Thirty One
Pattie’s dainty hands lave with a warm chamois. She kneels over my supine form. It feels elegant to displace the sweat of a lengthy caning with cleansing water. Also to be removed are the many stripes, both blue and red, from a long day of offering myself to the native islanders.
“You have learned servitude well, Thomas. Earned so many stripes.”
As I lie supine, Pattie places a basin under my head. A bowl of warm water douses my face and soaks my hair, finally rinsing away the remnants of Mumba’s excretions. Effeminate fingers apply shampoo. Pattie’s youthful training as a maid becomes evident as she tenderly works to clean me. She is most matronly in her tendance and as she leans over me to wash and scrub I quickly lift my head and kiss a n****e, swishing with my tongue to b
