Between cocktails, Clara entered their bedroom to change out of her business attire and into something casual and comfortable. Robert, as usual, had anticipated her choice and had laid out on their bed a comfy outfit for her to put on. He was such a gem. As she disrobed, he took her clothes, hung up what could be worn again and put the others into a laundry hamper. He’d be doing the laundry tomorrow – washing, drying and ironing. He took pride in how he cared for Clara’s wardrobe and relished the compliments she got on her attire. Clara noted that today Robert had done all the housework to spotless perfection and thanked him for his labours. His response to the accolade was a beautifully radiant smile that never failed to light up her heart.
Robert excused himself to set the table with the addition of candlelight to soften the mood. Chilling in a decanter was Clara’s favourite white bubbly wine, a perfect pairing with the chicken.
Dinner was delicious and Robert’s company delightful. They discussed the latest newscasts, shared some gossip and, finally, they focused on plans for their weekend away. He was so perceptive. Robert would do all the preparation so Carla could center her energy on a successful completion of her gruelling week. She told Robert just how lucky she was to have him in her life. He responded that it was his pleasure to serve and make her happy. Robert was such a dear.
Seldom was Clara too exhausted for Robert’s bedroom finesse. He was always sensitive, romantic, inventive and playful. She was never bored. It was obvious that Robert adored her, foibles, lumps, bumps and all. He was phenomenal, perfect. Well, truth be told, he was nearly perfect. She had a minuscule concern but had not communicated it to Robert lest he perceive it as a criticism. That was the last thing she wanted to do. Clara hadn’t even shared these misgiving with Lois, her confidante. The point of issue occurred when Robert kissed Clara full on the lips. There was an indiscernible something that seemed missing. Descriptors failed her. Was it just her imagination? Perhaps. The suspicion persisted, like a nagging itch in a spot one can’t scratch. “Forget it,” she told herself, “Who else had such a wonderful, doting specimen who was so utterly charming, loyal, devoted and who got such delight in his service to her. Theirs was the perfect partnership. She needed to banish her hesitancy over this one tiny matter.
Clara reminded herself just how fortunate she was to have drawn Robert’s name in the robot companion lottery. Robert was such a dear.
