Angie arrived at the her new place of work, a tall, gleaming white mansion in the hills. The building was beautiful, with large windows and massive oak double doors. There was a reflecting pool in front with a sidewalk on either side and trees lining the walk. She walked to the front door with her suitcase, eager to take her new position as the live in maid. The ad mentioned a swimming pool. She couldn't wait.
She rang the doorbell and waited. It seemed that, after several minutes, no one would answer and she started to turn to leave.
The door opened. There was a nice looking man wearing a business suit. He was tall, at least tall enough for her liking, maybe six foot. He had black hair and looked a bit like an athlete, not like a bodybuilder, but lean and muscular. He looked at her with his blue eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. She felt as if he was sizing her up. What she liked most was his tan. Until he smiled. Perfect white teeth.
"I'm John. I guess you are Angie. My wife talked to you on the phone."
Angie was a little shy and around men she liked, even more so. She simply said, "Yes."
He directed her inside and said, "Here, let me take that from you."
He took her suitcase and started walking towards the stairs, which stood directly behind him. The stairs were amazing to her eyes, twenty feet wide and carpeted. They reminded her of Gone With the Wind. The steps seemed to be some sort of mahogany. John rapidly made his way up them carrying her heavy suitcase and showed her a room in the back of the house. It looked down on the pool.
She was amazed by the pool. Greek statuary and marble columns lined the place she hoped she would be spending most of her time.
John put her suitcase on the queen sized bed, a poster bed, with four beautifully crafted posts of some kind of dark wood. John, pointed, as he noticed she was admiring the bed, "This was made in France." She didn't say anything. She was in a bit of shock at the place. The furniture in this room must have cost more than her parents house.
John looked at his watch and began to walk out when he stopped and turned back, "I've got to leave for the office, but make yourself at home. My wife will be back in about an hour, she'll tell you what needs to be done around here. Goodbye, I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other."
John bounded down the steps and out the front doors. A minute later, she heard a loud sports car speeding away from the house. She ran to one of the front windows to watch as a red Lamborghini flew away from the house like a rocket.
She opened her suitcase and started to get her clothes out, but Angie was too excited to bother finishing that, she wanted to look around the huge palatial house.She walked up and down the hallways, surveying the various rooms. There were many bedrooms, all with their own unique furniture. The house had its own private theatre room, just like a movie house, but with less chairs. In another room there was a grand piano. She played a few notes and then moved on to the kitchen.
When she reached the kitchen, that is when she encountered her first sign of trouble. There were stainless steel appliances, large counters, and an amazing view of a garden. Then she heard it. Heels. Someone walking on the tiled floor from a connecting room. They were walking her way.
A woman appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. She was beautiful. As beautiful as the man was handsome. She had blonde hair and an amazing figure that impressed even the 19 year old Angie. Her waist must have been 24 inches and her breasts were nice little c-cups. With her shapely hips and the rest, she made a nice hourglass figure. The women's lips were full and she had large attractive eyes, blue, like John's eyes. Her beauty was offset by something else though, a sternness. Her hair was in a tight bun in back and she wore an outfit that seemed made for business. There was a coat buttoned all the way up to her neck and the skirt came just below her knees, though it tapered nicely on her body. She also had a pair of glasses, that reminded her a bit of a mean old teacher she had back in the 4th grade. Her heels were high, very high. They made her seem even more imposing to the 19 year old Angie. The woman towered over her like a giant or, at least, Angie felt that way.
"I'm Mrs.Prescott.Have you unpacked your bag? I would like you to get to work right away."
"I'm ready when you are, Mrs. Prescott."
"Then follow me."
Mrs. Prescott turned and walked back down through the room she had emerged from as Angie followed. It was impressive like all of the rooms in the house. Beautifully crafted tiles made the floor and there were paintings, not anything modern, like ugly splashes of paint, but really old time stuff, like she saw in her art history class-maybe Rembrandt or Reubens. Then they came to a room that was not impressive.
There was a door that looked very utilitarian, metal, and a bit ugly. Mrs. Prescott opened the door. It was a regular, gray cinder block room with brooms, dust mops, metal buckets, and hanging from a hook on the wall, a bag, for holding a suit. Mrs. Prescott pulled the bag down from the hook and handed it to Angie.
"You will wear this at all times, Mrs...?"
"Johnson. My name is Angie Johnson."
"I'm busy and this house is large, so get to work!"
Mrs. Prescott walked back down the hallway to the kitchen, heels clicking until Angie couldn't hear them anymore. Angie opened the bag and was surprised by what she would be wearing. It was a French maid's outfit. It had a little apron and everything. On the hanger there was a little feather duster. She felt a little awkward about it, but she put it on. Then she started cleaning.
She mopped, swept, cleaned the curtains, put the dishes in the dishwasher, cleaned the bathroom, including the toilets, and then finally dusted. Occasionally Mrs. Prescott would walk through the room she was in and point out something she missed and say something like, "If you are going to work for this family, you had better be thorough, Mrs. Johnson!"
When she was finally done for the day, she retired to her room and not even looking at the pool, fell asleep.
2. Exploration
Angie followed this same pattern everyday for a week. Mr. John Prescott would appear from the private master bedroom, immaculately dressed, even with gold or pearl cufflinks and a suit that must have cost thousands of dollars. He would always seem to be in a hurry, but he would stop to say something to Angie.
"Hello, Angie. How are you today? You are doing good work. I'm very happy with it. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodbye."
Angie never noticed him coming back. It was almost like he would enter through a secret door or someplace like the Batcave. Angie always peaked out the window by the garage whenever she would get near it, looking for John, but was always disappointed.
Then as she worked Mrs. Prescott would supervise her and make critical comments, hounding her throughout the day and berating her for sloppy work. She always wore a smart business dress suit with her hair tightly bound, but never seemed to go to work. Angie suspected the glasses were just for show too. Not to make her look smart, but to make her look mean.
One day she didn't see John or Mrs. Prescott at all, but there was a note:
