The click of heels up the steps followed, then a light rap at the door.
“Is Mistress in need of anything?”
Simone relaxed. “No, Patty. Who was at the door?”
“A package, Mistress.”
“At this hour?”
With a sigh, Simone lifted herself from the water and wrapped the wide, welcoming towel around herself. Her feet smacked on the tiled floor as she dried quickly, flipping her hair into a hasty ponytail and slipping into the robe that awaited her.
When she opened the door, Patty was waiting.
“What is it?”
“A box, Mistress.”
“Probably Candace’s make-up present. Come along.”
Simone made her way quickly down the gently-winding steps, Patty clicking along behind more slowly. When she reached the foyer, Simone realized this was no ordinary gift. The box was more of a crate, nearly six feet tall, wide enough for her to step inside. A clasp held the crate shut, fastened by a padlock with the key resting in it. On the surface of the box was a small envelope, taped in place. As she approached, Simone could smell a hint of Candace’s perfume, a deep, sweet smell that always reminded her of lilac.
She circled the crate once, looking for signs of danger.
“Who delivered this?”
“A young man,” Patty replied, “He was wearing brown.”
Simone narrowed her eyes at the crate, wondering what strange whim had seized Candace now. She lifted the envelope from the crate, flipping the unsealed letter open. The scent of Candace’s perfume was distinct, and the note within was damp from it. Simone unfolded the note.
Simone-
I was angry because you reminded me of the desire inside me. I’m sorry to have left the way I did. I hope someday I can return the favor.
-Kandi
Simone returned the note to the envelope and wiped the sweet-smelling residue from against her robe.
“Patty, I want you to dial 911 if anything should happen. You and Trixie will both be perfectly normal should they arrive, do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress,” came the expected reply.
Simone twisted the key in the lock, unclasping the crate and swinging the door wide, the scent of that perfume assaulting her again. She drew her hand to her mouth as the box opened. Inside, the crate was lined with a rose-colored satin, like a decadent boudoir, a pillow fixed at the top, she assumed for comfort if the box were laid flat. Standing there, in the center of the box, a smile raising the corners of her mouth, was a girl.
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