“Dinner is ready Mistress.
Is everything to your satisfaction?” asked Pam, pulling out a chair for her Mistress.
“Pam, this looks wonderful! I just wonder…isn’t it…rather a lot?”
Pam smiled sweetly. “Not at all!
You’ve had a long day, and you’re tired.
When you’ve worked hard, you shouldn’t worry about enjoying good food, and plenty of it!
Come, sit down, Mistress.”
Sylvia sat down, her objections lost in the lovely smells and her maid’s kind words.
Maybe painting was harder work than she gave it credit for.
She was trying new things after all, and you had to expect to use more energy on a new task than on a familiar one.
Sylvia decided not to stress over it.
Pam stood beside her as she ate, serving more food onto her plate as the meal progressed.
It was hard to keep track of exactly how many servings she had had.
She would take a bite of ham or a scone from her plate,
and while she was lost in the wonderful taste,
another would appear on her plate lightning quick.
Sylvia found that her appetite opened up and grew over the course of the meal,
so that she actually felt hungrier halfway through than she had been when she started.
Sylvia never saw Pam eat anything herself,
yet after an hour of eating,
there was not a scone,
a croissant,
or a slice of honey ham to be seen.
Sylvia felt full,
sleepy,
and somewhat dizzy as the last platter vanished from the table.
Pam already had the dishwasher running by the time Sylvia rose from the table.
She was feeling near exhaustion.
“Did you enjoy your dinner, Mistress?” asked Pam.
It was a few seconds before Sylvia registered that she should say something.
“Oh, yes, thank you. Ooh, so full!”
“Would Mistress like a foot rub now?” asked Pam.
Sylvia blinked. She had had no idea that that was on the menu.
The idea certainly had…an appeal.
“Uh…” she began. Pam apparently considered that permission enough,
because she took her employer gently by the arm and led her to a couch in the living room.
Soon, her shoes and socks had been set aside, and her maid was rubbing scented oils into her feet.
Sylvia felt all her worries and tension dissolve as Pam gently pressed and stroked her feet, singing softly as she did.
“This is the way we rub the feet, rub the feet, rub the feet! This is the way we rub the feet, so delicate and soft! A lovely pair, keep em up in the air, tune in, drop out, turn off!”
The feeling of blissful relaxation was overwhelming.
Sylvia collapsed into the couch as her maid worked.
A fainting minty smell found its way into her nostrils.
What came afterward, she could not recall exactly.
Perhaps Pam took her by the arm and led her upstairs to her bed.
Perhaps she had even picked her up bodily and carried her upstairs in her arms,
a feat that sounded absurd for a petite woman like Pam.
Perhaps she had even brushed her groggy Mistress’s teeth before tucking her into bed.
Whatever the case, events the following day drove all thought of the strange evening from her mind.
The next morning, Sylvia discovered that there was a large wet patch in her bed.
She had peed herself in her sleep, on her brand-new, rather expensive new mattress at that.
As much as she felt like another lie-in this morning,
she couldn’t do it laying in her own urine.
She got up, changed into her comfortable yet practical day clothes, and left her soggy pajamas in a pile on the bed.
Downstairs, breakfast was nearly ready,
almost as soon as she had sat down at the table,
she was joined by coffee,
eggs,
bacon,
sausage, and toast.
Part of her wanted to have a conversation with her maid about the excessive cooking.
After all, last night’s dinner had been wildly over the top.
Still, she had eaten it, and there were no leftovers.
Perhaps Pam was simply adapting to her Mistress’s newfound appetite.
To her own surprise, Sylvia tucked into breakfast just as readily as before.
Soon, Pam was taking her empty plate and washing it with her customary speed and efficiency.
“Will there be anything else, Mistress?” asked Pam.
Sylvia realized that she was now sitting at an empty table.
She swallowed nervously.
Servant or not, this was not a discussion she relished having with anyone.
She felt her cheeks burn as she hesitantly spoke.
“Um, well, you see…I seem to have…had an…accident. In bed. Last night.”
Pam smiled and nodded.
It was not a smile of surprise,
confusion,
nor amusement.
It was the smile of an airline hostess, pleasant but meaningless.
“Would Mistress like me to change her bed?”
“Uh, yes. Please.” said Sylvia.
That had been a little anticlimactic.
Pam stood before her, not moving.
“Will there be anything else, Mistress?”
Sylvia felt her nervousness give way to annoyance.
She wasn’t sure what she had expected Pam’s reaction to be,
but completely unsurprised, unembarrassed professionalism wasn’t it.
She felt humiliated and vulnerable, and yet her maid’s completely professional attitude was what had gotten to her.
“What do you mean?
I pissed in my bed, for heaven’s sake!
Is that all you have to say?” she demanded.
The maid nodded, and her voice became serious.
“Yes, Mistress. I am your servant.
You make a mess, I clean it up.
That is the proper way of things.
Even if Mistress pissed in her bed on purpose,
its only my concern to the extent that I must make your bed clean and presentable again.
This is your home, and as far as I’m concerned, and you can pee when and where you see fit.
Does that make sense, Mistress?”
Sylvia was speechless.
She had no idea how or why,
but this was so much more embarrassing than merely being teased for pissing herself.
She wasn’t sure whether to be angry,
relieved,
or horrified.
To Pam, this was no big deal.
It was…it was as though no one expected any better from her.
“…yes.”
she heard herself say.
“That’s all.”