Smith is here, sir.” I announced loudly, though I knew Dawes would have his cctv monitor on.The door swung inwards, and Dawes stood there. “Come i..., Mr. Smith. That will be all, Jeeves.” He didn’t even look at me. I was dismissed.“Thank you, sir.” I responded and left as the door was closed behind them. I would not hear anything about their discussion, it seemed. I retired to the reception office, to wait.A while later, the study door opened and Dawes called out, “Jeeves, see the man. And that means we get home. The prayer ritual was followed by the ceremonial bite by the guests and crew. Margarethe was still trying to follow Slim of Burma. Before dinner proper, the toast, ‘The Queen, God bless her.’ Roast beef followed, with Yorkshire pudding, mashed cauliflower, old-fashioned currant duff, one more pint of Boddington’s (I thought we’d run out, must get another couple of cases before we sail, no it won’t matter a damn, thought Margarethe), and a splash of Cognac. Margarethe. So, here goes: My life feels like a giant mess pile in a contractor trash bag that I keep dragging behind me with no hope for the heaviness of its stress to lighten. I haven't gotten over my last break up yet - sad, I know - and it's just making me feel like I'm the most worthless person on the planet. I keep playing through what I did or where I went wrong but I keep coming blank then swap into these horrible bouts of self-loathing for not doing better at whatever the fuck was wrong. I keep. So I decided to go for a walk. Of course, I was frustrated and horny. Any calls I had made to guys I knew went to voicemail, so I walked the streets and thought about taking in a movie. Outside the theatre, I noticed a really hot guy go in and casually followed him. Instantly I realized that I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on a movie but would be obscured by thoughts of fucking and sucking him. We entered the theatre, which was fairly empty for a Sunday, and I made sure to sit behind.
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