The sound of flesh upon flesh had brought her curiously peeking through the keyhole as her grand Uncle Robert stood lecturing the poor girl on her lack of attention before ordering her to lift her skirts, pull down her pantalettes and present her quivering derriere to two whole minutes of a slapped bottom as governed by the ornate clock on the mantelpiece above the fire. The girl had blubbed some excuse or t'other but complied meekly, for arguing with your employer was not a wise decision to. Her English was far better than her parents or brother's. It was far better, but still barely understandable, and only then, when she remembered to speak very slowly, and answered any questions I had over her word usage.I finally began to get the gist of what she was telling me, which was that her parents had hired some relatives back in their old home province to help them with the assembling of all the raw materials into finished chimes. She told me their newly revised production capacity. She was afraid that deep down she wanted her son to fuck her. Not having to confront him avoided any risk that she might reveal her knowledge of what he was doing, or her own uncertainty. But she knew it could not be avoided forever. She deliberately stayed out most of the afternoon. Only returning home at the time she knew James and Mary would be up and about. She made a meal for her family and as they eat she was aware that she was chatting manically. She asked Mary about her work and her. He let out the closest thing he could to a growl as she picked upthe picture from the front of his PWLBJ t-shirt, showing the threeheroines in a dynamic pose."What's this? Oh gawd, you're wunna them weabs, are ya?" she asked witha derisive laugh. Travis fumed and glared at her despite his inabilityto move. Something that didn't escape Vivien's attention."What? Whatcha grillin' me for, boy?" she asked with a scowl, before itslowly shifted into another smirk. "Oh... I think I know JUST what to.
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