occur, but this guy was on heat
real bad and came and kneeled next to me on the floor, stretching his
arms up to touch me,
trying to get me, stroking me in ways that were designed for making
my pleasure his.
Don't you like this? he asked me, so I said, Yes,
but I am not really interested in you, and your
palms are sweaty besides. He smiled and pulled up my shirt and tried
to show me that he knew
what he could do with his mouth, better than talk about books
anyway.
The master's discussion was therefore ruined, and
sHe scolded me for not having more
forebearance with company, and then told the friend that next time
perhaps they ought
to meet at a cafe, seeing as it was far too distracting with me
around. I smiled at him,
thankful that at least ice had been broken and that I had no more
need to wear clothes
in my own apartment. So I took them off, said goodbye and went to
shower still feeling
hot and damp.
Did the master know I would come into the bathroom
once more so soon?
Here was another one of his messages, this time written in his
scrawly hand
and stuck on top of the soap. Ah my, sHe is a funny one I thought,
turning
on the faucet, and reading:
"When you've understood this scripture, throw it away.
If you can't understand this scripture, throw it away.
I insist on your freedom."
That is why sHe is the master, and I am not a slave.