“Are you getting all this?” he asked, looking at me, brow raised.
“Sorry, what was that?” I said anxiously, brushing back my hair behind an ear.
“Just follow me,” he said impatiently, and led me off to the right and down a round stairwell. He took me down to another level — there were apparently at least three! — and led me to a secluded section. My residence, it seemed.
“Here’s your room,” he said, pushing open the door giving me a brief glimpse of the lovely but sparse area before he moved onto the next door. “Bathroom,” he indicated, then last, “kitchen and living area. There’s room for guests, but you can’t have any. Got that?” he said, but didn’t wait for the answer. “Good.”
No guests? That was odd.
I arched my brow, but he didn’t look like the kind of guy that wanted to deal with any of my questions. He was probably too busy handling all of my boss’ bullshit.
I looked over the room again, though, and felt a strange sense of emptiness. It wasn’t what I’d expected, after seeing such a luxurious place, but I supposed servant’s quarters were never as nice as the Master’s.
“How does he like things done? Can I speak to the last maid?”
“No,” he said firmly, staring at me through his round glasses, the stick-thin man so severe looking he seemed to rival my boss, but without any of the good looks. “She’s moved back with her family and is not to be disturbed. If there are no more questions, you can relax in your new suite for the time being. Once your uniforms arrive, you’ll be expected to start cleaning up. Fetching groceries will also be your duty, you’ll find the list on the tablet in your closet. Make sure you do regular inventory checks on what’s in the kitchen. Understood?”
It was really, really hard not to roll my eyes.
Instead I smiled as I grit my teeth, trying to look pleasant.
“I never got your name,” I said brightly.
“Martin,” he said in a clipped tone of voice turning back around and leaving me there. “Good luck,” was all he said as he climbed those stairs briskly and vanished. Leaving me all alone in the spacious penthouse.
I unpacked my things, which didn’t take as long as I expected, and then settled in for a long wait. Luckily, my living area came with just about every form of entertainment I could hope for, the smart TV had access to every streaming service imaginable, with a private computer desk, my own tablet and an expensive phone to boot! All with pre-made accounts intended just for me, with a sticky note that detailed my password and security details.
Though I didn’t get long to relax, before a jarring buzz filled the air around me, and my new devices alerted me that it was someone at the front door. By the looks of the security feed that came through my tablet, it was a parcel delivery.
I rushed on up to the door, since it was apparently my responsibility, and answered.
“Hello!” I said a little breathless, having climbed the stairs more enthusiastically than I intended.
“Here’s the clothing items Mr. Romy ordered,” he said, then held out a digital signing device. “Just jot your name here, ma’am,” the young fellow said before the transaction was quickly done.
And I was left alone again.
I took the package to my room and opened it. What lay inside shocked me! Oh, it was a uniform alright, several of them in fact
. But…
I stared, and I knew my jaw was dropped, but I couldn’t help it. I felt embarrassed just looking at the package and I quickly shut the top of the box again.
There had to be a mistake. The black dresses that ended just below my ass was one thing. I mean, he had a kink, obviously, but with a guy that rich how couldn’t he fetishize the power he had over people? Making them dress and act and talk like he wanted, as if we were all little puppets.
But these outfits wouldn’t even give me that much coverage!
I walked away from them, fuming! My brain working wildly as I tried to come to terms with what I’d signed on for. Maybe it wasn’t too late to go back to the office… though the more I thought of him, the less I figured he’d put up with one of his peons changing her mind.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed with me on the couch, glancing back to my room where the outfits waited, but eventually my phone and tablet both warned me: the boss was due back in an hour, and it was expected I’d be there to greet him. For inspection.
A shiver ran through me, of disgust and… secretly, a little titillation.
Though the idea of getting dressed up in some skimpy maid outfit for the guy who fired my dad and put us all in the hole overwhelmed all else. I was thinking what I’d say to the man, about his nerve! When a call came in, it was Martin.
“Has the package arrived yet?” he asked crisply, no pleasantries.
“Uh, yes, but—”