by Daisy Jane
“Okay, I’ll take you there and tonight you can come back here, whenever you want.” Releasing me, he walked ahead towards the mudroom. He turned back once to cast me a wink and it made my entire being tingle. I followed him outside the butler’s pantry, to his garage and I knew where we were going because I worked there, cleaned the same counter I’d just had an orgasm on. It felt surreal.
After he opened the door for me, I slid onto the seat, the smell of leather overwhelming. I’d never been in a car with leather seats. I peered over my shoulder to the back seat. Spacious. He got in the car and I couldn’t help but just stare at him. He glanced at me a few times as he navigated the long driveway off his property, a pleased expression on his face.
“You’re very handsome,” I said, finally, knowing he knew because of course he fucking knows! But I felt like I couldn’t stand having it inside me one more minute. He laughed and rested his hand on the inside of my thigh.
“Hey, where are your glasses?” I suddenly realized those sexy teacher-from-the-1950s glasses were missing. But obviously I had no problem finding him to be a hunk without them.
He eyed me. “I wear them for reading and working, mostly.” He glanced at me and in just a brief look, studied me. “Do you wear glasses, Britta?”
“I don’t,” I admitted. It was a simple question. But he wanted to know me and it was nice.
“Can you come over tonight?” he asked, watching the road in front of us, his foot pushing the pedal to the floor, the car tugging quickly and silently in response. I couldn’t even feel the road beneath us, despite its uneven surface and the speed with which we were traveling.
“This is a really nice car,” I said, my hands wandering over the edge of the smooth seat.
“What time do you get home from work?” he asked.
“We get home around 5:30 every day. What time do you get home?” I replied, trying hard not to focus on his hand on my thigh. The way he casually touched me like this, as if we were comfortable and known to one another, made my heart slam against my ribs, my thighs fill with heat.
“Come over for dinner. When do you normally eat?” he said, ignoring my question, as the Nolan’s driveway came into view. My heart dropped a bit, knowing I was going to work now, away from him.
“Seven, I guess,” I said, unable to think of the details of a normal day. All I could think is how he’d just touched me, the way he’d kissed me, the things he’d said. It scared me to do this with him, a man like him. I was already growing attached to who I thought he was and if he turned out to be even a sliver of that, I knew I’d drown in him. My head already felt only slightly above the surface.
Then a thought occurred to me. What if, for him, I was just something to bring life to a rough patch? Something for fun because he was bored? Men that looked like him didn’t need to do anything to receive attention from women and they certainly didn’t need to settle—they could have exactly who and what they wanted.
And I found it hard to believe that what he wanted was me. The maid.
“Then come over at seven,” he said, pulling up to the gate outside the Nolan’s. They only had one gate and no hill, so after I input the code, I could easily walk up the driveway. Glancing ahead, I didn’t see Melody’s car there yet and as much as I wanted to stay in that car with Brooks for as long as I could, I didn’t want Melody to know where I’d been this morning.
Because I know she’d tell me not to do what I was doing, and I knew she’d probably be right. But I just wanted to feel good. And if it came crashing down around me in flames then I’d deal with it. But for now, I had to chase the feeling I had with him. It was too good to ignore.
“Okay,” I said, “I’m excited.”
He lifted his hand from my thigh and brought it to my cheek, then leaned over the console and kissed me, gently. I opened the door and after I got out, he called to me, so I bent down.
“How do you like working for Ted Nolan?” he asked, propping his face on his knuckle, elbow on the console.
I shrugged. “It’s the same as every other house. I rarely see him. It’s fine.” The only reason I even knew their last name was Nolan was because it was on a very crafty looking doormat leading into the garage.
“Is he a friend of yours?” I asked, casting a glance back down the drive, checking for Melody again.
“Hardly,” Brooks snorted. “Okay, see you tonight and hey, what was in the envelope?” his eyes drift down to my bandaged hand where I’m holding the envelope.
“Oh,” I said, feeling embarrassed and somewhat silly. “Money. For the glass I broke. The macarons are for you.”
Brooks gave me a small smile and sighed, looking forward. “I’ll see you tonight, Britta.”
My breath caught, hearing him say those words. I couldn’t believe what had already transpired and now I was getting to see him again. How was this happening to me? Nodding, I closed the door and walked up the drive. I didn’t hear him pull away, I guess expensive cars are quiet, and by the time I made it to the back door, Melody was pulling up.
“Hey, why’d you Uber here? Are you mad at me?” she said, getting out of the car, her dark hair up in a high ponytail. Silver hoops drooped from her earlobes and she wore her signature red lipstick, this time with matching nails.
“I had to go back to the hospital this morning. They called me late last night. I left my wallet there,” I said, unable to look her in the face. I did not want to lie to Melody, but I couldn’t stand stopping things with Brooks, not yet, and I knew that’s what she’d tell me to do.
“Oh,” she said, popping her trunk. “How’s your hand?”
I’d been so preoccupied with Brooks’ hands—or, one of them at least—I’d forgotten temporarily about the six stitches running through my own palm.
“Not bad at all,” I admitted, eyeing the bandage.
“I’m glad. And I’m sorry if I came across harsh last night. It’s just, I don’t want to see you get hurt, Brit,” Melody said, pushing the back door open with her hip, arms full of supplies.
“I know,” I replied, and I knew it was true. She didn’t want me to get hurt by some guy, especially a mature man whom I never had a chance with in the first place. She was right. She really was trying to prevent the inevitable—me falling for Brooks Bennett while he used me to cure his boredom, or fill a sex-with-a-young-woman fantasy. If that was what he was doing.
“So, are you gonna let him pay?” she said, sliding the supplies across the granite in the mudroom. Even the rooms they never used had granite, crown molding, fancy light fixtures and extravagant doors. She settled onto a stool at the counter as I started refilling the bottles of cleaner.
“No, I mean, it was my fault. I dropped the glass then cut my hand,” I said, realizing I hadn’t actually given any thought to his offer because I’d been so busy remembering the way his fingers felt curled up inside me, his lips hot on mine. The neckline of my polo grew warm as I relieved the memory. It had been less than an hour ago and I was already thinking about it, feeling a familiar tingle between my thighs.
“But he scared you, coming up behind you like that,” she said, a blend of defensive for my role as a maid and as her cousin.
“That was my fault, too. He only even said something to me because I was reciting what he’d written. He probably would’ve just gone up to his office without saying a word had he not heard me,” I finished pouring the concentrated cleaner into the bottle, the neon yellow liquid dripping down to the counter. “Toss me that rag, will you?” I asked, wanting to change the subject and get to work, to be left with my memories and fantasies.
She tossed the towel and leaned forward slightly, to find my eyes as I cleaned up the mess.
“Hey,” she said, “not everything that happens to you is your fault, you know that right? What happened with your mom, she had a disease. You did what you could. And Brooks Bennett? I think you should let him pay. He scared you. These rich people, they think they’re so above us.” She waves a h
and flippantly in the air above her. “We’re all just people trying to be happy,” she said, standing up from the counter.
“Sorry I woke you last night,” I said, seeing the bags under her eyes as she watched me load the caddies.
“No, it’s okay. I was up fighting with Donny most of the night anyway. But hey, you should have him pay the bill. That kind of money is probably nothing to him, but it’s a lot to us,” she rose to her feet, tying her smock on, grabbing the supplies from the counter. “Ready?”
“Ready,” I added, knowing silently I’d never ask Brooks to pay the bill, not now.
As I made neat triangles up and back the carpet pulling the heavy vacuum, I thought about Brooks. Surely, he could have any woman that he wanted. Was it just because I’m young? He could probably get any young girl, too. Was it because he had power over me, being my employer? I paused in front of the mirrored closet door, vacuum tipping from my hand, and studied my reflection.
Messy, long hair, wavy from drying natural, a bit wild, too. Thin legs with little definition, unintentionally narrow waist, green eyes a bit too wide and skin peppered with freckles. Make up was a luxury and I couldn’t afford to wear it to work. Like everything in my life, I had to designate it’s worth and use it accordingly. As I looked at my plain reflection, I couldn’t help but wonder, why did handsome, established Brooks Bennett take interest in plain, unimportant me?
I didn’t let my mind linger there too long. Instead, I tried to let myself enjoy whatever it would be, while telling myself “this is just a physical fling, nothing more, do not get attached.” Knowing it’s just a fling should make it easy to not get attached. Focus on the fun of right now, I told myself, finishing the guest room, moving down the hall to the master. Taking me by complete surprise, as my hand rested on the doorknob, a man pulled open the door, sending my nerves into a tailspin.
“Oh, oh gosh. I’m sorry, I had no idea anyone was home,” I said, realizing that the door was closed, the universal sign for don’t come in. I was so lost in my thought about Brooks that I hadn’t realized what I was doing.
“Do you make a habit of sneaking around places you don’t belong?” the man snarled, his thick gray hair falling down across his head as he leaned forward aggressively, putting his face in front of mine. He was a large man, both tall and heavy, with a far too-tight white dress shirt and light khaki slacks that nearly swallowed his lower half. His face was red, allover, a fusion of anger and alcohol. I knew the tint all too well.
“No, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. I never go into rooms with closed doors, I don’t Mr. Nolan, I’m sorry,” I met his eyes just long enough to see him stepping towards me, ominously, my heart beating heavily. His voice was lower when he spoke, ripe with anger. And booze.
“You should follow the rules if you like this job. What if you had walked into something you didn’t want to see?” his breath was sour on my face, reeking of gin and agony.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, taking a step back, trying to put distance between us. I knew that Melody was working in the kitchen and was out of ear shot. If I needed to call out for her, she’d never be able to hear me.
He stepped closer to me, my stomach rolling into itself, my pulse flipping. Putting my hurt hand up, I waved apologetically. “I’m sorry,” I repeated, stepping back again. He moved towards me once more and whatever part of me that wasn’t frightened was now completely gone.
“Do you want to walk in on me? Do you want to see what I’m doing in there? Do you want to go in that room and spread those sweet thighs for me? Take me inside and accept every inch of me because I’m your boss,” he reached out, wrapping his sausage fingers around the bottom of my face, squeezing. My stomach churned hotly, acid crawling up my throat, sweat suddenly under my arms and on the small of my back.
“What do you say? Do you want to go in there with me?” His tone was too easy, as if this wasn’t the first time he’d done this. I pulled my face away and turned, fast, taking the stairs by two as I ran down. I left the caddy behind and I didn’t turn around when he called after me to come back, then threw threats of losing my job at my back. I kept going until Melody came into sight, mopping the kitchen floor, carefree.
“We are going, now,” I hissed, tears filling my eyes. “Come on, seriously, we’re going. I don’t care if I lose this job. We have to go, now,” I whispered hastily, the weight of Mr. Nolan causing the stairs to creak as he padded down them towards us. Glancing over my shoulder, I made eye contact with him again.
“You think I want anything to do with some trash that cleans the house? Get the fuck outta here. I don’t want you here anyway. And your agency will be hearing about this. Consider your jobs gone, both of you,” he growled, his belly bouncing as he made his way off the last step.
Melody’s eyes flashed shock at him, then back to me, where I nodded before linking my arm through hers, both of us tearing through the kitchen to the back of the house, out the door.
“What the fuck happened?” she hissed, digging frantically through her purse, trying to grab her keys.
“Hurry,” I panted, my hand eagerly tugging at the still-locked passenger door.
“Okay, okay,” she clicked unlock frantically and we jumped in and before I could buckle up, we were halfway down his driveway, approaching the exit gate. It pulled open as we neared and as soon as the car was through, I turned and looked out the back window. No sign of Mr. Nolan.
Immediately, I started sobbing.
“I thought he was going to, I don’t know, hurt me or, or I don’t know,” I sobbed into my non-bandaged hand. Melody drove slowly down the private road, glancing at me frequently, resting her hand sympathetically on my leg as I cried. She didn’t speak but she knew what I don’t know meant.
“I was vacuuming and just, you know, in the zone,” I left out the part where I was fantasizing about Brooks’ lips sliding down the curve of my neck, making me tingle everywhere. She nodded. “And I was going to the master, to clean. The door was shut but I was just, you know, not thinking about it. I put my hand on the doorknob and as I did, he came out. He thought I was going to go in, I guess, and maybe I was. I mean, I would’ve realized once I opened the door, I think, what I was doing,” I couldn’t stop the sobs, they came heavily and freely now, and I wiped my nose with the back of my wrist.
“What did he do?” her voice was firm but low, helping me to steady my emotions.
“He, um, he said…” I took a breath, trying to remember exactly what he said. “He said, do you want to go in there with me, spread those sweet thighs and take me, and he grabbed me here,” I said, touching my face where his fat fingers had been. “He only grabbed my face,” I clarified, before Melody’s mind wandered.
“I don’t want to lose this job, I don’t want you to lose this job, either. I’m sorry. I should’ve stayed,” I was thinking out loud, unsure if leaving was the right thing, trying to regain composure. He probably wouldn’t have done anything anyway, right? “He was drunk,” I added.
“Britta, he can’t touch you. There’s no only. He can’t touch you anywhere, period. He can’t threaten you. He can’t force you into doing things just because you’re a fucking maid. Like, seriously. Of course, leaving was the right thing.” Her hand squeezed my knee to reassure me, and she began talking about heading to the agency, that she’d talk to the woman in charge and explain what happened. She thought that she’d be able to get a handful of our current clients to vouch for us, the work we do, and our professionalism. We wouldn’t lose our jobs, she promised. I nodded as I listened, in a daze. If I was just a trashy maid to Mr. Nolan, a girl he could just have his way with, is that how Brooks saw me too? Suddenly what had transpired this morning looked a lot different in the tarnished, rusty light I sat in now. I wrapped my arms around myself and leaned against the window, letting my eyes close.
“It will be okay,” Melody reassured me.
I nodded, remaining silent for the rest of the drive.
&n
bsp; 10
Brooks
My meetings felt extra unbearable today, as all I could think about was how wet and tight Britta felt around my fingers earlier that morning, eager on the kitchen counter. I also thought of her, and how she came to my house to pay me. She knows I’m wealthy, but she wanted to fix what she thought was a wrong. That’s a quality you don’t see too much in twenty-year-old’s, that’s for sure. It didn’t surprise me though because she was reciting my poem, she’d thought about it and it meant something to her. Or maybe the words didn’t mean anything yet, but she was trying to figure them out. Either way, I knew she was a thoughtful soul and when I thought about her, I wanted more.
I wondered if I may hear from her throughout the day, a casual text message to confirm or say hello, but I never did, and it was the first day of my life I checked my phone often, disappointment branching out inside of me each time I saw no new messages.
After work I took a long run. I thought a few miles would feel good, help me refocus and dispel some of my pent-up energy. Four miles turned into seven and fifteen miles later, I realized it was already a quarter after six. Hopping off the treadmill, I made my way into my bedroom, excited like a teenage boy hoping to have sex on prom night. She was going to be here, I thought, toweling my neck after my shower, staring across the room at my lush bed. Jesus, I had plenty of women here, but a Mack truck couldn’t have squashed my excitement for Britta being here.
Pulling on some jeans and a t-shirt, I padded down the stairs and poured myself a whiskey. One quickly turned to two after the first did nothing to soothe my frayed nerves, but I stopped there, not wanting liquor dick to prevent us from having a perfect night together. Perfect. A term I’d not considered would be in the wheelhouse of words that described my personal life or any of my relationships. But now that I’d met Britta, it felt possible.
