From tuegate.tue.nl!news.nic.surfnet.nl!sun4nl!EU.net!howland.reston.ans.net!swiss.ans.net!newstf01.news.aol.com!newsbf01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail Tue Dec 20 12:48:47 1994 Path: tuegate.tue.nl!news.nic.surfnet.nl!sun4nl!EU.net!howland.reston.ans.net!swiss.ans.net!newstf01.news.aol.com!newsbf01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: andreasman@aol.com (AndreasMan) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: The Housekeeper - Part 1 of 6 Date: 15 Dec 1994 19:40:20 -0500 Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364) Lines: 197 Sender: news@newsbf01.news.aol.com Message-ID: <3cqnlk$8vo@newsbf01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf01.news.aol.com The Housekeeper by Andreas Mann Part 1 of 6 It was a cold, wintry, snowy night. The street glistened and sparkled in the dim light. Snow was piled at the side of driveways. Footpaths had been scraped clean here and there. Roofs were capped with snow like gingerbread houses. Icicles hung from porches and trees. I was happy to be home. My house is warm and has a nice atmosphere. The spacious downstairs is lit by lamps that can be adjusted to give a soothing low light. The kitchen leads into the dining room and then into the front room, which is lined with bookshelves. There are two couches and an armchair, and in the corner is a large desk bearing this computer. I was glad to be home. I had eaten a toasted sandwich and was ready to sit down at the computer, switch on the modem and dial up my favorite bulletin board, the Long Island Connection. I was going to check personal mail, leave a message or two, and use the new quick mail offline reader to download the DeSade and Tielines echoes. Then the phone rang... Her voice was deliciously soft and sensual: "I'm calling about the house cleaning job you advertised on the campus billboard. My name is Gina and I'm very good at house cleaning. I'd really like the chance to show you. I need the work," the voice said breathlessly and nervously. She asked if she could come over and talk about the job. It was already evening but she had a way of insisting that appealed, so I said it would be alright. She understood it was to be a regular three-times-a-week position. "That's just what I need," she said. I hung up the phone with an amused air. The wolf in me had heard something in her sweet, pliant yet insistent voice that appealed. I scratched my chin and went to make coffee. The computer would have to wait... The doorbell rang once. It usually takes a few moments to get to the door, but she didn't ring again. I liked her patience. There was something pleasing about her and I hadn't even met her yet. The porch light displayed a young girl with short hair and slim body, wrapped in down jacket and scarf, her hands sunk in soft woolen gloves. She lifted her face and smiled, pulled her right hand out of the glove and offered it: "Hi, I'm Gina. I hope you don't mind me coming over so late, but I really want the job." I told her that was perfectly alright and invited her in, directing her through the hallways to the kitchen. I had just brewed a pot of coffee. "Would you care for a fresh coffee?" I asked as she undid her jacket. "Yes, that would be wonderful," she said. "It's so cold tonight." "Yes, it's nasty out there. Very beautiful but nasty. Well, I'm having mine with a small shot of whiskey. Would you like that too?" "Thank you, yes. I don't drink much, but it sounds perfect for tonight." "You can put your coat on that chair," I said, gesturing with my hand. She waited for me to put the coffee cups on the table and took her cue from my body language before sitting down. She raised her cup and sipped. She smiled and looked at me. "I'm looking for someone to clean the house," I said. "It's probably three days work a week. The ideal person would be somewhat like a housekeeper." "Well, I'd really like to do it," she said with a disingenuous smile. "Of course, I dream that I might find someone who could also cook, but that seems very hard these days," I mused over the edge of my steaming cup. "Well, I could do that too if you want," she said. "As a matter of fact I'm a pretty good cook. What did you have in mind?" "You ARE full of surprises!" I said. "I didn't imagine you could cook as well..." "Oh," she smiled, "I have many talents." I returned her gaze and looked steadily into her brown eyes. She began to blush and I looked away so as not to embarass her too unduly. Our discussion moved through the usual details. She answered all my questions about hourly rate, work history (she had worked in some small hotels and privately for families in the area), personal situation (single, not involved), and we seemed to be coming to agreement. We arranged for her to begin the next day. Our conversation relaxed into personal exchanges of background and interests. I began to look at her in detail. She had an unusual black criss-cross top which went over her long-sleeve t-shirt and she wore jeans. I looked at her hands as she sipped the coffee. They were very fine hands and she had nice nails with no polish. She wore no make up. Then I noticed that she wore two very smooth leather bands around her wrists. They were about one and a half inches wide and fitted close to the skin. I just knew what they meant. I offered her another coffee. My instincts were working overtime. "Do you think you could you go into the front room and hit the play button on the tape deck?" I asked her. A tone of authority had entered my voice. "Sure," she said. I watched as she walked up front. A graceful yet almost timid body. The music came on: Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark, an early English electronic band. I put our coffee on the table and poured in another shot of Chivas Regal whiskey. I had asked her to turn up the stereo to see how well she followed direction. "I'm intrigued by what you're wearing on your wrists," I said. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but what are they?" "Oh, not at all," she smiled. "They're like the bracelets hippies used to wear in the Sixties. I had a hard time finding them. Finally had a store make them for me. Do you like them?" "Yes," I said. "They look very comfortable and very reassuring too." I smiled and looked at her. "I like the way they feel," she said. "They remind me of cuffs," I said. "Yes, I guess they do," she said beginning to blush. "I like cuffs too," I said. "They keep things in their place." "Yes," she said blushing deeper, "I guess they do." Now I looked at her longer. It was time to find out how embarassed she could be. I looked in her eyes and smiled as she turned slowly red, at the same time trying to reassure her with my gaze. "You don't need to be embarassed with me," I said. "I've had an interest in cuffs and things for a long time. So you'll feel more comfortable, I'll tell you that I've enjoyed cuffs and bondage and a lot of things that go with them for years." "Oh, really," she said with wide eyes. "Yes. It's great to bind the one you love," I said with a laugh and a smile. "I guess so," she replied. We both drank our whiskey-laced coffees and relaxed. "Would you feel comfortable discussing it directly?" I asked. "Take your time. I'm not pushing you at all, and won't be offended if you decline." She looked at me with questioning eyes, as if she were taking in my measure and judging her safety zone. Could she really trust me? Then I saw the pleasure go out of her face and the tension increase. "I think I should leave," she said awkwardly. "It's very late. And if you want me to start tomorrow I need to get some sleep." "Okay," I said. "So you'll come tomorrow at noon?" "Yes, Mr Mann. Twelve tomorrow." "Do call me Andreas," I smiled. "Okay, Andreas. Tomorrow at twelve," she said coolly and nervously. Gina put on her jacket. I guided her to the front door. She thanked me for giving her the job and said goodnight politely and distantly, shaking my hand as she left. I watched her walk down the driveway and turn onto the snow-covered street. I made myself a whiskey and soda and flopped into an armchair. The music filled the room with smooth, undulating sounds. I mused on our encounter. I had obviously stepped over her safety threshold. But I hadn't gone so far as to really insult or upset her. She had chosen to withdraw. It was her choice and it was alright with me. Still, she intrigued me. It was an hour later when the phone rang. I picked up and said hello. "Hi - er, Andreas, this is Gina. Do you have a minute?" "Yes, Gina. Go ahead." "Well, I really wanted to say that I objected to your insinuations earlier, and I'm really upset that you pried into my private life!" "Oh," I replied. "I'm sorry, Gina. I didn't mean to upset you." "Well, you did, and I'm very angry. It's none of your business to pry into my private life that way!" "Well, I apologise if you felt I went too far." "I do. It's none of your business!" "I can hear your anger, Gina. I'm sorry if my prying got to you. I take interest in those I like. We don't need to mention it again if that's what you want..." "Yes, that's what I'd prefer. Don't ever ask me again. Do you hear?" "I hear you, Gina." "Keep out of my personal life. You have no business asking me about my private stuff!" she shrieked. "I don't think I asked you TOO much, Gina. It really isn't as important as that. Cool down." "Don't tell me to cool down, either. Stop being so patronizing. You have a nerve!" she screamed. "I don't think I could work for you. Infact, I know I couldn't. You just walk all over other people's feelings..." "Gina," I said raising my voice, "I didn't do anything of the sort. I asked you something and told you that you need answer only if you felt comfortable. I didn't force you at all." "Oh yes you did," she shouted. "You gave me all that coffee and whiskey and made me relax and then you pried into my personal life." "True - but I didn't do any of that to hurt you. Certainly not intentionally." "You're horrible. How could you?" she cried. "Leave me alone. You have no business doing that..." She began sobbing angrily. "Listen Gina, I didn't mean to hurt or offend you," I said. "Well you have," she sobbed. "I can't work for you! And I can't handle this call anymore. Goodbye." I listened to the click as she hung up, puzzled at how agitated she had been. Did I really offend her that much? What was she hiding? Why did it bother her so much? Others might just brush it off, or at least say they'd rather not discuss it further. ---------- Cont in Part 2 The HouseKeeper is copyright 1994/5 Red Moon Press Permission is given for electronic distribution. Contact andreasman@aol.com for print & other media permissions, or logon to Popular Emotion BBS (215-386-9333). ----------