“Well, well, well. Perfectly on time.” He
walked toward me wearing a robe, and, I saw, nothing
else.
“You startled me my—”
Having reached the tub, he untied his robe,
slowly removing it, and handed it to me. I tried not to
watch as he climbed into the tub, but the mirror made
it hard not to see his flank flex as he climbed in and
sat down.
“Perfect. Now you,” he said.
“My lord—”
“It’s freezing outside. Besides, it’s bath time for
you, is it not?”
I stood transfixed by our reflections in the
mirror: a sure man and a shaking boy, frozen by the
dark eyes looking eagerly on him.
“Come here, boy.” And I watched in the
mirror—he undressed me, button by button, his wet
warm hands leaving prints on my uniform. As he
peeled the layers off me I felt like a strange fruit being
stripped away to its soft core; and he, the sampler in
the market, looked at me with the appetite of one
eager to taste something new but apprehensive as well,
checking for seeds and nettles and inedible pith.
I didn’t dare look at myself in the mirror, so I
stared intently at my clothes on the floor, the shirt a
bundle of white innocence tossed aside. I climbed into
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