Confession

PART ONE

Roger Smith crumpled the paper in disgust, cursing as he threw it violently into the trash. He bared his teeth at nothing in particular and rubbed his temples. He hated when a case when sour. Only a few of them did, so naturally that made the problem even more infuriating.
“Norman!” he yelled, roughly pushing his chair away from the desk, “Norman! I need you to--” Roger stopped short when he saw Dorothy standing in the doorway. She was gazing at him with her ever impassive eyes, but her mouth was turned down slightly more than usual to show her displeasure.
“Roger,” she began, “you need to take a break for a while. Norman has prepared a delicious meal for you. You should come eat it before it is cold.”
Roger leaned back in his chair and loosened his tie. “Dorothy, I can’t. I’m in the middle of a case, and it’s not going well. I need to concentrate.”
Dorothy stepped into the room and approached Roger. “That is exactly why you need to take a break, Roger Smith. Step away from the problem for a while, then when you return to it, you will have a fresh perspective.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the desk.
Roger was about to resist when he saw the wisdom of R. Dorothy’s words. He shrugged and allowed her to pull him out of the room. “Imagine. I, Paradigm City’s top Negotiator, am taking advice from an android.” He motioned to himself with an exaggerated flourish, “That’s unusual, to say the least,”
Dorothy stopped short and turned to give him a poignant look. “My advice is sound, Roger. Even Norman would agree. You would do well to follow my advice more often.” She abruptly released his hand and went the way of her bedroom.
Roger stared after her. “Aren’t you coming to dinner, Dorothy?” he asked.
Dorothy turned to look over her shoulder. “Not this evening. I have another matter to attend to.” She explained, never breaking stride toward her room.
Roger shook his head and continued on his way to the dining room, where Norman, ever his loyal butler, waited with a full course meal. Roger sat down at the table and Norman proceeded to serve him. “Norman,” Roger asked offhandedly, “Where is Dorothy going tonight? She said she had a matter to attend to. Did she happen to tell you about it?”
Norman stopped momentarily to consider. “Why, no sir, I don’t believe she did. But she did ask me to have her red dress cleaned. I told her I would see to it, but then she changed her mind.” He concluded.
Roger rested his chin in his hand and pushed his food around his plate. He wasn’t sure that it was a good idea for Dorothy to go out alone at night. Beck was still out there, and who knew when he would next strike? Roger continued to be lost in thought until he heard Norman exclaim in a surprised voice.
Roger broke from his reverie and looked up to see Norman staring into the hall. He followed Norman’s gaze and turned to see Dorothy, resplendent in a sleek emerald green gown, floor length with a split on the right side, revealing one slim, stocking-clad leg. She wore black heels, and her hair was swept up in a loose chignon, held by a crystalline clip.
She wore earrings and a choker to match, both sparkling with cabochon emeralds. The color and style of the gown, combined with the jewelry made her a sight to behold.
“Miss Dorothy, you look ravishing!” Norman praised, nodding approvingly.
Roger stood as Dorothy entered the room, absorbing more details as she came near. His eyes followed her as she moved gracefully toward the dining table.
Dorothy gave Norman a pleased nod, and spared a cool look for Roger. “Thank you, Norman. I only wanted to let you know that I was leaving now. I’m not sure what time I shall return. Goodnight.”
Roger pushed his chair away from the table. “Dorothy, you – ah, you look very lovely. But I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be going out unescorted. That maniac Beck is still out there, and if he were to –“
“There is no need for you to concern yourself, Roger.” Dorothy said, cutting him off, “I am not going out alone. Colonel Dastun has been kind enough to be my escort for this evening. I believe he is here now. So again, I will say goodnight.” Dorothy turned and walked from the room, leaving Roger and Norman staring after her.
Roger could not help but to notice the delicate curves of her frame in the absence of her normal attire. The gown was cut very low on her back, exposing a great deal of her ivory skin. He forced himself to look back at his plate, the view there less appealing then ever. He ate silently, choosing to ignore Norman’s comments on how beautiful Dorothy had looked, and his wonder at what her plans were.
When Roger finished eating, he quickly left the table. He returned to his study and attempted to concentrate, yet after more than an hour, he had accomplished nothing, except several hypotheses on Dorothy’s whereabouts, and several more as to why Dastun was escorting her anywhere.
Finally, Roger left his work and went for a walk.



Dorothy came into the Smith Mansion quietly. It was well past midnight, and she knew that both Roger and Norman would be asleep. Not wishing to wake them, she bid Dastun a goodnight and went inside. The house was dark, except for a single light burning in the hall beyond the parlor. The bulb did little to brighten the space, and instead succeeded only in casting deep shadows across the room.
Dorothy began to make her way toward the stairwell when a slight movement caught her eye. She looked in the direction from which it had come and saw Roger sitting at the piano, dressed only in his pajamas. She regarded him for a moment, returning his gaze with unflinching calm.
Roger looked up at R. Dorothy when she entered the room. She held her evening bag in one hand, and her shoes in the other. He noticed that her hair was no longer upswept, but fell in thick waves around her face, and her expression seemed almost sad, though he knew that was merely a trick of the light. He watched her silently, his eyes following her movements as she passed. Then she stopped and looked at him, as if seeing him in the room for the first time.
“Hello, Roger. Are you having trouble sleeping?” She asked conversationally.
Roger set his mouth in a grim line. As if she didn’t know he was worried something had happened to her! But he kept that thought to himself, instead remarking, “Yeah… This case is still going nowhere… So,” he said with feigned interest, changing the subject, “Did you and Dastun have a good time?”
Dorothy walked over to the piano and sat down next to Roger. She set her shoes on the floor next to her, and the bag on the piano. She gave Roger an appraising look before answering. “Considering the circumstances, it was an enjoyable experience,” she surmised.
Roger’s brows knit in confusion. “What circumstances?” he asked.
Dorothy frowned slightly and ran her delicate fingers over the piano’s ivory keys. “I am not surprised that you do not remember, Roger Smith, but it has been exactly one year since Father died.”
Roger winced as the realization struck him. Of course, he remembered that night, when he had first seen Dorothy sing, and act expressively, the night that Beck had first abducted her.
Dorothy continued. “So, in tribute to him, I arranged a performance at the Nightingale. I wanted to honor Father by singing for him, as I did when he was alive. Then, Colonel Dastun took me to the Elm Grove Cemetery to visit Father’s grave. I brought the flowers I had received for my singing to him.”
Roger listened intently to Dorothy’s story. He already felt guilty that he had been unable to save Wayneright on that evening. But still, he was confused as to why Dorothy would care to memorialize the anniversary of such an event. “Dorothy, why did you decide to observe the date of your father’s death? Is it just because it would be a tradition? If traditions are too, ah, painful…you do not have to honor them,” he asked, hoping to not sound too ungentlemanly.
Dorothy reflected for a moment, then countered Roger with a question of her own. “You don’t remember your parents do you, Roger?” she inquired.
Roger merely shook his head, so Dorothy continued. “When I think about Father, and the things he taught me, it helps me stay connected to my Memories. It reminds me that I am more than just a ‘mechanical doll’, as Beck would say. It reminds me that I, too, have a purpose in life.”
Roger was shocked to hear Dorothy speak of such things. It never occurred to him that Dorothy would have --much less care about --her purpose in life. He assumed she was merely created to replace a rich eccentric’s dead daughter. He smiled at Dorothy and sighed. “Well, at least you know you have a purpose. Most of us go through life not knowing why we’re here, or what we’re supposed to do about it,” He mused.
Dorothy cast a Roger a confused look with her obsidian eyes. “But, Roger, you know that you have a purpose. It is to be the Dominus of Big O. You have always known where you belong, and why you are here. You know how to achieve your purpose.” She explained, turning away to look out the window.
Roger glanced over at Dorothy, noting her aristocratic profile. “Well then, Dorothy?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood, “You already know you have a purpose. Do you know what it is?”
Dorothy abruptly dropped her hands into her lap, staring out into the deep night. She remained motionless for a moment before replying in a small voice. “Yes. I know what my Father meant for my fate to be, but I doubt I will achieve it.”
Something about the way she looked made Roger feel almost sorry for her. “Well? What is it?” he asked.
Dorothy kept her eyes locked on the darkness outside the window. “One of the final things Father told me was that when the original Dorothy died, he was brokenhearted that all of her dreams would be left unrealized. The thought of never seeing his daughter grow old, and have a full life, broke his heart. He created me to fulfill her dreams. He created me to be happy.”
Roger took a moment to ponder on what she said. He frowned, not certain as to why he would feel so disturbed at her statement. “So your father created you to have a happy life? And you feel that you can’t fulfill your father’s dream? Does that mean you aren’t happy here, Dorothy?”
Dorothy turned slightly to look in Roger’s direction without making eye contact. “No, Roger, it’s not that. I truly feel as though I have found a home here with you, and Norman. However, there are… aspects… to my creation that I have had no opportunity to explore. I do not believe that I can have the life that Father envisioned for me until I experience everything that I was created for.”
Roger felt a twinge of unease over Dorothy’s statement, but pushed the feeling away. He found himself asking the question even as his mind told him to let it go. “What ‘aspects’ are those?”
Dorothy looked hard at Roger a moment before she stood up. She bent to retrieve her things. “It is very late. I think you should get some rest, Roger Smith.”
Roger grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. He looked up at her in suspicion. “What’s going on, Dorothy? What is it about you that you don’t want me to know? Are you capable of killing? Is that it? You’re afraid of what would happen if someone found out that the basic rules of android behavior don’t apply to you?” he accused, only partly joking.
Dorothy looked down at Roger, in silent debate with herself. “You are half right, Roger. To be honest, I don’t know if I am capable of killing, and I do not wish to know. But it is true that the rules of android behavior do not apply to me. My father created me to be as unique as the original Dorothy was. I do have some of her memories, but they are only part of my personality as a whole.
“His designs for me were more advanced than any other android that has been built since the Event. He designed me to have an exact replica of a human woman’s body. Every specification was made to ensure I was as close to human as possible.” Dorothy explained.
Roger released Dorothy’s arm and laughed, somewhat nervously. “Of course he did, Dorothy. Timothy Wayneright was a craftsman of the highest order.” He agreed.
Dorothy returned to her seat next to Roger. She continued to stare at him intensely, looking for subtle changes in his expression. “Father also provided my body with sensory perception. I have the privilege of sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch. Not just for the purpose of extracting data, but also to generate response.”
As Roger listened, he began to wonder exactly what Dorothy was leading up to.
“Did you know that I can enjoy the scent of a rare flower, or that I can feel the wind rushing against my legs? I can tell when someone is lying by the changes in her voice, and I can interpret body language by watching someone’s movements?”
“And,” she said, looking pointedly at Roger, “I can experience pleasure or pain depending on the way I am touched. There are over two hundred sensory triggers within my body, and each of them is cued to generate a response depending on the stimuli that is provided. I am aware that my threshold for pain is much different than an ordinary human’s, but I have very limited experience in what the effects of pleasure are.”
Roger stared at Dorothy, speechless. Did she mean to say that she could…? “Does – does that mean that you’re able to, uh, experience… physical, uh, contact?” he stammered.
Dorothy narrowed her eyes, holding a challenge as she spoke. “I am physically equipped to accommodate any type of contact.” She said.
Roger swallowed hard and looked away, searching to fix his eyes on anything but her. The impact of her words hit him harder than if she had landed an uppercut with her powerful fist.
Roger’s reaction was not lost on Dorothy. She frowned slightly, her dour mask securely in place. “Again, Roger, it is very late. You should go get some sleep.” She advised, her voice not betraying any of the conflict she experienced inside. She stood and walked from the room, leaving Roger staring after her in disbelief.


PART TWO


Dorothy was asleep when Roger came into her room. His eyes were bleary and bloodshot; his breath reeked of the cheap liquor from the Speakeasy. His mind was a whirlwind of half-formed questions and half hidden desires. The conversation he had with Dorothy earlier in the week still ran through his mind, like a looped recording. The thought of Dorothy being equipped for… that… was an incredibly foreign concept, though he could not seem to let it go.
He watched her silently as she slept, though he knew ‘slept’ was probably not the right word. She was lying curled on her side, facing away from him, with her right leg peeking out from under the blanket. His eyes traveled from her delicate feet upward. She was indeed well made, Roger decided. One of a kind. He grinned licentiously as he visually roamed the expanse of her body. He was certain that underneath that blanket she was wearing that virginal white nightgown Norman had insisted Roger buy for her. He could almost hear Norman’s admonishing voice: “Respectable young ladies need proper things with which to retire in. You cannot expect Miss Dorothy to wear those somber black dresses all of the time, Sir.”
Roger snickered. Virginal was as good a word as any, he guessed. Even if she was built for experiencing intimacy, she was so stoic and dour she’d never deign to accept that kind pleasure from a “mere human”. But… there was something about the way she laid carelessly sprawled out that made Roger think of a woman who was restless with waiting for her lover to come. His mind betrayed him by conjuring an image of Dorothy pinned beneath him, her porcelain features contorted in ecstasy. The image was painfully vivid and Roger felt a wave of heat wash over him. He felt himself becoming aroused even as his semi-conscious mind warned against it.
This was Dorothy, for God’s sake!! Still he could not stop himself from reaching out to touch her, gently smoothing the messy red hair away from her face. To his surprise, she felt warm to the touch. Her skin was as soft and pliable as any woman he had known, if slightly more sleek. He moved his hand to the blanket covering her, carefully lifting it away from her body and pushing it aside. He was stunned to see that she was not wearing her white nightgown, but instead a black camisole, with thin straps and even thinner material. He drew the blanket farther away from her body to discover that she wearing a matching pair of panties, cut very small to expose much of her white flesh.
“Dear God, this must be a nightmare,” he moaned softly. Android or not, Dorothy looked like a real woman. A young, attractive, half naked one at that.
He was about to cover her and leave quickly, before he did something he would undoubtedly regret, when he heard Dorothy’s voice.
“I assure you, Roger, this is not a nightmare. You are, in fact, in my room in the middle of the night, staring at me while I sleep.” She turned toward him, losing the coverage of her camisole in the process. Roger gaped at her in shock.
He tried to stammer out an apology. “Dorothy, I was, I mean I’m –“
“You’re drunk, Roger.” Dorothy cut him off, delicately rearranging her top before sitting up.
Roger looked indignant. “No, I’m not.” He snapped curtly, still rattled at having been caught peeking under her blanket.
Dorothy gave him an ever so slight smile. “As you say, Roger. So if you are not drunk, then why are you in here?” She asked skeptically.
Roger scrambled for an acceptable answer. “I came to tell you—to tell you I finished the case.”
Dorothy smirked and fell back against the pillows, her hair fanning out behind her. She stared at the ceiling a moment before turning first her eyes, then her face, toward her nervous companion. “How much of this has to do with what I told you the other night?” She asked in her trademark monotone.
Roger stepped back as if struck. Was he that transparent? He opened his mouth, ready to deny it, but then snapped it shut and shrugged instead. The lingering effects of his drinking prevented his higher brain from interfering too much. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair and laughed uneasily. “Well, I guess there’s no point in trying to hide it, huh? The truth is, Dorothy, that I’ve found it difficult to think of anything else. My mind starts wandering, then I start thinking about what you said and I …um, I can’t stop.” He finished sheepishly.
Dorothy warily eyed him. “You’re drunk,” she repeated, a tinge of bitterness infusing her words.
Roger stepped closer, the scotch in his veins giving him the bravado he needed to speak his mind. He leaned over her, leering slightly at his young housemate. “I’m horny,” he whispered.
Dorothy’s eyelids lowered a fraction, which to Roger’s intoxicated brain was a seductive look. She met Roger’s hungry gaze and frowned. “So why don’t you go find that woman who keeps stalking you and satisfy yourself with her? I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time she let a man use her so basely.”
Roger looked confused momentarily, then laughed. “I guess you’re referring to Angel? Yeah, I bet she’s been around two or three times,” he mused.
Dorothy pushed Roger away with minimal effort, and then turned her back to him. “Fine. Then go find her and leave me alone.” She retorted harshly.
Roger grabbed her shoulder and pulled her onto her back. He leaned close to Dorothy’s face and searched it. “It sounds like you’re jealous, Dorothy. But the truth is, I don’t want Angel. If I did, I woulda had her a long time ago. I know now that what I want is to have you.
“Ever since you came here, you’ve alluded to your superiority. Because you’re an android… And you claim you don’t have emotions… How I’m such a louse just because I’m a man… Well, Miss R. Dorothy Wayneright, the other night, I learned the truth. You may act like you don’t have any feelings, but they’re in there, all right.
“I mean, I really should have known. After all, Timothy Wayneright was a clever old man. When you finally opened up and talked to me, I heard your fondness for Wayneright, and your sadness that he died. Then I saw the look in your eyes when you talked about the sensory triggers he put into your body. I would’ve been an idiot not to.
“Now, look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me to fuck you and I’ll leave. And I’ll never bring it up again.”
Dorothy stared silently at Roger. Her eyes explored his face, looking for traces of hesitation or regret. She found neither. “Roger,” she whispered, “Will you kiss me?”
Roger looked down at Dorothy in mild surprise. Her eyes were the same as ever, but her tone seemed to be questioning, almost fearful. He leaned down to her and pressed his lips against hers, unsure of what the sensation would be, or if she would respond. To his astonishment and delight, Dorothy returned his kiss with enthusiasm. Her lips were soft, and her “breath” warm. He was stunned when she slipped her tongue into his mouth, seeking to deepen the kiss.
Dorothy was as affected by the exchange as Roger was. Her pulse quickened, and she could feel the spark of sensation spread throughout her body. Father had told her little of what to expect during her first sexual encounter, saying only that she should most certainly wait for someone she cared for, because it would change her in ways she could not understand.
Despite all she had done to stop it, Dorothy knew she was in love with Roger. She was not certain how she knew, or how she could truly experience it, the way a human woman would, yet she knew it to be true. Though she never dreamed he would reciprocate any of those feelings. The realization that he felt for her at least some of what she felt for him gave her the courage to take action. Her emotional sub-programming took care of the rest.
She pulled herself up to a sitting position and disengaged their kiss. Roger gave her a breathless, dazed look as she moved aside and pushed him back onto the bed. She carefully unbuttoned and removed his shirt, her fingers trembling with an unsteadiness she had never known before. She then unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down his legs.
Roger watched her mutely, his heart pounding in his ears as Dorothy undressed him. When she lowered herself between his legs and gently licked the head of his penis, he thought for sure he must have died. He found himself silently thanking God, the fates and whatever else was out there that Dorothy had been designed by a man, one who obviously knew the importance of a mind numbing blowjob. After a few more moments, though, Roger could barely form a cohesive thought.
He was completely lost in the steady rhythm of Dorothy sucking and licking and – Oh, God, right there! -- nibbling in all the right places. As he watched her, he felt the surge of pressure build up within him, so he grabbed her head and pulled her closer. He began thrusting roughly in and out of Dorothy’s mouth, the whole time panting and whispering about how incredible she was.
Finally, with one last thrust, he felt his dick stiffen then release a flood of semen down Dorothy’s open throat. As he moaned in deep relief he could feel Dorothy swallow his cum, then run her tongue over his shaft as she pulled away. He looked down at her in wonder, speechless. Dorothy raised her head to meet his gaze, her eyes now dark and passionate. Her face was nearly unrecognizable from the indifferent visage she normally wore.
When she flicked her tongue across her lips to catch what remained of his cum, Roger almost choked. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain the use of his voice, and spoke hesitantly. “Dorothy, I’m sorry. I—“
Dorothy seemed to slither her way to up to look at Roger face to face. She still had that intense depth in her eyes. “For what, Roger? I enjoyed it. I feel strange, as though my entire body is coursing with electricity. It is almost like when Beck used that neural destabilzer on me, but much, much better.” She took his hand and brought it to the juncture between her legs, “And here,” she confided, “I feel it most of all. There is this tingling sensation, not quite like everywhere else. It is inside of me… it seems to be buried within me.”
Roger felt the heat emanating from her body, and his breathing grew uneven. She still wore the panty- and- camisole set, but it was wet in spots from his sweat and fluids. He gently touched her and found that he wasn’t the only one with fluids. Her panties were wet and she smelled vaguely of rose oil and machine lubricants, an intoxicating (if odd) combination.
Intrigued to know how well Dorothy had been built for sex, and now somewhat jealous that Norman had seen her body during the maintenance he provided to her, Roger slipped his fingers under her panties and began to stroke what he assumed was her clitoris. He knew he had found a “sensory trigger” when he felt Dorothy’s body begin to tremble in response. She made small sounds of pleasure as she watched him closely. Her eyes never left his as her lips parted and her breath came in short gasps.
Roger rarely saw her breathe at all, and the sight of her so exasperated in pleasure set his mind reeling. He gently laid her back against the end of the bed and used his free hand to pull down her now soaked panties. He was too impatient to try to remove the camisole, so he just tore it away from her body.
He felt Dorothy guide his fingers between her legs with one hand and grab his dick with the other. He realized he was now fully erect again, and knew just what she wanted to experience next. He rose up onto his knees and spread her legs out and up toward her chest. He grabbed the base of his shaft beneath Dorothy’s impatient hand, and found the opening in her body, pushing in slightly. Dorothy’s body tensed but then welcomed him by raising her hips to meet his thrust as he penetrated further.
That’s when he felt it: a distinctly electrical sensation as he began pounding her relentlessly. The only thing he could compare it to was the feeling he had when he first lost his virginity. He silently prayed he would be able to last longer this time around than he did back then. He pushed his body harder as the electrical current encompassing them continued to grow, causing the hairs on his body to stand on end.
Dorothy’s gasps of pleasure became moans and finally cries as the tension in her body grew. Roger marveled at how expressive she was and if she would be this way every time. He moved his hands from their positions on either side of her to grab her breasts. They felt full and soft, not at all like he’d imagined. He fondled them as he stroked into her, rubbing her nipples with his thumbs.
Dorothy moaned his name and wrapped her arms around his neck. The tingling she felt was coming in waves now, beginning deep in her pelvis and radiating outward, rippling through each part of her. She knew Roger felt it, too, because he had increased his pace and was calling her name in a deep strained tone. She moved her hips frantically, trying to match his rhythm with her movements.
Just as she was sure her systems would overload and shut down, the final wave broke forth and rushed out of her. Her entire body convulsed with the release and she locked her arms tight around Roger bringing him as close to her as possible. His cries of climax mingled with her own as his orgasm spilled out of his body and into hers.
Dorothy lay tangled in Roger’s arms as he panted above her, his body drenched in sweat. Roger inwardly thanked the powers that be that he was in good physical shape. Who knew that sex with an android would be so primal? Tim Wayneright knew, that was for sure.
He looked down at Dorothy, who was lying placidly beneath him. He slowly pulled his penis out of her, almost afraid to look in her eyes now that they were done. What if she went back to being the same distant and dour girl she was a month ago? A week ago? Even an hour ago?? Could he handle being around her knowing what had happened between them?
Dorothy caught Roger looking at her and met his troubled gaze with one of her own. “You’re sorry we did this, aren’t you? Now that you’re done, and beginning to think more clearly, you must realize that this was a mistake...” she reflected in her usual monotone voice.
Roger tried to read her now passive face. “Why…do you think it was a mistake? Are you sorry it happened?” he countered.
Dorothy looked away. “I have never experienced that before. You, on the other hand, have had several lovers. How did I compare to a human woman, Roger? Did you do it simply out of curiosity? Because you thought it would be new and different, perhaps?” She turned back to look at Roger. “Was there any part of you that meant what you said?”
Roger rolled onto his side and supported his head with his hand. He smiled at the android –turned woman – turned girl. No matter what happened, to him she would always be Dorothy. “I meant every word I said and everything I did. I never regret coming home, when I know you’re here waiting for me. God help me, I can’t even imagine what my life would be like without you.”
Dorothy reflected on that for a moment. “In my experience, Roger, when a man tells a woman that he can’t live without her, it means he’s in love with her. Especially if the woman is someone he recently confessed to having sexual feelings for… Are you in love with me, Roger?” She asked, keeping her tone even.
Roger’s eyebrows registered his surprise. He was as unprepared for that question as he had been for any of the events which had transpired that evening. He looked at Dorothy’s expectant face and spoke without pretense or hesitation. “Yeah, I guess I am. Funny that it took me so long to see it, but yeah… somewhere along the way I think I fell in love with you, Dorothy.
Dorothy moved away and slipped out of the bed. She walked in the direction of her bathroom, but stopped at the door and turned back to him. He traded glances with her, noting that he’d never seen her look more natural, or more beautiful. She smiled genuinely, saying, “Thank you, Roger. I… I love you, too.” before disappearing from the room.
When Dorothy returned, she found Roger already asleep in her bed. She touched his hair tenderly, then climbed into the bed and settled in beside him. He groaned, and slid his arm over her. Dorothy smiled slightly then closed her eyes. She entered her rest mode and seemed very much asleep.

When Norman did not see Dorothy by noon time the next day, he went in search of her, fearful there was something wrong. He was only mildly alarmed when he checked her room and found his employer there with Dorothy, the pair wrapped in each others arms. Of course, like any good butler, Norman was discreet, and would not judge the actions of his master.
He left the room quietly, an almost triumphant smile on his face. After all, hadn’t he always said it would only be a matter of time before they found each other again?

WE HAVE COME TO TERMS