My eyes tried adjusting in the darkness, but I could only see the shadows of two people. One crouched down next to me and spoke in a woman’s voice. She was holding an umbrella, and despite the darkness I could tell she had long hair and wore a heavy coat.
“We are offering you food, shelter, and a chance for a better life.”
I stared at her, dumbfounded. What did she say? Was I hallucinating? When I remained silent she continued. “If you don’t want that, then we can give you a hundred dollars and a bus ticket to wherever you want to go in the country. Either way, we’re offering you help. However, if you choose to come with us, there is the potential for long term employment where you can work for your food and board and not have to worry about living on the streets again.”
My eyes adjusted a bit more to notice the kind smile on the woman’s lips, and the man who stood behind her, a flashlight in one hand, and an umbrella in the other. My body was on the verge of shutting down and all my mind was doing was screaming at me to take this chance for survival. What was this feeling? A glimmer of hope? Part of me was afraid of questioning a good thing, of finding out that this was all an illusion. I sat up, which took more effort than it should. I dimly remembered that I hadn’t eaten anything since two mornings ago.
“I’ll come with you,” I croaked.
They led me to the car, a sporty SUV with leather seats. The man opened the door for me and handed me a blanket. I took it gratefully and wrapped it around myself before stepping into the car. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been in one. The man took the driver’s seat, and the woman took the seat in front of me. The car turned on with a rumble and I was suddenly blasted with hot air from the heater. I sighed happily and snuggled deeper into the soft blanket, not believing my luck. As the car pulled into the street I gazed out the window, at the cold, wet, desolate streets.
I didn’t really care where I was going; I was just glad to get away from the streets. Never in my life would I miss living out there.
“What’s your name?” The woman asked me after we had been driving in silence for a while.
I shrugged and continued looking out the window. “I have no idea.” I said. “What’s yours?”
“Marian.” There was a smile in her voice, and I immediately drew a liking to her. No one had ever been so kind to me before—not that I knew of, at least. The woman named Marian continued, “Do you know how you ended up in the streets?”
“I can’t remember anything.”
“Your age?”
“Not sure. Maybe twenty, definitely less than thirty.”
“Your family? Parents?”
“I have no memories of them.”
“Interesting.”
It was my turn to ask a question. “Why are you helping me?”
“I believe that everybody should be given a chance to succeed in life,” she told me.
I must’ve dozed off because when I awoke, the sun began to rise as the driver parked in front of an old, three-story Victorian building. I almost didn’t want to get out of the car because it was so warm and cozy, but the driver came around to my side and opened the door for me. A cold wind swept into the car, forcing me out. I still clutched the blanket around me as I followed the two into the building.
No longer dark, I could make out the appearances of Marian and the driver more clearly. Marian looked to be middle-age, maybe in her forties. She had long, wavy brown hair that ended a few inches below her shoulders and matching hazel eyes. Her lips curved into a warm smile when she noticed me admiring her fur coat. It looked so warm and comfy. The driver was an older gentleman, his head nearly bald except for a bit of gray around the edges.
Although the exterior didn’t seem that fancy, as I stepped inside I was reminded of a picture I once saw in a discarded magazine that showed the interior of lavish mansions in Europe. Large oil paintings of abstract landscapes in detailed gold frames lined the cream-colored walls, heavy amber drapes hung from windows adding to the warm light that filtered in, and a winding staircase with marble balusters to each side was at the opposite end of the front door. Without giving me time to admire my surroundings, Marian ushered me down a large hallway, passing by large antique vases seated atop waist-high pillars. Her heels clacked with each step against the sage marble floor and that’s when I noticed that she was wearing black high heels. At the end of the hall, she led me to a room on the right. There was a large table with a few other women seated in ornate chairs, eating something that looked absolutely mouth watering.
“Sit down here and we’ll bring out something to eat,” Marion said, pointing at a chair closest to where we stood.
I took an empty seat at the corner of the table and almost instantly I was served the most delicious looking food I had ever seen; I was almost positive I was looking at a meatloaf with a heaping side of buttery mashed potatoes. I stared down at it in disbelief before taking my fork and stabbing the slab of meat right in the middle. Lifting the entire piece to my face, I took a big bite and started chewing. My stomach growled happily as I swallowed and continued eating. I didn’t know if it was the hunger talking, but the meatloaf might have been the best thing I’d ever tasted. A pitcher of water had been placed in front of me. I poured myself a glass and drank most of it with one breath.
My body, however, wasn’t used to so much food, and it only took a few more bites before my stomach told me it couldn’t hold any more. I stared regretfully down at my half eaten plate before it was taken away from me and I was yet again ushered into a different room.
Marion appeared at my side again but this time without her fur coat and had a clipboard in hand. I swear she was some kind of magician with the way she would appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. We were in a hot, steamy room with wall-to-wall showers.
“I want you to scrub as much of that dirt from your body as you can,” she instructed me. “There’s shampoo, conditioner, and soap that you’re free to use. I’ll come get you in a bit to inspect you. Remember, clean everywhere.”
Some of the women I saw earlier were walking around naked outside the showers, eyeing me with the same curiosity I gave them. Why were they all here?
I put my blanket on a chair and slowly took my sweatpants and sweatshirt off, tossing them in a heap on the ground.
I was all too aware of my naked body in plain sight of others. Even though nobody was openly staring at me, it was a strange, vulnerable feeling, and I quickly made my way to one of the shower stalls; it didn’t have a curtain or anything fancy, but the two plastic walls on either side of me made me feel a little less exposed. I tentatively turned on the shower and a blast of hot water spewed out at me. I jumped and immediately ducked my head underneath the water. Never before had water felt so good. I rubbed my hands up and down my body, the dirt and grime that had been caked on to me from years of sleeping outside rinsed away like paint, making a dark, swirling pattern as it drained underneath my feet. Two bottles of what I assumed were shampoo and conditioner were sitting on a little shelf built into the wall. Not knowing which was which, I used them at random, taking a sniff of each one before using it. They both smelled like the flower shop on Market Street I used to pass by every morning.
After rinsing out my hair and rubbing the bar of soap over every inch of my body, I turned the shower off and walked over to where I left my clothes. They weren’t there anymore; a towel and a folded white full slip lay neatly on the chair instead. I was absolutely thankful that I didn’t have to put back on my filthy clothes and spoil my cleanliness. After I dried myself off and put on the slip, Marion returned with her clipboard. She studied me from the top of my head down to my toes.
“It’s time for your makeover,” she said simply while jotting down a few notes.
“A makeover?” I suddenly found myself thrown about the house, having person after person appear out of nowhere to trim my hair and cut and polish my nails. Worst of all was when they waxed my entire body. I don’t think I’ve ever screamed so lou
d in my life.
When it was over, they brought me to this windowless room where the other girls in white slips eyed me curiously. So here I was, taken off the streets only last night and now in the lap of luxury. Dirty, cold, and clinging to a piece of soggy cardboard for warmth, and now clean, waxed, and warm despite only wearing a thin undergarment. If this really was an illusion or a dream, I never wanted it to end.
Feeling drained from all activity this morning, I was thankful I was able to finally sit down and have a moment of peace. I realized all of this pampering wasn’t so bad. It felt nice and refreshing to be so clean, to be able to run my fingers through my hair and not have them get caught in tangles.
I ran my hand over the smoothness of my legs. What kind of job are they going to give me, anyway? The fact that there were only women around me made me a little suspicious, but then I remembered the bus ticket Marion had promised me if I decided I wanted to leave. I could always go to Southern California or Florida, somewhere with a beach and nice weather.
The door opened with a creak of its hinges, causing every one of us to jump. Marion appeared in the doorway with a man I had never seen before. She pointed to me and waved me over. As I walked over to them, I saw her hand the man her clipboard. The man was middle aged or older with dark neatly cropped hair, and had a friendly smile on his face that immediately put me at ease. Marion handed me a pair of light pink slippers that reminded me of ballerina shoes. I put them on my feet and was amazed by how perfectly they fit. I wiggled my toes as the man walked forward and offered me a jacket. It was way too big for me, but I took it gratefully. I pressed the leather against my nose and breathed in; it smelled like cologne, and definitely not the cheap kind.
“This is the girl,” Marion told the man. The man nodded and put his arm lightly around my back and led me out of the building and towards a small, red sports car.
“What’s your name?” The man asked, not unkindly.
“I can’t remember.” I told him honestly.
The man nodded as though he expected that answer. “Well, that will be resolved soon enough.”
I wanted to ask him more questions. Who are you? Where are you taking me? Is this your coat I’m wearing? No, this coat was made for someone much taller and much broader than him. I decided I wasn’t going to ask questions and instead continue to be grateful for everything that had happened to me in the past twenty-four hours. This was probably the only chance I would get to escape from poverty and I might as well make the most of it.
Chapter Two
I wasn’t aware that I had fallen asleep until the driver nudged me lightly on the arm a couple times. I opened my eyes and stared in wonder at the change in scenery. It looked to be late afternoon or perhaps early evening. We were driving up a gravel path surrounded by acres of gorgeous green grass with horses grazing behind pure white fences. It felt strange to be away from the tall buildings and busy, loud streets of San Francisco and to find myself in such a quiet, peaceful looking place.
What caught my attention the most was the sprawling mansion at the end of the drive. It was stunningly beautiful; however I could not get past the feeling of apprehension as we parked out in front of it. The mansion was dark and looked as though it were made out of stone, like an old, gothic European castle. The roof sloped up into points with giant, dark windows underneath. The grounds were beautifully landscaped with an array of colorful winter flowers and large, looming succulents, but it did not help keep away the forbidding vibe the mansion gave off.
I shook my head. Perhaps my imagination gets the better of me sometimes. “Where are we?” I asked the driver.
“This is going to be your new home.”
Home. In this massive house? I laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, miss. I’m afraid I’m not,” the man said, his voice completely serious.
We stepped out of the car. Without saying a word, the driver led me up the front steps and through the ornate, wooden door. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I walked through the threshold and into what I later learned was the foyer. To my relief, the inside of the mansion did not look as gloomy and desolate as the outside. Bright light shone through the windows. Two large staircases spilled into the center of the foyer; the steps were covered in what looked like a Persian rug, and the banisters were leafed in gold. The floor was a white marble tile and extended underneath the staircase where pure white columns held up an alcove where a grand piano sat. What intrigued me the most was the vast array of artwork that surrounded me.
Large vases that looked to be from the Ming Dynasty sat on either side of the staircase. Intricately carved Grecian sculptures stared back at me with their stony silence. On the walls were a collection of Pre-Raphaelite paintings, and I swear I almost swooned at the sight of an original John William Waterhouse. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven with all of this art. My extensive knowledge of art theory and history was the one link that led to my past. It was too bad that the link wasn’t something more useful, like a name or a place to remind me of who I was.
“Holy shit,” I whispered softly. I twirled around in a circle, trying to soak in everything around me. “I’m actually going to live here?”
Was there going to be someone behind a curtain that was suddenly going to jump out and say “Just kidding!” This was way too good to be true.
The man stopped and turned around to look at me. We were just about the same height, I noticed. Yep, this jacket was definitely not his.
“Yes, if you agree to the terms and conditions that the master of the house has laid out for you, then you will indeed be living here.” He continued walking further into the house. “Come, I will show you to your room.”
The way he talked was so prim and proper. This guy must be a butler, I thought as I followed him towards the staircase. I felt slightly self-conscious about walking up the carpeted steps with my shoes still on, only to remember that everything I wore—no, every single damn inch of me—was absolutely clean. I still felt like I could easily defile the place just with my presence. I lightly ran my hand over the golden banister as we ascended the steps, and quickly stopped as I realized I was smudging the smooth finish with my fingerprints.
When we reached the top of the stairs, he led me to a room at the far end of the hallway. I was already prepared for another surprise—I mean, a house this fancy must also have amazing bedrooms—but my mouth still hung open in shock as I stared at the huge, four-poster bed with red velvet curtains drawn back, revealing plush, red and white pillows and sheets that probably felt like clouds when sleeping on them. A massive, mahogany armoire sat in the corner next to the bed, its dark wooden color lit up by the sun shining through large, rectangle paned windows. I stepped into the bedroom and circled around it, trying not to become too overwhelmed. When I saw the adjoining bathroom, with sandstone tiles and a giant tub next to a window overlooking the grazing horses below, I had to sit down.
I could tell the man took pity on me; he gave me a small smile. “This will be your room if you choose to accept the contract,” he told me. “There are a few things in the wardrobe and in the bathroom for you to use, but if you need anything within reason, you may make requests.” He walked over to a small desk on the other side of the room. On the desk sat a small stack of papers and a pen. “This is your contract, and I advise you to read it thoroughly before you sign it. However, a decision must be made by tomorrow.”
A contract? I walked over to the desk and glanced over his shoulder at the papers. I could understand a few words, but there was no way I would be able to figure out all that was written on there. Great. Now I had to reveal my complete ignorance. It seemed like blasphemy to admit my illiteracy underneath this fancy roof.
“Could you go over it with me?” I asked tentatively.
He seemed surprised at first. “Of course,” he said, and I sat back down at the foot of the bed as he read it to me. “I will summarize it for you. Let me know if you have a
ny questions and I will... do my best to explain it to you.” I nodded to him. “This contract outlines your duties and responsibilities within this household, and what you can expect from Victor Draper.”
Victor. I played the name through my mind, mouthing it silently, getting a taste for it. I brought the collar of the jacket I was wearing towards my nose again and breathed in the scent of the cologne.
The man continued reading off the contract to me:
“ ‘At this date (your name) is entering the service of Victor Draper. In order to pay for your room, meals, and other necessities, you will be required to perform general housekeeping duties as assigned by the employer, Victor Draper. You will wear a standard blouse and skirt, and you will wear your hair up. Jewelry and excessive makeup is not allowed. You will be expected to work Monday through Friday from 8am to 5pm, or when determined by the employer.’ ”
That seemed straightforward enough for me. I was about ready to tell him that I would sign the contract right then and there until the man cleared his throat. “There is a second part of the contract. Once again, let me know if you have any questions about this:
“ ‘At this date (your name) is also entering into a 24 hour power exchange relationship. By signing this contract you agree to act with manner and decorum in the presence of your employer (the Dominant) and you will be expected to address him as ‘Sir’…”
“Manner and decorum?” I wondered out loud, confused by the wording. Before he could explain, I suddenly realized what it meant. “Oh, that could be a bit of a struggle,” I said wryly. If there was anything I lacked it would have to be good manners. That kind of attitude would get me sacked out in the streets. I waited for the man to continue:
Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels Page 68