Milady?”She giggled. “I am not, and never will be, a Mistress. But I am the woman, the Lady of the house. Hence, to a junior slave, I am ‘Milady...��. A recognition of my status and authority.”“Ah! That explains it. Thank you.”Coffee was placed on the table – black for me, white, with frothed milk, for Sally. Enid went silently back to the pan and began filling plates with bacon, sausage, scrambled egg, fried bread, baked beans. One was placed in front of Sally, the other, piled high, in front of. “One problem at a time,” I said. “First let’s call Gwen.”I got up from the couch and went to the desk. I looked up the number in my Rolodex and dialed Gwen’s office. Her assistant answered and asked me to hold. Gwen came on the line less than a minute later.“Hi, Steve. More kids to help you with?” she asked mirthfully.“Yeah, but not the way I think you mean. I just got served with a paternity lawsuit.”“Is it legitimate?” she asked.“I don’t know enough details to know,” I said. “I didn’t read. More

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