“Cara, you’re blind. I feel like I have to remind you of this more often than I should.” Robert laid a large hand on his wife’s thin forearm before reaching up to touch her face. The Mistress noted the gesture. He’d done the same thing earlier before putting his arm around her. He must touch her arm first to give her fair warning of his proximity before touching more of her. Overprotective indeed.

“I wasn’t born blind,” Cara explained, turning her head, if not her eyes, toward The Mistress.

“What happened?” The Mistress asked and Robert shifted in his chair.

“Accident,” Cara explained. “I was nineteen. Standing on a street corner—”

“Prostitute?”

“Hey—” Robert interrupted angrily, but Cara only laughed and patted Robert’s hand.

“Yes. I was turning tricks on the way to class,” Cara continued with a grin. “And someone bumped into me. Just an accident. No malice. Went down and hit the back of my head on the curb. Slammed my occipital lobe. The lights went out and they never came back on again.”

“Incredible...” The Mistress exhaled. “One question.”

“Of course.”

“Did that help or hinder your prostitution career?”

Cara burst out laughing as Robert buried his head on his wife’s shoulder.

“She’s fun, Robert. Let’s keep her.”

“She’s a little out of our price range for full-time employment.” Robert kissed Cara on the cheek.

“Is she pretty?” Cara asked Robert. “She sounds pretty.”

“I’m hideous. I look like a shaved Muppet.”

“Robert?” Cara prompted.

“She’s the second most beautiful woman in the entire city,” Robert said. “White girl. Long black hair. Wavy. She’s got part of it pulled back but it still looks a little messy—sexy and wild. She’s short, although her boots put a few inches on her. Curvy but muscular. Fantastic breasts especially in that corset. Green eyes. About thirty. Total goddess.”

“Thank you, darling.”

“Wait. This is your husband’s job? To describe women to you?” The Mistress asked. “This is a damn good gig.”

“Since I wasn’t blind from birth, I can still visualize people. Old habits die hard.” Cara turned her head to Robert. “I try to guess what people look like by their voices and personalities. Then Robert tells me if I’m right or not.”

“He probably lies to you constantly,” The Mistress said before taking another sip of her wine. “I would.”

“I do,” Robert admitted. “She doesn’t even know I’m black.”

“Great. Now she does.” The Mistress rolled her eyes.

“My parents are going to be shocked,” Cara said, trying to keep a straight face. “What will we tell the children?”

“We have more than one child?”

“You’re not the only one with secrets, dear.”

The Mistress sat back in her chair and studied the playfully bickering spouses. Rarely had she seen a couple so comfortably in love with each other. Something ached inside her at the sight of such easy affection. She’d had this once, this kind of perfect peace. A name she tried to never speak echoed in the empty parts of her, reverberating off the hollow walls of her heart.