hetaera.

The Mistress drops her keys on the coffee table next to yesterday’s mail. She’s just come from her Master’s place, and is in dire need of a bath. 

As she lowers her aching body into the tub, she takes a mental inventory of her new injuries. 
Bruised calves. 
That will be difficult to hide. Her Lord is the observant type. 
She sighs. 
Dual allegiance has its downfalls. 

Absentmindedly sponging down her mottled arms, she tries out potential excuses. Unfortunately placed pole? That’s likely enough. 
Now, what to do about the eye?