faerie rift chronicles 01 - faerie rift

by Jae Vogel

  She adjusted her business jacket. Her cover was of a recently divorced woman interested in the job advertised on-line for a hostess on a cruise liner in Italy. The agency tapped the ad as a front for an alien recruitment firm when they investigated it and found out that the cruise line was bogus. She was wired for sound and video with the best recording devices the agency could afford. This would be the crown of the investigation and would provide the executive branch with what it needed to return to the beginning table. If the aliens wanted human women so much, they could damn well pay in gold.

  “Mr. Eglise will see you in the foyer,” the servant said to her as she handed him the keys. “My name is Simon and I will park your car for you. The interview should last only an hour and if you decide not to take the position I will bring the car around.”

  Medea thanked him and took her purse out of the car as her heels clicked on the marble steps. Someone wanted to make a good first impression, she realized, as she approached the double doors to the mansion. She was a little perturbed about the assumption she might take the job on the spot. This wasn’t a good idea under any circumstance. It told her someone was desperate to have the slot filled. In one sense, it was good for her, because it allowed her some bargaining room. If they wanted someone that bad, they might not be looking too carefully into whom they hired.

  She put her hand out to rap on the door, but another handsome young man opened it for her. This one appeared to be of a northern European background, while the man who took her car looked Asian. He held the door open as she walked in and looked the antechamber over.

  “Please wait here, Ma’am,” he said to her. “Mr. Eglise will be by in a minute. Are you thirsty or need to use the powder room?”

  Powder room? Did people still use that term? What kind of place was this? She looked around at the travertine on the walls and the inlaid tile on the floor. They’d discovered that the mansion was purchased three months ago and that the help was hired through an employment agency. Which meant this work was all accomplished by the former owner, a mutual fund broker from New York City who needed a place to stash his girlfriends. The FTC caught up with him during an insider trading investigation and the house went empty for several years before the current occupant rented it. Given they were deep in the Pocono Mountains, he’d gone to a lot of trouble to establish himself.

  “Your shoes, Ma’am?” The servant held out his hand.

  Medea was still in awe of the place and hadn’t even responded to the first question.

  “Please, Ma’am, your shoes. Mr. Eglise doesn’t allow his interviewees to wear shoes in the house. I can provide you with a pair of flip-flops if you want.”

  “No, that will be all right,” she told him, slipping off her department store pumps and handing them to the servant. The air was warm this time of year and she could go barefoot. Oh, thank god. She’d remembered to have her feet done before the trip up here. She glanced down and made sure her nails on her hands matched. At least she didn’t forget to tell the nail lady to have them both done the same color.

  “Was you trip difficult?” she heard a voice call to her from a doorway.

  Medea turned to see a tall man in a tailored suit standing in the entrance to a private office. He appeared to be in his thirties and wore a pair of mirror shade sunglasses. His skin hue appeared normal, but makeup could hide texture. What it couldn’t hide was the shape of his eyes. The aliens had very distinct eyes, which resembled that of a cat. The best guess involved their evolution on a planet where the sun was not as intense as Earth. It accounted for their tendency to wear sunglasses. The simply could not tolerate the level of ultraviolet radiation humans were accustomed to. The only time they were ever seen without the shades was at night. Still, she thought it obvious why he wore them indoors in the late afternoon. Perhaps he felt the effect was not so dramatic with them on.

  “Please come into my office,” he said to her, holding the door open, “I’m sorry about the regulations involving shoes, but I have a particular aversion to dirt.”

  Another thing she’d read about the aliens was their obsessive-compulsive attitude toward contamination from germs. The reading she’d done seemed to indicate they didn’t have any contagion problems with Earth microbes, but the sex ratio on their home worlds were skewed because of some rare disease, which caused them to develop and intense fear toward contamination.

  Medea walked across the tile, which felt cool on her feet. She walked past her potential employer, and target, as he continued to hold the door open. As she went past him, Medea felt the heat from his body on her face. The aliens were equipped with a higher body temperature, which was another way they could be identified. Women who made love with them described the sensation as having a hot water spray turned inside you. Not painful, but much more intense than the sensation of a human male’s climax.

  She sat down on a leather chair across from a desk made from one piece of wood. As Eglise sat down and reclined back in the chair, he felt comfortable enough to remove his glasses. He sat them down on the desk in front of him and regarded Medea with the feline eyes of his species. She felt as if her body was under the examination lens of a microscope. He looked her over with care and, from his expression, liked what he saw. Medea wondered if he could sense the recording devices in her clothes.

  Her eyes took the room in with one glance. It was decorated by some name designer out of Manhattan, she knew, the man flown in for a month just to bring the mansion up to the new owner’s standards. Leather chairs provided guests in his office a place to sit and the paintings on the walls were all from notable, abstract expressionists. The Torzinites didn’t understand terrestrial arts and bought abstracts whenever they could. The intense color patterns pleased their eyes, as they could see into different parts of the spectrum than human eyes could.

  “What attracted you to the position?” he asked her. “Have you worked as a cruise hostess before?”

  The real job was not advertised, he informed her. He needed a hostess for business parties in the Poconos. Medea knew the agency had watched the location for months after the new owner took up residence and pounced on the opportunity to send someone into the place. The ad had many code words that people who made their living as sex workers would recognize and would know how to respond. The agency was aware of the clandestine cues for “curvy and attractive woman” and “strong nocturnal social skills”. When Medea found out what would be expected of her during the mission, she almost turned down the assignment. That is until she realized Mrs. Carpenter had once busted a drug trading operation by posing as a call girl for three months. She didn’t shy from the demands of her role and expected no less from Medea.

  “I like pleasing men,” she told him. “It’s something I’ve always been good at and never had a complaint. I like money too and need more than I have. What do my duties entail, Sir?”

  “You duties will entail your absolute obedience to me,” he explained to Medea. The prospective employer looked at the resume. “Molly. Is that your real name? I think you should have another one if you work for me. Would you mind being called Monique? I think it fits you.”

  Medea didn’t like the faux French names that were so popular among the successful people where she came of age. She was from the north side of Philadelphia. Her mother was an African Studies professor and made sure her daughter stayed on the straight and narrow. Her father, who was white, didn’t see her much as her mother and him split up soon after she was born. Her father’s family was odd to her and she had little to do with the wealthy relatives out in Bucks County.

  “If I would want you to entertain some foreign dignitary’s afterhours,” he said, “would this be a problem? You will be well compensated and they will have limits as you will be my property so long as you work here.”

  That spells it out, she thought. Thank god for the extra antibiotic shots before I left. I can’t imagine what kind of men will be at this place. “I wouldn’t have a problem with it,” she
lied to him. “What kind of work do you perform here, Sir, that so many people visit you from overseas?”

  “You are never to ask what I do,” he made clear from behind his desk. “That is rule number two. Rule number one is that you are to do what you are told. Rule three is to keep yourself presentable. Follow these rules and your stay here will be enjoyable. But since you asked, I bring women here from overseas for marriage. There are many men who have a hard time finding the right woman and I can arrange it for them for the right fee. It’s something you might consider if you decided you want to advance your status. Keep it in mind.”

  This was the closest she would receive to an admission of what he did for a living. Mr. Eglise was a procurement agent for the off-world aliens, she knew by now. All she had to do was collect the evidence and her career would be secure. Perhaps she could get the information she needed before she had to stay here very long.

  “Does this job still interest you?” he said.

  He had his answer when he quoted her a weekly salary. Medea, now Monique, nearly fell out of her chair. It was ten times her pay as a government agent. Was he serious?

  “I see you are surprised by the amount,” he said to her. “You will find I can be a very generous man when you get to know me. Is this a yes?”

  “I’d be crazy not to take it,” she told him, her feet swinging in the air, as they did not touch the floor. Monique was on the short side, barely five feet tall and she did have some extra cushion on her bones. None of her boyfriends ever complained. “Of course I want the job.”

  “Good. I was sure you were the woman I wanted when you walked into the room. Your resume was impressive and you’ll have to tell me about your days as a hostess at Delilah’s Den. I plan to visit there in the future. Now take your clothes off and give them to me.”

  Monique was a little taken back by his command. “Excuse me?”

  “I didn’t stutter, little one. Strip your clothes off and give them to me. I thought you wanted the job?”

  Monique hopped off the chair and slid out of the tight dress the agency would demand back after the mission was over. She tried to look coy at her new boss, but prayed on the inside that he wouldn’t demand service right away. Damn, she thought while pulling her silk panties off. There goes the recording devices. She folded up everything and handed them to him.

  He took the clothes from Monique, stepped from behind the desk, went to the door and summoned a servant. One of the young men she’d met earlier appeared at the door. Monique tried hard not to look in his direction, although she didn’t try to cover herself.

  “James,” he said to him. “Have these rags disposed of. Better yet, burn them. The new hostess won’t need them again.” The servant nodded and carried them away, closing the door behind him.

  Her new boss walked over to Monique, placed one hand under her chin and lifted her head up a bit to better look her over. She felt like a contestant in a pet show.

  “Nice hair, breasts and healthy skin. Full lips. Lovely fusion of ash grey and light blue in your eyes. You are quite a prize.” He looked down. “The pubic area will need to be shaved daily, I want you smooth at all times, same as your legs. No problem, I will have an aesthetician visit you every week, she’ll be by today at three in the afternoon and she will help you look presentable. The piercer will be here at five.”

  “The what?”

  “You do have a hearing problem don’t you?” he snapped at her, tracing one finger down her back. “The piercer. I want rings in these large nipples and maybe another one in your lower lip. It will look quite fetching on you. I thought about one in the left nostril too, but it would make you look common. Don’t worry, the pain will fade quickly and they heal up if you ever wish to leave my service.”

  He went back to the desk and took out a black thong and tossed it at her. ”You will wear this at all times. Now put it on.” Monique sighed and slipped the black thong between her legs. It felt smooth, had to be some kind of synthetic. “That is all you are allowed to wear so long as you are standing up. And not always then.”

  He walked back to the door and called the manservant again. “James, this is Monique. She will be staying with us for a while. You are not allowed to make use of her, is that understood?” The man nodded. “This applies to all other members of the staff and make sure they know. Monique is reserved for me and my guests; do not forget it. I find out any one of you has so much as touched her inappropriately and you will be dismissed immediately. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, now show Monique to her room. She will stay at the purple suite on the second floor. She is to have whatever she needs. Monique?”

  “Yes, sir?” she asked. This mission was very strange; it had better net her a promotion and a citation too.

  “I want you to make yourself presentable in the next hour. I will have use of you before the piercer arrives, as you’ll be too sore to perform much for the next two days. Is that understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He walked up to Monique and lightly pinched her left nipple. She bit her lip rather than give him the satisfaction of hearing her yelp. “Silver,” he said. “Silver rings will look very nice. You’ll find everything you need in the bathroom of the suite, so I expect you to be presentable when I come up. In addition, we’ll need something else for you to call me by. The servants call me “Sir”, but I need something more appropriate for you to use. Now off with you!”

  “I hope you really wanted this job,” James said to her quietly as they walked down the hall. They passed a few of the other servants who did a double take when they saw her nude form. “Because you have no idea what you’re in for here.”

  James walked with her up the stairs to a hallway. It was carpeted with fabric deep enough to sink into. She noticed the change in texture the moment her feet touched the stairs. They went down the hall to a room with a solid oak door secured with a sturdy lock. James took out a large key from a ring on his belt and unlocked it. He stepped inside and turned on the lights.

  The room was large for a bedroom suite. There was a California King-size bed on one side with fur covers and an exquisite mahogany headboard. She walked over to the bed and noticed small cuffs attached to each corner. She lifted one up while giving James a questioning look. He merely smiled. She sat down on the bed and glanced around the room. The floor was tiled, which felt a little cold as she stepped into the room, but not so much for this time of the year. She saw a desk and several closets. In the far end was bathroom with a walk-in shower and tub large enough to serve as a whirlpool. She got up, walked to one door near the bathroom, and opened it to look inside it. It was a small sauna. Monique decided to wait and find out what the rest of the room held after he left. The far wall was dominated by a large set of sliding glass doors, which had a balcony on the other side.

  Just then, she heard a buzzing sound and James lifted up a small cell phone, said a few words and returned it to his pocket. “Your purse will be brought up to you in a few minutes, Miss,” he told her. “That was the porter on the ground. They went through it and confiscated your cell phone. I’m sorry, but those are not allowed on the grounds. The only phones allowed here are the ones Mr. Eglise gives us to use and they run through the main house server. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Of course,” Monique said to him. “I understand he does have his rules. At least he allows me to keep my purse.”

  “It was confiscated too. You will be given your valuables, but the purse will go into a storage locker with the phone. Didn’t he explain? You won’t have any position here where you will need to carry things. Also, the aesthetician is already here and she’ll be up in a minute. That chair in the corner…” he pointed to it, “has a vinyl cover. I would have her do you up in it. Easy to clean.”

  Monique looked the room over one more time. “No TV? No Internet? I don’t see either one.”

 
; “It’s not part of your position,” he explained. “Mr. Eglise doesn’t like the Internet and only has one access to it in the house. It’s in his outer office. Same for the TV, we have one for guests, but the women he’s kept here before didn’t have the use of one.”

  “He’s had other women in my position?”

  “Several. They don’t stay around too long. I hope you will enjoy your stay. Most of the women who’ve worked for him are already matched to someone else. You might see one or two if you decide to stay around. They come by with their husbands from time to time.”

  James left after showing her how to lock and unlock the door and closets on the inside. He also showed her where the panic button was located and fire alarm too. She found it amusing the manor had a fire alarm drill every month.

  The aesthetician was a small lady from Columbia who spoke no English. Monique thought it would be impossible for her to do her job, but tried some of her college Spanish on the woman. When she didn’t respond, Monique gave up and assumed the woman was from some backwater town that only spoke a local language. She managed to communicate by hand signals and had her lay back in the chair while she went to work on Monique. In no time, Monique was shaved smooth everywhere but her head. The lady managed to remove every bit of rough skin on her body and fix her a drink besides. She knew how to relax her, but when Monique went to get some money to tip her, the woman shook her head, folded up her case and left. This had to be another one of Mr. Eglise’s rules: no tipping the outside help.

  She found the closets to contain robes made of silk, wool and terrycloth. This didn’t surprise her as she’d been told the only thing she would need on a regular basis was a thong. If nothing else, it solved the what-to-wear problem. Monique didn’t know how to make contact with her supervisor or any other field agent if she had no access to her former clothes or possessions. The agency went to a lot of trouble to hide recording and tracking devices in her clothes, but she no longer wore any. Would they decide to raid the mansion if they didn’t hear anything from her? She wasn’t given that option when they briefed her on the mission. She held up her right hand and looked at her nails. The lady from Columbia had done an excellent job on them. She managed to put the right amount of clear coating on them to bring out the color of the undercoat. And she had experience doing the colors of a woman with darker skin, thank god. She felt a little raw between the legs, but that was to be expected.