M.”, then sighs and turns the volume up on her jazz music before putting it away. She looks aside at the vague nothingness passing by the window as the train passes through the tunnel and adds to a seemingly endless supply of weary sighs.What a fucking day.What a fucking evening.Crushed by deadlines at work, she knew before the start of the day that she would have to stay after normal hours, but not this late. Truthfully, she should have left along with the rest of her colleagues much earlier. She could have, but she didn’t.Because he had asked her to. Anson, her manager, had asked her to. As the subway trundles along through the darkness, Lianna props an elbow on the window sill and massages her finger and thumb above her eyebrows, thinking. In the window’s reflection, she sees herself looking back with a knowing, accusatory smirk on her pink lips as she faces the truth: Anson had asked only because she had suggested and offered. And if he hadn’t asked, she would have insisted.She. While she loved the way he admired her, sometimes she was jealous of the other women who could wear it all the time. "Of course," she reminded herself, "I couldn't imagine a life with makeup and no master! It would be miserable!"When she was ready, she turned to open the door into the house, only to find that he was standing there watching her.Though she didn't know it at the time, he had called the office earlier that day to ask her to stop and bring home a bottle of wine. Her assistant had told him that she was having a really bad day and would likely be home late. So he had gone out and gotten a bottle of wine and come home to prepare dinner.As she struggled to regain her composure, not expecting to see him standing there watching her, she saw a soft smile appear on his face. Then a soft smile stole across her face with her relief at seeing him. Kneeling quickly, she took her place at his feet, only to feel him taking her hand and pulling her to her feet, pulling her to follow.
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