A Strange Arrangement Ch 01

Due to the nature of the narrative, it's a slow build to the sex in this first chapter.

*****

I was down to my last $30. It wasn't easy being a girl on your own with no special training or skills. I thought that I could take a year or two after finishing college to figure out my direction in life. I wanted to "find myself," though I would never describe it in such cliché terms. But before I could find

myself

I had to find a

job

. A degree in Art History, while enjoyable at the time, was not getting me in any doors.

I had decided early on to move far enough away from my parents to have that safety net out of the picture. I may even have burned some bridges in that regard, but no need to visit that story right now. In any case, it was sink or swim, and I was so sure I was ready to swim. But I was sinking...and gasping. Part-time waitressing wasn't paying the bills, and full-time work just wasn't out there right now. I had cut my expenses as much as possible, and that was probably one really good thing about this experience. A lot of things that had once seemed like necessities to me were now exposed as the luxuries they really are. Manicures? Cable TV? Eating out? All a part of a past life...and hopefully a future one, too. But for now they could wait, and I really was glad for that lesson.

It was while I was writing that last rent check- the one I wasn't 100% sure would clear- that I seriously considered going back to The Creep.

*******

I had responded to an ad online- something about offering room and board in exchange for "household duties." It sounded a bit like au pair work to me- clean and cook, maybe some nanny work, and your rent is free. When I found out that "and board" meant food was included, the deal seemed even sweeter. So I went to the house.

It was a small townhouse on the outskirts of the city- still within the reach of public transportation, so I might even be able to ditch the car for a while. Things seemed messy, but not slovenly. The guy wasn't a slob, but he wasn't keeping up with things. My first impressions of him were good- he was nice enough, not pervy or obnoxious, and he was reasonably attractive, probably in his early thirties. I noticed the wedding ring but didn't mention it at first. No sign of kids, so no nannying (thank God).

While he was polite and mature, he wasn't overly friendly. He wasn't rude, he just seemed distant. Sad. Tired. I wasn't expecting to be friends with him, but I also wasn't worried about living in the same space, especially if his wife was around.

After about 5 minutes of formalities- where was I from, where did I work, etc.- he shifted in his seat a bit and said, "Before we get any further, we should probably discuss the details of the arrangement I'm proposing." At this point I was already inclined to accept it- free rent and food would really help me out, especially since I could continue working part-time to get back on my feet. Even if it was only a temporary arrangement, it would be a good transitional solution.

He went on. "I'm offering a room of your own and full use of the house, other than my own room. I'll buy groceries to cover our meals."

"That sounds great- it's even more than I expected for what you're asking," I said, hopefully.

"Well, you haven't heard yet what I'm asking," he said, becoming visibly uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to continue, but I jumped in.

"Your ad said 'household duties.' I'm assuming that means cleaning, cooking, laundry...Is it just the two of you?" I looked down at his ring.

He seemed startled, "Two?" Then looking at his ring and turning it nervously he said, "No, it..it's just me. My wife...doesn't live here."

"Is she..."

"She's not in the picture," he said quickly. "And please...I..." he took a deep breath, calmed a bit, and said, "I'd rather not talk about that right now."

"OK," I said softly. Meanwhile my mind was trying to run through the possibilities: Dead? Separated? Crazy and locked in a room upstairs? Was this a secretly-kept second home?

"Sex."

Well that sure drew my mind back into the conversation. "Excuse me,

what

did you say?"

"I said sex- that...that's the catch. Household duties include sexual relations...with me...on a regular basis." He was serious. He was also refusing to make eye contact- staring off into the distance, probably not needing to look at me to know my response.

I wanted to slap him, but I was afraid what might happen if I did. I suddenly felt very, very vulnerable- by myself, in his house, with his...sick proposal hanging out. And no one even knew where I was. I opened my mouth to reply, but words failed me. Mouth still open, I shook my head in disbelief, stood up, and walked out the door in a daze.

*******

That was over 6 months ago. I never called back, and he never contacted me. I chalked up to, "it takes all kinds of weirdos to make a city." I didn't think much about it and expected that some day it would be just a funny story I told at parties, the one about The Creep who wanted me to be his live-in whore.

But here I was, six months later, broke and needing a place to live. Now the idea of accepting his offer seemed a little less outrageous.

After I had sent that doomed rent check, I took my last $30 and went to the store. I said "screw it" to my meticulous budgeting and bought enough alcohol to build up the courage to call The Creep back. At the same time, I was trying to talk myself out of it, or at least convince myself that it wouldn't actually happen.

He had probably already found someone. Maybe he realized that he just wanted a whore to do housework and had found exactly that- a professional prostitute who could put together a decent meal. Most likely, he'd been arrested when some other girl reported his "terms" to the police. Or maybe he had been arrested for assault when some potential "houseworker" didn't respond well to his proposal.

Convinced that it would be a wasted call, I dialed the number (which I had naively saved back when I thought it was a much simpler arrangement). He answered quickly.

"Hello? Hello, who is this?" He sounded worried. Oops, I hadn't even noticed that it was after 2 a.m. Oh, well.

"I'll take your stupid room."

He sighed. "You're drunk and I'm at work. Whoever you are, call me back when you're sober, if you still want to." Then he hung up on me. That

bastard

had hung up on

me

.

Of all the...never mind. I put the phone down and went to sleep.

*******

The next afternoon I made the painful realization that I had only delayed my problems, not solved them. I still had to call The Creep, but now I was completely broke, had a headache, and had drunk-called a pervert. I would say I had made a fool of myself, but that would only be true if I had any respect for the guy.

I had a shift that afternoon- the tips weren't bad, but they were a sore reminder that even a string of good days like this wouldn't be enough to keep me afloat. My only remaining expenses were rent, food, and gas. I couldn't cut back any more. That evening, I picked up the phone again. I closed by eyes while it rang.

"Hello?"

"I'd like to see if your room is still available."

"Are you sober this time?" There was no humor in his voice.

"Yes."

"Have we met before?" All business.

"Yes."

"And so you know...what the offer entails?"

"Yes, or at least the basics. I think I need to hear more about the details."

"OK. I'll be home all evening, or tomorrow from 4 to 6."

"I'd prefer not to meet at your place. Could we meet somewhere...semi-public? Tomorrow at 4?" ('Just in case you are a serial killer,' I thought).

"That's fine. Makes sense- you're probably at least a little freaked out. There's a park a block north of my house. It's not too big. Find a bench, I'll come there straight from work."

"OK. Do you remember what I look like?"

"Only 4 girls heard the terms, and I can rule two of them out..."

Oh shit. What happened to the other two? "Um..."

"...by your voice and your accent...or lack of accent."

"Oh."

"So I'll probably find you easily enough."

"Alright. See you tomorrow," ("Creep," I mentally added).

*******

My morning shift sucked. Breakfast crowds are usually lousy tippers. Old people who don't know the value of a dollar, people too buried in their paper to notice that you are serving them, moms having brunch together when neither of them can really afford it, hungover college kids...

Besides that, my mind was completely off track. I kept wondering what the details were. And could I really bring myself to do this?

*******

I dropped off a few more applications in the afternoon. Job-hunting was just something I did on auto-pilot now. I didn't expect anything to happen, but I had to keep trying, especially if I was getting so desperate that I was considering shacking up with The Creep.

*******

I sat on the bench at exactly 4. My smart phone with its expensive data plan was a luxury I had given up a few months ago. So I looked around, watched people passing by, and waited. I wondered how many of these people had some sad drama going on behind their smiles, behind their earphones, behind their appearances and distractions.

I was lost in thought when someone sat down next to me. "Hey." He startled me a bit, but when I looked at him, his looks were a bit disarming. I think memory had turned him into a monster- red-eyed, sharp-toothed, unkempt and shady. But the reality was different.

He had on overalls from a body shop, and if the embroidered name tag was to believed, his name was Andrew. Funny I had never gotten his name before. His clothes were dirty from work, but he looked clean enough. If I could pick out a different outfit for him, he might even pass for handsome.

"Hi." That was the best I could do under the circumstances.

"Sooo...what was your name again?"

"Gina." Good, I told myself, don't give him your last name. He's still creepy.

"You want the details?"

"Yes, the details. I remember you said household duties included sex. I imagine there is more to that. I'm guessing you aren't talking about a once-a-month rent 'payment.'"

"Yeah. I don't remember what exactly I told you. It was, what, 3 or 4 months ago?"

"Six months," I replied tersely, trying not to be offended that it was so forgettable for him.

"OK. The arrangement is sex on a regular basis. For me that means several times a week- at least 3, but sometimes more, and never more than two days without. And I'm not asking for anything weird or kinky. Just the two of us, naked, having sex. Oral counts, but not if it's every time. And you'd have to be an active, willing participant. I'm not into rape or tying you up or anything."

He kept looking around and pausing as people walked by. I can't imagine what people would think if they heard snippets of

this

conversation.

"You don't have to act like you love it, but don't act like you hate it either. You'd have to be on the pill or something, and if you tell me you're clean, I'll trust you. I can show you my medical record- I'm clean. No condoms with me. And since that would be the arrangement, if you have any other relationships involving sex, you'd have to use condoms."

Then he stopped short and looked at me a little fearfully, "You're not recording this or anything, are you? You're not..."

I rolled my eyes, "No, and the idea hadn't occurred to me, though I dare say it wouldn't be a bad idea." Then that got me thinking. "You wouldn't be filming anything in the house, would you?"

He wrinkled his brow in confusion, as if he didn't understand what I was saying. Then it seemed he figured it out, straightened up suddenly and answered with a mildly shocked, "O God, no! Hell no! I'm not doing anything weird or pervy here, I'm just talking about simple, regular sex between two people."

"Well, the conditions you're suggesting are pervy in the big picture, I'm just trying to see what your game is."

"No game. I just have normal needs- in the house and in the bedroom- and I'm trying to find someone whose financial needs

I

can meet in exchange."

"How is this not just prostitution?"

He sighed and looked at me in the eyes for a moment, I think for the first time. "I don't really know. Maybe it's that it occurs in the context of a longer-term relationship. Maybe all...um...y'know, forget it. Are you seriously considering this, or are you just wanting to ask questions?" He wasn't being caustic or annoyed. He just seemed tired.

"I'm seriously considering it, but it's a lot to take in. Especially the no condoms idea. Let's say I'm serious enough that you should get your medical check ready. I'll call you later this week with my decision."

He seemed surprised by that. "OK. You have my number. Thanks for not freaking out, Gina. I've got to go change for work."

"Work?"

"Two jobs. The next one starts at 6," he said, walking away.

I sat on the bench and thought...and thought...and thought. While his whole idea seemed a little weird, he didn't seem like a creepy perv, except for having the idea of a housekeeper who puts out. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who would hit up the dating scene, and if he was working two jobs, he was probably too busy to date anyway. So it made a little more sense why he'd want someone around just for sex and housework. But I still didn't like not knowing what was up with the wife.

I pulled out a piece of scrap paper and started jotting down notes. It was a bit of a pro-con list.

No condoms? Pill? Wife? Future boyfriends? FREE RENT! FREE FOOD! It's just sex. Can leave any time. He's not ugly. He's gone a lot. Farther to travel to work.

It was interesting to realize that I wasn't too concerned about the idea of exchanging sex for rent. It was weird, sure, but I wondered if I've often done that. Not for rent, of course, but for affection, for security, for status. When have I ever had sex without hoping to gain something by it? In this case, I was just gaining something much more tangible. And the terms were formalized. I had tried to trade sex for love before, but since we hadn't agreed on terms, he got sex and I got nothing. This time, I was getting what I wanted, right?

*******

That was Tuesday. I called him on Thursday afternoon. I had a counter-offer. "So, here are my conditions: You pay for my birth control. You pay for gas to get me to work. You don't sleep with anyone else while I'm living with you. And you tell me what's up with your wife."

The background noise of the body shop was a bit strong. "

What? Hang on! Let me step outside!"

It got a lot quieter. "OK, what were you saying?" I repeated my terms. He was quiet for a minute.

"I'll cover the pills. I'll fill up your tank twice a month and cover all your car maintenance. There won't be anyone else. But the story of my wife is mine to tell in my own time."

That was better than I thought, but I still wanted to press the last issue. "Nuh-uh. If there's a chance this is going to affect me, I should..."

"There's not," he cut me off. "She's not in the picture. She's not going to come storming into the apartment looking for you or anything like that. And I'm not living some secret, double life. You've been to my home, that's all there is to it. I work, I come home, it's simple. There's no one else, there's nothing else."

Apparently I had hit a nerve. But I could live with that arrangement for now. And there was nothing committing me to stay- if it didn't work out, I could leave and see it as just a failed 'relationship.'

"OK. I'll do it. My lease is up in two weeks, I'll move in next Saturday."

"OK. Do you need help moving?" I hadn't expected that.

"Umm, no, I've got it covered." Why did I say that? Now I'd have to find someone to help!

"I'm off next Saturday morning and afternoon. Get here before 6, OK?"

"No problem. I'll see you then." I hung up.

I felt sick.

*******

The room was pink. Like, baby girl pink. The furniture was probably Ikea bargain bin- sparse, simple. There were no decorations, not even a cheesy framed painting. But there was a nice window that got some good sun in the afternoon. It really brightened up the place. The room was big enough to fit my few bags and one piece of furniture (oh, how I love my reclining chair!), but I was glad that I had access to the whole house, otherwise I would have been a bit cramped in that one room.

I had showed up early in the afternoon and it didn't take me long to unpack my stuff. Steve, a cook from the kitchen at my restaurant, used his pick-up truck to move my chair, and Andrew helped him get it up to my second-floor room. I offered to buy Steve a 6-pack for his trouble, but he brushed it off and said I could get him a drink another time.

I didn't tell Steve (or anyone, for that matter) about the conditions of my new living situation, I just introduced Andrew as "my roommate/landlord." Once Steve had left, Andrew came to my door and said, "Go ahead and take today to settle in, I'll order something for dinner. You can start tomorrow."

"OK." Gee, thanks. I can 'start' tomorrow. What a nice euphemism for "I'll fuck you tomorrow."

When the pizza arrived, Andrew knocked on my door and said, "There's pizza and drinks in the kitchen if you want."

I cracked the door and snapped, "What, you're not going to require me to eat with you, too?"

He shrugged and answered, "The company would be nice, but I'm not going to make you do anything."

I knew I was being a bit bitchy, but I still wanted him to feel like a sleazebag for even thinking of this arrangement. Never mind that I wasn't forced into it. I just wanted to make sure I took advantage of the moral high ground.

I was actually very hungry. My funds had run out on Thursday, and I was scraping by on extra food I had slipped into my pockets from customers who ordered way more than they intended to eat. But my pride kept me in my room until a little before 6pm. Andrew came up the stairs and said through the door, "I'm leaving for work. Your key is on the kitchen table. I'll be back around 3. I'll probably sleep late tomorrow, but wake me if you need anything."

Not likely.

Once I heard the door shut, I walked straight to the kitchen, pocketed the key, and devoured three slices of pizza and a Coke before I had time to even look around. There were dirty dishes in the sink, old leftovers in the fridge, and a pile of dirty clothes outside the door of what I presumed was the laundry room. There was also a small TV and DVD player in front of the couch. I hadn't seen a movie in

months

! I joyfully leaped over the back of the couch and into a seat, reached over to grab the remotes, and started whatever movie was in the DVD player.

I expected either porn or an action movie, but what I got was an older comedy that I hadn't seen before. Nothing great, but at the time it was like the pizza- its goodness was magnified by the time spent without.

I wanted to explore the house and see what I could learn about this guy, but a full stomach and comfortable lodgings trumped that plan. I finished the movie and went to bed, forgetting, for a while, that there was still a price to pay for my relative luxury.

*******

I woke up early, probably because I had fallen asleep so early. I found breakfast in the kitchen (Andrew had brought back donuts- boy, was I eating healthy here!), got dressed in some work clothes, and then set about cleaning. It only took a few hours to get the basics done- laundry and dishes out of sight, etc. Deeper cleaning would have to wait. I had an afternoon and evening shift at the restaurant.