3.15
Robbie, Charles has painstakingly been tearing, rebuilding, and repainting the door frame for the past few days, yet nothing comes of it. Like bacteria, it returns. Not that I didn't mind watching every second of it-- of Charles that is, his trampoline-buttocks swaying side to side.
After all, Richard hasn't been home in a few days; he's off with that new secretary of his, Becky. I just know it! That harlot with her barely-there dresses, showing off her cankles to all!
I am angry and heartbroken, Robbie. I have never looked for pleasure from others, always belonging to Richie, never anyone else.
So, why is he allowed to do so? Is it that he is a man and I a lesser being?
Is it wrong that I am inclined (more than ever) to take my lust and seek the snake to my garden, the forbidden fruit if you will?
Charles is around, he tends to me in every way since Richard's absence. The maids swoon towards him, but they giggle Charles' and my name when we pass them into the garden. Madelyne and Ashley are not opposed to the idea, encourage it even.
Should I go forth and give into my greatest sin, Robbie?
The print on my chest has increased in sensation. A heat like no other coiling in my bosom, spreading to my beaver. My pipes need a fixing.
I do love him dearly, but I know...
Colours: ohlala drama!
YOU ARE READING
Dear Robbie,
HorrorI've started this diary. No, journal. Yes. To recount the strange occurrences in the manor. To log everything I can to the best of my ability. The thing is I swear I'm going crazy, but it all feels too real, intensely real. Everything is not what it...
