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I met Dian when he was sixteen. It's been seven years since I've had the misfortune of k_dnapp_ng him. At this rate, I feel nobody is even looking for him.
"Why are we here, mistress?" He says, following me with a parasol. "This is an opera. Have you never been to one, Dian?" I ask curiously. I don't normally respond to him with long sentences, he can probably mistake that for some kind of empathy, but occasionally I look back to make sure he's trailing behind, with my handbag and the mismatched parasol. We're inside the theatre.
"Of course I have."
He gapes wide. Must be impressed by the modern architectural style. The main event doesn't begin for another hour. "Would you like snacks?"
"No. Would you?"
There's crowd forming. This cannot end well.
I seize him by the forearm and direct him elsewhere, which brings a crescent fall smile. "Mistress. . ."
Call me paranoid, but the ceiling designs remind me of the last time I stepped into a church. It was breathtaking.
"Do you really not want a mid-evening snack? I'll be happy to arrange anything for you!"
"Is it just me or do you sound happy?"
"Of course! I love going out!"
I smirk and he blushes. It's a twisted game, one that I'm ashamed of playing. He got into this situation because of his habit of wandering. This-
"Especially with you."
"Oh," and I retract my hand. Wrapping it around his arm was unnecessarily intimate and possessive. "I think this dress is choking me. But let's take a walk and work up an appetite. Okay, Dian?"
—
While I'm kicking myself, Dian and I take a long walk around. Ten more minutes.
Then he'll no longer be my problem.
—
"You sit here."
I have him seated. He looks mildly baffled, unsettled. "What play is this?" I pretend not to catch that, and with the hustle bustle of others it's a believable act.
"I'll be right back. I need to use the restroom."
—
What am I doing? My fingers tingle with the last time I patted his ashen curls, is this what I want? To abandon him? Is this right?
And I cave in. I sprint back. The room is dark. Theatrical ambience. I'm out of breath. Hurriedly, I check the corner I left him at.
Just the parasol is visible.
What happened?
I lost Dian didn't I?
Defeated, I exit the main room. Well. I did that for my own safety. Not my fault his family doesn't care about his di—
At the restroom, I let the cool water purify my hands and face. Sigh. A sharp noise. I turn swiftly. "Mistress," Dian says breathlessly.
I don't know if I want to run or run and hug him. So I do neither. He gently steps ahead. My breath hitches. Huh? What's that darkness? He shuts the door with a click. "Come to me," his voice changes. He pulls me into his chest. Tried to. But due to lack of height difference, I bump to his cheek. "You know what this means right?"
"You. . ."
His index finger shushes me. I step back. Pushes me back. Lifts my skirt to my thighs.
"You aren't getting rid of me that easily. No, mistress, you're quite wrong. " He kneels and unhooks the strap of my left shoe, almost affectionately. "I have had a taste of you, mistress. And I'm not willing to let go. Not yet."
A kiss on the sole. I swallow a whimper. "Don't you get tired of me, Dian?"
He massages the palm, looking up. "This cruel sense of humour... Suits you, mistress." I grab a fistful of his hair, almost furiously but not quite. A sweet smile graces.
***
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