The Tutor Pt 01 03

Part One

First day on the job.

I was still a little hesitant about committing myself to this; the only reason I said 'yes' in the first place was because the money was just too good to pass up.

Back in high school, I would have answered the call to tutor without any hesitation. A chance to make a little bit of extra cash, by only giving up a small fraction of my free time? Sign me up. It would have been a far better alternative than the soul-sucking retail job I ended up dealing with for the sake of saving some money away for university.

Now that I was in undergrad, however, my time was at an all time premium. I don't like to brag about it, but I'm basically the star pupil in my major. Numbers have always come naturally to me, and my sophomore self was already on track for all kinds of things at the beginning of the next school year. A few specialized programs, a TA position for one of the classes I excelled in when I was a first-year; I even had two separate professors mention that they would be interested in writing letters of recommendation for grad school once I completed university.

So, when the Alodia family reached out, I had to politely decline. Apparently they had connections with my school, and were seeking a tutor for their daughter. Not because she was struggling, but because they were interested in grooming her for undergrad classes while she was still finishing her last year of high school. One of my professors must have given them my name.

While I was flattered by the reference that they wanted 'the best' for their daughter Annabelle, I couldn't say yes. Keeping up with my studies was time consuming enough, not to mention the few extracurriculars and social commitments I managed to squeeze in on top of my academic pursuits. Adding in a tutoring session, complete with a commute, would stretch me too thin.

However, they were persistent. Annabelle's mother insisted that they could work around my schedule, and that money was no object. I had to assume the family was wealthy; not only because of that comment, but also due to how they knew what they wanted and didn't simply go a different direction when met with resistance the first time. When I tried a second time to nicely say 'no,' going so far as to refer them to one of my classmates who might be a good fit, I was simply told to offer a time and that I would be paid $600 for a 90 minute session.

Naturally, I found my initial resolve quickly crumbling. Go figure, a middle class girl like myself can be bought more easily than expected. Staring at the number on the screen, it took my math major brain all of half a second to frame the figure as $400/hour. Back in my retail days, it would take me nearly a full week of working twelve hour shifts to make the number I was being offered for a simple hour and a half. Well, two or more hours counting the commute, but still.

It was enough of a temptation to warrant a phone call, where I was given more details. When I asked why they just didn't hire a professional, as they clearly had enough resources to do so, I was told that I would be better for their daughter. I was a girl majoring in mathematics, which would be more inspiring to her than some older man. There were other women who could do the job too, of course, but my age was also a factor. Annabelle already had adults teaching her all day at school, so a younger tutor would be a shift in dynamic that would make our sessions feel less like an extension of her other classes.

They had clearly thought it through, though I was a little worried about the fact that I was barely two years older than the girl. That being said, it's not like I was there to babysit her. Tutoring doesn't necessarily require authority, plus she was legally an adult. With rich parents, I was sure she'd be a proper and mature young lady. There was still the matter of how taking the job was going to add to my already exhausting weekly workload, but I had already been hooked enough by their offer to be roped in. Rather than needing to commit right away, I could simply come over for a single session. If Annabelle and I clicked, and if it felt like a job that I would be willing to continue on a weekly basis, then we could make it official. If not, then that would be it.

Finally convinced, I accepted their invitation. Worst case scenario, I tried something new and got $600 for my troubles. Best case, I'd have a steady stream of income that required very little time on my end.

Since the Alodia parents were keen on working around my schedule, I got to choose our potential tutoring day and time. Weekdays would be stressful for me on top of classes, and rush hour would make the commute across the city awful. Ultimately, I settled on Saturday morning. I felt a little bad about making a high school girl start her weekend like that, but taking the job itself was already a huge sacrifice for me. She would just have to deal with it.

When Saturday came around, I was ready. Her parents had sent me a list of classes Annabelle should prepare for, and I filled my backpack with books and notes from the previous year. If I was going to be a TA, perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. It would give me time to brush up on everything.

Coffee in hand, I made my way to the student parking lot. Just a twenty minute drive, and I'd be meeting Annabelle for the first time.

Part Two

Did this girl live in a mansion??

I grew up in a small house in the suburbs, so I wasn't sure where the line was between 'big house' and 'mansion.' But for all intents and purposes, that's what it felt like when approaching the Alodia's property. Aside from the huge white house being impressive, the front yard and surrounding greenery were expansive and well maintained, and I found myself driving up one of those long, semi-circle driveways that I had only ever seen in movies.

If Annabelle's parents hadn't explained how they wanted another girl, and one closer to her age, I would have been more surprised when approaching the house. Why not just hire an army of tutors for the girl? They could probably afford one professional from every field if they wanted to. Instead, they chose me. And, while it was flattering, it was also incredibly intimidating.

I had barely stepped out of my car when I heard someone call out to me. "Ms. Moore?"

"Yes, that's me," I said. Turning towards the voice, I saw a girl who looked to be around my age standing just outside the front door. "Are you Annabelle?" The moment the question escaped my lips, I realized how wrong I was. The girl was dressed in black and white, appearing more like a maid than what any normal teenage girl would dress like. Even a wealthy one.

"No, ma'am," she said, "I'm Trixie. I apologize for the inconvenience, but can you please pull around to the back? Employees are supposed to use the side door."

Oh.

So, one of those households. It wasn't quite a 'servant door,' but it had a similar vibe. Whatever flattery I felt just a few moments ago waned as I realized that my first visit here didn't warrant 'guest' status. I was getting paid to be here; therefore I was an employee. It wasn't necessarily insulting, as this was a completely different world than I had ever experienced, but I was definitely taken aback.

"Umm, sure," I replied, "Should I just let myself in?" None of these details were included in the latest message from Annabelle's mother. If I was relegated to the side door, was I allowed to roam the unfamiliar house until I found the girl? Or was I to be escorted? So many questions.

Thankfully, Trixie was familiar with the routine. "I'll meet you down there," she said, "And I'll inform Ms. Annabelle that you're here."

After getting the simple directions from the girl, and thanking her, I got back in my car. It was simple enough to find the side road that led to the back of the property. I parked next to the rest of the cars that were hidden behind a clever facade that obscured my vision of the house until I walked around the thick bushes and towards the side door. While I had never experienced such a lavish lifestyle, nor had any friends that were this wealthy, it was pretty easy to connect the dots. Less impressive cars were hidden away so guests socializing on the back deck didn't have to deal with the eyesore.

But who was I to judge? Trixie and I were probably here for very similar reasons--Money that was impressive to us, but pennies to the Alodia's. If I was being paid this much to tutor, I imagine she was here because it was more lucrative than some hotel or waitress position.

I didn't have to knock. As I neared the small side door, Trixie propped it open for me. "Shoes off, please," she said, "Then you can follow me."

It didn't escape my attention that the young maid, assuming that was her role, was wearing shoes herself. Maybe she was wearing indoor-only shoes, as her black flats were spotless. I was wearing flats too, as I had somewhat dressed up for my first tutoring session. If I was being paid this much, the least I could do is look professional. My current footwear was a lot more clean than my sneakers, for example, but I guess I had still just worn the flats outside.

I did what Trixie said, awkwardly balancing with my backpack over just one shoulder, and carefully stepped one at a time out of my flats.

The cool tile on my feet made me feel a little bit self conscious, as my ensemble was now missing something. It's not like I hadn't done study sessions barefoot around friends before, but this was different in so many ways. It was a new job, a first impression, and a girl who had probably grown up with the ability to snap her fingers and have anything she wanted. Part of me wished I had worn a gala-worthy dress instead of a simple skirt and blouse. That ship had long sailed, however, and I couldn't help but be curious what rich girls wore on Saturday. Would she be dressed down, or look absolutely perfect?

I wouldn't have to wonder for too long. Trixie led me down the side hallway, where I spotted a laundry room and a mini kitchen along the way. For staff to work invisibly while the Alodia family and guests were going about their business? The door at the end of the hall opened into a more impressive kitchen, and it was only when I stepped onto the marble in yet another long hallway that another thought crossed my mind.

Was I supposed to address my student as 'Ms. Annabelle?'

That would be beyond weird. Especially since I'd be sitting and teaching her for a full ninety minutes, while Trixie probably came and went with much shorter interactions. I guess some private school teachers did that in their classes, but it's like nothing I had personally experienced in high school or university so far.

I was about to ask the girl guiding me, but it was too late.

"Ms. Annabelle?" Trixie said, a few paces ahead of me as she turned a corner, "Your personal teacher is here."

Red hair.

That's the first thing that drew my eye, especially amidst all the neutral colors that made up the spacious living room. She was wearing a black skirt and an emerald satin top; the classy outfit immediately answered my recent question. Rich teenagers don't dress down, not even on a Saturday.

With just one look, I could see that Annabelle Alodia was the kind of girl that made pretty much every other girl jealous. Myself included. She was tall, but not too tall. Slender, with curves that gave her a perfect hourglass figure. Perfect skin, perfect hair; perfect everything, and an outfit to accentuate those features. It was difficult to believe that she was only eighteen years old, as her posture alone would have been enough to make me believe otherwise if I hadn't known who I was there to see.

For the most part, I had only been with guys, save for one or two drunken girl kisses over my first few years of university. Annabelle was the first girl, however, to make me consider a more open-minded sexuality on the spot. She was drop dead gorgeous, which made me feel guilty, confused, and a ton of other emotions as I remembered that she was still in high school. Eighteen, sure. But still a teenager, a daughter of my employers; the last girl I should ever be interested in. And yet, she caught my attention in seconds.

"You must be Meredith."

No uptick in her voice, no questioning tone that so many younger girls tended to use when they spoke. Hell, how people in university still tended to talk sometimes. I was nervous enough just from the pressure of a first tutoring session, and off balance from the servant-like way Trixie had me enter the impressive house. The last thing I expected was for Annabelle herself to fluster me even more. And she hadn't even done anything.

"Umm, yes," I said. Feeling a blush coming on, I tried my very best to will it away before totally screwing up this first impression, "Meredith Moore. It's nice to meet you, Annabelle. Or is it 'Ms. Annabelle?'" I asked, glancing towards Trixie for a moment. Does being an employee mean all of the blonde maid's rules apply to me as well?

To my relief, the red haired girl spoke up first and let me off the hook. "'Annabelle' is fine," she said, "Come on in; get settled. Trixie, bring us some refreshments. Have you asked our guest what she would like?"

"No, Ms. Annabelle. I'm sorry," Trixie said, then turned to me, "May I offer you a drink, Ms. Moore?"

"Anything at all," Annabelle added.

I didn't even know what to say. I'm sure Annabelle meant it, but I already had a thermos of coffee with me. This wasn't like being a guest at some friend's apartment, however, so I still felt compelled to ask for something. "Ice water?" I asked. Normally I wasn't the type to specify something like that, but I felt self conscious enough to act like my tastes were more picky than usual.

"Yes, Ms. Moore."

With a nod, Trixie walked back down the hallway from which we just came. For a moment, I wondered why she didn't ask Annabelle what she wanted as well. Then it dawned on me that a Saturday morning routine was probably already established for the girl.

I had fantasized about being rich before, but I don't know if I would be interested in this level of wealth. Taking care of myself was perfectly manageable without someone to get my drinks, for example. It was also strange seeing a girl like Trixie in a subservient role like this. Perhaps I was biased from seeing older women as maids in shows and movies. It was probably what I thought earlier; that Trixie was doing it for the paycheck, rather than actually being interested in a career like that.

A moment of silence lingered as Annabelle and I were left alone. Trying my best to slip back into tutor mode after all the curveballs of the morning, I spoke up. "Well, shall we get started?" I asked. Noting the lack of notebooks or pretty much anything but furniture in the room, I added, "Where do you like to study?"

"We can go to my room," Annabelle said, "Come, Meredith."

She strode right past me, and I was definitely shorter than her once she closed the distance and I could see for sure. Not by much, but it made the difference when I already felt somewhat small in the huge house. I had no idea how to handle her straightforward and mildly patronizing order. It sounded like the way you'd address a dog, but everything Annabelle said so far had a proper and entitled edge to it. Maybe that was just how she spoke.

Thankfully, she calmed my swirling thoughts right then and there. "Relax, Mere," she giggled. Turning to me with a friendly smile, "I'm not actually like that. But it was worth it. Your face was priceless!"

Oh. She was... kidding? About which part? "Oh, umm," I began, internally cursing about the filler word I normally never used. But here, it had already happened a few times.

"I'm just a normal girl; just like you," she said, "And don't mind Trixie. She's just following the rules."

"Good to know," I replied, still feeling fairly awkward about pretty much everything I said. Annabelle had just been joking, apparently, but this new dynamic was just as confusing. Maybe I wasn't cut out for tutoring after all.

"I know, I know," Annabelle said. She gestured to the room behind me. "It's a fucking mansion or whatever. If it helps, we can just go to a coffee shop or something."

Hmm, maybe she was a normal girl after all. "No, it's fine," I said. Faking a small smile of my own, I decided as the tutor that staying here was better. Maybe a coffee shop would make me feel more comfortable, but the commute would waste time that I was being severely overpaid for. "We can just study in your room. I don't mind."

"Suit yourself," she said. With one last glance towards me before turning to lead the way, Annabelle repeated her earlier phrase. "Come, Meredith."