To Train A Wild Rose

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Chapter 45 - Mr Magic Feet

After a couple of hours, there was a buzz on Mr M’s phone.

“Oh excellent,” he said after doing a bit of tappity-tap type stuff. “Babygirl! would you be so good as to go and make yourself even more radiant for me… and then put on that exquisite black dress.”

I must admit that I did give him a bit of a funny look but I went and did as I was told without any questions. By now, doing as I was told was definitely a bit of a habit.

Besides, I could basically tell that he was being all sort of deliberately mysterious and so even if I did try asking him questions, he was just going to have a jolly time dodging them.

So I just buzzed off to do as I was told.

I took quite a bit of time over the whole getting ready thing - it was his birthday and I suppose I wanted to look my shiny best for him - and when I was done, I scurried back from my bathroom.

But when I stepped into the living room bit, I sort of stopped dead in my tracks and just stared at my master for a long time.

“You’re beautiful,” I murmured at last.

He was wearing this totally stunning dinner jacket with a bow tie and everything. I mean, he was always pretty smart but this was just… like… totally amazing!

“Why, thank you, Babygirl,” he replied with not a hint of embarrassment. I mean… he already knew he looked good - but I guess he liked the fact that I thought so too.

He wandered over and put a finger under my chin to sort of shut my mouth… which might have been hanging open… just a bit!

“You approve, I take it!” he said with a smile and I just did a bit of a nod thing. I didn’t think I could manage words just at that moment! I basically had much too much of the whole inner tumult thing going on.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Babygirl.”

Uh oh!

I was going to have to… like… string a couple of words together.

I had to do the five seconds thing before I could get the thoughts straight enough in my own head to give him an answer - but that was safe - I was pretty sure that he was never, ever going to get stroppy with me about that!

“I know this isn’t really what you think… it isn’t how you think…” I managed to explain at last… “but my inner Ro bit still doesn’t really think I’m anything like good enough for you.”

He paused for a bit then nodded and gave me a smile. “Then we’ll just have to find a way to convince her she’s wrong,” he told me.

Then he took the lovely necklace that I was still sort of holding out of my hands and fastened it around my neck for me. “You could have managed this yourself, couldn’t you?” he said, only half teasing.

“I guess so but…” I took another couple of seconds as I tried to sort of work out what I meant… “but it makes me feel so special when you do it for me.”

He gave me a lovely smile when he heard that. “Then I think we need to impose a new rule on you,” he told me. “The girl will always ask her master to put on her necklace for her.”

I looked at him for a moment to try to work out whether he was being serious or not but of course he was giving nothing away. He just smiled and said, “So, Babygirl, would you do me the honour of accompanying me to dinner?”

That kicked off all sorts of wild, churny type thoughts inside me about leaving the house and having to deal with other people but I sort of squished them down. If my master wanted to take me out on a dinner date for his birthday, I certainly wasn’t going to refuse. In fact I was going to do my very best to enjoy it.

So I forced myself to meet his eye and said, “Thank you, Master. I’d be delighted.”

He… like… offered me his arm and took me to the exit and then he sort of guided me back up the stairs into the main bit of the house.

I don’t suppose I should have been all that surprised to find a strange man, busy in the kitchen… cooking.

And he certainly wasn’t surprised to see us. “Good evening, Sir, Madam,” he said in this totally formal sort of a voice as we stuck our heads in through the door.

That was a bit of a shock too. I mean… I’d never been ‘madamed’ before!

It must be the dress!

The man adjusted something on the stove then sort of guided us through to the posh, formal reception room thing at the front of the house and managed to tell us to sit down without actually using any words.

I glanced across to my master who gave me a bit of a nod, telling me that I was allowed to sit on the furniture, and he even sort of helped me to sit down.

The strange man deposited this silver tray of posh nibbly bits on a little table in front of us and then sort of hovered across to a fancy sideboard thing that I’d not really noticed before. He seemed to be able to move completely silently without his feet even touching the ground.

“Aperitif?” Mr Magic Feet asked.

“Sherry, please, medium dry…” Mr M replied… “and the same for my companion… but just a cordial glass for her.”

The man opened a cupboard where there were about a million different sorts of glasses and, moments later, the master sized glass and the babygirl one seemed to magically appear in front of us.

Then, just as magically, the man disappeared.

“Who’s that?” I asked as soon as he was gone. I mean… I didn’t whisper it… but I didn’t exactly shout it either.

“He’s a chef and butler whom I occasionally employ when I entertain,” Mr M explained. “I did consider taking you out for my birthday dinner but I decided that, on this occasion, you would be more comfortable in this situation.”

I didn’t have to think about this for very long before working out he was right.

As usual.

He’s totally annoying like that!

And totally lovely.

Then we clinged glasses and sipped our sherry and Mr M started to pop the delicious nibbly bits into my mouth - including some super-mini boiled eggs - chopped in half and covered in some black stuff which were totally delicious.

I didn’t even know eggs came in that size.

I asked about all the different sorts of glasses in that cupboard and so of course Mr M made a long line on the table in front of us… and then he told me all their different names from Highball Glass to Brandy Snifter… and then he told me what they were all for…

And then, of course, he made me learn it all.

And then Mr Magic Feet magically appeared to tell us that dinner was ready. Mr M made a move to tidy away the glasses but was interrupted by the butler person. “Please allow me, Sir,” he said.

He guided us through to the big, posh dining room which was even posher than usual with a perfect white tablecloth and the totally over the top collection of cutlery and plates and stuff which I was sort of getting used to by now. The whole room was lit by candles. Fortunately both places had been set up at one end of the table with Mr M doing the ‘head of the table’ thing and me next to him - I’d had this totally crazy picture in my head of us being at the opposite ends and having to shout at one another!

Then Mr Magic Feet sort of helped me to sit down then he did this funny shaking out of my serviette thing and spread it across my lap. Then he sort of dramatically put a plate of salady bits in front of me. I mean… it was only half a dozen leafy type bits - all sorts of different colours - with a couple of lumps of pomegranate and mango and a squiggly line of sauce - but it was basically so beautifully laid out that it was pretty much a work of art on the plate. I mean… it almost seemed like a pity to eat it.


But not quite!

And the whole meal was like that… I mean… basically, it tasted even better than the ones we’d made for ourselves… and though the amounts of food were… like… tiny, it all just looked spectacularly beautiful on the plates

But there was something…

And by the time the second pudding course had gone - dollops of wild bilberry and vanilla mousse type stuff sort of balanced on this crazy bird’s nest arrangement of incredibly fine brandy snap type stuff - I had managed to work out what it was. And when Mr M asked me if I had enjoyed it, I knew what I had to say.

“It was totally spectacular and delicious and I thoroughly enjoyed it,” I answered, “but I still prefer those lovely dinners we did for ourselves - somehow they were even more fun.”

“I completely agree, Babygirl,” he replied, leaning in and giving me a kiss. “But we were both rather busy today and were not able to spare the odd six hours that are required to rustle up one of those formal dinners for ourselves! Perhaps we could arrange another one… not next weekend but the weekend after. Why don’t you have a think about the menu?”

“But I wouldn’t have a clue where to start!” I replied, totally shocked at the whole idea.

“The hors d’œuvre would be traditional,” he replied with a smile. “And don’t worry. I’m not just going to abandon you! I enjoy cooking with you too, remember!”

“I’d quite like to have a go at making that brandy snap bird’s nest stuff,” I said, sort of half to myself

We sat quietly for a bit and I found myself kind of counting the chairs… and then I had this sort of silly picture of Mr M with his wife and eight little kids sitting round the table… the whole ‘sound of music’ thing.

And, because of the wine, I guess, the idea sort of came tumbling out of my mouth. “You’ve got enough room to start your own private netball team,” I told him.

He gave me his… like… totally patronising, amused look. He had a fair idea of how drunk I was… I mean… there had been about a million of the little courses, each one with its own bottle of wine… even the puddings… but I’d noticed that Mr Magic Feet and him had been having this funny sort of wordless conversation thing about how much I should be allowed to drink… I mean… I guess I was basically pretty relaxed but not completely sloshy!

“The table can be extended to seat an additional four,” he told me with this… like… totally straight face. “So we could comfortably accommodate an entire football [soccer] team. Why? Are you interested in applying for the rôle of head coach?”

He sort of held my eye until I managed to work out what he was going on about at which point I started making vague burbling noises. He looked as if he was pretty pleased with the effect so he let me go on for a bit before he leaned across and gave me a kiss on the lips to shut me up!

I sort of sank into my thoughts for a bit but I was suddenly… like… sort of shaken out of them by Mr M saying, “Tell me what you’re thinking, Babygirl.”

I hesitated for a bit… kind of worried that he would take it all wrong, I guess… but I quickly managed to work out that he would basically know what was going on in my head even better than me. “I’m not sure about the whole football team thing,” I told him, “but I could sort of imagine… I don’t know… maybe… two or three when… like… the time was right and…”

I sort of hesitated but he’d told me to tell him and, no matter how drunk I was, I certainly wasn’t going to try lying to him…

“And provided you were the Daddy, of course.”

He didn’t bother trying to answer with words. He just looked into my eyes and we sort of shared the idea for a bit.

We were… like… interrupted by the arrival of Mr Magic Feet. “Sir, Madam, Your coffee is in the lounge, when you’re ready,” he sort of informed us.

So we wandered on through to the lounge where the coffee things had been laid out and there was a proper fire burning in the fireplace and the lights were quite low and it was all just lovely. Mr M and I looked out over the moonlit garden for a bit and then he strolled across to… like… pour the coffee.

I went across to kneel down next to him but I found it a bit tricky to get down.

“Are you stiff, Babygirl?” he asked, kind of easing me down onto the sofa next to him.

“Yes, Master. I guess I’m not used to all this swimming.”

He put an arm round me and started rubbing my shoulders and I basically totally melted into him. “I’ll give you a massage later, if you’d like,” he promised.

“Yes, please!” I replied, sort of squirming into him. That sounded totally wonderful!

We sat together for a while, enjoying our coffee and staring into the flickering flames from the fireplace. There was a plate of these spectacularly delicious almondy-marzipany type biscuits on the table in front of us. I mean… they were so thin you could pretty much see through them and, every once in a while, Mr M would grab one, bite it in half and pop one bit in my mouth.

I was a big fan of that sort of idea. It meant that I could nibble on the delicious things without actually having to move.

I had just fallen into a comfortable sort of dozy type thing when Mr Magic Feet disturbed us with a bit of delicate throat clearing type stuff from the doorway. “Sir, Madam, will you be requiring anything further?”

“No, thank you very much,” my master replied quite formally. “I shall be in touch tomorrow.”

“Very good, Sir. I can see myself out. Good evening, Sir, Madam!”

“Good evening!”

Mr M whipped his phone out of his pocket and we watched on the screen as Mr Magic Feet carried his stuff towards a side door. Then he tapped a couple of buttons and I managed to work out that he was unlocking the door for the guy and, once he was gone, he tapped a couple more to lock up again.

I thought for a bit about what he had just shown me… what he had… like… decided to let me see. “That whole running away thing wasn’t just really naughty,” I said quietly when I realised how high-tech the whole security setup thing round his house was. “ It was… like… totally stupid as well, wasn’t it?”

“Not one of your finer moments!” Mr M agreed. He snuggled me into his side and gave me a bit of a kiss to let me know I was forgiven. “I’ve put your face into the system so you should be able to enter and leave without setting off the alarms. You just have to look at the camera and wait for the light to turn green.”

We snuggled together for a bit longer then I said, “Thank you for a lovely evening, Master.”

“It’s not quite over yet, Babygirl. “I promised you a massage, remember!”

“Oh yeah!” Somehow I’d managed to forget. I guess I must have been a bit sleepy! It did sound like a perfect way to end the evening, though.

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