Page 27 of Tangwystle
“No.” That’d be silly. I knew her options were limited and she’d never make a complaint about her employer.
Gretel sighed, and I didn’t like how she seemed to know what was on my mind. “You’re angry because I slept with him.”
“No.” It hit me full force then. I couldn’t judge. Not since kissing Baz’s shoe. I hadn’t worn panties under my dress in days. “But have you no shame for going around saying that?”
Gretel rolled her eyes, sitting back further.
I ran the cloth over her collarbone again. Water dripped between her breasts, and I moved to catch it. Gretel stilled.
The cloth moved up and down. Then over her right breast. Her chest lifted with a breath, her rosy nipples hard thanks to the cold air. I swirled the towel over one.
Her hips moved slightly, but she remained in her seat. I took it as a good sign that she’d stopped with her childish, fussy ways.
“E-everyone sleeps with their household staff,” Gretel said, her cheeks reddening.
I scoffed, moving my caresses to her other nipple. “I beg to differ. I never slept with Blackwell.”
He’d been over seventy when I started here. Some wouldn’t be deterred, but I had multiple reasons to keep my distance.
“B-Blackwell?” Gretel’s back arched just the slightest as I rubbed.
I swatted her with the towel. “Stay still.” The cloth circled her breast, getting every inch of skin clean. “Yes, I never slept with Blackwell. So no, not everyone sleeps with their household staff.”
I ran the cloth back and forth, across her stomach.
“S-so you haven’t slept with Baz?”
I shot off the bed. “How dare you say that.”
And how in the stars was I to respond?
Well, Gretel, if it weren’t for you, Baz and I probably wouldn’t have made it out of bed the past few days.
Despite her red cheeks, Gretel had the audacity to defend her position. “I just got a feeling, is all.”
“A feeling?”
“He looks at you,” she mumbled.
“Of course he does, Gretel. He has eyes. That’s how people see.”
Though just two months ago, I’d been nothing but furniture against the wall. Nothing to see, nothing to hear. Baz hadn’t stopped staring at me since he’d arrived.
But it was all ridiculous, the more she spoke, and it reminded me why I often found myself frustrated in her presence. She was nothing but annoying.
“We should really wash your hair,” I said.
She rocked back and forth on the bed, grumbling. “I don’t want to.”
“Well, tomorrow you’re going to,” I said for the mere fact that I’d decided to stop letting her get away with things. I launched the wet rag at her. “Here, finish cleaning yourself.”
Gretel sighed, petulantly, despite the fact that I’d spoon-fed her just hours ago. She took the rag, wiping her stomach.
I should’ve left. Turned and gone back to the kitchen.
Instead, I watched Gretel lazily scrub her skin, her hand going lower and lower. She half-way lifted on her knees, the one sheet that always covered her modesty, falling to the wayside.
“What will I do?” Gretel asked in that same soft voice she’d used most of the day. The one that wasn’t as bubbly as normal, but it wasn’t downright sad. It was a softer, more frank tone than I’d ever heard from her.
