Looking nervously at the house, Jessica was in two minds of whether or not to knock. She knew that, if she did, then that one knock would lead to her fortune where she'd essentially be set for life. If she walked away, she'd have to return to her job. Her boring, lacklustre, incredibly unchallenging job, but she wouldn't have a year's worth of uncertainty. It was very much a choice of an unknown heaven or the familiar hell.
As she considered her plans, she looked down at the suitcase beside her. She had splashed out on a taxi from the train station rather than catching the bus, as, after all, why not? If she followed through with her plans, then in a year, she'd have earned half a million pounds.
All she had to do was devote herself to a stranger for a year. Mind. Soul. And Body. That was the part that worried her the most.
She was hardly a virgin. She always enjoyed sex, even if the actual relationships seemed to fizzle out sooner than she liked, but she didn't consider herself a slut either, as she wasn't out looking to fuck a new guy every week, but in her contact about the agreement she'd agreed to anything and everything. What if the bloke was a sex trafficker who'd share her body out for favours? Or he planned to knock her out and sell her on the black market?
These thoughts had dwindled somewhat when half the fee had landed in her bank account last week, and she'd realised that, maybe, this was actually real? It was just, standing outside the fella's home, those fears had returned.
After all, she was the idiot who'd googled 'half a million in a year'. She'd been the idiot who'd clicked the link to a website which specialised in exactly what she was doing, and she was the idiot who'd made a profile and then had to choose out of three guys who'd wanted her for a year, to do with what they wanted.
One had clearly been a scam with a placeholder picture and bad English. The second had at least been honest in saying it was a kink thing, that she would be dominated in an S&M heavy lifestyle, but the third, the third had been interesting.
Paul was an IT Consultant. At thirty-two he owned his own home, had no kids, had never been married and was a model train enthusiast. He had trouble communicating with people and had never been able to make a long-term relationship work. A portion of what he actually wanted was someone to teach him how to live with another person. He'd admitted that there would be a sexual side to things, but Jessica would also be there to help him. She'd considered that the description was essentially a support animal that he could fuck.
At Jess' insistence, they'd already met up once at a bar in her hometown. He'd been sweet, honest and, while it was clear he was very intelligent his social skills were shocking, with no eye contact and constant mumbling. He'd worn a large knitted jumper and a pair of faded jeans, as well as a pair of black glasses. He was fairly tall and thin, yet she'd been unable to tell much about his physique due to his clothes.
In return she'd tried to be polite, kind and understanding, or at least, that's what she'd aimed for. She'd worn a grey cardigan over a black dress she'd had for some years, so he'd also been unable to tell that underneath she wasn't packing a huge amount. About five foot five, she had a small tummy from not being arsed to exercise, a pair of C breasts that had started to hang slightly and, as an ex had loved to point out, thick thighs. She'd had compliments about her arse from lovers, but she'd not believed a word, assuming they'd just wanted to get their end away. Who'd love something that big?
All in all, she knew she was fine, hardly a stinker but hardly prime marriage material. With her thirtieth birthday thirteen months ago, she'd decided she needed to do something about it, but rather than start a diet and go to the gym instead she'd drunk wine and gone on the internet.
Deciding she had to do it for the sake of her own sanity, Jessica headed up the path through the slightly overgrown but otherwise very pleasant garden and pressed the doorbell. Approximately five seconds later Paul, wearing a similar jumper to their date, appeared looking nervous.
"Hello," he greeted her politely, albeit rather stiffly, "it is nice to see you again, Jessica."
"You too Paul," she responded more warmly, a slight smile on her face in comparison to the rigor mortis grimace on his, "I'm sorry that I'm a little bit early, I just didn't want to be late."
"I understand," he continued in his robotic manner, "I also do not like to be late. I had a doctor's appointment for ten am once, arrived at nine and I still didn't see the doctor until eleven."
Continuing to smile despite his odd little story, Jessica knew that some people liked to explain their experiences through stories relating to others, so whereas she would have just replied, 'Don't worry about it' and moved on, his response wasn't anything abnormal. Seeing that Paul wasn't inviting her in, she felt bold as she walked in regardless.
"Is there anywhere for me to put my bag?" Standing in a spacious, well-lit hallway, she felt relieved it all looked clean. A staircase headed up on the left but another went down on the right. A tinge of fear made her wonder if it was a sex dungeon.
"I have made you a room," he spoke stiffly, "the second door upstairs on the left. I hope it is acceptable, I have had to move my trains to make room."
"Well thank you, Paul." Leading him seemed to work rather than leaving him to make the leap himself, a grin crossing his features. "Now, I assume you want to go through some ground rules? Simple house rules as well as your expectations for me? Is there a contract to sign?"
Going bright red and looking as if he'd been trying to avoid this, Paul ushered her into his kitchen, a clean and open-plan area that appeared modern and, if she was any judge, barely used.
"Okay, well, please, sit." Hesitant and uncertain, he began fiddling with a tablet and, clearing his throat appeared more certain as he read something from a screen. "So, house rules. No shoes anywhere but the hall and kitchen, due to the tiles," he explained, "please keep everything neat and tidy, pick up after yourself. Dirty plates go in the dishwasher, wet clothes can go straight into the tumble dryer..."
"That sounds great Paul," Jessica interrupted as politely as possible, "and I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to learn, as I assumed I would be doing your cleaning and washing."
"Ah, right..." Going red, Paul moved further down his list. "Basic domestic duties, cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, yes, it was suggested on the website that you could do these things. If you, you know," going a deeper shade of beetroot, Paul looked uncertain, "if that's okay."
Leaning forward Jessica gently stroked one of his arms, a sign of comfort.
"Of course it is Paul. Do you have any preferred times for meals?"
The next ten minutes Paul spent instructing Jessica about his meal preferences, the times, how he liked his clothes folded and other domestic minutiae. Any questions subtly hinting at what else may be involved in her duties were ignored, so getting impatient she decided to ask him straight.
"I think I've got everything about the house Paul, thank you, but what about you?"
"What about me?"
"Well, what do you want? You've essentially bought me for a year. What would you like to do with me?"
As his mouth gaped open, she considered it was like looking at a goldfish. Quite a cute goldfish though.
"I get that I'm to help you with social cues, to spend time outside with you, to help improve your confidence, but how would you like me to do that here?"
Abruptly standing Paul moved to the fridge and took out a coke, still not answering, he appeared to be having a panic attack.
"Would you like me to make suggestions?"
Shaking his head, Paul pointed at the tablet on the table where he'd been sitting. As it was still on, turning it around Jessica read through it, top to bottom. As she'd expected the majority of it was the rules he'd just run through, but the last few paragraphs were certainly more interesting.
"Some of these things are struck through, are they things you decided against?" A nod. "There's some highlighted, these are the things you would like?" Another nod, now with almost imperceptible sweating. "That's fine, I assumed some of these things," she assured him, "but these other things, no line, no highlight, are these maybes?"
