Hannah hauled her suitcase from the boot of the taxi before it sped off, leaving her alone on the empty country lane. She was stood next to an old gatehouse, although all the windows were bricked up, the door sealed behind a metal sheet. At least the gate was open, although a heavy chain and padlock hanging from the dark metal showed it could be locked closed. Why had she agreed to this job, out in the middle of nowhere? The money, mostly - three months cleaning work, that paid what she would normally earn in two years! Probably some old dear, unable to keep on top of the dust in the few rooms she used. But the place was miles from anywhere, even the nearest train station a long and expensive taxi ride away. She checked her phone - no reception, of course.
She started trudging up the long drive, the manor house easy to spot, set on a hill ahead of her. When fully maintained, it must have been glorious, with rolling grounds and a huge garden, but now everything was very much run down and clearly delipidated. A statue peered at her from a cocoon of greenery, a toned six-pack stomach barely visible beneath moss and vines. Her arms were getting more and more tired, her case dragging at them more with every step. But if she was going to be here for a long stay, she needed to bring clothing, as well as... entertainment, something for the lonely evenings. She was only 23, she needed something to keep her entertained and turned on! A strapping young gardener or groundskeeper to keep her company would be nice but seemed unlikely.
She passed several outbuildings - some cottages, a boathouse, a pavilion - but all looked boarded up and unused, except for the stables, that looked open and in use. She would have to explore later, but she should find the owner first.
By the time she got to the front door, up a grand staircase of its own, her arms were burning from the strain of carrying her case, sweat making her clothing stick to her body. The door was fronted with a brass face that glared at her, long tongue forming the knocker. No doorbell, or any other sign of modernity. She took a moment to compose herself, tidying her long, brown hair into a ponytail, hoping she didn't look too tired and sweaty. Then she lifted the knocker and let it drop.
A loud "thud" sounded, the door vibrating under the impact. The sounded cascaded into the house, probably echoing amongst empty rooms. She could imagine ancient things arising from their rest, shuffling up and coming to answer the door. If it was an old lady, then hopefully she had her rooms near the door, or Hannah would have to go exploring and try and find where she lived.
There was the tattle of a chain, two hard "clunks" of bolts being moved open, and then the door creaked open.
It was opened by a woman, notably taller than Hannah, and likely so even without the heeled boots she was wearing. A taut red leather skirt fell to her knees, her breasts straining against a blood-red satin top, her hair a deep, glossy black against her pale white skin. Her eyes were rimmed with dark eyeshadow, jewelry shining on her ears and around her neck, even in the gloomy light of the hallway. She looked down at Hannah without speaking.
'Uh, good morning.' This wasn't what Hannah had expected. 'I'm Hannah. I'm here for the maid position?'
'Ah, little Hannah, of course. Please, come in, follow me.'
The woman started to walk away, the place dark enough she almost vanished into the shadows, as Hannah scrabbled to catch up. Inside was a grand reception hall, the walls covered with oak panels, so dark they were almost black, the rugs underfoot a deep, crimson red. Hannah's arms started to ache again almost immediately as she hauled her case with her. As they stepped away from the door, it swung shut with a loud "crash", the sound cascading through the manor.
'Are you, um, the lady of the house?' Hannah tried to peer through some of the doors they pass, but they were moving too fast, leaving only the vague impression of furniture under dustsheets, display cabinets in far too many rooms, all looking dusty and dirty.
'Of course I am, my dear, although I prefer the term "mistress". Just myself, and this big old house. I do have a gardener and a cook as well, although it may be some time before you meet them.'
She stepped through an open archway into a strangely modern living room, at least in contrast to what Hannah had seen so far. Black leather sofas with plenty of cushions, a coffee table covered with dust and food stains, a plasma TV just as dust-covered. She sat down, gesturing at Hannah to sit as well.
'I see you are already taking in the task ahead of you, my dear.' She crossed her legs, scrutinizing Hannah with curiosity.
'So, uh, sorry, what's your name, Miss? The advert didn't say.'
Hannah looked around the place - for someone so neatly and stylishly dressed, she must live like a slob. The place was worse than a student flat!
'My name is Miss Coerator. A pleasure to meet you, Hannah.'
As Hannah sat down, she almost fell into the sofa, the cushions too soft to support her, the springs utterly shot. Miss Coerator perched on another part of it, where the structure must still be sound. 'How much of this place do you use? It's massive!'
'Well, not much really. I own most of the surrounding land and rent that out, but I only use a few chambers here. I seem to need a new maid to do each room. So, Hannah, do you have any prior experience in cleaning?'
'It, uh, sounds like you use up a lot of maids! Yes, some, I've worked at a few other places as a cleaner - at a few old people's homes, or universities in the holidays, that sort of thing.'
As the woman slid closer to her, Hannah shifted, hiding slightly behind her case.
'Yes, the poor things never seem to last long. But this is no retirement home. And you should be proud to be allowed to clean here; it is a grand old place, albeit in need of some work. But I will show you to your room, and your new uniform. I wouldn't want you to be spreading dirt all over my lovely home.' She laid a hand on Hannah's shoulder and smiled, before rising to her feet. Hannah stood as well, feeling short next to her.
