(this is the 3rd part of a story)
Part One
Part Two



“Get up you lazy ass!”

Her warm, down covers were flung off and Monica groggily opened her eyes, stretched, and looked up at her best friend. Dominant Maddie, who doesn’t take shit from her sub or anyone else’s, felt the need to not let her mope, which included not sleeping in.

“You know,” Maddie said behind a yawn, “I can’t wait for Helen to get back, that way you can boss her around instead.” She flashed Maddie her cutest smile and reluctantly slid on her fluffy bunny slippers.

She padded into the kitchen and served Maddie a hot cup of coffee and then herself. Old habits die hard, she thought. Maddie was used to being served and Monica was used to serving. It just naturally carried over into their friendship when Carl and Helen were not around.

“So. Gonna call him today?”

“I slept very well last night, thank you. Do you have any special plans for the day?” Yes, her response was sarcastic but trying to work out her future with the man she loved over her first cup of coffee would probably prove to be unproductive.

“Smart ass. Don’t you usually get a spanking for that kind of sass?” she said with a mouthful of toast.

“Actually Carl has always appreciated my sense of humor. As for the spankings,” she paused, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Maddie plopped her toast back onto her plate and got up for a second cup of coffee. “You haven’t called him in two weeks. He’s worried sick.”

Her eyes shot up to her friend. “How would you know if he’s worried sick?”

“I just, well, I just…know Carl is all. Of course he’d be worried,” she turned her back on Monica.

“When did you talk to him?”

“Friday night,” Her shoulders slumped with her confession, “he was hoping you would come home over the weekend, just to talk.” Monica stared into her coffee cup.

“Come on.” Maddie slapped the table with her hand and sat down. Her intense look stared Monica’s focus off of her coffee and into her eyes. “You know you don’t want to live without him. You know damn well this can work.”

Monica set her cup down and went back to her bedroom to dress. Sundays were usually spent with Carl, reading the funny papers, walks into town or out for a hike in the woods. Sometimes lazily reading a good book, even reading out loud to each other if they both liked it.

The shirt she put on was a gift from him, more like a replacement. She had worn one of her favorite blouses out to dinner and, by accident, he spilled his Bloody Mary all over her. Naturally, it was a thin, white blouse and was ruined on the spot. He pulled her straight from the restaurant and into a quaint little shop that smelled like lavender and sold adorable purple fairy statues. The choices of blouses, scarves and gypsy skirts were scattered amongst the displays of crystals, incense, and books that told you about your guardian angel or Celtic mythology.

She loved it when he picked out her clothes, she felt like a doll, what she wore was certain to please him. His choice was the palest purple, almost white, with small purple flowers embroidered along the low, curved collar. He had held it up to her and playfully stroked her hair over it. “Yes, this would look perfect on you.” She stroked the sleeves of the blouse now; content to spend time in the most pleasant memory she had had since leaving.

It wasn’t buying the shirt that made it special, it was how he cared for her and she made him smile. She would do anything to see him smile. She picked up the phone next to her bed, and called home, just to talk.
“Hi Carl. Yes, I’m fine. You?”