To Train A Wild Rose

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Chapter 22 - Saturday Afternoon

Mr M always made our Saturday workouts really gentle - ‘active recovery’, he called it - basically, all you had to do was move your muscles for an hour.

So, a couple of weeks later, when Mr M sent me through to get changed, I didn’t bother with the whole gym kit thing. I just stuck on a pair of cycling type shorts and one of those vests … I mean… he’d bought them for me and I couldn’t think of when else I’d wear them.

I told him I was off to make a start and he did this sort of ‘Uh hmm’ thing from his desk - he was still busy with his work stuff. So I went and hopped on the exercise bike… I knew he wouldn’t get all grumpy about me using that without him being about.

But when he wandered in to join me, a couple of minutes later, I could sort of feel his eyes on me… so I looked round to find him kind of inspecting my body.

“What?” I demanded.

He gave me one of his ‘very hard stare’ things to remind me that I wasn’t supposed to ask that sort of question… or, at least, ask it like that… but then he answered anyway, “I was contemplating your choice of apparel!”

I managed to get a grip on the, ‘You what?’ that sort of wanted to tumble out of my mouth - I guessed he’d get moderately grumpy about that - and I just did my confused puppy thing for him instead - which, incidentally, is a bit of a tricky thing to do when you’re riding a bike!

Of course he didn’t bother answering. He just nodded towards the huge mirror that lined one wall of the gym.

I had to kind of study myself for a bit before I sort of worked out what he was going on about. I guess the vest was a bit snug and, without a bra or anything underneath, it basically seemed to… like… sort of emphasise the shape… and the size… of my breasts. Somehow they managed to look much bigger than when I was starkers.

And I could sort of watch as this whole wave of red kind of rose up to my face. “Oh I’m sorry!” I sort of mumbled.

“There is no need whatsoever to apologise, Babygirl!” he laughed. “But, rest assured, I will never allow you out in public dressed like that! You’ll have every red blooded man who sees you trailing after you with their tongue hanging out!” He fiddled with his phone to kick off some of his whompy type rock music then made his way across to the cross trainer.

I mean… I was basically dying of embarrassment at that but, as I carried on with the bike thing, I sort of played it over in my mind and decided that, in a way… I guess… I was sort of glad he told me… I mean… how was I supposed to know about that kind of stuff otherwise.

I guess it was just another one of his ‘behaving like a daddy’ sort of things!

“Thank you for telling me,” I sort of said to his back as he pumped away on the cross trainer thing. I guess it was a bit easier because I didn’t have to look him in the eye as I said it.

“My unalloyed pleasure,” he replied… and I wasn’t quite sure but I thought I could sort of hear a tiny bit of eyebrow work going on there too… which I didn’t quite understand.

Then, when we were all done and showered and shiny, Mr M produced this ancient computer game system - he always found something fun for us to do on a Saturday afternoon - and we spent a couple of hours playing a silly car racing game thing on his huge television.

And, at last… at, like, long, long last… I found something where I was better than him.

Of course I started teasing him about it… I had to, really… I mean… I was never… like never… better than him at anything… and I sort of didn’t listen when he started dropping these not particularly subtle hints that I ought to stop it and behave.

At last he started to get sort of stroppy. “OK! That’s enough, Babygirl!”

“I’m sorry!” I said. I was quiet for a moment but then, before I could stop her, Ro sort of added, “I’m sorry, Mr L!”

Suddenly I was sort of flat on my back on the floor with him sitting on my legs. He was holding my two wrists above my head in one of his hands and his other was poised dangerously close to my ribs. “What, precisely, did you mean by ‘Mr L’, Young Lady?” he asked and I knew I was sort of in trouble… I mean… not proper trouble but sort of… like… a serious kind of fun trouble! I mean… I wasn’t even supposed to call him Mr M out loud!

I kind of froze for a moment. Then sort of tried, “Would you believe Mr Lovely?”

He gave a single, wordless shake of the head and I couldn’t help giggling as he formed this claw thing with the first finger and thumb of his free hand and started moving it slowly… slowly… towards my ribs… kind of menacingly opening and closing his claw as he did it.

“It meant Mr Loser,” I admitted. Even when we were kind of messing around like this, I knew much… much better than to try to lie to him. Fun trouble would basically stop being fun… like… really quickly… if I did that!

He was quiet for a moment but then his claw descended on my ribs and my whole body sort of exploded in this whole paroxysm of tickles.

And, yes, of course paroxysm is another of the words from my vocabulary book.

And, as he continued to attack my ribs, I sort of writhed underneath him and gasped for breath. I was pretty much on the point of begging him to stop because I thought I was about to wet myself!

Except that suddenly it wasn’t exactly a tickle any more. In fact, it had started to do these really funny things… like… inside my tummy…

And, for some reason, that funny feeling was sort of starting to creep down… kind of between my legs… and it was making me… like… gasp in this totally different sort of a way… almost as if it was a sex type thing.

And suddenly I kind of noticed he’d stopped… but it took me a little while to work out what was going on because I was… like… totally distracted by the whole funny feeling thing…

And, in this totally weird sort of a way, I wasn’t really quite sure that I… like… wanted him to stop.

“That’s probably enough of that,” he said, letting my wrists go and leaning down to give me this lovely, tender, little kiss on the cheek. Then he sort of rolled to his feet and then helped me to stand up… which was sort of a good thing because my legs had gone all… like… wobbly.

He sort of eased me over to the sofa and said, “I’m going to make a start on tea. Would you like a moment on your own?” Of course he knew exactly what his tickling thing had sort of kicked off inside me but I could kind of tell that he didn’t want to make a big fuss about it.

I nodded and, for once, he let me get away with it… which again was probably a good thing because, just at that moment, I couldn’t… like… talk.

So I sat there quietly for a bit as the whole funny swirly feeling things kind of calmed down.

And when I was finally ready to join him in the kitchen, he was sort of extra kind and gentle and lovely. And when we had finished with our cooking and eating and tidying up type stuff, he suggested that we watch a film together… and then, wonder of wonders, he even let me choose what I wanted to watch. So, of course, I suggested the second Harry Potter film.

And I sort of did my ‘sprawling inelegantly’ thing on the sofa… and, for once, he let me get away with it… and I sort of snuggled my head on his lap and he rested one of his hands on my bottom. I mean… it was a bit of a funny angle for watching a film but it was still totally lovely.

And when they got to the ‘Master has given Dobby clothes’ bit, he gave my bottom this bit of a squidge as he finally got to understand the whole silly joke thing that I’d made pretty much the first day I’d been with him.

And, as I lay there, all snuggled up on his lap like that, I decided that my life was… like… pretty close to perfect.

But all through the next week, Mr M seemed to be getting… like… even busier than usual. There had been a couple of times when he asked me to get breakfast or lunch ready and, one evening, he had even asked me to do the whole dinner thing on my own. That was kind of fun… especially when I managed to come up with something that was vaguely worth eating!

And, even though he was completely busy, Mr M sort of noticed how good it was… And, of course, that made me feel… like… totally wonderful.

And when, one afternoon, he sent me off to do my workout on my own… I pretty much knew that something must be up. I didn’t say anything, though, because… well… because I knew he was… like… totally busy.

So I guess I wasn’t all that surprised when, during our bedtime chat that evening, he warned me that he was going to have to travel away on business. The supermarket that wanted to use his software had asked him to come to a meeting and so he was going to have to spend a night away from me.

I tried not to look too disappointed but, of course, he saw through that straight away.

“What’s the matter, Babygirl?” he asked when he saw.

“I guess I don’t much like the idea of being on my own anymore,” I answered. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I added. I didn’t want to make stuff… like… all tricky for him.

“I know you will be,” he told me simply, “or I wouldn’t go.”

And I guess I felt a little bit better about life when he hauled me out of bed and did this lovely snuggle thing until I fell asleep.

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