Bubbles in the Wine
I'm not much of a party person, at least not in the formal sense as I've
mentioned before. Most of the formal parties that I'm required to attend as the
husband of Minkin Dawes-Forbin are company functions requiring black tie and
tux.
I used to suspect the Mistress thrived on these functions, until the
evening she was scheduled to attend a dinner without me and commented that she
would rather attend stoned than straight, the people bored her so much.
She's too much of a professional to indulge in that however, so off she
went head held high, to do or die for Dawes, Jones, Mosley and Grubbs.
She came in after I had gone to bed and didn't awaken until noon when
she made her way into the kitchen and settled in a chair after starting the
kettle for tea.
"Would you please fix breakfast for me today?" she asked, yes asked, not
ordered.
"Eggs and bacon?" I asked reaching for the fridge door.
"Not this morning. You see the small book on the counter? Please follow
the recipe marked in the middle for me."
I did, a protein concoction involving peaches, strawberries, protein
powder, almond butter (I didn't know there was such a thing) and distilled water
stirred but not shaken in a blender.
I followed the directions as written with her asides as to change in
portions and poured the resulting mixture in a glass and set it before her
followed by her Twinings Number One tea and soy milk.
"I'm trying to eat healthier to compensate for all those stupid
dinners," she said sipping at the glass.
"That bad huh?" I offered sympathetically.
"The last time I had any real fun was the first time we attended our
first company dinner together," she said with an impish grin.
"Oh Goddess, that was nerve wracking for me," I said sitting down and
pouring myself a cup of tea.
"And is that why you always use that picture of us at that dinner for
responses to fan mail Dr. Forbin?" she teased.
"Well it's not like you've had a lot of pictures taken of us together,"
I complained.
"Nothing you could use in public anyway," she reminded me.
"You know exactly why I was a little nervous during that whole affair,"
I said blushing slightly.
"You mean the wine?" she asked innocently.
"You bloody well know it was the wine!" I said spilling my tea and then
having to mop it up as she watched amused.
"You know you never have written that story," she said pouring me a
fresh cup of tea. "You should."
"Must I?" I asked.
"You must," she replied sweetly.
Oh well. They say confession is good for the soul.
Whoever they are.
There I was, at the insistence of the Mistress as well as the pointed
suggestion of Mrs. Cabazon the HR Director of the Bank.
I'd only been back with the Mistress for a couple of months when the
company Christmas party was announced with the location for the affair being at
the Belvedere Yacht Club near Marin City.
This was not territory I knew at all well, and I was still rather
reclusive, so my first response was to decline the invitation.
That lasted all of about an hour before Miss Dawes called me into her
office and announced I would be attending come Hell, high water or the National
Guard.
"Miss Dawes, with all due respect, I'd rather not," I said.
"And the reason you're declining is what?" she asked. "And I don't want
to hear, you have nothing to wear, because you have the tux that Mr. Levy
tailored for you."
"I'm not comfortable around large crowds," I explained.
"You seemed to do all right at the opera, so I don't quite understand
the problem," she said.
"Well I was with you. At this thing I'd just be standing around making
dull polite conversation, explaining what I do or don't do for the Bank and what
it's like working for you."
"And how do you like working for me?" she asked seriously.
"Permission to speak freely?" I asked formally.
"Granted."
"I enjoy working for you, and I love being with you. What I don't enjoy
is the people around here who wonder how I got the job and managed to survive,
considering your reputation," I answered honestly.
"Tell them the truth. I only want the best around me, and that's you.
Period." she replied." I knew you could do this job while you were in training
at the Rancho. The things you did at the Spa only convinced me further that I
could have you near me and make use of you as well as make use of you in other
ways. I like having a practical pet."
"Thank you Mistress," I said noting her use of the tem pet. "Do I really
have to attend the Christmas party?"
"Unless you want me to go alone, yes," she replied.
"You want to attend the party with me?" I stuttered.
"Why not? I attended the opera with you as a company function, I don't
have a boyfriend currently, and there isn't anything wrong with you. And besides
I know you'll mind your manners and not get frisky."
"Are you sure about that last part?" I said with a wry grin.
"If you do, I'll kosher you with a dull fruit knife later," she said
with a smirk.
The night of the party Mistress Minx arrived with the limo at my house
to pick me up and we rode through the late December rain across the Bridge and
to the club.
Of course escorting the boss has it's perks as we were ushered in and
shown to the main table in the ballroom where the Mistress sat down and I took
the seat to her right.
She accepted a glass of white wine from a waiter and raised her eyebrows
as I refused it.
"None for you? You're not driving you know," she said.
"Miss Dawes, I don't drink," I reminded her. "I'll just stay with
water."
"We'll see about that," she said standing up. I started to get up myself
and she indicated I should stay seated.
"I'll be back," she said and walked out of sight through the party
crowd.
I did my best to make polite conversation with the other people seated
at the main table until the Mistress returned bearing a wine glass filled with a
golden hued liquid.
"Here's that special vintage I promised you earlier," she said handing
me the glass.
I thanked her automatically and raised the glass to my lips.
My nose gave me the first indication of it not being a common vintage,
as it smelled fruity, but yet bitter in some way.
"Oh no, she wouldn't do that at a party would she," I thought.
I sipped it carefully and confirmed my suspicions.
It was indeed a little vintage called Golden Nectar of the Goddess, an
uncommon wine, desired by many and given to few.
Mistress Minx looked at me and waited.
"This is very good Miss Dawes, thank you," I said setting the glass
down.
"If you'd like more, I can get you some," she said cheerfully.
"That's very kind of you," I said looking into her eyes and seeing the
pride in at my acceptance of her golden wine.
"What vintage is that?" the gentleman to my left, Frank Jennings ,one
of the senior accounting VP's asked me.
"It's a fine dry white wine from a little vineyard in England that my
family has an interest in, "the Mistress said glibly.
"May I try a sip," he asked me.
The punchline from Utah Philips "Moose Turd Pie" flashed through my mind
and for a nanosecond I thought about handing him the glass and then restrained
myself.
"It's up to Miss Dawes, " I said nodding towards her.
"I think you should finish that up Mr. Forbin and I'll have a bottle
sent over to your place Frank," the Mistress said.
I was about to drink the last of it when a photographer came up to the
table and asked us to pose for a picture. I rose to stand behind the Mistress
and after the photographer took the posed shots I sat down and raised the glass
in salute towards the Mistress when he took one final shot.
I drained the glass and set it down carefully and tried to ignore the
lingering scent and turned my attention back to being socially acceptable.
Of course I did have a serious protocol question: Is it proper to use a
breath mint after drinking the Mistress' urine?
I considered the circumstances and figured it was a Bart Simpson "Damned
if you do and damned if you don't" situation and popped a breath mint into my
mouth.
The Mistress smiled and gave me her "good boy" look and returned to her
conversation with the person at her left.
The dinner went well, I didn't make any terrible social errors like
ordering my gazpacho soup hot, and even had the privledge of dancing one waltz
with the Mistress.
On the ride home the Mistress placed her feet in my lap and ordered me
to give her a foot rub which I did gladly and cheerfully.
"Did you enjoy the wine?" she asked merrily.
I looked into her eyes and smiled.
"Yes, Milady," in my best British butler accent.
She laughed delightedly.
"I've always wanted to do that and never had the chance," she giggled.
"I really wasn't sure what you'd do."
"I serve you Mistress and you honored me with the test," I said
seriously. "Thank you for your golden wine."
"You're welcome slave," she replied teasingly. "Perhaps next time I'll
arrange for a brownie for you."
I just kept my mouth shut.
It's safer that way sometimes.
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