A Father's Love, Chapter Twelve
#12 of A Father's Love
"What happened to your sister?" I asked him.
He lifted his head and looked at me. It was the same look from earlier at the beach, but much darker.
"I'm sorry, but..." I began.
I bit my lip.
"They... The maids mentioned that... That you had a sister, a couple of times," I said.
He sighed. It was a deep heavy sigh.
"What happened to her? Why don't you talk about her?" I asked.
I stopped myself from going any farther. Mr. Bridshaw looked furious. I prepared for the worst, but when Mr. Bridshaw spoke his voice was calm.
"My sister never lived past her nineteenth year. We went swimming at the lake. We took my father's boat out. My sister slipped as she was getting out of the boat and hit her head on the dock. She fell into the water and drowned. I couldn't save her" he said slowly.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Her name was Alexandra," he said.
He squeezed my paw and then rolled me onto my back. He kissed my cheek and neck.
"Do you think of her?" I asked him.
"Often," Mr. Bridshaw said.
"But why don't you talk about her?" I asked.
"It's less painful," he said.
He nuzzled my breasts and then rested his head on my chest.
"We've missed lunch, but dinner's not far away, what would you like?" he asked me.
"Oh... I don't know," I said.
"Anything you like," Mr. Bridshaw said.
"Bouillabaisse, with lemon chess tarts for desert?" I asked.
"I'll alert the chef," Mr. Bridshaw smiled.
He kissed my cheek and climbed out of bed. I climbed out after him and put his robe back on.
"I'll be needing that," Mr. Bridshaw smiled.
"But how will I get back to my room?" I asked.
"Will will take it from you when you're done," Mr. Bridshaw said.
I watched him disappear into the bathroom before closing the door behind me and walking back to my room. It was a long walk. Will was waiting in the bathroom for me.
"I thought I'd help you wash your back. I filled the tub for you," he said.
I smiled.
"That's very helpful of you," I said.
I folded Mr. Bridshaw's robe over a nearby chair.
"Those look awful," Will said.
I assumed he meant my bruises.
I slid into the tub.
"They've healed some, they don't hurt as much any more," I said.
Will rolled up his sleeves and then wet my hair and back. He sprinkled a little water down my front. He massaged my shoulders and then wet a sponge and poured a little soap on it. I pulled my hair back for him and he rubbed the sponge over my back. It scratched but it felt so good.
"That's nice," I sighed.
I dribbled a little soap on my paw, built up a slight lather and rubbed the soap through my fur.
"You're adorable," Will said.
"I look awful, like a drowned cat," I smiled.
Will laughed.
I lay back.
"Turn around," I said.
"Why?" Will asked.
"Just don't look," I said.
He shrugged and turned around, and I took the sponge from him and dunked it beneath the water to wash between my legs.
"You can look now," I said, when I was done.
"Nothing to be embarrassed about," Will said.
"Who's embarrassed?" I asked him.
"Nothing," he said, and then he smiled.
He looked me up and down.
"I think you're clean enough," he said, and helped me out of the tub.
Henrietta was waiting outside, unfortunately. She held up a deep blue-colored dress, it was long with fluttering sleeves.
"Mr. Bridshaw picked it out for you himself," she said.
Will picked up Mr. Bridshaw's robe.
"I think I'll take this back to Mr. Bridshaw," he said, and left.
Henrietta quickly dried me off. She brushed my hair and fur and pinned my hair up in a bun and then slipped the dress over my head. It fell past my feet, and Henrietta wrinkled her nose.
"That's a disaster waiting to happen," she said.
At that moment another maid came in. This one was an elderly striped hyena; over her arm she carried a sewing basket.
"Oh don't be so unkind Henrietta," she said.
"I have more important things to do anyway," Henrietta grumbled.
As she turned to leave, she stopped to whisper in my ear, "Don't get too attached, he's getting married," and then left.
The old maid turned to me and put her paw on my cheek.
"Don't worry dear, we can fix this," she said gently.
She pulled a chair forward and helped me up onto it. She then took out a pin cushion and began pinning the dress so it rested on my toes.
"But, won't Mr. Bridshaw get upset?" I asked.
"No, he told me to make adjustments if necessary," the old maid said.
She took out a pair of scissors and walked around me, carefully cutting around the pins.
"His sister was a tall girl, though not nearly as tall as him," she said.
She helped me off the chair and tossed the unused half of the dress aside and then pushed in some more pins so the dress fit around my waist. She paused when she came to my breasts.
"They are a little large," she muttered.
I blushed.
"Nothing we can't fix," the old maid said.
She pinned the collar snuggly around my breasts, unzipped the dress and then carefully lifted it off over my head.
"I'll have this ready for you in just a few," she said.
It seemed like it only took her just a few minutes to cut and stitch up the dress, and she even had time to spare to fashion the discarded hem into a scarf for me.
The dining hall seemed so large and empty with just the three of us. I sat next to Mr. Bridshaw on his right and Will sat on his left.
"How are you enjoying your Bouillabaisse?" Mr. Bridshaw asked.
"It's delicious," I answered.
Then Mr. Bridshaw turned to Will.
"It's a little dry," Will smirked.
"Behave," Mr. Bridshaw said.
When we had finished with dinner, the servants brought in the deserts, the tarts. They looked so pretty, like little golden squares, almost too pretty to eat.
He raised his wine glass and took a sip.
"May I have a sip?" I asked.
"Aren't you a little young?" he said to me, smiling.
"Just one sip?" I pleaded.
Mr. Bridshaw circled his paw slowly; the wine swirled in and bubbled in the glass.
"I don't think you're going to like it very much," he said.
He handed the glass to me and I took it and took a sip. It was more than a sip, close to a swig. I made a face and Will laughed. It didn't taste very good. It was sweet but slightly bitter, like chewing on a grape skin, but it also tasted a little spicy and it burned as it flowed down my throat.
"It's very strong," I said as I handed the glass back to Mr. Bridshaw.
I took a bite of my tart.
"I did say you might not like it very much," Mr. Bridshaw smiled.
"I could grow to like it," I said.
And Mr. Bridshaw laughed.
I walked with Mr. Bridshaw to his room again.
"What's wrong with your room?" Mr. Bridshaw asked me.
"I don't want to sleep alone," I said.
I wrapped my arms around his waist and added, "Not tonight."
I stood on my tiptoes, but I still couldn't reach his lips. My throat still burned a little from the wine.
"Are you afraid of the dark?" he asked me.
He gave my waist a squeeze.
"Are you afraid monsters will come to get you?" he smiled.
I shook my head.
"I have bad dreams," I said.
"Of what?" he asked me.
"Monsters," I said.
I think he knew what I meant.
"Could you help me?" I asked him.
I turned around for him and he unzipped my dress for me. I turned around and stood on my tiptoes again and kissed him, catching him off guard.
He put his hands on my waist.
"I think you've had a little too much," he said.
"Just a sip," I said, and kissed him again.
I giggled and pushed him down onto the bed and unbuckled his belt. I yanked off his pants and took his cock into my mouth.
"Camile..." he said, then his protests turned to moans as I sucked on his cock.
He ran his fingers through my hair and gently bucked his hips into my mouth. I pulled off his cock to lick up and down his length, then as I nipped the tip of his cock he came and sprayed his cum on my face.
He opened his eyes slowly.
"Seems I've made a mess," he said.
He smiled and brushed my hair out of my face with his fingers, then he lifted me up onto his lap and licked my face clean. He pulled back the covers and we cuddled together.
As he leaned forward to kiss me, I pulled back and asked, "Are you getting married?"
He raised a brow.
"Who told you that?" he asked.
"Someone..." I began, and then stopped.
"Was it someone in this house?" Mr. Bridshaw asked.
"Yes," I said quickly.
He smiled and laughed.
"I'm not getting married," he said.
"You're not?" I asked.
"No, I'm not," he answered.
"You swear?" I asked.
"I swear," he said, holding up his right paw.
"Good," I said, and then kissed him.