My mistress is readying for war. She has been learning the enemy; I am not privy to the details of all her liasons, but my place as her right hand has its privileges and one of them is to know her well enough to know when she is observing. She is studying this new mark well indeed.
I helped her prepare for his arrival today, and judging from her uncharacteristic indecisiveness, this is one she has some personal stake in.
Judging from her final choice of wardrobe - or lack thereof - this is a war she very much expects to win.
A woman could get a little jealous about something like this.
But no. It is always ever a power trip and a game with her.
Even with me. I know that she harbors real feelings for me, tender feelings. I know few who have seen any of her heart, and I know I have caught many of those few glimpses that she has ever afforded. I also know that the sentiment there is still, at least in part, shored up by the fact that I am in awe of her and there is no ambition for class war from me. She is alpha, and I am the pedestal upon which she rests, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
I awake after quite the excitement a bit disoriented, nothing new there. One has to keep things fresh. But there is a cold pit of fear this time- she is missing when I awaken, the authorities are bringing me around and wheeling out some men I vaguely recall seeing before I was rendered unconscious. Not part of the plan at all. The safe is open. I begin to feel uneasy for my lover. She plays this game well, but she has played it til the stakes are ultimate. If her protection is gone, markers will be called in. Likely fatal ones.
Hours later, she is suddenly stalking through my bedroom, pressing a bag with some clothes in my hand. Telling me it will be alright, that she needs to take a few days, that I should go discretely to our place out of the city until we can meet up again. There have been some complications.
Her hair is askew and she still has on his overcoat. And nothing else. She says she has an errand to run and she will catch up with me in a few days. She slides her feet into some stylish but sensible shoes, ones she can maneuver in, and shrugs out of his coat almost reluctantly. I drink in a long look at the pale, flawless skin of my lover, knowing now the sight will have to sustain me for some time apart. I say a silent prayer that she knows what she is doing this time. She flashes me a brilliant smile as she flashes a corner of her phone from the pocket of the coat. I sigh in great relief.
She slips into a simple outfit and then deliberately pulls the overcoat back around her shoulders. She seems to draw in a long breath as she fixes the collar up around her face, almost like she is breathing him in. I frown, slightly, and hope she doesn't see it. More possessively than is seemly, I take her in my arms and kiss her so soundly, she pulls back a little breathless. I have my own charms, and my own war to wage.
She looks at me over her shoulder as she starts away, over that dark, tall cloak of a jacket. She smiles, and then gives me a confident wink.
I see her slip through the window, advancing through the night. I latch it behind her.
My general, off to the lines.
I take the bag she gave me and turn off the light.
A/N: Inspired by/ written while listening to the song "Fortune Days" by the Glitch Mob