"Ma'am, she is chantrea, has her party arrived yet?" Her voice is soft and trembling, saying the words she has committed to memory from His email a million times over. The hostess looks at her a little strangely until her co-worker whispers in her ear, then she smiles and gestures to the bar.
"If you would follow me, He has requested that you wait by the bar."
She hesitates, feeling something isn't quite right, the hostess looks back at her with a pasted smile and she knows not to follow, instead, she lowers before the entrance to the bar, settling to her knees, then spreading them widely under the graceful drape of her skirt. The soft white knit sweater conforms to her lush curves, revealing full breasts as she arches her back and lets her palms turn up to the wood-beamed ceiling. Lowering the deep green gaze to the floor, her chin kept high as she kneels silent.
The hostess watches her curiously, wondering how the girl can kneel so utterly quiet and calm, only the movement of her chest showing that she is not a statue.
A dark shadow falls over the floor in front of the still girl. A visible shiver runs down her spine. Feeling His presence so close unnerves her, and she begins to quiver. Her fingers curl into her plams as she struggles to remain still, regaining control of herself, she relaxes them and is once more a statue.
A soft hand lands gently atop her head. Fingers trail throught the short length of auburn hair. Sliding under the mass, strong fingers lock tight into the hair at her nape, and lifts her to her feet. She winces slightly, not having expected such rough treatment, but at the same time, finding pleasure in the total experience of it all. Knowing that she won't do or say much this time, adds a degree and a twist to the meeting that she is loving.
"Hello, chantrea"
"Hello, Master"
