Johanna X Sharon F F Pt 01

Hi. This is my first story. Sorry if you find language errors but i do the best to translate in english my story. Hope you enjoy. Criticism and advice are always appreciated. :)

Chapter 1:

It was a cold fall day in the middle of October. The leaves were leaving the tree branches en masse and the road surface was taking on that characteristic yellow-brown shoring. Let me introduce myself: My name is Johanna and I am 20 years old. I am 5'7" tall and weigh 55 pounds. Everyone calls it an enviable physique, especially because of my prosperous breasts and enviable curves. I don't hide that I take a certain pleasure when I draw the eyes of passers-by on me. It makes me feel beautiful and appreciated. Since my family is very wealthy, I take private lessons at home, like a sort of one-person university.

My home is gorgeous. It is a mansion with a pool, surrounded by a grove that is exclusively owned by our family. It's my little paradise, where no one can stick their nose in. That day was like any other. It was late in the afternoon and after finishing my classes I was hanging out in front of the PC, looking for new clothes to show off at family dinners and community parties. My attention was caught by a beautiful black dress, surrounded by a white silk sash at the waist that broke up the dress and gave color and contrast. I was so absorbed in the contemplation of this beautiful dress that I didn't notice my mother's knuckles drumming on my bedroom door. What brought me back to reality was her authoritative voice.

"Johanna, why don't you answer me? Come down to the living room and say hello to Agnes' replacement."

Agnes was our maid. After a good 42 years of serving my grandfather and mother, she had reached retirement, ergo a replacement was needed. I had no idea what kind of person my mother had chosen to replace someone who had always done her job diligently, but frankly I didn't care much. At that moment there were very few things that interested me more than that beautiful dress.

However, social conventions and my mother's shrill voice dictated that I go downstairs to meet this phantom new Agnes. I put on my slippers, combed my hair and walked down the stairs at a leisurely pace. When I found myself in the living room the potential figure I expected to see was totally different from the figure in action. What should have been a middle-aged lady with graying hair and a pair of glasses, the kind you hold up with a string on both arms, was a slender young lady with long, straight blond hair and a pair of magnetic blue eyes. She still wore "civilian" clothes: a fuchsia sweater with a pair of untorn jeans and ankle boots with a heel of no more than 3 centimeters, according to the information coming to the brain from my shoe-savvy eye. She had her arms crossed in front and her hands overlapping to hold a square suitcase. When I saw her she was making a slight bow to my mother, then she did the same addressing me, still halfway between the stairs and the center of the living room. Finally she said, "Good evening, my name is Sharon and I recently turned 22. Despite my young age I consider myself quite versatile in household chores, but I will leave that to the discretion of the two ladies here. I hope I can replace the well-liked Agnes and win your affections."

She concluded her introduction with a smile. I was curious as to why such a young girl had decided to be a waitress. If it had gone well she would have been here for a long time. Could it be that she had acquired such a level of self-awareness that she had decided to give up all potential experiences to do this job? As I thought this my mother motioned her forward, proceeding to exchange a handshake.

"Johanna come closer. Do the honors."

I approached and said, "Welcome, my name is Johanna."

I could have said a hundred phrases of convenience, but I said nothing. Sharon herself came to my aid by holding out her hand and we shook it.

"Well, now that the pleasantries have been exchanged, you can head down the hallway at the end of the hall, where you'll find your room. Take the afternoon off, walk around the house if you like. You must know that this house is like no other home. It's true that you're our maid, but in your free time you can use the swimming pool or take a walk in the surrounding woods. Besides, you're young and need worldly things. You'll start tomorrow morning. I'll get you the schedule of chores to do."

Sharon took her silent leave and walked down the hallway with quick, silent steps. My mother and I remained in the living room and decided to have some tea. I took the opportunity to ask her a few questions about Sharon. She told me that she had introduced herself as an ordinary candidate, but decided to take her to make me feel more comfortable. She believed that a fresher presence would be good for morale in the house and that maybe I could even make friends with her. The idea didn't sound too bad to me. Sharon seemed nice and we were more or less the same age. I had definitely changed my attitude since coming down the stairs and indifference had given way to moderate curiosity and cautious optimism.

Sharon's point of view.

Dear Diary, I feel the need to transcribe my impressions and thoughts to a fictitious reader through you, so as not to risk being enveloped in isolation due to the social gap between me and my employers. The house where I do my chores is a castle. And just like the castles of popular imagination, it is an empty castle, where your only company is the faint echo due to less than optimal acoustics. There are only two people in the house: a woman and her daughter. They both seem kind and well disposed towards me. This is a great fortune because it would be really stupid to get fired or leave because of exasperation with such a high salary. I hope the landlady's daughter, whose name is Johanna, doesn't act like a snob to me. I expect that. Then again, it would kind of go to my head if I had a girl my age as a waitress. I can't wait to take a dip in the pool as soon as I get a chance.