Maimoona the Gift Page 2

  I pulled back the covers and swung my feet over the side of the bed. As soon as I opened the bedroom door, I stopped short. Kneeling on the floor outside my room was Moona in a long white cotton nightshirt. I blinked twice to clear my vision and assure myself this was not a half-sleep hallucination.

  She was still there.

  “Is there something wrong with your room, dear?”

  Moona said nothing.

  “If you need a companion for the night, I would have thought Jessica would be more than willing. She’s not seeing anyone that I know of, and despite what Katrina has to say about her, she really is a lovely girl.”

  Still nothing.

  “I’ve got to use the bathroom, dear. I’ll be just a moment. We can talk when I get back.” I maneuvered past her.

  When I returned, Moona was no longer kneeling before the doorway to my bedroom. Instead, she was occupying one half of my double bed, with her back facing the center and her knees tucked up under her chest.

  I shrugged and crawled back into the side I had occupied before.

  “Good night, dear,” I said, and turned to switch off the light. I felt a shimmy of the bed, and after a brief rustling of the bed sheets, the unmistakable press of Moona’s body against my back. A few minutes later, came the delicate touch of her hand on my shoulder.

  I sighed and drifted off, as visions of Hasiba, Moona’s mother, began to intrude on my dreams. A hazy image of Hasiba’s pinkened behind, and the sound of her heavy breathing in my ear as she curled up next to me and thanked me for disciplining her—that was the last thing I could recall.

  I woke again some time later, and Maimoona was gone.

  * * *

  It didn’t take long to find Moona again. I followed the rich, sweet smell of French toast and maple syrup, and found all of my girls, except Moona, seated around the dining room table enjoying their breakfast. There was no arguing, no snide comments, only quiet mouths engaged in chewing and the occasional under the breath utterance of “yum.”

  From the kitchen door burst Moona, still wearing her night shirt, but with a kitchen apron over it this time, and a heaping platter of steaming French toast in her hands. The occasional “yum” from the table turned into a chorus of ahhs at the sight.

  I smiled.

  “Please sit, Mistress Baxter,” Moona said. “I have set your place at the head of the table.”

  “There’s no need to call me Mistress.”

  But my words seemed to go unheeded, and Moona just pulled me by the hand until I sat down at the empty plate. Three triangular slices of French toast were expertly arranged before my eyes, and sprinkled with powdered sugar, by my new young chef.

  “Whipped cream, Mistress?” Monna asked.

  I sat stunned for a moment, wondering what strange magic had descended over my house this morning.

  “Try it,” said Katrina. “It’s good.”

  I nodded.

  “Enjoy, Mistress.”

  “You know you don’t have to call me—” But Moona was gone, disappeared back into the kitchen.

  “Did you hire her yet, Miss Baxter?” Katrina asked, with her mouth still half full. “‘Cause if you didn’t, you really should. Her French toast kicks ass.”

  “I could eat this all day,” Sara purred.

  The only one not raving at the moment was Jessica. She was slumped over her plate, contenting herself with dipping her finger into the heap of whipped cream there, and making little swirls. She did this two or three times, absentmindedly staring at her uneaten French toast, until Moona reappeared from the kitchen. After that, Jessica’s eyes lifted and followed every one of Moona’s movements until she retreated again.

  “Jessica,” I said. “Why don’t you ask Moona to be in one of your studies? Do you have any coming up?”

  Jessica looked up. “Do you…? I mean, is it okay with you, Miss Baxter?”

  “Of course,” I said. “She’s her own person, Jessica. You just need to ask her.”

  “Um, yes, Miss Baxter, I will.”

  “Good,” I said. “I think she would enjoy your company.”

  Jessica straightened up in her chair, suddenly noticing that there was a plate of untouched French toast in front of her, and began digging in.

  “Attitudes toward deviant sexual behavior by women of color,” Jessica said, between bites.

  I cocked my head to the side and looked at her, not quite understanding.

  “That’s my new study,” Jessica continued, her mouth still partially full. “Do you think she’d be offended? By the deviant behavior, I mean. She fits the other criteria, but she seems kind of quiet and, well…not very deviant.”

  I thought for a moment, revisiting my earlier dream of Moona’s mother over my knee, wracked with sobs, as I pinkened her quivering behind. I smiled and cut into my French toast. “I think she’ll be alright.”

  * * * *

  Later in the afternoon, I was sitting in my office trying to make sense of the bills that my caretaker and former chef used to deal with before they set off for Chicago. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jessica and Moona seated at the dining room table. They weren’t eating. Moona had a thin packet of papers in front of her that she was studying. Jessica was across from her with her little two-in-one, now in laptop mode, prompting Maimoona with questions, and occasionally typing notes. Jessica’s jaw seemed to be dropping lower by the minute.

  I looked in Jessica’s direction and met her gaze. Jessica excused herself and walked over, closing the door just enough to stop our voices from carrying.

  “What can I do for you, Jessica?”

  “Did you know, Miss Baxter?”

  “Know what?” I played coy, even though I could guess what Jessica’s study of ‘Attitudes toward sexual deviance by women of color’ was leading her to discover about young Moona.

  “I thought she’d be in my control group.” Jessica knitted her eyebrows together. “You know, the ones who aren’t sexually deviant. Miss Baxter…how do I say it? This girl’s a freak.”

  “Jessica,” I chastised.

  “Sorry, Miss Baxter. I mean…well, every question on my survey, she’s either done it or she’s expressed a very keen interest in trying it. Except for the stuff involving boys. Those were all solid no answers.”

  “And,” I said, hoping Jessica would draw the conclusions herself and discover what I had long suspected about Maimoona—that underneath that shy outward appearance, was an extremely sexually adventurous young woman.

  “Well.” Jessica had her hand on the back of her neck, rubbing. “I guess I could move her out of the control group and into my experimental group. She’s really going to skew my results.”

  I smiled. “It’s your study, dear. I’m sure you know what’s best.”

  Seemingly satisfied with her decision to move Maimoona into the experimental group, Jessica quietly slipped through the doorway again.

  “Jessica,” I called. “You might see if she’s interested in something outside of your study. Maybe something with just the two of you. I have some passes for the new museum exhibit if you’re interested.”

  I thought I saw the faintest of nods from Jessica before she turned and made her way back to the dining room where Moona was waiting patiently.

  It was entertaining to watch the two of them interacting as Jessica’s study questions continued. Even from a distance I could feel the electricity between them. And if I could help play matchmaker, so much the better.

  * * *

  The next morning there was no delightful smell of French toast to roust me from slumber, nor was there a contented group of girls sitting around the table when I visited the dining room. At least someone had had the good sense to put on a pot of coffee, and I turned to reach for a cup. A creak of the stairs, and whispering voices, was all it took to let me know what had transpired to leave us all in this situation of no breakfast.

  Soon Moona and Jessica came wandering into the kitchen, looking disheveled, but smirking
and generally avoiding everyone’s gaze but each other’s.

  “Mistress Baxter, I’m sorry, I—” started Moona.

  “Sit,” I said, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “I’ll make breakfast. I already feel guilty about having you work on your birthday yesterday.”

  “But, Mistress—”

  I placed my finger gently on the tip of her nose. “Sit.”

  Moona smiled, and after lacing her fingers with Jessica’s, wandered off to the dining room to find an empty chair.

  I, on the other hand, surveyed the kitchen and tried not to let the feeling of dread overwhelm me. It’s all for a good cause, I assured myself as I dug around in the refrigerator. Young love.

  * * * *

  “Frittata!” I announced proudly, as I set the two white ceramic baking dishes on the table. “Be careful, it’s very hot.”

  The girls around the table all looked at me, then at the dishes I had set down, and then back to me. All except Jessica and Moona that is, they seemed very content just looking at each other, though occasionally Moona would blush and shift her gaze to her lap.

  “Frittata?” I said again. “It’s like a poofy omelet that hasn’t been folded. Eggs, cheese, veggies? Anyone?”

  The girls just blinked, all except the two who were busy making goo-goo eyes at each other.

  “Think of it like an egg pizza. Deep dish style.”

  A few nods passed around the table and the girls cautiously began to dig in. I let out a small sigh of relief as a few smiles began to materialize. Even Katrina seemed to be satisfied, which was rare enough in itself.

  After everyone was sated, and the first of the chairs was pushed back from the table, I turned to Moona.

  “I’m sorry, dear,” I whispered, “but that was the limit of my repertoire and I’m going to need your help with lunch later.” Then, turning to Jessica I said, “I promise not to keep her too long.”

  I watched as their dreamy eyes met for a moment, Jessica’s and Moona’s, before Moona again moved her gaze to her lap. I was amazed how much Maimoona resembled her mother, Hasiba. Though on the surface she did seem to be definitely more on the shy side.

  “Enjoy your morning, girls,” I said, as they slowly tugged each other along, hand in hand.

  * * * *

  With all of the girls off on their various morning adventures, I decided to take some well-deserved time to catch up on my reading. I parked myself in the parlor, tablet in hand.

  It worked for about two hours.

  “I am here as requested, Mistress.” Moona smiled. “Ready to prepare the noon meal.”

  I set my tablet on the side table and let out a little sigh that I hoped did not come across as exasperated as I felt. But, honestly, Moona, I was just getting to the good part.

  “It’s only ten-thirty, dear. How about coming back in an hour?” I picked up my tablet, quickly scanning the display for the paragraph where I left off.

  “I did not know the extent of the preparations, Mistress. I thought it best to be early.”

  I set my tablet back down…again.

  “Moona, honey, it’s fine. Come back at eleven-thirty and I’ll have something for you to do. And you don’t have to keep calling me Mistress, you know.” I reached for my tablet again.

  “Perhaps I should tidy up the kitchen.”

  “Where’s Jessica?” I asked. And why aren’t you two somewhere with your hands on each other while I enjoy a little more quiet time? Though, I kept that thought to myself.

  “I told her I would be busy. And she is busy as well, compiling some of the notes for her study.” Moona was facing me, but not quite meeting my gaze. She was bouncing up and down on her toes, apparently raring to go.

  I put my tablet down one last time. “Come on, let’s go see what we can put together for lunch. I assume you had something in mind.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  * * * *

  “What is this dish, Moona? It smells absolutely wonderful.”

  “Just a simple curry, one of my favorites from childhood.” Maimoona glanced at the clock on the wall and handed me the spoon. She was no longer bouncing on her toes, and looked like she might be shivering just a little bit.

  “Will you stir, please, Mistress? I need to start the rice.”

  “You know, you don’t have to call me—”

  But Moona had left my side, gone over to fetch a pan and measure out the water. She was such a lovely girl. I really hoped that she and Jessica would hit it off.

  I was thinking about the two of them together when heard the Pyrex measuring cup land in the sink with a thud, and turned to see Moona tensed up and shuddering, resting a hand on the counter top.

  “Are you alright, dear?” I moved toward her.

  Moona said nothing for a moment, and then began shaking again.

  I laid my hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to lie down? You look like you might be ill. Maybe you picked up some bug in your recent travels.”

  “I assure you, Mistress, I have had all of my shots. I am not a Typhoid Mary come into your house to infect—” Moona’s mouth remained open, but no more words came out. She leaned forward, now resting her elbows on the counter, and continued shivering.

  I wrapped my arms around her and helped her over to the tiny breakfast nook to sit down. She shuffled along in a fog. I didn’t know what was wrong with her yet, but I was honestly afraid she might pass out at any minute. “If I had known you were ill, dear, I would have tried to put lunch together myself.”

  Poor Moona was still shaking, and her skin was flushed pink. I put my hand on her forehead, but she didn’t feel particularly feverish. Her pupils were the size of saucers and her eyes wavered as she shuddered and fidgeted on the wooden bench seat of the breakfast nook.

  It was when I heard a small buzzing that sounded like a vibrating cell phone, but seemed to correspond directly to Moona’s movements on the bench seat, that I figured it out. The strange buzzing noise, Moona’s shuddering, and her new friend Jessica’s recent decision to move Moona from the control group to the experimental group, all added up to one thing in my mind.

  “Moona? Are you having an orgasm, dear?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” Moona spasmed a few more times before settling down and letting out a shuddering breath. “My fifth one.”

  Fifth? My eyes went wide. “Jessica’s study?”

  Moona shook her head. “Jessica gave me a vibrator, Mistress. It’s been inside my—”

  “No need to go into detail, dear. I get the picture.”

  “Since after breakfast, Mistress. I’m supposed to count the orgasms, and let her know at which point it becomes uncomfortable.”

  “And when it becomes uncomfortable? What then?”

  “We hadn’t discussed that. I assumed it would take a while longer.”

  I wrapped my arm around Moona’s shoulders. “And you’re okay with this?”

  “Yes, Mistress. It is one of my fantasies.” Another long shudder ran the length of Moona. Her mouth gaped and her eyelids began to flutter. “Ohh,” she groaned. “I think I might be there. Sitting on this bench is…ohh…not comfortable.”

  I stood up and reached out to help Moona up with me. “I’ll help you to the bathroom, dear. I assume you can take care of things from there.”

  “It’s tied in, Mistress.”

  I stopped and stared. What had these two been up to?

  “We tied a rope around my waist and cinched it up between my legs,” Moona said. “So the vibrator wouldn’t fall out.”

  “Let’s get you to the bathroom first,” I said. “I’ll get the scissors.”

  “What about the rice, Mistress?”

  “Lunch will have to be a little late. And afterwards, I want to speak with both you and Jessica.”

  Moona shuddered again, looked once again at the empty pot by the sink, and then cast her gaze the floor as we shuffled along.

  * * * *

  After lunch, Moona and
Jessica came to the little room that served as my office. In reality, it was more of a large closet with a desk and a few chairs. That became extremely obvious as we all squeezed in.

  “Jessica, would you close the door, please?”

  “Yes, Miss Baxter.”

  “It was my fantasy, Mistress,” Moona blurted out. “Please don’t punish Jessica for it.”

  “Girls,” I said. “No one is being punished. But we do need to have a serious talk about safety. I only asked you to come here so that we won’t be overheard, but if you’re comfortable discussing this in the parlor, that’s fine with me.”

  Both girls shook their heads.

  The air in the little room was getting stale and warm already. I looked to Jessica, and then to Moona. Neither one of them looked too excited to be here, so I decided to just get right down to it, before we all suffocated.

  “I know you girls care for each other.”

  That got a small nod from each of them.

  “And I know how exciting it can be when you find out that you share certain interests.” Why did this feel like that awkward adolescent sex talk? We’re all adults here. It shouldn’t be this difficult.

  “Girls,” I said. “Would you like to go for a walk? Maybe we’d all feel better discussing this in the open air.”

  Nods again. More vigorous this time.

  By the time we stepped out into the afternoon air, everyone had calmed considerably, including me. Something about warm sunshine and fresh, cool air seems to have a therapeutic effect. It certainly loosened the tongues of Moona and Jessica.

  “It was my fantasy, Mistress Baxter. Jessica was just helping. She didn’t force me to do anything.”

  “Honest, Miss Baxter,” Jessica said. “Moona told me how she fantasized about being abducted by aliens.”

  “Aliens from a pleasureless planet,” Moona added.

  “And these aliens implanted her with a device that would allow them to harvest her orgasms,” Jessica said. Then they would sell them to the highest bidder.”

  “Like a drug,” said Moona.

  “It’s very creative,” I said, “and I think you could have a lot of fun with it.”