Please, Master Ch. 05

"Well, I guess the one good thing about this is that we'll still have jobs," offered Jacob, laconically.

"Oh, more than that," replied the lawyer. "You're rich now, what with the stock you own. Both of you."

They learned that there were certain stipulations on how the new corporation was to be run. Richard's business philosophy was to be maintained, of putting the needs of both the employees and the customers first, providing quality of construction that went beyond expectations, and always adding that special personal touch to everything. Neither Jacob nor Bethany would have had it any other way.

They began talking about the most positive way to break the news to the team at the 10:00. It would be traumatic, but the company was in good shape, and, as usual, Richard had paved the way for continuing success and growth already.

***

The dean had called a quick meeting of the faculty of the English Lit department. "I've just received a hand delivered letter messaged to me from Professor Hayes' husband, Richard, whom many of you know. It informs me that he's arranged for a sum of money to endow the 'Isadora Blanton Hayes Chair of English Literature,' which will provide for the continuing maintenance of a full professorship," he announced. There were surprised and pleased reactions all around.

A hand was raised in the back, and the dean acknowledged it. "Geoffrey, given Isadora's and Richard's proclivities, shouldn't they have endowed a bed rather than a chair?" Grins and laughter broke out among them. After a short while, the dean was hastily summoned from the room. He returned a minute later, ashen-faced and in shock.

***

The minister took a deep breath and began to speak to those assembled. It was a large and varied gathering including both learned academics and working-class folks. An oversized casket was nestled among an entire wall of floral arrangements. Inside the casket, still together, were the earthly remains of Mr.Richard and Dr. Isadora Hayes, with Richard's arms still cradling his wife. No clothing dishonored the naked display of their humanity other than a white sheet discreetly covering them below the shoulders. Naturally, Isadora's trademark golden collar was still fastened around her neck. The riding crop that had been placed in Richard's hand was not as obvious, but it was there nonetheless in accordance with his final instructions. "We are here today, gathered together in the name of The Lord, to celebrate the lives of Richard and Isadora Hayes. All of you who knew them were well aware of the passion that Richard had for his wife, and vice-versa. He considered protecting and providing for Isadora the most important responsibility of his life, and when he learned that she was dying from a cruel disease, he secretly began making arrangements to mercifully send her on her way to 'that far away and distant shore,' as he put it in a letter he posted to me, and for him to go with her. I do not personally believe that Richard's actions were proper, but I was not asked. Nobody was, to my knowledge, and, anyway, what was done is done.

"Both of them were long-time members of this church, but for personal reasons chose to use their gifts to minister to people indirectly rather than through the formal organizational structure. They had their own reasons for this, as I will speak to later.

"Isadora Hayes was a beautiful woman. She was a Professor of English Literature here at the university, and she lectured with enthusiasm about the subject. Her classes were consistently filled to capacity, and she was a respected scholar in her own right. I understand that Richard established the 'Isadora Blanton Hayes Chair of English Literature' at the school just before their demise.

"Richard owned and operated a very successful construction company, having obtained his start in the building trade while enlisted in the Navy's Construction Battalion, the famous 'seabees.' He was known for the quality of his workmanship, and he made it a point to donate a good portion of his company's labor to Habitat For Humanity, which helps build homes for first-time buyers who would most likely not qualify for conventional means of home ownership. He also helped a good many of his own employees obtain their own homes.

"He was a down-to-earth sort of guy who was nevertheless proud of his wife's academic aspirations and achievements. To say that they had a 'passionate relationship' is a gross understatement. They were famous, or infamous, depending upon your point of view, for their love life. I heard rumors about their unusual relationship soon after I became the pastor here, and when I had an opportunity to ask Richard about them in private, I did.

"Richard was frank concerning the views that he and Isadora shared on that subject. He said that contrary to popular belief, sex wasn't something that Hugh Hefner had invented in 1953. It was created by God, and for three reasons, in Richard's opinion: First, to create and multiply; second, to be a picture of Christ and His Church; and third, to be heavenly pleasure for a husband and wife. I never found out why Richard and Isadora had no children, but they evidently couldn't, so they concentrated on Number Two and Number Three.

"Especially Number Three.

"Richard told me once, years ago, that he often wondered why God hadn't made sex between a husband and a wife a sacrament, just like holy communion or baptism. I said I didn't know, but his question has often caused me to wonder if perhaps we as The Church might not have as good an understanding of the role of sexual love within Christianity as we think.

"Rest in peace, Richard and Isadora. Let us pray. . . "

From over the PA system, the sound of Christopher Parkening's version of Johann Sebastian Bach's "Sheep May Safely Graze," with orchestral background, was played. Richard had specified it, knowing how much Isadora loved the sound of the classical guitar. Once those assembled had departed, the pallbearers began to move the casket.

***

Epilogue

Friday evening rolled around once more, just as it always had. The work week was over, and the key people at the company gathered together for their ritual shot of whiskey that marked the official beginning of the weekend. It had taken place in Richard's office for as long as anybody could remember, but this week, it was being held at the foot of Richard's and Isadora's grave. Everybody thought that the change of venue seemed appropriate for this special occasion.

"You bring the bottle?" Jacob asked Bethany.

"You bet," she replied. "Real glasses, too."

Bethany handed out the glasses, and Jacob poured. "Bushmills," remarked Jacob. "Damn good Irish whiskey, if you all will excuse my French."

"Man, it's been a long time since I did this! Four years now, but I can still remember," an older man said. "Tiny," actually a giant of a man, had been Richard's first and long-time general superintendent before he retired, and Jacob had taken his place. He'd been asked to come back part-time until everything could be sorted out, and he had not hesitated a second to answer the call.

"Tiny, were you the first one Richard hired?" asked Bethany.

"Yep. He was just starting out back then. He had this idea that we'd volunteer at least two days a month doing work for Habitat For Humanity. 'Course, he paid me for my time. He said it'd be a win-win deal. We'd help people get houses who couldn't afford them otherwise, and we'd work with volunteer labor and select the best ones that we'd train and hire.

"I thought it was a bad idea, and I told him as much. But we tried it, and, by golly, it worked! We found a lot of good men, and we trained 'em ourselves the way we wanted 'em, before they got bad habits working for somebody else. Lots of good folks! 'Course we had to take Jacob, too," he added with a grin and ducked a mock punch that Jacob threw at him.

"Hey!" he told Jacob, with an obvious simulation of severity, "you best pack your lunch if you wanna mess with me!"

"Yo' mama!" Jacob shot back in his best recollection of a ghetto accent, and they both laughed.

"The first time I ever met Richard," Jacob recalled, "was on one of those Habitat homes. My mama made me go over there and work-for FREE, now-with these here two WHITE BOYS! And I'm complaining about how bad things are and how much it costs to buy something as basic as a loaf of bread.

"And Richard says: 'Well, you could always bake your own bread,' and I come back with, 'It takes a LONG TIME to bake a loaf of bread, so it's just not worth it.'"

"'So, what you're saying is that the dollar that a loaf of bread costs is worth less to you than the loaf of bread,' Richard says.

"And then he says, 'so, trading your dollar for the bread was a win for you, a good deal,' "and that gets me to thinking: I traded my dollar for the bread and won, and the bakery traded their bread for my dollar and they won, too. It was a win-win. That's when I decided that Richard was somebody I could learn from, and that's when I started to realize that I had power over my life."

"Oh, that sounds just like Richard," Bethany exclaimed. "I remember, I think it might have been the third day on the job for me working for the company. Isadora had come in to visit, and she was in his office with him. I'd gotten all wrapped up in something or other and needed to ask Richard about it, so I just absentmindedly opened the door to his office and stepped inside.

"And just then, I remembered that Isadora was in there with him and started to apologize for the interruption. And as the words were coming out of my mouth, I noticed that she wasn't there, so I apologized for that."

But Richard said, "No, Bethany, my wife's still here," and about that time, I heard some scraping coming from under Richard's desk, and a foot attached to a high heel came out from under the modesty panel of the desk and waved 'hello' at me.

"Oh!" I said and pointed at it, "and then it occurred to me what had been going on down there. She was giving him some 'head.' Richard later told me that the expression on my red face, with eyes suddenly as big as Moon Pies, as he put it, and my hands covering my mouth, was so funny that he couldn't help but roar with laughter.

"Well, that caused his 'thing' to jump around some, and that caused Isadora to choke on it. And that caused her to bang her head on the underside of the top of his desk with a 'thunk,' followed by an 'ow!' and Richard immediately said, 'Oh, baby, are you alright?' And then she started laughing, and then he started laughing again. And by and by, I did, too, until all three of us were having a hysterical fit.

"I backed out of the room, and Richard said, 'uh, Bethany, the door, please?' so I shut it.

"I swear, I had the giggles for fifteen minutes afterward," she recalled, "and I couldn't remember what I'd gone in there for in the first place. Isadora came out half an hour later, all composed, and winked at me on her way to the main lobby."

They all sipped at their whiskey until it was gone.

Jacob produced a boom box and played a CD of Kenny Rogers singing "Let's Go Out in a Blaze of Glory." He told everyone, "It's a song Richard always said he wanted played when he passed away."

Then it was time to leave. Jacob was the last to go. He collected the glasses and started to walk toward his truck, but halfway there, he turned around and came back. He retrieved the bottle and filled a glass with the expensive liquor. He poured the shot onto the gravesite.

"Here's the last one for you, boss," he said. "Thanks for everything."

The setting sun turned everything golden and illuminated the granite headstone favorably with its warm light as if to bless it. On the stone, these words were incised:

AD PERPETUAM MEMORIAM

Richard Elliot Hayes, born November 27, 1957

Isadora Blanton Hayes, D.Lit. born March 15, 1962

United into Matrimony June 1, 1982

M/f Collaring August 14, 2002

United into Eternity July 20, 2014

"WE ARE STILL TOGETHER"

***

(the end)

Well! I had no idea that the conclusion of the tale would end up being longer than the tale itself. Maybe it should have been posted somewhere other than under BDSM, but all of the preceding chapters were posted there, so I was afraid it wouldn't be found within its context if it were not there, too. Sorry if there wasn't enough juicy sex in it, but what you've just read was what I felt I needed to say. I just hope it was at least mildly entertaining and not too preachy. If it made you cry, welcome. I cannot begin to tell you how many times I cried writing it, and I KNOW all these people are fictitious.

Progressive Supranuclear Palsy, or PSP, however, is no fiction. It's a real disease, and insidious, too. I know-it just killed my sister. I had to make some changes to how it usually progresses as far as the symptoms are concerned, to make the story work, so please forgive me for the medical inaccuracies.

I also don't believe suicide is the answer to anything, but Richard, bless his heart, was desperate, and I can understand his reasoning even if I don't agree with his actions.

I want to thank my loving wife for her indulgence and encouragement while writing. She's a wonderful woman. She wants me to get her an Eternity Gold Collar now. Guys, if you have a good woman, make sure you tell her how much you love her and how much she means to you every chance you get, because some day, one of you won't be there to say it or to hear it. And if she's not a good woman, tell her anyway, and maybe her hearing it will make her want to become one.

An especial thanks to Adam Smith, author of "An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations," for teaching us what a simple loaf of bread is worth.

And a final, most heartfelt thanks to Shysub412, who proofread the story and was moved by it. Just for her, the Glenfiddich Scotch whisky became Bushmills Irish whiskey.

Peace!

-HS