Chapter 7: Dust the Piano KeysHe says nothing and neither do I. It’s almost as if it really was a dream. I think about it every night—every morning when I wake up—every spare second of every single day as I watch him and serve him and dress him. I’m perpetually turned on and I think I might die from pulling myself off too many times.
I’ve convinced myself that I’m still a professional—that what he did was of his own volition and I had nothing to do with it, which is true, but I also know that professionals don’t sit idly (eagerly) by and watch their bosses wank in the morning, in the dark, after watching them sleep for twenty minutes.
I keep wondering if he’ll do it again. I watch him every morning, for ten minutes, half an hour, as much time as I have. I sit there and think about him pu
