This morning I watched from the bed as the master and the mistress passed one another in the bedroom; him heading for a shower; her, already showered, going to another room with a towel around her head, dressed in a fluffy, white dressing gown. They chatted about the plans for the day from their separate locations. The master turned on the radio and the opening bars of the song 'My Girl' were playing. He began to sing: properly, out loud and in tune, in the style of The Temptations.The mistress returned with a big pleased smile on her face. It vanished when she realised he was serenading me.
'Talking 'bout my girl'.
It's not my fault I'm gorgeous.