He was of course surprised when Manon's confession came so plainly, like there was no complication to wet fingers and her boss's name in the same self-intimacy. It was much of his nymph in her, he had to guess, but couldn't think of a different way his maid might have answered. The role was well played, and the girl who'd worked for him long before his grown, newest obsession, could be rather blunt. It was a compliment to the skills of the engineered, natural doll, and an unheard comment on his hungry ego.<br/><br/>So there'd have to be breakfast, then. He thought about the accent all the way there, while admiring the craftsmanship and hard work. The song was haunting in its efficiency. Her gait and even the sound of her naked feet were something he recognized instantly. He could sense some pride there, mingled with Manon's control and spring. He assumed it was Iris. Even his pretense of work faltered once they stepped in to the light of the homier parts of his well-equipped kitchen. It had long since been designated for impromptu cravings - the warmed tile oasis among the ocean of brushed steel - and polite conversation between himself and his favorite maid. To see her undressed and moving natural here was excruciating. He put the glass down and leaned against the island, arms crossed, waiting for the rest of Iris's performance.<br/><br/>Kedrick held back some lighthearted bubbles when Manon couldn't find the things she'd organized and ordered. It was of course because Kedrick himself didn't know. His glee was worth as much to both of them, but he still harbored ghosts of protecting Iris's feelings, so he decided to quiet the impulse of expressed amusement. Perhaps she could have benefited from him reading more of her provided material.<br/><br/>Her dance among the cutlery and fast appearing ingredients was impressive. It was this kind of play and patience to make good culinary efforts that had him stressed on that day. He could feel the tension returning to his ribs, but only as fond nostalgia. Ah, that was right. He indulge a little, bringing the stress closer to the surface. His beautiful Manon, out of his reach but seemingly always available, barreling toward the same misstake.<br/><br/>Kedrick forgot about the game, their staged misstep, when it happened. He wanted to reach out and grab her wrist, to keep it from the boil, but Iris was too quick, and had soon made loud sounds to expel the tranquil she'd poured into the large room. Rush of dangerous liquid, well lit steam off the mirror tongue of rumbling water, and the unwelcome music of unbalanced metal. He'd been horrified for her, and ready to lift her up so that her feet would suffer the scalding tide.<br/><br/>Then he saw she was horrified for herself, and it awakened a fast familiar cadence in him. Hah. Brilliant nymph. He hadn't the time to admire her inwardly before he stepped closer. "Manon!" he reprimanded and his voice was from his chest, low like it had been sleeping. "You're being clumsy." he explained and took her naked arm. How completely frightened she was, and how in inspired him.<br/><br/>He took her other arm too, and shook her, which played her spine against the edge of the counter in a disgusting drumbeat. This was all working too well to ready him. And he'd just gotten into these pants, too. "Ah, you're always so collected when there's nothing to do, but then you're livid when I'm in a hurry." he took hold of her hair, her haunting hair, and shook her head by it. He kissed her when he'd bent her chin up by that same, simply because he couldn't resist. The breath he took through his nose when the kiss deepened collected the scents Manon liked to leave him with when she hugged him. Her detergent, which couldn't be present in the nude, and her shampoo. Iris had thought to leave notes of sweat there too, from when she came in after a jog.<br/><br/>He was furious at her, and just furious in his veins. He tossed her to the floor, where the saltless soup had cooled, and splashed outward to receive her. It was a ruthless toss, but he was remembering her flawed immortality, and how it may serve him. Leather shoe on her shoulder, to push her lower while her legs were bend under her. "How can you be useful to me now?" he asked, heart hurrying his blood. He looked around her kitchen, and then simply pulled the handle of a drawer harshly, dislodging it from the setting, and letting the tools clank down where she was forced to lay.<br/><br/>He laughed darkly at the treasures, and shook his head at the same time, as though part of his decency was awakening when seeing the things that joined her, silver with black handles.<br/><br/>"Which one?" he asked. He'd always thought it was particularly cruel to have anyone choose their own punishment. He was in the mood to be particularly cruel. Down on one knee, which relieved her shoulder, his bare maid on the cold wet. "Tell me now, Manon."