Not even a watch. Time, to a servant, is anendless blur.I take a step closer to the image in the mirror. How ugly her clothesare! A shapeless blue uni...orm, buttoned all the way up the front, amatching apron, wooden clogs. All, and her bare arms too, are streakedwith dirt. Out of the pockets used dusters hang.I cannot stay to inspect myself. I return to the bucket, sink down ontomy knees. Oh, they hurt! I wet the coarse cloth; spray the cleaner onthe floor, then start to scrub. My hands too hurt. It was like a Walgreen’s, except with porn on most shelves. Even more exciting to her was a flat-screen TV that showed a blonde woman being fucked from behind, showing more pleasure than she’s ever felt from her limited exposure to sex.But Celeste picked out a Hitachi, a glass dildo, and a Pocket Rocket from the sex toy shelf, and brought it up to the front counter. Frank was the name of the cashier. He was non-descript, just a guy in his 40s who worked as a cashier at a sex shop. He was nice. More

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