Free Taught to Serve by Jaye Peaches

retry.
    Casey hunted for placemats and found a set in the sideboard, with pictures of floral arrangements. They were grubby, but when she tried to wipe them down, nothing seemed to shift off the faded surfaces. Shrugging her shoulders, she laid them between the knives and forks, taking care to line everything up with the table edge. The glasses she spread evenly, and the napkins she laid neatly too.
    Fetching Rob for a second time, Casey was convinced she had the setting perfect, and she practically crumpled on the floor to see him shake his head. He picked up a placemat.
    “What are these?” he scowled. “These are not for the guests I have coming tonight.”
    “Who is coming?” she asked.
    “Gentlemen,” he said simply. “They want to be entertained, Casey. Find something to entertain them.”
    Casey was bemused by his request; placemats entertaining?
    “Oh, these glasses, no, no—they need to be exactly the same distance apart. Use a ruler.”
    Casey was going to answer back with a ‘do it yourself, you pedantic sod’ remark, and thought better of it, especially when he pulled out a dining room chair and pointed at it.
    She could not understand how six swats could hurt so much. Was it because she was pissed off with him or because he was disappointed in her attempts to please him? Every day she tried hard to keep a smile on his face, and most days she succeeded. Come the nightfall when they snuggled down, she never had any difficulties keeping him happy. It was in the day, when he told her she had to do as she was told, that she struggled. Being his personal assistant was not entirely what she had expected. It was very personal and not exactly assisting—more servicing him.
    She rubbed her bottom hard as she stood up. If he carried on she would not be able to sit down. He left her alone again without a word.
    The ruler was in her bureau drawer, and it did help. She found she was very inconsistent between settings, and now each one had an identical layout. Surely that would cheer him up.
    The placemats stumped her. She gathered up the ghastly floral pictures and put them away. There in the back of the sideboard was a box, and she eased it out and put it on the table. Opening the lid, she gasped at the contents: placemats whose design made her giggle with embarrassment. Did Rob mean these? There was only one way to find out. She chose three and placed them between the cutlery.
    It was with trepidation that Casey summoned Rob from his study to inspect her third attempt. There was a moment’s silence when he saw the placemats. However, far from commenting on them, he merely nodded and indicated she had found the correct ones. Casey desperately wanted to ask who was coming to dinner that evening, but she was not going to have an answer.
    “Very good. Now, you will do it again,” he told her.
    “Seriously?” she said, and the tone of her voice in conjunction with a scowl and a hand on hip resulted in six more over the dining chair. She hopped about, and it was hard not to kick back at him. Her bottom smarted terribly, and she thought he had poured concrete into his hands.
    From out of his pocket he produced a blindfold, and he grinned at her. “You have all afternoon to practise. You’re going to learn to set this table blindfolded. I won’t check you again, as I expect you to be perfect by this evening. You know how I like it laid out. I suggest you put everything on the sideboard, use the chairs to locate the places and notches on the ruler for distance.”
    Casey had forgotten about her throbbing bottom. The temptation to gawp, to query, and to question was almost too much to bear, but she had learnt her lesson, and she kept her face still.
    Rob continued. “Then, at eight o’clock this evening, you will present yourself here in this room. You will wear that lovely black lacy lingerie set. You know the one I like?”
    “Yes, sir,” murmured Casey. She pictured it in her head; it barely covered anything