A Brat, Her Mistress, A Wet Sunday Down Under
Rat-a-tat. Rat-a-tat? “Hey, I’ve forgotten my key…” Rat-a-tat-tat! “Hurry up little whore—” Rat-a-tat-tat-tat! “Get your bloody arse into gear and open the front door.” “So sorry, Miss. I can’t.” “For fuck’s sake, whyever not. These groceries aren’t getting any lighter.” “Following orders, Miss. Sorry.” “What … Whose?” “Yours, of course, Miss.” “Never ever suggested not letting your Mistress into her own apartment.” “Sorry; you did before. Granted not in so many words.” “Not in so many words … What, you disobedient little whore!” “So sorry, Miss … Not in so many words, Miss.” “And—” “And nothing … Miss. I’m obliged to always address you as Miss. I’ve rectified my error … Miss.” “But I heard that patented suppressed snigger of yours. Methinks you’re still being a brat.” “I so don’t know what you mean … …