The Mistress And The Butler Ch 01

The sky had been pouring out rain since Samuel M. Earning's plane had touched down in that little Italian town that morning. The rain foreshadowed doom, but Sam paid it no mind. His new job as a butler would not be so bad. He was promised food and lodging and he would be accompanying his new boss to fancy parties and gatherings. It would be great. Sam had not met his boss yet. He had only been interviewed by his boss's assistant, a fair haired young woman, back in his hometown in Oklahoma. The woman had not given him very much back ground on his new boss and Sam wondered what he would be like.

The cab drive took about an hour from the airport to his new home in southern Italy. Sam could do little more than stare out of the window and watch as the heavy raindrops beat at the ground that passed him by.

"501, yes?" the cab driver asked in a groggy tone that complimented his thick Italian accent.

Sam glanced out of the window at the brick encased mailbox that read '501 Elmure' and then he glanced down at the note card in his hands where he had written the address. "Yes." Sam said a little nervous.

The driver turned onto the long, stone drive which was lined with tall oak trees on either side. The mysterious look of the drive did nothing to ease Sam's nervousness. After a few moments the large house came within view. It was a slim, yet tall, brown, brick building with thin vines clinging to the cracks. A case of grey stone steps traveled up the right side of the building to the door, and a dirt path and a car garage were visible on the left. Sam peered out of the window at the cylinder shaped building. He did not know much about the value of Italian houses, but he suspected that his new boss was considerably wealthy.

Excited to start his new life, Sam tipped the cab driver generously and grabbed for the one suitcase that he had brought with him, as per instruction. As Sam stepped out of the cab and onto the stone ground, thick droplets of rain beat at his head and shoulders and drenched his thin coat. Sam climbed the stone steps as quickly as he could. Each step squeaked as his black sneakers threatened to slip and send him crashing back to the ground. Finally Sam had stepped over the thirteenth step and he half jogged for the door. The door was tall and looked heavy with a steel knocker in the middle. Below the knocker was a silver plate that read "Simmondale residence". The small awning shielded Sam from the downpour but actually did little to keep away the rain that rode on the wind and it drenched him further in cold water. Quickly, Sam lifted the steel knocker and let it thud against the door three times.

It was only a moment before the door swung open and a small figure dragged him inside. The deafening sound of the rain was muffled now and the sudden change of scenery made Sam a bit dizzy as he took in his surroundings. He was standing in a foyer with brown wooden floors and crimson colored walls. On the crimson walls hung framed letters, awards, certificates, and contracts that continued in a steady line all the way down the thin hallway that extended in front of him.

Sam turned to see the girl who had pulled him inside this palace. She wore a blue conservative business suit on her petite frame and her blond hair was wet with the rain even though she had only had the door open for a moment. It was the same girl that had interviewed him. Sam knew little about her except that her name was Claire and that she did not seem to like him very much. Claire sighed in frustration at her wet hair and then she looked at him and Sam could see that she was suppressing a smile.

"You are early, Earnings." She said looking him over. She made one last attempt to smooth back her hair before she hurried past him. "I will go and get the Mistress."

It was not long before Claire returned. She was holding a small pile of folded clothing in her arms and her cheeks were slightly flushed but Sam barely noticed.

He turned his eyes to the woman that was walking behind her. At first all Sam saw was the air of her confidence, her gait was deliberate and beckoning at the same time.

It wasn't until she stood three feet before Sam that he began to take her in. She was a brunette. Sam guessed that she was five nine as he stood looking directly into her eyes, which sparkled with the most intriguing shade of grey he had ever seen. She was not a beauty queen, but her every feature was feminine and charming. Her olive skin and her thin lips, her set shoulders and her curvy frame. Sam realized that he was staring and he immediately apologized. He was being so disrespectful to his boss's wife and he was sure that he wasn't making a good first impression.

The small thin lips of the woman parted into a warm smile that disappeared so fast that Sam questioned whether or not it was ever even there.

"I am Victoria Simmandale." The woman said in a smooth voice. Sam could detect no Italian accent, but the beginning of each of her words had a beautiful lit to it. "I am the owner of this house and you now work for me. You will refer to me as Mistress at all times. If you disobey me, you will be fired. Do you understand, Samuel Earning?"

Sam's mind hurriedly processed what he had just heard. He had not expected her to be so blunt. "Yes, Mistress, I understand." He said. "Did I hear you say that this is your house?" he asked. She only looked to be in her late twenties, the same as Sam.

"You heard correctly. My grandfather used to run an olive branch here on this land that I have inherited. I do not run it myself, but I do get a cut of the profit. However, that is simply luxury money. I am a high quality fashion designer, with my own branch. I live here in this house alone and I am more than capable of affording it alone." She said simply with more confidence than he could ever attempt to muster. Victoria's eyes suddenly looked over Sam's attire and she shook her head disapprovingly.

"You are getting my floor wet." She said.

Sam looked down at his dripping sneakers. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Take off your clothes." She said. "Now."

Sam blushed. "Here?"

"Yes."

"But—"

Victoria turned away from him, her long form fitting dress, making a sweet ruffle sound as she shifted her feet to go back the way she came. "This new butler is disobedient." She said. "Claire, send him back to America immediately."

"No, wait." Sam held out his arms in plea. He did not want to be sent back. He had quit his desk job to move to Italy, everyone had called him crazy and he did not want them to be right, at least not yet. And he really had nothing to go back to. No girlfriend, no family, no home. This was what he had now and he did not want to mess it up. "Please don't do that. I can be obedient." He said delighting in the sight of Mistress Victoria turning back around. Her gaze was piercing and expectant.

Sam removed his coat and looked around for a place to put it. He could not find a place so he put it on the ground and took the hem of his shirt in his hands. He pulled it up over his head and sat it on top of his coat. He removed his shoes next. He fumbled a bit with his belt buckle before finally removing his pants too. He looked back up at Mistress Victoria only to find that she was still waiting for him to finish. With shaking hands, he slipped his boxers down his legs and slowly set them aside. As he came back to a standing position, he automatically covered his penis with his hands, feeling like her gaze would burn a hole through him. He had never felt more embarrassed, not even at his fraternity initiation ceremony.

Mistress Vanessa stepped forward so that she was close enough that Sam could feel the vibration of her voice as she spoke. "Remove your hands."

Sam's face was crimson but he knew what would happen if he did not do as she had asked. He forced his hands away from where he wanted them and glued them to his sides. A brief second of panic washed over him as he saw Mistress Vanessa look down. She was actually studying his penis. "Not very well endowed, are we?" she said coolly as if it did not matter to her.

She then stepped around him taking in his square shaped frame that was, at the moment, attempting to become an oval. She stopped behind him and spoke to Claire again. "Give him the clothes."

Claire stepped forward with her eyes slightly averted as she handed the bundle of clothing the Sam. Sam dressed in the checkered boxer shorts, and the tapered black suit that he was given and he bent to tie the shiny squared shoes.

He was grateful to be covered again but he found that he slightly missed Mistress Vanessa's critiquing gaze on his bare flesh.

Mistress Vanessa requested that Claire take his wet clothes away and, although it seemed to him that that was way below her pay grade, she complied eagerly. She seemed happy to leave them and Sam was suddenly afraid of why Mistress Vanessa wanted them to be alone. She didn't move for a few minutes. She stayed out of his view but he could feel her gaze on him the whole time. She finally came around to face him and she motioned for him to follow her.

She showed him every room in the house but she only introduced the four rooms that she said were important for him to remember. First was the kitchen, or what looked like a small version of the other, larger, kitchen that he had seen. Mistress Vanessa explained that whatever she required of him to bring her, would be taken from this kitchen. He had no idea what she used the other one for. Next was a large sitting room area. It was furnished generously with a circular seating arrangement for about fifteen people. On the floor in front of each seat was a small pillow and two were set in front of each couch. This confused Sam but, other than that, he thought the room was lovely. Mistress Vanessa introduced this as the hosting room. The third room was her bedroom. But he had a hard time referring to it as her bedroom. When he first walked in, he saw a small sitting room with a recliner, a fur rug, and a fireplace. A large door leads into her actual bed room, where there was only a bed and a wooden trunk at the foot. The entire room followed an eerie theme of golds, browns, and burgundy hues. From there, there were three doors. One was her walk in closet, which was big enough to be a room by itself. One was her bathroom, and she would not tell him what the third room was for.

The last room she took him to was his room and she left him there. Sam looked around the room. It was half the size of hers and it was still the largest bedroom he had ever had. The carpet and walls were white, and the bedspread was blue. He opened the drawers of the night stand and he found bed sheets and pillowcases. In his new closet, he found two suits labeled as formal suits, four house suits, and two sets of cotton pajamas. He remembered that his measurements had been taken when he did the interview for this position. He also saw a pair of bathing suit shorts that looked tight and small. He thought it would barely cover him. He didn't remember seeing a pool; he hoped that he would never have to wear that. Sam put his suitcase under the bed. He wouldn't need the clothes that were inside.

On the wall above the bed, sat a black telephone. He lifted it and discovered that it had no dial tone. He remembered seeing a phone in the kitchen, though. Maybe that one worked.

He surveyed the suits and decided that the one he was wearing was a house suit. Then he looked at the shoes. He was given three pair of the same black polished shoe and one pair of brown slippers.

Beside the closet was a bookshelf that reached to the ceiling. Each shelf was filled with books and novels. Sam gave a small smile. He certainly would not be bored. He sat on the bed for a few minutes, not knowing what to do. Then he chose one of the novels and opened it. He laughed when he realized that it was in Italian.

It hadn't occurred to him to learn Italian. It hadn't been a requirement for the job and the closest he got to speaking a second language was the year of French that he took in college. That was all that he found in his room. The bathroom was right across the hall. He would have to watch television in the kitchen area that she had showed him. He shrugged to himself. He was fine with that. He probably wouldn't be able to get his favorite shows anyway. Through the window he could see that the rain had not let up at all.

When the wall clock read five pm, he went to the kitchen and made something in the microwave. He ate silently, then he showered and put on a pair of the pajamas. At eight, he decided that Mistress Vanessa probably wouldn't need him that day, and he went to bed.

*To Be Continued*