Although I knew she was very busy, and often quite tired, I felt her linger around the stables longer than I would have thought necessary, or even desirable. She would clean out her riding boots, fiddle with her saddle and riding crop, check on the other horses, and
gay indian boys any other number of pointless tasks. I was also conscious of her stares which would land on me when my back was turned. Cold, judgmental
gay indian boys stares; the look of a trader appraising a cart horse or ox. When I would catch her looking at me, she would hold me in her gaze a second longer, and then turn and leave. I of course, wouldn dream of addressing her, but simply went about my tasks.
One day she didn break her
gay indian boys glare but stepped
gay indian boys forward and spoke
gay indian boys to me.
What is your name, boy?
Diego, maam. Diego Martinez.
Yes. She answered, as if I had
gay indian boys supplied the correct answer. Tell me, are you happy in your position here?
I searched her dark, brown eyes for a meaning to these questions, but found none. Yes, maam, very. Maam is a very kind and generous employer.
Mm, she replied through a firm jaw. She looked me up and down once. You are popular with the townsgirls. They like you. Not a question, but a statement.
I know not if they like me or no. I supplied. Her face remained unchanged, waiting. I rarely lack for companionship, if that is maams meaning...
Yes, it is. You are, one could say... her eyes fell down on me once more ...experienced.
I could not stop my male pride from answering, Yes, maam, very.
Hmm.
And with that, she turned on her heel and left.
I went back to brushing her stallion, disturbed by her questions. I prayed I had not said something to offend the Countess, or I would find myself back in the fields the next day under the hardest labour of the season. I spent
gay indian boys a fruitless night worrying and playing our dialogue back in my head, wondering what it all could mean. By the time I had drifted off, I convinced myself that I had offended her and would be digging trenches or rebuilding a barn come midday.
* * *
You are requested.
These were the first words I heard on waking. I opened my bleary eyes and focused them on the form of the head butler.
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