Physical

by Gabriella Luciano

  The one thing holding me back, though, was that he already had a full family of three grown sons. I had always wanted a family but I had assumed I would be the mother to children I gave birth to and not some kind of step-wife nanny to boys on the edge of manhood themselves. But at the same time, the thought of being asked to put three teenage boys under control instigated those secret thoughts in me that sent my imagination reeling. I wasn’t really picturing anything specifically as much as giving in to that feeling of wanting to once again explore things that seemed to be utterly forbidden.

  So after a few more minutes of chatting, I just decided to go for it.

  “Well, if you are seriously looking to hire a housewife, I would love to be interviewed for the position,” I told him.

  He looked up at me a bit startled and smiled at my playfulness. “That’s great to hear,” he said. “Let me look at my calendar and see when I have time available for your interview.”

  He took his phone out of his pocket and thumbed through the screens for a few seconds.

  “How’s tomorrow at five?”

  “Five works fine for me. Is there anything special I need to bring?”

  We were both starting to really enjoy pretending we were seriously discussing the hired housewife situation and at the same time being slyly flirtatious.

  “Yes, bring a copy of your resume and dress well. If you pass the first interview, I might take you out to dinner.”

  “Might?” I said teasingly.

  “We’ll see how things go. I’m a very tough interviewer. I’ve had to interrogate my fair share of detainees who refused to tell me what I wanted to hear.”

  Now I was really turned on. “Oh, I see,” I responded in laughter. “Well, I’ll make sure to come with all my answers ready for you.” I gathered my belongings and stood up to tell him bye. He wrote his address and phone number down on a corner of the newspaper, tore it off with a motion of swift force and handed it to me.

  “You didn’t even tell me your name,” I told him.

  “Anderson Norton. And yours?”

  “Natalie Cinderella.”

  We shook hands.

  “So I’ll see you tomorrow at five?” he asked with a sly smirk on his face.

  “Yes,” I responded in a very firm and proper tone. “I’ll wear my best formal housewife outfit.”

  “Good. I’m looking forward to it. Don’t be late. First impressions are important to me.”

  I hesitantly smiled and said goodbye.

  On my way home, I got butterflies in my stomach just from thinking about the conversation and about the meeting planned for the next day. What a strange twist of fate. I still didn’t know much of anything about this man but his first impression certainly impressed me. I was at a time in my life when I was very much open to exploring new directions but this was definitely not one of the new directions I had imagined.

  I called one of my close friends who I confide in for all of my trials and tribulations. I told her about my chance encounter and asked her what she thought I should do. She thought that I was crazy for meeting a man in a café, much less agreeing to come to his home, but that it all sounded like something she would expect from me. She asked me what I knew about him and, of course, I told her absolutely nothing. She told me to Google him and to call her back after I went through the first 1000 hits or so.

  As soon as I got back home, I started up my computer, typed in his name and then nervously hit the search button while I hoped that he didn’t come up as a serial killer. Yet, he not only came up as who he said he was, but he proved to be even more intriguing than I had imagined. Anderson Norton worked as Chief Executive Officer for a company called Hellman Defense Industries, was previously a Lieutenant in the U.S. Army, was originally from Wyoming and had attended West Point before going off to serve in Desert Storm and a number of other military operations. It seems he was an Assistant Professor for a few years and I found quotes from him in a wide array of publications from Military Times to The New York Times. His name was listed on all sorts of websites as a recipient of this award and that award. It seemed like he was the picture perfect specimen of the successful military man turned civilian. So why was he interested in some woman he met in a French café?

  I called my friend back and told her what I had found. She was as astonished as I was but we agreed that it was certainly safe for me to meet someone with such a public image to protect. So I decided that that was that and I would walk into this “interview” with the full belief that I was going to get this job. At the very least, it would be a memorable experience. When else would I ever get another opportunity to be hired as a housewife to a dashing military man?

  The next day, I outfitted myself in a provocative light pink shirtwaist dress that had 1950’s housewife written all over it. It was subtly sheer but my tiny black g-string underneath was definitely not. I jumped into my car and headed down the interstate out of the city and deep into the exclusive suburban neighborhood where Anderson lived. At the time, I was living in a brownstone apartment in a hip neighborhood in the city which was popular with post-graduates and young couples. I had only been to the suburbs a handful of times to visit my married friends who had moved to start families in towns with good schools and safe streets. I had never been, though, to the neighborhood where Anderson lived.

  I wasn’t really sure where I was going but my GPS system seemed set on taking me down as many wide, tree-lined boulevards it could find. I finally pulled up to this picture perfect, two-story white Victorian house with a white picket fence encompassing an enormous front lawn that was trimmed to perfection. It was like a period piece of old-fashioned charm from a world of suburban gentility I thought only existed in movies.

  I nervously rang the doorbell and after a few seconds, the door opened. To my surprise, a young man stood there wearing only a white bath towel, his firm tanned torso glistening with water. He had obviously just gotten out of the shower and he had pinned the towel in a bunch at his waist to keep it around him. He just raised his eyebrows at me rather rudely as if to ask me what I wanted.

  “Hi. I’m here to see Anderson. Is he your father?”

  He just looked me up and down as if to ascertain what exactly I was dressed to do. Without saying anything, he nodded his head for me to come in. He turned and walked away as Anderson came up behind him to greet me.

  “Go put some clothes on, Ethan! Is that anyway to answer the door?” He said it in a half-scolding manner but it was less of a reprimand than something he seemed to be saying just because I was there and felt like he needed to declare it for appearances sake.

  “Right on time,” he said to me, reaching his hand out to shake mine in a very formal manner. “Please come in, Natalie. We’ll be meeting in my office.”

  He led me through the hallway of the house toward his home office. As we were walking through the narrow hall, the son who had answered the door passed by to go into the bathroom and our eyes met for a brief second before he quickly looked away. When we got to the living room, Anderson stopped for a moment.

  “Ethan, Carter, Alexander!” he called out. “Come meet Natalie.”

  Ethan peered back out from the bathroom doorway while I watched his other two sons wander into the living room. Neither of them was wearing a shirt. They just stood there in their boxers, curiously staring at me and wondering who I was. I felt like I had just been allowed into the men’s locker room and no one seemed to be concerned in the least about covering themselves. I ogled the trio of innocent bare bodies like absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary. It was as if they were being put on display for me to admire. At least in my mind, I felt like I was at market for fresh young male meat.

  “Natalie, this is Ethan. You met him at the front door. And that is Carter and Alexander.”

  “It’s very nice to meet all of you,” I said in a very warm tone. They just looked back at me like indifferent teenagers.

  “Guys, be polite and say hello,” their f
ather told them firmly. One of them greeted me while the two others raised their hands lackadaisically before they turned away and went about their business.

  “Sorry about that,” Anderson said. “You know how boys are these days.”

  “Yes, of course,” I replied.

  He led me into his office and closed the door behind me. He motioned toward the large wooden armchair that was placed opposite his chair and desk. I sat down and readied myself for his questions.

  “Did you bring your resume?” he asked me as he sat down.

  “Yes, I did,” I replied promptly as I reached down into my bag to extract the sheet of fine linen paper from my leather binder. I passed it adroitly across the desk to him. He took it from me and began to study it while I waited. I let my eyes wander around his office while he read and noticed that he had quite a few photos of himself with an assortment of military officers and politicians. His entire office was very neatly organized. Every book on his shelf seemed to be categorized and meticulously kept. His desk was bare except for a tidy stack of letters, his computer and a stack of post-it notes next to a silver fountain pen. And surprisingly, it all seemed to be very, very clean.

  “So,” he began as he looked up at me, “have you worked as a housewife before?”

  I laughed when he said it, but after I did, he just looked back at me with a stone cold glare and I quickly realized he was serious. His strict formality caused me to be taken back a bit and I erased the smile from my face before I answered him.

  “Well, no, I haven’t Anderson, but I…”

  “Mr. Norton.”

  “What?” I said.

  “Please address me as Mr. Norton. I don’t believe we know each other well enough for such personal addresses,” he told me firmly.

  I had expected this to be a kind of make-believe interview and was shocked as to how proper he was making it. I straightened myself in my chair and continued what I was saying before he had cut me off.

  “Yes, of course, Mr. Norton. As I was saying, I have never held the position of housewife before but I believe that my experience in other fields has properly prepared me to handle the responsibilities of the position.”

  “How so?” he responded immediately.

  “Well,” I said, trying to think of something to say, “I have learned to multi-task quite well through my past jobs and I think that would be the most important element of managing a household.”

  “Of course,” he said, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. “And what kinds of skills do you have?”

  “Well, I can cook, do errands, clean, take care of the bills…”

  “What can you cook?”

  I couldn’t believe that I was trying to clarify my skills as a housewife, much less speak of myself as a housewife at all. After more than a decade in corporate America, ambitiously plowing through the elite ranks of twenty-first century global marketing departments, here I was earnestly trying to be hired as a wife of the house. It seemed almost surreal, as if I was half-pretending to be someone else who I wasn’t supposed to be.

  “Well, a little bit of everything. What do you like?”

  “I like American food. Steak, potatoes and apple pie. Sometimes I like it a little more contemporary and gourmet,” he quickly rattled on. “You would need to cook breakfast, lunch and dinner, everyday, for me and the boys. It must always be good and it must be on the table when we sit down to eat.”

  “Of course,” I said. “It would be my job to take care of my men in the way they need to be taken care of. Feed them when they are hungry and make sure they are healthy and strong.”

  The conversation had quickly taken on a feeling of the demanding employer and the eager interviewee who was expressing her readiness to do anything and everything to get the job. While at first it was a bit strange, there was something about it that seemed very exciting and almost kinky.

  “And what about when we are out at social engagements? I attend events with some very important people who tend to have very traditional values. Tell me how you would act.”

  “Well, I would be the perfect American wife. I would be well versed on important topics, supportive of my husband’s career, well dressed at all times and eager to engage the other men’s wives so they looked upon me favorably as your other half.”

  I couldn’t help but let out a slight smile at my eloquent delivery. I could see he was quite pleased with my answer.

  “And what kind of authority figure would you be to my boys?”

  The question took me back a bit. I had never really imagined myself as an authority figure of any sort and the image of being one to three teenage boys suddenly popped into my head. I honestly didn’t know how to answer the question.

  “Uhmmmm…I think I would have to learn what it took and what they needed. I guess I would try to balance being nurturing to them and at the same time molding them as men.”

  “They need someone who is strict with them,” he responded bluntly. “Can you whip them into shape?”

  A graphic image of me whipping his boys into shape in the hidden confines of his pristine home filled my head. I imagined them all butt naked, bent over the kitchen table as I laid some prison whip into their backsides. Butterflies floated through my belly and I had to do everything in my power to maintain my composure.

  “Yes, I will give them what they need to be kept in line,” I replied to him in the most confident voice I could muster. I struggled to swallow and hoped that he wouldn’t ask me anything else about the scenario.

  “Very good,” he replied. He looked back down at my resume as if he was taking time to ask his next question. He looked back up at me and leaned forward.

  “I want to be honest with you, Natalie. This would be a challenging position for you. Both my sons and I are very emotionally guarded at this point in our lives. Like I told you when I met you, this is why I am seeking to hire a housewife. Until we feel like we can trust you and there is a personal connection, there would be a certain distance between us. You know how men are with their emotions.”

  “Of course. I understand,” I told him. “I would not want to force anything. If there is a strong connection between us all, I’m sure things will take care of themselves.”

  He nodded slowly in agreement while he studied me. “And why are you even here? What attracted you to my offer?”

  “Well, to be honest with you as well, I’m definitely at a point in my life in which I’m torn between following my career and starting a family. Perhaps this will be an unexpected solution. I was only looking for one man but maybe here I have found four.”

  He raised his eyebrows the moment I said that and I instantly realized how it sounded when it came out of my mouth.

  “I mean, with your boys and all…taking care of those growing boys as they become men.”

  “I see. And anything else you want to tell me that you believe would make you a good fit for the position?”

  During the course of the interview, I had become increasingly attracted to his formal manner of interviewing me. It was obvious that he had difficulty opening up to a woman in a personal relationship and that he had chosen to maintain control of the situation by keeping everything very professional. He seemed to be interested in me but I felt like I just needed to do something more in order to really get his attention.

  “Yes, there is. I understand I would be initially hired as your employee, but can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Of course. Ask me anything you would like.”

  I glanced around the room for a moment as I tried to figure out how to put my deviant thoughts into words. At first, I thought that maybe I should try to conceal my naughty nature, seeing how this was the very first time we had met. There was something inside me, though, that just urged me to put myself out there to him in full display so he would know the kind of woman I really am. I decided I should just be very direct.

  “Well, Mr. Norton. I have to be honest. I find you ver
y attractive. Does your company have any rules against sexual harassment in the workplace?”

  He tried to suppress the broad smile spreading across his face in reaction to my remark as he shifted in his seat. He was visibly uncomfortable at my forwardness.

  “Well, I guess that depends,” he remarked.

  “On what?” I asked with a sly smile on my face.

  He reached down to take his silver fountain pen in his hand and began to play with it, slipping it in between each of his fingers.

  “It depends on how good you are at sexually harassing me,” he quipped with a deviant smirk.

  I straightened myself in my chair so my back was perfectly arched before him. I uncrossed my legs and then re-crossed them toward the other side.

  “I think I am very good at it,” I told him.

  He looked back at me as this flirtatious tit-for-tat started to become much more interesting. I could tell that he was either trying to think of something witty or provocative to say but I didn’t at all expect him to say what he did.

  “Show me.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him. “Show you? Now? Here?” I asked him gesturing with my hand.

  “Now. Here,” he replied sternly.

  I cleared my throat and searched for a response to this but I knew I couldn’t possibly back down now. So I uncrossed my legs, stood up and walked over to the door. I turned the metal lock on it to make sure no one would walk in, and then turned toward him. Without taking my eyes off of his, I slowly strutted across the room and then around his desk to where he sat. I stood there above him for a few seconds before I bent down and whispered in his ear.