Miss V Beauty Salon
… my next door neighbor!
The sub-title says its all; “my next door neighbor”. I’ve replaced a letter in the main title to protect the “innocent”, hehe (not really;)) –but the rest of what is mentioned in the story is TRUE – especially the SHOE RACK – I’ll see if I can find a picture of that to put on here!
The imperious and dominant Madam Carrie has loaned out her “chattel” to her next door neighbor – this one takes off right where “Madam Carrie – Volume 2” left off in terms of the “three on one” humiliation, and takes it a step further!
Book Excerpt
…. ….. ….
And the door swung shut, but didn’t shut all the way as the delivery girl bade goodbye to Miss V, and giggled at me as well before waving and disappearing “off into the wide yonder” for the next delivery as it were.
But as I prepared to close the door, she turned around at the foot of the short staircase leading from the front door to the foyer of the apartment building I was in.
“I will visit Madam Carrie one day!”
And with these words, she turned on her heel and disappeared like the wind, and Miss V giggled as she heard this.
She pinched my nipples hard, and laughed at me.
“I still remember the party! Oh God, do I remember your state that night”, and here she peered at me for a fleeting second sort of like an interested scientist might when examining a rare species of octopus through a magnifying glass, and threw her head back, and laughed loudly.
“Oh boy”, and the laughter continued as she headed back to her bedroom and slammed the door, and I could almost hear her flop down on the bed in that contented manner she has.
And I stared at the floor in a defeated sort of manner. I remembered the party as well.
I remembered it alright, and those of you that have read Madam Carrie no doubt do as well.
“Hurry up and finish the cleaning, boy!”, she bellowed from the room (in Mandarin Chinese) and her voice cut through my remembrances like the boom of a foghorn.
“It’s 1:40 already! I need my feet pressed for at least an hour until 3!”
And here I should mention that we were currently on “lunch break” for what it’s worth.
Miss V preferred to shut her salon down from 1-3 and rest for a while before commencing business for the evening, and while foot massages were NOT part of her routine a month or so ago, they had become very much part of it after Madam Carrie (very gleefully, I might add) informed her of my nightly ministrations to her own broad and well cared for soles.
A Queen’s soles, you might well say!
Back to Miss V though. Sometimes she’d nap during this time, and sometimes she’d read, but whatever it was, she wanted her feet massaged during this time.
This time was a time she didn’t allow anything to disturb her, cell phones and all left unattended.
The only thing we did attend to during this time was deliveries, of course, which explained the slight delay on my part that she was indirectly alluding to.
I was normally at her feet by 1:30, but it would be 2:00 I thought, as I hurriedly scurried to the door, looked in timidly and spoke, eyes fixated to her lovely feet.
“Yes, Miss V. Please allow me 20 minutes!”
“Alright”, she said in a dismissive manner, and I shut the door. “Finish quickly, boy”, I heard the foghorn boom once again before “falling silent”.
And as I cleaned, my thoughts returned to how it all started.
How it all started…