Aren't we missing someone?

Drake stood outside his apartment building and sighed. It had been a long day and he needed to relax. As usual, he found the apartment spotless, with a lovely scent in the air.

As he sat on the couch, he heard someone moving behind him in the kitchen. Before he could say anything, a young woman appeared with a glass of his favorite whiskey. A spherical piece of ice clinked against the sides as she handed it to him.

She was dressed simply - jeans and a blouse covered her short, petite frame. She smiled vacantly as he took a sip, letting the liquor rest on the back of his tongue for just a moment. He set the glass down and spoke. "Massage."

She nodded and came around behind him. As her expert hands began to work his shoulders, Drake opened the laptop on his coffee table. He dashed off a quick email to his client indicating that the job had been done. The young man he had visited would never lay a hand on a loved one again. Or anyone, for that matter. He settled back as the woman applied pressure to a knot above his right scapula. He sipped his whiskey in silence for a moment then spoke.

"Has there been any follow-up on the Creighton case?"

"No," she said sweetly. "No one has made a move. I'll continue to monitor the situation. Would you like another glass of whiskey, Mr. Drake?"

"Just bring the bottle," he replied curtly. Her hands left his back as she promptly fetched it. She stood in front of him to pour, making sure that he got a full view of her cleavage. As she moved to continue the massage, he spoke again. "Please sit next to me."

"Of course, Mr. Drake," she replied. She sat next to him and turned to him with a smile. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. "What's your first memory, dear?"

She replied without hesitation. "Waking up in your apartment six months ago."

He turned to look at her. The bright, friendly smile had never left her face. He glanced at her body, relishing the sight of her curves. She gave no indication that it bothered her.

"Would you say you're happy?"

She thought for a moment. "Would you like me to be happier? I can do that, I think."

"No, no," he replied. "I mean truly happy. Do you feel happy here with me? Do you enjoy your life?"

She frowned, carefully considering the question. "I'm not sure, sir. I just... sometimes I get this idea that I could be someone else. I could be a powerful person, a bad person. I can almost picture it... expensive suits, extravagant houses, a beautiful woman who trusts me..."

Drake studied her eyes carefully. She was in an almost trancelike state as she described the murky impressions in her mind. "I would take advantage of her, of everyone. I could be devious, manipulative, charming... they would never know."

"Do you wish you could be that still? Even a little?"

His question snapped her out of her reverie. She looked at him with slightly watery eyes. "I don't know. Don't get me wrong, sir, I love being here and serving you. My whole existence is dedicated to being the best servant I can. Helping you gives me purpose. But to answer your question, yes. I think I wish I could still be that person. Whenever I think about it, I get a pang of pain in my heart at what could be." She glanced down demurely. "I'm sorry, sir. I wish I didn't feel that way."

Drake chuckled, then drained his second glass of whiskey. "Don't be, dear. That's perfectly normal. After all, I made you the way you are. If I didn't want you to feel that way, you wouldn't, now would you?"

Her smile returned. "So I'm not disappointing you when I feel sad about those things?"

He reclined and put his feet on the coffee table. "Not at all. I want you to feel that every now and then. When I put you together, I made sure that just a little bit of that dream stayed there. After all, fun is winning if you don't get to gloat a little bit?"

"What did you win?" she asked quizzically.

"Nothing, Mrs. Davis. Don't worry about it. You just keep my whiskey glass full and let me worry about the rest of it."

She smiled and leaned forward to refill his glass, the strange dreams already sinking back into her subconscious.