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FROM THE CASE FILES OF KITTY WYNTER | |||
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| by Van ©2018 | ||||
| Chapter 8 |
| DRAMATIS PERSONÆ |
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OUR STORY CONTINUES |
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Kitty stared at the items on the steel tray. She tried to appear nonchalant, but seriously doubted she was fooling somebody as perceptive as Lady Arabelle.
Arrayed on a "soothing" medical-green cloth were:
Kitty recognized the posts as nipple posts, designed for holding open newly pierced nipples while they healed! She also realized the rest of the items on the green cloth as everything needed to give her pierced nipples (or pierced anything else)!
- A pair of latex gloves;
- A glass jar full of little squares of white cotton gauze;
- A pump dispenser labeled "Isopropyl Alcohol";
- A neat row of stainless steel, clamp-style forceps;
- A tube of antiseptic ointment;
- A modest stack of three-inch circular band-aids in sterile wrappers;
- Several short, narrow-gauge needles, also in sterile wrappers;
- A stainless steel hand-tool with curved handles and a complicated mechanism at its business end;
- And last but not least, a glass petri-dish containing a pair of shining, dumbbell-shaped posts!
Nonchalant! Nonchalant! Nonchalant! The chant had become Kitty's silent mantra.
Meanwhile, Lady Arabelle picked up a small remote and pointed it at the big-screen TV that "Florence-the-Nasty-Nurse" had wheeled into the "Medical Fetish Room".
"I have something interesting to show you, Kitty," Arabelle announced, then pressed a button on the remote.
The TV screen began to glow, then quickly resolved into an image of... Robin Fey! The youngster was standing upright, and she was naked, bound, and gagged. Specifically, a taut, well-hitched web of hemp rope pinned her arms to her sides, her hands behind her back, and her legs together, binding Kitty's would-be protege from ankles to shoulders. Her gag was a full head-harness, with a two-inch, spherical mouth-plug, and she was held in place by a pair of taut, vertical ropes stretching up and off the screen.
"Your cute little wide-eyed shadow came back and tried to sneak past my security," Lady Arabelle explained," and after I was so nice, treating her to breakfast and buying her a pretty new suit." She turned to face Kitty. "She came back to rescue you, Kitty." She turned back to smile the screen. "The feisty little thing put up quite a fight, by the way." She shifted her gaze to Kitty. "It was adorable. My ladies are still talking about it."
Kitty locked eyes with Arabelle. "Don't hurt her, or I swear I'll..." Kitty tugged on her bonds. "Please don't hurt her."
Arabelle paused before continuing. "Is it so hard for the Great Kitty Wynter to even consider taking Robin under her wing? You've never struck me as a person particularly averse to a good challenge, even a personal challenge."
Kitty's gaze was back on the screen, where Robin continued fidgeting in place and testing her bonds. "I... I can't train an apprentice. I just took on a partner. I've already got Bertie to worry about."
Arabelle smiled and rolled her eyes. "And to help with Robin's training and supervision," she purred. "Try again."
"I..." She stared at the screen for several more seconds, then turned her head and frowned at Arabelle, but she said nothing.
"Yours is a dangerous line of work," Arabelle noted. "What do you think might happen to Robin if you send her away and she continues trying to train herself? Or what if she finds another mentor, the wrong mentor, one not on the up and up like Kitty Wynter, or Bertie Finch? What if she decides she doesn't need a mentor at all? Eventually, she'll blunder into a really bad situation, without backup. But that's not your problem, is it, Kitty?"
Kitty's gaze shifted back to the screen. Robin was still making no progress towards regaining her freedom, but she kept trying.
"So, here's what we're gonna do," Arabelle purred. "You brought Robin to me to decide her fate. So be it. I've made my decision. Robin Fey is now your apprentice. You're to teach her everything she needs to know to become a better detective than Kitty Wynter. You're now responsible for her safety, education, and general welfare. Noblesse oblige, Ms. Wynter. Puck idolizes you. Live up to it."
Kitty swallowed nervously, and her heart was pounding—not because she was afraid of Arabelle—but because she was afraid of the awesome responsibility she was accepting—and she was, finally, accepting it. Arabelle wasn't forcing this on her. Of course, she was, but they both knew Kitty was accepting responsibility for Robin of her own free will... if Kitty could be said to have "free will" while naked and bound to Arabelle's gynecological fun-time couch.
"I'll have to clear it with Bertie," Kitty muttered.
Arabelle laughed. "Oh, Kitty, that is not an issue. 'Muffin' is already on board. Who do you think called to warn that Robin was on the way? She made me promise not to harm the little darling, of course." She smiled and shook her head. "As if I'd harm a single hair on that cute little moppet's head. By the way, Bertie says she's cleaning out the store room between the playroom and the utility closet to become Puck's new bedroom."
Bertie! Kitty silently fumed, still staring at Robin's naked, bound, and gagged form on the HD screen. You're toast! A toasted English Muffin!
Arabelle seemed to have read Kitty's thoughts. "And don't be angry with Philberta. She knows I'd never hurt you, Kitty... within reason. Bertie was worried about what might happen if Robin blundered into my security with them unprepared, and she was right." Arabelle grew serious. "My ladies would have reacted as if we were actually under attack. A real tragedy might have ensued. Unlikely, but possible." Her smile returned. "Now, let's discuss the required contract."
Kitty frowned as Lady Arabelle snapped on the pair of latex gloves. Next, Her Ladyship clamped several squares of gauze in the jaws of a pair of forceps... then wet them with alcohol. Nothing ominous about that, Kitty thought. "Contract? You're gonna have Dominique draw up a contract? She's the one that's a lawyer, right?"
Arabelle leaned close and began scrubbing Kitty's left nipple and the surrounding breast with the alcohol-soaked gauze. Kitty sucked in her breath and bit her lower lip. The rapidly evaporating alcohol was cold! The nipple budded erect in response!
"I accept the role of Robin's professional godmother," Arabelle announced as she replenished the alcohol on the gauze pads... then scrubbed Kitty's right nipple. "As such, I shall act as a resource for her development. Once you and Bertie sort out her educational situation, let me know if you need tuition assistance. And I expect regular reports of her progress."
Kitty watched as Arabelle returned the forceps and gauze to the cart, then began fiddling with the curious hand tool. She removed a needle from its wrapper, opened the petri-dish, removed the shaft of one of the posts, slid the hollow tube over the needle, and snapped it into a socket in the head of the tool. There was no need for Kitty to even try and fool herself any more. The thing in Arabelle's hand was a piercing tool. She'd known that all along, but had been happy to pretend it might be something else.
"Uh... okay," Kitty said, "I'll sign a contract. No big deal."
"No signature will be required," Arabelle purred. "This contract is between you and me. It's personal, and therefore the token of the contract will be personal."
Kitty watched as Arabelle picked up a fresh pair of forceps, leaned forward, and deftly captured her left nipple, squeezing the clamp, which squeezed the nipple in question. Kitty tried her best to ignore this occurrence, but an involuntary hiss escaped her lips when Arabelle stretched the nipple and her breast and readied the piercing tool.
When all was in readiness, Arabelle paused, eyes locked with Kitty. No words were spoken, but none were needed, not really. Could Kitty stop her from perforating her nipple? No. Would it hurt? Yes, but it wouldn't be too bad, not for a tough girl like Kitty Wynter. Would she like a gag or something else to chew on? No, but thanks for the kind offer. Did this carry her relationship with Arabelle to an even higher level, one well above the budding Kitty/Robin relationship, and even above the Kitty/Bertie relationship (albeit in a different way)? Hell yes!
And then—it happened.
Arabelle squeezed the grip on the piercing tool and the needle and the hollow shaft of the post pierced Kitty's left nipple. Arabelle releaxed her grip on the piercing tool, but maintained her grip on the forceps still stretching Kitty's nipple. She delicately fit a spherical, screw-type end-cap to an opening in the shaft and screwed it in place... then did the same with a second spherical screw and the opening in the opposite end. Still stretching the nipple, she used the alcohol-dampened gauze to swab the now pierced nipple, applied a generous glob of antiseptic ointment, and finally released the forceps.
Kitty realized her heart was pounding—had been pounding—but she'd managed to remain the very picture of a Stoic Heroine throughout the process. The alcohol had been the worst part. It stung like crazy. The actual piercing had been no worse than having blood drawn. She watched as Arabelle dropped the pink-tinged used gauze into a small trash receptacle, then clamped fresh gauze in the forceps.
One down and one to go, Kitty thought as Arabelle readied the piercing tool for a second use.
And then it happened—again.
Now, both of Kitty's nipples were pierced, posted, and smeared with ointment.
"Contract affirmed," Lady Arabelle purred as she disposing of the second set of used gauze pads, then restored the cap of the tube of ointment. She then applied a circular band-aid to Kitty's left nipple... and a second to her right. The shapes of the posts were visible through the three-inch, translucent latex discs now covering Kitty's nipples.
Arabelle stripped off her latex gloves and dropped them on the cart, then leaned back and locked eyes with Kitty, once again.
"We continue to be friends, Kitty" Arabelle stated, "and I want you to feel free to come to me for help or ask for favors; but the next time you waltz in here with what amounts to an ultimatum—like hire Robin Fey or else—you'll leave with more than your nipples pierced."
"Uh, I'm not sure I know what you mean," Kitty pouted.
"You should have left Robin in Bertie's care, come alone, and asked for my advice," Arabelle elaborated. "Suggesting that I might consider hiring the little darling would have been perfectly acceptable, but not with Robin in the room and batting her pretty brown eyes in my direction. I don't like being manipulated by my friends, Kitty. Are we clear?"
"Clear," Kitty huffed. She has a point, Kitty silently conceded.
"I'm sure you understand that those posts are placeholders," Arabelle continued, nodding at Kitty's band-aid covered nipples, "and are easily removed. It's conceivable you might have to go undercover as a nun or in some other role that might make nipple jewelry difficult to explain; however, I will be very disappointed if I ever learn you have discarded my... gifts."
Kitty tried not to glare at her powerful friend. She may have even succeeded. She wasn't sure.
"Whenever you think about your new accessories," Arabelle continued, "I expect you to think of me, but mostly..." She turned to the TV screen. "I expect you to be reminded of our contract concerning Robin Fey."
Kitty gazed at the screen, as well. Robin was still naked, gagged, bound, and dangling from the vertical ropes. The naked teenager squirmed and twisted, continuing to test her bonds. She wasn't giving up. Was the little trickster scared? She'd be a fool if she wasn't, and Kitty was sure Robin Fey was nobody's fool. Poor kid, Kitty sighed.
"All right then," Lady Arabelle said as she picked up the ball-gag (with rubber panel) she'd removed from Kitty's mouth earlier. "I look forward to your first report on Robin's progress. Give me a call and I'll take you to dinner. Open."
Kitty unleashed the awesome (and totally ineffective) power of her eye daggers on the smiling super-domme, but complied with the command.
Arabelle popped the ball into Kitty's mouth, secured the main strap at the nape of her neck and under her hair, then secured the rubber panel's twin straps. Kitty was now gagged... again. Her Ladyship then placed the palm of her right hand on Kitty's abdomen. "I'll give you a little time to think about how you're going to start training your new apprentice, then I'll send the pair of you home to Bertie." She gave Kitty's taut tummy a couple of gentle pats, then turned and left the room.
Alone at last, Kitty silently fumed as the door closed. She tugged on her bonds... for no particular reason other than frustration... then focused on the screen.
Robin seemed to be concentrating on her wrist bonds, which were behind her back and out of view of the camera. She was staring into infinity and Kitty could tell her groping fingers were tracing each and every strand of rope they could touch. This continued for a while... then Robin sighed through her head-harness-ball-gag, relaxed in her bonds... then resumed squirming and twisting her bound body and testing her bonds.
Kitty couldn't help but smile behind her gag. The little twerp had moxie, even in the face of inescapable rope bondage.
And then, Kitty's gagged smile faded. Arabelle had said she was sending them "home to Bertie," the same Bertie who had warned Her Ladyship about Robin's ill fated rescue attempt. Kitty reluctantly conceded that Bertie had done the right thing, but that didn't mean she couldn't vent her frustration on the little Brit. Toast! Kitty fumed. She's toast!
Now Kitty had two things to think about: (1) Robin's initial training, and (2) planning something spectacular and horrific to do to Philberta Finch!
| A STUDY IN Cute | |
Chapter 8 |
Bertie was anxious... impatient... tense.
She'd received a phone call advising her to expect an important delivery, and now was the appointed time. Bertie was wearing her business suit, high-heeled pumps, and a nervous smile.
Finally, the intercom buzzed. Someone at the building's front door was requesting entrance. Bertie scurried to the entryway and thumbed the "TALK" button. "May I help you?" she inquired.
"Arabelle Cargo Services," a bored, disembodied female voice responded. "Delivery for a... Phil Finch?"
Bertie smiled. "Come right up," she purred, then held down the "FRONT DOOR" button until the buzzing stopped, signaling that "Arabelle Cargo Services" had opened the front door. Something like a minute passed, then the office's front door opened and four women in gray-green coveralls and matching ball caps appeared. Bertie didn't know three of them, but the delivery-person in the lead was Dominique. Two of the unknowns were wheeling a pair of heavy-duty plastic cases, one slightly larger than the other, and the third was carrying a pair of garment bags. Dominique had a tablet computer in her right hand and a small cardboard box tucked under her left arm.
"Bertie!" Dominique said with a warm smile, set down the iPad and box, and gave the diminutive Brit a warm embrace.
"Hello, Dominique," Bertie replied, returning the hug. She wasn't exactly overjoyed to see the scary Latina who, together with Lady Arabelle's other employees, had done various and sundry nasty things to Kitty and herself during their first encounter, but she didn't wish her ill. Business was business. Also, Dominique was quite the looker.
Dominique handed Bertie the tablet. "Sign here," she requested (ordered), and Bertie did so, scrawling a sloppy signature with her index finger, in lieu of a pen. Meanwhile, the other "Delivery Personnel" wheeled and carried the cases and garment bags into the playroom. Dominique handed Bertie a barrel-type key as they followed.
"I suggest you open that one first," Dominique purred, pointing at the larger of the two cases. "We'll drop by tomorrow to retrieve Her Ladyship's hardware."
Bertie nodded, then realized all four of the tall, beautiful, dommes in coveralls had finished their tasks and were standing around her—meaning had her surrounded. "Uh, tea?" she suggested (nervously). "I can brew a fresh pot."
The dommes chuckled, then turned and left. Dominique paused long enough to plant a kiss on Bertie's lips, then followed her colleagues. "Adorable," Bertie heard one of the dommes say to another. "English," the other replied, then all four made their exit.
Bertie followed them to the entryway, politely closed the door behind them, set the deadbolt locks and alarm system, then scampered back to the playroom.
The cases were, indeed, heavy-duty, with molded sides and four substantial locking clamps. Single clamps secured the lid at top and bottom and two more on the side opposite the case's hefty hinges. Bertie used the barrel-key to release the four clamps on the larger case, then lifted the lid—and gasped! The contents of the case weren't surprising, but they were distressing (and arousing).
Inside the case, Kitty lay on her side in a tight fetal tuck. Her knees were pressed against her breasts, her hands behind her back, and the heels of her bare feet against her butt. Kitty's everything was bare, meaning she was was naked, and she was bound with several yards of conditioned hemp rope in a stringent and elaborate ball-tie worthy of a Kinbaku Master. She lifted her head from the case's form-fitting padding and glared at her partner. "Mrrrk!" She was gagged by a wide strip of Elastoplast tape covering most of her lower face.
Bertie managed to neither smile nor giggle, which was a good thing, because she knew if Kitty thought she was in any way amused by her partner's stringent predicament, there would be hell to pay! She released the three nylon-webbing straps that unnecessarily secured Kitty in her form-fitting, memory-foam half-cocoon... then set to work peeling the tape from Kitty's lips. The adhesive reluctantly surrendered its grip, stretching Kitty's lips and face in the process.
Once the strip was gone, Kitty spat a rubber ball from her mouth, and it wasn't just any rubber ball. It was a two-inch Hello Kitty ball! And the feline monster in question was wearing a bikini and riding a surfboard!
Bertie Finch was only human. She couldn't help but smile as she gazed at the ball, gingerly holding the saliva-coated sphere between two fingers.
"Do you have a death wish?" Kitty inquired gravely.
"Oh, please," Bertie giggled, then held the ball for her partner to examine. "Tell me this isn't funny."
"Shut up," Kitty growled. She didn't smile, not even a little. No siree! The corners of her scowling lips did not turn up, not even a little.
Suddenly, Bertie's eyes popped wide. "Oh!" She dropped the ball (which bounced and rolled away), then scrambled to the second, smaller case and began unlocking and releasing its latches.
Kitty blew an errant strand of hair from her face and watched. Normally (if that word could be applied to what was currently happening in the playroom), she would have demanded that Bertie finish freeing her before starting on something else, but she shared her partner's concern.
Bertie finished opening the lid of the second case, and heaved a deep, sincere sigh. "Oh, my poor Puck!" she gasped.
The "poor Puck" in question was Robin Fey, of course, and her condition was identical to Kitty's: naked, ball-tied with hemp rope, and gagged with a wide, taut strip of Elastoplast. Bertie released the case's retaining straps, eased Robin's ball-tied form out of the padding and onto the hardwood floor, then gently peeled the tape-gag from her lower face and eased a two-inch, red rubber ball from inside the youngster's mouth.
Bertie gazed at the glistening, uniformly red rubber sphere in disappointment, then tossed it away. "I guess Midsummer Night's Dream themed balls are difficult to come by," she sighed.
"I would have gone with a Tinkerbelle mouth plug," Kitty muttered. "Disney crap is everywhere." She squirmed in her bonds (and inside the open case). "Ahem!"
Bertie smiled and kissed Robin's lips. "Excuse me, dearest," she giggled, then scrambled back to Kitty's case and eased her partner out of the padding and onto the floor. In the process she noticed additional bondage details. To wit, Kitty's fingers and thumbs were vripped together with multiple short, narrow, milky-white cable-ties, as were her big toes. Totally unnecessary and needlessly cruel enhancements to Kitty's already inescapable hemp bonds? Of course. Bertie had already noted that Robin was similarly over-restrained.
The two naked brunettes were now ball-tied on the floor and about a yard apart. They squirmed in their bonds, then raised their heads to gaze at their rescuer.
Bertie stood and smiled down at the naked, ball-tied captives. "It's good to have everybody home, safe and sound." Then, she giggled, spun on her heel, and sauntered away in the direction of the kitchen. "Tea!" she announced as she crossed the playroom threshold.
Kitty heaved a sigh. "She already knows she's toast," she muttered under her breath, "so she doesn't care."
"Say what?" Robin inquired.
"Quiet!" Kitty barked. "Apprentices should be seen and not heard. You'll speak when spoken to and keep your unsolicited opinions to yourself."
"Apprentice?" Robin gasped. "Oh!" Her eyes welling with tears, she bit her lower lip.
"And no crying!" Kitty added. "Detectives don't cry."
"Yes, ma'am," Robin sobbed. "I'm not crying. There's something in my eyes."
Kitty suppressed a smile. Robin Fey was adorable. Without a doubt, between Bertie, and now Robin, Kitty was in for a serious case of adorableness poisoning.
"Stop blubbering and get busy," Kitty ordered.
Robin blinked. "Huh?"
"Escape!" Kitty barked. "Get busy and escape!"
A smile curled Robin's lips. "And you're gonna show me how?" she suggested.
"No," Kitty huffed, "I'm gonna critique your miserable performance. Escape!"
Robin heaved a sigh, then began squirming in earnest. She rated the odds of somehow squirming out of Lady Arabelle's dommes' handiwork as slim and none—meaning zero divided by infinity—but she had to try. Her Mistress had given her an order and she had to be a good apprentice!
| A STUDY IN Cute | |
Chapter 8 |
Eventually, Bertie returned with a tea service for three on a lacquered tray. She set the tray on the floor and began the complex task of untying Kitty's ball-tie bonds. She released the web of ropes enforcing the ball-tie and Kitty was finally able to straighten her legs, thus revealing the band-aids plastered over her breasts, and thus triggering...
"Oh, Kitty!" Bertie gasped, then gently grasped Kitty's breasts, leaned close, and closely examined the band-aids, noting the shapes of the posts quite obviously piercing Kitty's nipples.
"What?" Robin demanded squirming in her ball-tie-bonds and craning her neck. "I can't see!"
Bertie shuffled and squirmed to the side, but continued gently cupping Kitty's breasts and cooing sympathetic noises. "Oh, you poor thing! Do they hurt?"
"Wow!" Robin gasped. "Pierced nipples! Cool!"
Kitty blushed and rolled her shoulders, trying and failing to dislodge Bertie's hands. "Let go of my boobs!" she demanded.
"Let me get you some aspirin," Bertie said, then climbed to her feet and scurried from the playroom.
Kitty stared at Robin. Robin stared back.
"Lady Arabelle?" Robin asked quietly.
"None of your business," Kitty huffed.
"I still think it's cool," Robin muttered.
Kitty rolled her eyes (and blushed). "Shut up."
Bertie breezed back into the room, without aspirin. "It occurred to me I should check the box Dominique left behind," she explained, then went to a cabinet, opened it and withdrew a pair of bandage scissors, then knelt and used the open scissors to slit the tape sealing the cardboard box in question. She rummaged inside, then held up a zip-lock bag of clear plastic. "I knew it!" she exclaimed as she peered at the contents of the bag. "Dominique was thoughtful enough to provide a tiny little vial of pain pills, a tube of ointment, and more band-aids."
"Yeah," Kitty huffed. "Thoughtful."
"Would you like a pill, Kitty?" Bertie inquired.
"No," Kitty growled, "I don't want a damn pill, I want you to untie these damn ropes!"
Bertie smiled, shuffled to Kitty's side, used the scissors to carefully sever the cable-ties binding Kitty's fingers and big toes... then returned to untying the remaining ropes. Rope slithered and pooled in tangled coils for a few minutes... and Kitty was finally free.
"Why don't you take a nice, hot soak in the tub," Bertie suggested as Kitty climbed to her feet. Bertie remained kneeling. "It will help your rope-marks fade more quickly. I'll change your band-aids when you're finished."
Kitty climbed to her feet and glared at Bertie, who was still kneeling before her. It isn't fair, she silently fumed. How can I take immediate and unspeakably cruel revenge on the grinning little Twerp-Muffin when she's so damn nice?
"Untie the Puck," Kitty ordered, then stomped (padded) away in the direction of the bedroom and the master bath with its Japanese-style soaking tub next to the shower.
Bertie and Robin watched Kitty depart... then shared a smile.
"You think she'll tell us the story of how she got her nips punctured?" Robin inquired.
"Perhaps," Bertie sighed, then scooted close to Robin and began untying her bonds. "Kitty can be a very private person."
Just then, Tabby padded into the playroom. She was wearing another of her hapi-coats, this one with white trim and a blue and white pattern of windblown waves crashing at sea. "I just passed Kitty," she announced, "all naked, covered with rope-marks, and with big ol' band-aids on her tits. So... business as usual?"
"Yes," Bertie giggled. "Kitty and her new apprentice were delivered by Lady Arabelle's staff. I'm just now finishing the unpacking."
Tabby stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, then focused on the tray with the tea service. "Oh, don't mind if I do." She sat cross-legged next to the tray (revealing in the process that she wasn't wearing panties or anything else under the hapi-coat) and poured herself a cup.
Meanwhile, Bertie had finished snipping Robin's plastic finger and toe bonds and untying the remaining ropes, and the teenager was free.
Tabby sipped her tea. "Good stuff," she purred. Then, just as she was about to take a second sip, paused. "Wait! What did you say? 'New apprentice'?" She focused on Robin, and heaved a sad, deep sigh. "Oh, you poor thing!" She set her cup and saucer on the tray and opened her arms. "C'mere!" she ordered.
Bertie giggled while Robin scrambled to Tabby on hands and knees and they shared a warm hug. Bertie took the occasion to pour herself a cuppa (with milk). By the time she was enjoying her first sip, Robin and Tabby had ended their embrace and Tabby was pouring tea into the remaining empty cup.
"Where's she gonna stay?" Tabby inquired, nodding at the New Apprentice.
"We might convert a storeroom into a bedroom," Bertie responded. "We'll have to buy some furniture, of course."
"Don't be silly," Tabby said, then sipped her tea. "I've already got a spare bedroom. She'll stay there."
"I'll make the suggestion to Kitty," Bertie promised, "after she finishes her bath."
"Oh," Tabby shrugged. "That's where she was going," She took Robin's hand and gently examined the rope-marks on her wrist. "I've got an even bigger soaking tub on my side of the Magic Mirror. C'mon." She stood, pulling Robin to her feet with her. Then, hand in hand, led her towards the bedroom.
"When you're finished," Bertie called after them, "come back, neatly coil all this loose rope, and put it in the appropriate case." She nodded at the garment bags. "I assume they contain clothes. Put them in the appropriate closet, then arrange the garment bags and cases out of the way in the entryway, ready for pickup."
Tabby frowned. "And why should I do any of that? And what makes you think any of my clothes might be in one of those bags?"
"Not you, Silly Goose," Bertie giggled. "The new apprentice."
"Oh," Tabby sighed as she led Robin away.
The new apprentice was grinning from ear to ear.
| The End of... | ||
| A STUDY IN Cute | |
Chapter 8 |
