The Rich Man's Maid

Breakfast Above The City

After getting a much needed night's rest on the best bed I've ever slept in, I decided to make my way into the living room. I follow the hallway towards the light of the open area. The living, dining, and kitchen area were all open, with large picture windows making up the majority of the walls. The bright white marble pains my eyes as I enter. The sun beats through the windows, reflecting off the surface of the floor. I squint my eyes in response.

As I go to sit on the couch, I hear him clear his throat from behind me. There he stands, shirtless and sweaty. I swallow my desire, looking up at him with wide innocent eyes. His glistening body is precisely what I used to crave in high school: toned, smooth, and clean.

He's indeed a work of art, sculpted by the gods above. His jawline is sharp, incredibly sharp. His collarbone is perfectly encapsulated in muscle. His shoulders look like he carries weight around frequently, making me wonder what he does for a living. His dark eyes absorb the light around, leaving what seems like a soulless abyss.

"Did you enjoy your rest?" He asks me, looking me up and down in the silk pajamas he had let me borrow for the night. He moves to a bar stool, pulling it out from under the marble island.

"I did. Thank you for allowing me to sleep here. The pajamas were wonderful too," I say, running my hands along the sleeves.

"It was my pleasure," he starts, beckoning me to join him at the counter. "I was up early this morning, so I cut up some fruit for us to eat for breakfast."

I look at the colorful array of fruits spread across the marble counter. Watermelon, pineapple, grapes, apples, kiwi, and strawberries are stacked on their corresponding plates. At the end of the bar are two bottles of coconut water, presumably one for each of us. My stomach growls at the sight of the deliciousness.

I look at him, then the bar, then him again, practically begging him to give me a plate. I lick my lips in anticipation of the juicy fruits. He reaches behind him for a dish, sensing my internal begging. He hands it to me, and I quickly snatch it up.

Filling my plate, I stack the fruit layer upon layer. My mouth begins watering heavily. I finish, grabbing the coconut water and swiftly making my way to his dark dining table. I pick up my fork, shoveling the fruit into my mouth, not stopping for anything.

"Looks like a familiar scene," he chuckles, taking the seat to my right. I nod vigorously as I chew. He was right; the scene was familiar. He watches me eat as he finishes drinking his coconut water.

"I normally never go to that side of town, ya know. You could've been there forever. I had decided to go to dinner to support Bruno and his crew. It's been a while since I've seen him. We go way back to... uh, grade school. We used to get ourselves in trouble with teachers, especially in high school. Playing with the teachers was our whole goal in life at the time. We loved it. Messing around with them was great. Pushing their limits... that was the greatest."

I listen to him intently, wondering if he meant fucking with them or actually fucking them. I'm desperate to know, yet he continues. He tells me of his glory days playing football for his high school team, leaving out important details like what position he played. I swallow my food in order to ask him, but he doesn't stop talking.

"So yeah, I came to support Bruno with his efforts after, ya know...high school. We haven't talked much. I invested in Tinder in 2012; he was away for a while. Things happen, but he's back now."

I set my fork down, swallowing my food.

"How did you get the money for investment so young?"

"In ways that don't need to be specified, hun," he replies, giving me a wink. The vibe of the whole situation is off. Every word he speaks sounds hugely manufactured. His voice isn't the same as previous times we've talked.

I go silent again, resuming my meal. He starts eating again as well, picking up pieces of pineapple with his fork. I clean off my plate entirely, then suck down my coconut water.

"Why did you bring me here to your house? Why are you taking care of me? Do I have to give you sex?"

He stops, looking through the windows. He swallows, seeming eerily guilty. I stare at him, waiting for a response.

"If sex happens between us it will be because you want it as much as I do," he says "not because you feel like you owe it to me," he finishes. His deep voice was normal this time, his message resonating through my bones.

I nod in response, "...but if I don't want to have sex, you'll kick me back out onto the street?"

Being on the street was horrible, the memories of it stir emotions inside me that I'd rather not feel. I had had to escape atrocious rape gangs. I had to learn to the different ways to maneuver through the city. I had to learn what alleys to avoid, what corners to avoid, what dumpsters I wasn't allowed to dive in and how to escape the meth heads. I had to learn which restaurants would hand out scraps.

I remember having to fight an old man for my spot in one of the safer alleys. I felt horrible about beating an old man, but you learn to do what you have to do. I remember throwing him from the dumpster that I had claimed as my own. It's a jungle out there, and I had no choice.

I shudder at the thought of being sent back out onto the street. He pauses as I flashback. He's thinking.

"No," he finally says, looking me in the eyes. I'm becoming impatient, desperately wanting to know what his plans are for me. I'm seething, hating the fact that he's so calm and self-assured.

"Tell me what you're plans are," I sternly demand, finally putting my foot down.

He smiles, seemingly enjoying my distress.

"You can stay here as long you pay your due," he says.

"You know I don't have any money! You just said you don't want to use me for sex! So what the hell can I give you in return for letting me stay here?"

"Are you any good with a mop?"

"What does that mean?"

"I'm inviting you to work for me."

"As?"

"My maid. You can eat and sleep here. The job is simple- keep my house clean, retrieve the mail, and answer for packages.

"Can you go into detail?"

"There will be a schedule. I will have cameras to check in on you. You must have breakfast ready by 7:30 a.m so that I am able to eat before I leave. After I eat, you will be allowed to eat. You must then clean up. Sweep, vacuum, and laundry next. Lunch should be made when I arrive home at 12:30. Clean that up. Dust if need be. After that, you'll be done until dinner time. Start dinner at 4:30 so it's done when I get home."

"Ummmm, I don't know how to cook," I say, swallowing my food.

"Dinner is delivered by Blue Apron. All you have to do is follow the instructions. Lunch is simple. Make a sandwich or salad. Breakfast is the easiest. Fruit, toast, or cereal. Egg whites if you're feeling up to it."

I nod, listening to his words. I'm interested.

"Deal?"

"Deal," I answer.