But mostly just wanting to get the hell out of there.I sat back down on the cot and brooded. Sulked. Felt sorry for myself. Felt extremely sorry for myself. Got tired of feeling sorry for myself. Finally, I began examining my options.The room had no windows. No phone, of course. The very solid-looking hardwood door would not open. There was no furniture, other than the cot, and its riveted metal frame would not disassemble without cutting tools. The light fixtures were too far up to reach. Likewise the ventilation shafts. The bathroom sink had no plug, so I couldn't overflow it and send water flooding through the floor to alert someone downstairs. The toilet was some kind of tamperproof semi-waterless European model, so I couldn't flood that either. Looked like I had little to work with.I seemed to have at least a few hours of nothing much to look forward to except solitude and boredom. I trusted her enough not to leave me parked here for an extended period of time. Well now, I did. I put the tray on the nightstand and wait patiently as my counter ticks down. I reach down and pull up my stockings, then tug the hem of my uniform down. I know trying to pull it down enough to cover my stocking tops is futile, but I’m still not used to wearing this little french outfit. Finally I adjust my lace cap and got ready.At exactly 7:30 my implant flashed and I begin to whisper... “Sir, Ma’am”“Sir, Ma’am”Then slightly louder I say... “Sir, Ma’am!”Mrs Cooper awoke, turned over and snuggled up to Mr Cooper, then closed her eyes and whispered... “Five more minutes.”I stood, just as I have twice before and waited. It’s amazing how slow time goes by when you’re watching the clock. I could smell bacon drifting in from the kitchen. It smells so good, and Mr Cooper stirred as if he noticed it too. With three minutes left I decide to bring up todays schedule. It comes up on my corneal display... 7:30 Wake up10am Mr Cooper. Call advertising agency.11am Mr Cooper. Meet Mr Taylor for a.
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