He lavishes me with the very best dealcoholized beverages and gentle, virgin touches, and sometimes it's utterly impossible to think of myself ever not loving him. Sometimes I'm lead to wonder what more anyone could ever need.

And one day I will be sitting in a cocktail dress and a lounge and all the doctors and high-priced lawyers will be staring at me through the brandy that will flood their eyes, and I will pretend not to notice because my dignity will shine like the jewels of their wives' earrings, and my class will raise me above them like a throne as high as the pedestal he always made for me. And a golden necklace with a garnet pendant will hang from my long white neck, and I will take a sip of the champagne and upon lifting the glass to my lips, I will remember the sensations of the way I loved him and the way he knew, before I was dressed the part, that I was a lady, and that I should always drink like one. My eyes will flash with the sparkling memory of the way he poured the multi-colored nectars, holding the bottle carefully with both hands.

My name is Linda, and I love Andrew. And he loves me.

On with it.