DUNNE IN PARIS.

[dadio]

Dora Dunne can hear Hazel sleeping in
The bed next to hers. The soft rise and fall
Of her breathing filters in the space between

Them like a gentle caress. She lies on
Her soft pillow in the Parisian
Hotel gazing out at the shadowy

Outlines of her mistress, thinking of the
Events of the previous day and sights
Of Paris they had seen. The restaurants,

The Sacre Coeur, the Eiffel Tower, the
Way she had been allowed to walk beside
Hazel like any other woman could

Rather than as a maid, the closeness, the
Way her hand was only just inches from
Hazel’s hand at times. She remembers the

Oddness of being served coffee in the
Restaurant rather than serving it, she
Being waited on by others, rather

Than she waiting on others. She hears the
Gentle hum of traffic outside the wide
Window, mingling now and then with her

Mistress’s soft breathing. All of Hazel’s
Fresh clothes have been laid out ready for the
Coming day, all sorted, neat, and tidy.

Her eyes settle on the form of Hazel’s
Rising and falling breasts, the way the head
Lies snug on the pillow. She’d seen Hazel

Naked many times in the duties she
Performed, helping her dress and undress, in
Preparation for her bath, but it was

Always a huge effort not to plant a
Kiss on her mistress’s naked shoulder
Or throw her arms about her and draw her

Close to her. She sighs now. Just a few feet
Away she lies. Sleeping in the same room.
The soft breathing. She feels tempted to get

Out of bed and cross the cold floor and climb
Into bed beside her. To feel the warmth,
To feel the soft flesh intimately. She

Closes her eyes. Pulls the wool blankets tight
About herself. She imagines she has
Tiptoed across the floor and has climbed in

To her mistress’s bed and snuggled down
Beside her, sensing the body next to
Hers, her arms caressing, her lips kissing

The naked neck. She can smell the perfume,
Feel the warmth, the sensuality now
Enters her, rolls her repeatedly as

If in an act of love, satisfying
Sex, her fingers fingering. She opens
Her eyes, Hazel sleeps on. The gentle sound

Of breathing fills the morning air. She lies
There, watching the rising breasts, seeing the
Space between them, the huge gulf of class and

Breeding and high education that here
Separates, the love she has she breathes out
And allows it to cross the chasm like

God’s deep grace that never ever ends or
Falters, fails or ever evaporates.