Free Hunting Season by Erik Williams Page B

look.  I don't want her to know yet how much I truly admire her attention to detail.
    It takes Lilith a little over an hour to complete the cleaning.  Quick but perfect.  And not once did I have to stop her and show the way I want it done.
    "Is there anything else you need me to do, Mr. Clark?"
    I look down into her blue eyes and feel lost.  I've never felt love before but wonder if I do now.  My chest burns.  My stomach churns.  Is it possible to love a maid?
    Part of me wants to reach out and touch her unsoiled skin but I restrain myself.  After all, she had just cleaned a toilet not too long ago.
    Then a thought occurs to me.  Lilith had cleaned exactly as I prefer without any prompting.  I wonder if she has the same taste in decorating I do.
    I walk over to my glass-top coffee table and grab the Z Gallerie catalogue.
    "Lilith, what do you think of this table?"
    I show her page thirty-three.  She looks at it for a moment.  Then she pivots and studies my barren dining room.  Then she looks back at the catalogue.
    "I believe this would be a wonderful table for your dining room, Mr. Clark."  Then Lilith takes the edge of the page between her thumb and forefinger and turns it to page thirty-four.  "But this one is better.  I think it would tie the room together."
    I feel faint as I look at page thirty-four.  A better table.  A finer table.  Lilith's tastes aren't the same as mine; they're superior.  This is my soul mate.  I know it.  As soon as she said those words "tie the room together" I knew it.
    "Anything else, Mr. Clark?"
    "No."  I reach into my pocket and remove a hundred dollar bill.  "This is for you, Lilith.  You do wonderful work."
    Lilith takes the bill and puts it quickly away in a pocket.  She nods thankfully.  Her face appears redder than before but she maintains a professional stature.
    "Thank you, Mr. Clark."
    Her shoes back on, Lilith leaves.
    I stare at the door, wondering if this is the perfect day.
    A few seconds later, I'm on the web placing an order for my new table.
     
    *  *  *  *  *
     
    The delivery men finish setting up the table.  I thank them, give them their tip, and usher them out.  I want to be alone and take in my new dining room.
    It fits perfectly.  The simple, minimalist construction, rich dark color, does indeed tie the room together.  My dining room is complete.
    I can't help but wonder, though, what Lilith will think.  I already know she liked what she saw in the catalogue.  Beholding it in person, however, is completely different.  Part of me can't approve totally of the table until I hear Lilith's opinion.  I need to know she agrees with its presence.
    Why am I feeling this way?  Why am I so dependent on Lilith's thoughts?
    My mind drifts back to the feeling I had when I looked down in her eyes.  Again I wonder if it's possible to love a maid.
    I look at my calendar.  Lilith will be here tomorrow.  I can wait a day to hear her opinion.
     
    *  *  *  *  *
     
    "It is a beautiful table, Mr. Clark."
    Lilith stands next to it, the fingertips of her right hand gently stroking the tabletop.  Her words melt me.  God, we would be perfect together.
    "Your home is complete now."
    "Yes."  I move a step closer to her.  "It's perfect, isn't it?"
    Lilith nods and the corner of her lips curl upwards.  "So neat.  So organized."  She reaches out and touches my skin.  "So clean and pure, like you."
    Her touch is like an electric shock but I do not withdraw my arm.  Instead I allow this Goddess, who is a maid by circumstance only, keep her hand on my skin.
    "Thank you, Lilith."
    She looks deep in my eyes and I have to force myself not to turn away.  We are the same.
    After a few moments of intense silence, Lilith says, "Would you like me to clean, Mr. Clark?"
    I nod, on the verge of weeping.  "I would like that very much."
    Lilith turns to start working.  I reach out and grab her arm, firm but not hard.  Her head pivots and those eyes lock on