by Nella Tyler
I knew I had a lot to think about, so I decided to just go for a drive. I had nowhere in particular in mind, so I just drove around, carefully watching the speed limit, and then after a while, I headed onto the interstate with no particular destination. I just drove.
I wanted to be a teacher, but I was working as a maid. At least, I had been until this morning. A horrible thought struck me just then. What if my behavior at Luke's place got out? Was that what Samantha had been suggesting? I knew the damage that gossip could do, especially to someone in a public position, and most especially one that required a great sense of decorum, diplomacy, and good sense.
If any of the school administrations I had set my application to found out about the incident at the Benning Estate, it might very well damage my ability to get a job. After all, if I couldn't show any more discretion and good judgment than that, how could I possibly be a good teacher or set a good example for malleable students? Oh, I knew I could be, but I also had to look at it from an administration's point of view.
That got me to thinking that I also had to look at the situation from a different perspective than mine. Again, as Samantha had suggested. Luke. What exactly did he think of me? What did he want, other than the obvious? Had I fallen for some sweet talk and charm, allowed myself to be seduced, or possibly even given him the impression that I was an easy woman, one willing to fall into bed with any guy who so much as paid a modicum of attention to me?
I shook my head, growing ever disgusted with myself and my behavior. While I didn't completely agree with everything that Samantha had said, I also realized that she was probably right. Someone in Luke's position certainly didn't have to worry about his reputation. Guys never did. His behavior was not any different than that of many rich guys, especially in this area, where the "good old boys" club still reigned.
And I had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. Because he was so cute and I was sexually attracted to him, I had allowed him to take advantage – no, that wasn't quite right or fair. I knew that at any point in time I could have said no and chances were that Luke would've backed off with grace. Then again, what did I know? I didn't even know who he was, where he came from, what he thought about anything. He didn't know about me, either, or at least, I didn't think he did. So what was I? Just another warm body to him? The fact that he was attracted to me was flattering, I had to admit that, but was that all it took to sway me?
I glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror. "You're an idiot," I said. With that, I thought about everything that was going on and realized that yes, Samantha had provided a solution: put in my notice. Leave. Forget about Luke. I didn't owe him anything, and he didn't owe me anything. We had been two consenting adults. The only thing that was awkward about the entire situation, other than the fact that I had been so easy, of course, was that he was my employer and I was his employee. Samantha was right. I had to seriously consider giving him my notice.
After all, I didn't want my future career as a teacher to be damaged by idle gossip or loose lips, especially because of a brief mistake in judgment and especially not over a minimum wage job that I was holding just to keep myself busy until something better came along.
While I don't think anyone had seen my clothes lying on the floor in the living room this morning, I couldn't be sure. I also couldn't be sure that Luke wouldn't tell anyone about our little encounters. I had to wonder if Luke behaved this way with every pretty girl that crossed his path, regardless of how they orbited his world. I should've done more checking into his background before accepting the position. For all I knew, he had employed a maid before me, lied about it, and was just waiting to pounce on the new one.
I shook my head. I didn't want to believe it of him, but I also had to be realistic. No, I didn't want to take a chance at ruining any potential of a teaching career because of a relationship that would…what relationship? We didn't have a relationship. I had slept with him, had sex with him. That was it. Nothing more. There was no relationship. It probably wouldn't work out anyway, even if there were.
I couldn't tell him about my background now, because then he would believe that I had deceived him. Besides, what would that accomplish? At the other end of the spectrum, I knew nothing about him; so any “relationship” was already based on a rather shaky foundation of secrecy and hidden truths.
I continued to drive, but after an hour, I turned off the freeway, turned around, and headed back onto the interstate for home. All I was doing was wasting gas. My head began to throb with questions, possibilities, and regrets. By the time I got off the freeway and turned onto my street, my headache had begun to turn into a migraine. Over and over again, I replayed Samantha's comments in my head. Her advice continued to echo in my thoughts. I should put in my notice. I should just quit, move on, and not let things get any worse than they already were. The only problem was I wasn't even sure if I wanted to end this thing that Luke and I had going on.
Yes, it was base animal attraction, chemistry, sexual tension, call it what you will. Other than the feelings that he elicited in my body, and the fact that I was attracted to him, there wasn't anything between us. Oh, we had engaged in superficial chitchat, but nothing serious. So what the hell was I doing? What did I expect or want from him? Did I expect Luke to declare his affection for me? It had been a date. A simple date. Nothing more, well, besides the sex. He probably dated dozens of women, and why shouldn't he? He was filthy rich now, the target of any woman who set her sights on him and his bank account.
That thought disturbed me. I had no interest in his bank account. I had my own, and I had my own inheritance. I wasn't after Luke's money, or his fancy house, or anything he owned. I had never been materialistic, but I knew that didn't hold true of many of the other women who would more than love to get their hands on him, dig their nails into him, and take him for a ride.
That thought caused me to frown as I pulled into my driveway and turned off the engine. I just sat there, thinking about it. Luke would be easy prey to some of these women. I had seen enough of them. I didn't want to see that happen. I didn't want to see another woman taking advantage of him, using him just for his money. I just wasn't sure if he would be able to distinguish the difference.
I had been around money all my life. I knew how people behaved when they found out you had money. I had seen it all through my school years and into college. The minute people found out you had money they changed. Not all of them, of course, but plenty did. Suddenly they were your BFF, clinging to your side like leeches.
That was another reason why I wanted to make my own way in life. I had gone to school to become a teacher, although, quite frankly, the reality was that I probably would never have to work in my life. In addition to my trust fund, any inheritance that my parents left me, along with business dealings, had me set for life.
Still, that's not what I wanted for myself. I reaffirmed my intention of making my own way in life, of testing myself, earning my own paycheck and gaining the satisfaction of being able to do so. I don't know why that was so important to me. I couldn't figure it out, and frankly, I didn't really want to. Sure, I could've easily allowed my parents to introduce me to a number of eligible, wealthy bachelors not only in the Raleigh area, but along the eastern seaboard. I wasn't interested in that. I wanted to make my own decisions and my own mistakes when they happened – and deal with the repercussions and ramifications just like normal people did.
Normal people. Who was I fooling? I wasn't normal people. I was the daughter of a multimillionaire. And yet here I was, effectively pretending to be a normal twenty-something who just graduated from college, looking to make her own way in life. The fact was, I knew that the minute I got into trouble, the minute I needed help, my parents would be there. They had paid for my condo. I hadn't earned it. I hadn't saved up for ten years for a down payment. It'd been given to me, free and clear. One minute I was living at home and the next I had my own condo.
Even the car I was driving had been giv
en to me by my parents. While I was certainly grateful for their generosity and for the life I had been living up to date, I also began to seriously question my place in life. I couldn't pretend to be something I was not. Was I a maid? Maybe, for a little while. Was I a teacher? I wanted to be.
So who exactly was Molly Sanders of Raleigh, North Carolina? My friends would say that Molly Sanders was an attractive brunette who grew up in a privileged life. She was a woman who had tried her hand at several jobs, but had been met with one failure after another. I wanted to do a good job regardless of my position. I was so focused on climbing out from under the thumb of my successful father that I had to admit to myself that sometimes my judgment wasn't exactly where it should be.
I wanted to do the right thing. And yes, Samantha was right. I was on morally shaky ground with this…this thing going on between Luke and me. I sensed that Luke was a proud young man, one who had experienced more life than I had ever had. He could be a bit egotistical, and maybe he had allowed money to get to his head a little bit, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. It seemed as if both of us were pretending to be something we were not. So where did I go from here?
At any rate, I needed to figure out what I was going to do – and sooner rather than later. I was interrupted from my musings by my cell phone. I pulled it out of my purse and glanced at the screen, thinking that it was probably Samantha calling to cheer me up or encourage me to make the right decision, whatever that was. I was surprised to find that it was Luke calling. I frowned in confusion. How did he get my cell phone number, and more importantly, why did his name pop up on my screen? Had he put his name and number into my contact list? I wasn't sure whether I was flattered or offended.
I didn't know what to do. I didn't necessarily want to ignore his call because let's face it; I was curious about what he wanted to say. At the same time, I wasn't sure I was ready to talk to him. I decided to let the call go to voicemail. After five or six rings, the cell phone stopped ringing. I waited. A few moments later, I heard the notification ding to alert me that a voicemail had been left.
I sat in my car for several more minutes, just staring down at the phone. I continued to weigh the pros and cons of working at Luke's house, about what we had done, and about what might happen if I continued, or didn't continue, working for him. Realizing that I was giving myself nothing but an increasing headache, I finally got out of the car and entered my condo.
The house was cool and quiet. I still held the cell phone in my hand. Placing my purse on the small table by the door, I wandered over to my couch and sat down. I could drive myself crazy trying to figure out what kind of a message he left, but at this point, did it really matter? Should I listen to it or just delete it? That was just it. I hadn't decided what I wanted to do yet, and I didn't want to deal with the voicemail until I had decided. Then again, maybe I had to listen to the voicemail in order to determine my decision.
Chapter 4
I don't know how long I sat there in the quiet of my condo, turning the cell phone over and over in my hand. As I did, my thoughts replayed just about every instant of everything that had occurred since Luke had opened his door to me that first day. Despite Samantha's cautioning words, which I knew were rational and logical, I nevertheless continued to feel an overwhelming attraction and pull toward the new billionaire. The entire situation had me delving deep into my thoughts and emotions on a level that I had never been forced to explore before.
My phone rang again, startling me. I glanced at the screen, thinking that it might be Samantha, but it was Luke calling again. As with the first time he had called, I didn't answer the phone. My heart nevertheless thudded in my chest and my pulse accelerated. Once again, I let the phone ring, go silent, and moments later, heard another ding announcing another voicemail.
I sat, resisting the urge to listen to the voicemails right away. I didn’t want his message, regardless of what he said, to sway me. If he fired me outright, well, that would take care of that. However…
Rather, I focused on contemplating the benefits and drawbacks of either staying on with Luke or quitting. I didn't like the thought of quitting. I had never been a quitter before. Then again, I had never behaved the way I had with Luke, and most especially with someone who was still a practical stranger. That was a deep contemplation that would have to wait for another time. I had a more immediate decision to make.
I couldn't imagine what the voicemail messages were about. Was he calling to apologize or would he tell me that I was fired? Worse yet, would he turn into a creep and threaten to tell everyone he knew about what I had done, how easy I had been? I didn't want to think something like that about Luke, but Samantha's words kept turning over in my mind. I didn't know the guy. For all I knew he could be a stalker or a clingy kind of guy who now, because I'd slept with him, figured he owned me. That sent a shiver of dread down my spine.
What had I done? My lack of judgment could cause very serious ramifications now and well into the future. I wasn't naïve. I watched enough TV shows to know that relationships could be incredibly complicated. Some of the worst could end in violence. While I certainly hadn't gotten the impression that Luke was like that, how could I know? I didn't know what he did up in his office most of the time. That was just it. I didn't know. I guess the only way I would figure that out would be to either ask him or sneak around behind his back and do some digging into his history and background. Neither thought appealed to me at the moment.
I guess it all came down to how I felt about myself. My reason for making certain decisions. My acceptance that if I made a mistake, I would have no one to blame but myself and, therefore, I would have to take full responsibility. I kept wavering back and forth. The minutes passed, and then a quarter hour, and then before I knew it, I had been sitting there on the couch for a half an hour just trying to decide whether to listen to Luke's messages or delete them. Finally, with a grimace of disgust at my inability to make a decision, I pressed a couple of buttons on my phone and accessed my voicemail.
"You have two messages," the female robotic voice on the other end informed me.
I swallowed. Then, I heard a Luke's deep voice.
"Molly, we need to talk." Pause. "I want you to know that I didn't mean for what I said to come out the way it did. I realize now how it must have sounded to you, and to be honest, I can't believe I actually said something like that." Pause. "Please let me make it up to you, okay? I just want to-"
He ran out of time. That's why he'd call back a second time. I took a deep breath and exhaled, and then pressed the button for the next message. "I just want you to know that I'm not some scuzzball employer who goes around sleeping with the help. It wasn't just sex to me, Molly," he spoke quietly, somberly. "I don't want this to sound creepy or anything, but I feel a connection to you…” Pause. "What I would like, to be perfectly honest with you, is a relationship. Just give me a call, okay?"
The call disconnected. So he did realize that he might've come across in a less than stellar manner, I thought. He wanted a relationship. Did I? I had to ask myself the question. If Luke hadn't been so good looking, would I be interested in developing a relationship with him? Would I even be contemplating such a situation, especially in his position as my employer and me as his employee, his maid?
His broaching or even hinting at developing a relationship between us just proved to me his naivety regarding his position. Didn't he have anyone to counsel him, to show them the ropes? Could he really be floundering so much with his sudden riches and position in life that he didn't realize the firm yet invisible boundary between employer and employee, especially in these situations? Then again, I hadn't exactly done my part, either. If I had been sensible, I would have declined all of his invitations; donning that bathing suit, swimming in the pool, accepting the drinks, and worse yet, accepting that first date. I shouldn't have allowed him to ply me with drinks, or to kiss me, much less make love to me.
Make love? No, we had had sex, just sex. A
nd now he was telling me he wanted more? Why? Why me? I suppose that the only answer I could get to that question would have to come from him, but at the moment, I didn't understand it. I was just a maid. He could have his pick of women in Raleigh’s society, especially now with the amount of money he obviously had. I wished I could call Samantha, tell her about the phone messages, but decided I’d better not. She’d probably blow a gasket. I already knew how she felt about the situation. I felt alone and quite uncertain.
If I returned his call, I might be giving him the wrong impression, unless I decided I did want to develop a relationship with him. Then again, if I didn't return his call, I figured I was letting him know in no uncertain terms that I wanted nothing to do with him. What about my job? It wasn't just about the ability to prove to myself or my father that I could earn a steady paycheck doing just about anything. It was also about my self-esteem, my self-confidence, whether I wanted to admit that or not.
I wanted to prove to myself that I could do anything I set out to do. It didn’t matter whether it was a teaching position, a waitress, a maid, or anything in between. I wanted to know, in no uncertain terms, that I could support myself, by myself, in life. While I doubted that it would ever come to that, I had no idea for sure. But still, I needed a purpose in life. Teaching seemed to be an admirable purpose. Was being a maid an admirable purpose? For now, I admitted, it was. It was a job – nothing more and nothing less. That I couldn’t earn enough as a maid to support myself at the moment was beside the point. No, I didn’t have a car payment or a rent or mortgage payment. Still, my wages as a maid would barely cover my living expenses.
So, I would cut back on a few luxuries. I would create a budget. Just like everyone else. If I had to tighten my belt, I could, and would. I just wanted to know that I had the gumption and the determination to do so.