Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 <H1 ALIGN=CENTER>Serendipity</H1>

   <H2 ALIGN=CENTER><i>or; How a GOOD THING Can Just Fall In Front of
You</i></H2>

   <H3 ALIGN=CENTER>Copyright 2010-2015 The Scribbler</H3>

   Word count = 3314

   <em>Chapter the Seventh</em>

   I woke to the smell of fresh coffee, and sunlight streaming through the
window shades.

   Yes, I could get used to this.

   In fact, I was looking forward to getting used to it.

   Sitting up, and looking about, neither of my slaves were in evidence. 
So, I made my way to the bathroom, and, after taking care of that business,
I dressed and followed the alluring scent of coffee to the kitchen.

   Tisha, -yes, I was already thinking of her in the diminutive- was
sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.  At my entrance, she hopped up
and poured a cup for me, and brought it to my place at the table, with a
very charming smile.

   Then she retrieved her cup, taking it with her as she knelt beside my
chair, with what sounded like a contented sigh.

   "Happy, are you?" I asked.

   "Master, you have no idea," was her smiling reply.

   I took a cautious sip of coffee, before asking her, "Where's your
brother?"

   "He went outside, to see what all is going to be involved in the yard
work, my Master," Tisha replied.  "He said he would wait for you to teach
him about taking care of the pool, but he already knows how to cut the
grass, and do some other yard work."

   I just nodded, and let my hand fall to the side, where my hand
encountered her head, which I started petting.  With a sigh, Latisha
shifted a bit, then rested her head on my thigh.

   "Master," Latisha said, "I'm very glad you found me and my brother.  And
that you took us into your care."

   Latisha rubbed her cheek against my leg, a moment, then said, "I wonder
if either of us deserve a Master as good as you."

   Now, I'll be the first to say, that I don't do very well, thinking,
until I have some coffee in me.  And I mean more than just a couple of
swallows.  I didn't even bother to try and follow what my slave girl was
trying to say.  I just made a note to myself to think about it, later.

   For right now, just sitting there, cup of coffee to hand, and Latisha's
head resting on my leg, was enough.  I sipped at my coffee, while I gently
stroked Tisha's head and neck.  I was not really paying much attention to
the small sounds she was making, but when I did become aware of them, I
recognized them as sounds of contentment.  I understood that, for I too,
was feeling very contented, myself.

   As the hot coffee penetrated my system, and my brain actually started
working, I began to really be thankful, that Tisha was here.  Normally,
women didn't spend the night, and then make coffee the next morning.  Even
the pros, if they stayed, they all seemed to expect ME to be all domestic,
and serve them.  Not bleeding likely.

   As I drained the last swallow from my cup, Tisha asked, "Shall I pour
you another, Master?" She hadn't moved her head from my thigh, but she was
watching for my response, from the corner of her eye.

   At my nod, she jumped to her feet, which did delightful things for her
tits, and, -the only word that fits- sashayed over to the counter, where
she topped up my cup.

   Returning to the table, she set the cup before me, and started to kneel
back to her previous position, beside my chair.

   I prevented that, by hastily grabbing her arm, and halting her progress.
"Grab your cup, then sit here," I said, patting my lap.

   With a happy smile, Tisha bent over at the waist and reached down to
grab her coffee.  This made for a marvelous view, and the view stayed
marvelous as she straightened up to turn and settle her ass onto my lap,
with her legs falling outside mine.  This, of course, left her pussy fully
exposed for anything I might want to do.  I reached around and grasped both
her young, firm tits, and gently massaged them, eliciting a sigh of
satisfaction from her.

   "Master," Latisha said, "You are too good to this slave."

   "And just what makes you think this is for your pleasure?" I asked. 
"For your information, this is entirely for my gratification."

   Yes, Master, but I trust there is no objection to my enjoying it, too."

   "None, what so ever," I replied.  "It is my experience, that any
pleasure one can find should be enjoyed to the fullest." I tweaked her
nipples, and then just continued caressing, and admiring Tisha's tits by
the braille method.

   For her part, Latisha just smiled and snuggled into me, laying her head
back on my shoulder, and savored my attention to her.

   My attention was drawn by Tyrell, coming into the kitchen, from the
mudroom.

   "What have you been up to, boy?" I asked him.

   Tyrell went to his knees, and said, "Master, I was just looking at what
all there would be for me to do, outside."

   I was impressed.  Not so much by his investigations, but by the fact the
I'd heard not one syllable of ghetto drawl.  Then I realized, that even
though she tended to use contractions, Latisha didn't sound like most black
folks, either.  Come to think of it, neither had Judge Bates...  Hm...

   Maybe, just maybe, I should be...  Less lazy, with MY speech...

   "And what have You concluded, so far?" I asked him.

   "Sir, I think that to start, I'm going to be very busy," he said. 
"There is a LOT of grass that needs cutting.  Especially, in the back yard,
past the pool fence.  Also, there are things that I don't even know about
yet.  I also will need to learn how to take care of the pool, itself, and
I'm sure that will take time."

   "Well," I replied, "I can save you a bit of time cutting grass, at
least. You might have noticed that only the fifteen feet next to the fence
is mowed.  The rest is planted to native grasses, and wild flowers.  You
won't be cutting it, at all."

   I noticed his confused look, and continued, "The grass next to the fence
is the same as the grass inside the fence.  The taller grassy area is all
native grasses.  It's called a meadow.  Like a field, but natural.  Past
that, you noticed the trees?"

   Tyrell nodded.

   "Well, those trees are a mix of nut trees, like walnut, and butternut,
and a mix of fruit trees, all planted in a natural woods, with maples,
sassafras, oaks, and a few pines.I cut one every so often, when I have a
project I want to do.

   "There is wildlife, out there, including deer, rabbits and squirrel,
that I hunt.  I don't even need to ask if you've ever eaten game.  But you
will.

   "Mainly, it's peaceful out there.  Sometimes, I just feel like I have to
escape everything, and I'll go for a walk, either just around the meadow,
or out into the woods.  There's a hut, back in the woods, that is very
spartan, but weather tight.  I'll show you both where, one of these days.

   "So, no, that grass doesn't get mowed.  Just the grass around the house.
You can tell the difference, if you look closely at the plants."

   Tyrell still looked more than a bit uncertain, so I recommended that he
not let it bother him.

   Then I asked if either of them had eaten any breakfast.

   "Oh, no, Master.  We'd never eat before you!" Exclaimed Latisha.  "I
just made the coffee, because I was sure you'd want some." Then she hung
her head, and said, "I shouldn't have had a cup before you."

   I kind of bounced her in my lap, and then said, "Don't worry about it. I
almost never eat breakfast.  BUT, You two will, even if it's only some
cereal, in the mornings.  You can add that to the shopping list, Tisha,
that, and milk.  But you did good, making the coffee.  It's just right."

   "Yes, Sir." Latisha didn't sound very enthusiastic...

   "You two are going to have to eat well, to be in very good health, for
the abuse I'm going to heap on you!" I said.  as I slapped her thigh,
making her jump and flinch.

   "Yes, Sir!" Tisha responded, with a much better attitude, this time.

   "I already know there isn't any breakfasty food, here, so we'll just
have to make that a first stop in our shopping, today."

   "First stop, Master?" Tyrell queried.

   Oh, yes," I replied.  "Lots to do today.  We have to get the two of you
some clothes, we need groceries, More linens, soaps, shampoos, all kinds of
stuff."

   I looked at the boy a moment, and said, "You already claimed to want
your hair cut."

   "That will take at least an hour, by itself."

   "Master, it shouldn't take that long to cut my hair!" He exclaimed.

   "But," I said, "I can guarantee that you won't be able to just walk in
and get it cut.  You'll have to wait your turn, just like everyone else."

   Hanging his head in shame, Tyrell said, "I didn't even think of that. 
I've never had my hair cut, except by one of the women in the 'hood."

   "Then, there's no reason for you to feel any shame," I stated.  "If
you've never had an experience, how can you know what it would be like?"

   Tyrell looked up, shaking his head.  "Master, I don't know how to answer
that question."

   I just smiled.  The boy wasn't stupid.  He'd learn.

   I pinched Latisha's butt, and said, "Okay, then.  You two need to get
dressed, so we can go.  You two do have clean clothes, right?"

   Yes, Master," they both responded, then scurried upstairs, to retrieve
their clothes.

   I laughed, quietly to myself, as I rinsed out our coffee cups, and set
them on the drain board.  Then, I proceeded upstairs, at a more sedate
pace. Yes, I could quite easily get VERY used to having slaves.

   After getting dressed, I met my two, young slaves in the garage, and got
them and myself into the truck.

   Tyrell was wearing a pair of dark pants, that, while clean, were still a
bit ragged.  At least the plain, white t-shirt he had on, seemed in good
shape.

   Latish, though, looked good.

   She had on, a pleated denim skirt, that, with her hands at her sides,
only just fell to her finger tips.  This had the hem barely 6 inches from
showing off the (a)cuteness of her angle.  That, a pale red button down
shirt, and her sorry looking tennis shoes completed her ensemble.

   As we were climbing into the truck, I had no problem knowing that
Latisha wasn't wearing any under garments, because she made a point of
stretching to show the lack of brassier lines.  Then, she twirled, so that
her skirt flared out and up, showing a nude and delectable butt.

   Smiling over her shoulder, at me, she then climbed into the center of
the bench seat, and buckled the seat-belt.

   I drove us to the IHOP, on the ring road, where we enjoyed all the
pancakes we could eat.  The three of us were laughing at the wait staff's
reaction to the two black kids calling a white man, "Master." My slaves
thought it funnier than I did.  Most of my humor was in reaction to their
enjoyment.

   Finished with breakfast, I left a generous tip for the perturbed
waitress (she was a light skinned black), I paid our check, and we all
climbed into the truck to head over my barber' shop.  My slave's were
having quite a bit of fun, still, talking about the reactions they'd
generated in the restaurant.

   I parked the truck and cautioned my slaves to behave themselves, before
we went into the barber shop.

   Jamal is a real piece of work.  Think of Eddie Murphy as the barber in
"Coming to America." That's Jamal.  He's my barber, because I think he, and
the usual crowd are insightful, and just plain funny people.  That, and I
own the building.  Yeah, more of my policy of supporting my own...

   The usual crowd of old folks were sitting there, shooting the shit, and
reading the paper.  Old Clyde was in the Barber's chair, expounding on all
the changes he would make if he were ever elected to congress.  He'd run
for the House every election for the last twenty years, but never won. 
Probably because the barber shop was the only place he ever campaigned.  No
one was listening, though.  Every one of us, with the exception of my
slaves, had heard it all, before.  Reginald, and Jefferson were playing
checkers, at the one small table that broke up the line of eight chairs
along the side wall.

   They all said good morning to me, as I came in, and I returned the
sentiments, to each one of them.  But their attention was mostly focused on
my slaves, trailing in behind me.

   Seth, the patriarch of the neighborhood, was sitting in his usual seat,
in the back corner, reading the paper.  He glanced over and took one look
at the siblings, then glared at me.  "Never thought you'd be one of them
perverts, Mr.  Jones," He said, "When did you start keeping slaves?"

   Tyrell immediately cowered behind me, but, Latisha took several long
steps, stopping directly in front of the old, gray, black man, put her
hands on her hips, and just unloaded all her guns at him.  His newspaper
offered no protection, what-so-ever.

   "You jus' shut up, old man!  You gots no right askin' that kinda
question o' the man what saved me, 'n' my brother from the streets!  He
didn't take us, we went to HIM!  First time in our lives we ain't been
hungry, because he took us in and fed us.  Two meals in a row.  Now, he's
gonna pay for my brother to get a hair cut.  The first time a barber has
ever cut his hair, in his life, because Tyrell asked for it."

   Seth, his paper now fallen to his lap, started to say something, but
Tisha just kept going, jamming his words back down his throat.

   "He bought computers for us, so's we can learn somethin' and mebby make
somethin' of ourselves.  We's LUCKY!  As long as he wants us around, we'll
have food, and a safe place to sleep.  You KNOW how many people, out there
can't say that!  My brother and I, we already figgered out that he CARES
about us.  And we really like him, too!  I'm gonna learn how to keep his
house, and cook.  My brother's gonna take care of the yard.  For that, he's
going to let us live with him, and eat regular, and go to school, and get
us new clothes.  Ask me, we's getting the good end of the stick, so, if'n
he wants to do the sex thing with me, guess what?  I'm okay with that. 
If'n I want to call him, 'Master,' that's nobodies business but mine, and
his.  It damn sure ain't the business of some old niggah that ain't done
nothin' for nobody in a long time!"

   I could be wrong, here, but I think Tisha was just a might peeved with
old Seth.

   I found a spot against the wall to watch, as her tirade continued for
another five minutes, with most of us just staring at them, our mouths
hanging open.  Even Clyde had gone quiet, watching the ranting girl with
respect.

   Jamal, on the other hand, had sat back against the counter under the
mirror, comb in one hand, scissors in the other, arms crossed, and was just
quietly laughing, as he watched.

   Latisha cussed out old Seth, quite thoroughly, using very few swear
words, and without repeating herself at all.  When she finally wound down,
Seth looked at her, with respect, and started slowly clapping his hands.

   The rest of us, with the exception of Tyrell, all joined in the
applause, for a minute.  Then Seth turned to me, and said, "I offer my
apology, Mr Jones...  Will.  And I beg your forgiveness."

   "Accepted, and given, Sir," I replied, with a nod of my head.

   Seth turned to face Latisha, and said, "My apology to you too, Miss."
And after nodding to her, rattled his paper, and retreated behind it.

   Turning, and facing me, Latisha fell to her knees, then prostrated
herself, holding her hands crossed.  "Master," she said, "this Slave has
spoken out of turn.  Please, Master, correct this Slave."

   Glancing at the folks sitting in the chairs along the wall, including
old Seth peeking from behind the paper, and seeing almost every jaw
dropped, I turned to fondly gaze down at her.  I said, "Just settle down,
Girl.  Punishments will be in private.  Remind me, when we get home.

   "Yes Master," was her response, as she climbed back to her feet, and
walked to stand behind and to the left of me.  Tyrell, seeming to be over
his fear, or whatever, fell into place, behind her.  He still hadn't made a
sound, since our arrival.

   Jamal, waved his scissors at me, and asked if I was getting a haircut,
today.  I said, "No, I brought this boy in to get his mess knocked down to
something reasonable.

   "Soon as I finish up with the Senator, here," he responded, going back
to work on Clyde with scissors and comb.

   I smiled my agreement, and moved to sit down in one of the chairs, along
the wall, my two slaves following, and then kneeling in front of me.  I
noticed that they'd both backed against my legs, seeking the comfort of
contact with my legs.

   Clyde was watching my slaves, curiosity writ large on his homely face.

   Smiling, because I knew he so wanted to ask questions, I gave him a nod
to show I didn't mind him asking.

   Courteously, his first question was directed to me.  "Will," He asked,
"do yous mind I ask these youngsters a question or two?" I understood that
he was just making sure it was alright with me.

   "Not at all, Clyde," I replied.  "Go right ahead."

   "This one is Latisha," I said, gently caressing her head.  "And this one
is Tyrell," giving the boy a caress, too.

   They both bowed to the floor, from their kneeling position, Tyrell just
that much behind Latisha in his timing, that it was obvious he was taking
his cues from her.

   Not that it was a bad thing, mind you, but the boy was going to have to
learn the proper protocols, sooner, rather than later.

   After bowing, Latisha gazed attentively at old Clyde, waiting for his
questions.  Tyrell, peeked at her, then did the same.

   Clyde, after looking back and forth, between the two of them a few
times, finally asked, "Why?"

   Such a simple question.  Only one word.  But that question was really
many more questions all rolled into the one.

   I wondered how my slaves were going to answer.  I couldn't have answered
it, myself, because I didn't even begin to understand how we all came to
this point.  I chalked it up to 'serendipity,' as the Judge had suggested,
yesterday, then let the question drop from my mind.

   "As I said to the gentleman in the back," Latisha explained, "It's the
best of the choices we had available, my brother and I."

   Jamal finished clipping, and turned for his whisk broom.  "I can see
that," he said, as he brushed off any stray hair from Clyde's shoulders. 
He then removed the barber's bib, with a flourish.  "NEXT!" he said, as
Clyde arose from the chair.