The Understudy

This is the second installment in the commissioned story of Melody; I'm so happy to get to tell it! Thanks again to the commissioner and to the rest of my fans who follow along!

I love answering questions and responding to comments down below, so be sure to vote and tell me what you thought!

As always, Enjoy:

............

I collapse face-first onto my bed in the maid's quarters, exhausted. The last several hours have been such a strain on me. Mentally and physically, I am completely drained.

Gerald is looking at me from the doorway. I'm probably flashing my ass directly in his face, as the hem of this ridiculous maid's outfit rides up, but I'm almost too tired to care. Looking back at him, his face is blank, as if completely disinterested. Yeah, I'm positive he's gay. I've never been looked at this disinterestedly by any straight guy before... even ignoring how provocatively I'm currently dressed.

It must be around 6 o'clock, maybe as late as 7, but I'm struggling to keep my eyes open. After showing me this room earlier, for the first time, Gerald led me right back to the entrance hall, where I cleaned the rest of the floor. It took forever, and all the muscles in my body are so sore. I had to scrub every single inch of that room on my hands and knees in front of...

A terrifying thought careens into my mind, and I sit up rapidly, turning to Gerald. Concern is spread across my face, but he seems completely unfazed. "Gerald! What is Marcus going to do with that footage?!"

He raises an eyebrow. "Footage? What footage?"

I jump to my feet, ignoring the protests of my exhausted body, and I march over to him, putting a finger in his face.

"You know

damn

well what footage! The video of me suc..." I can't bring myself to finish the sentence. "Me... doing stuff... with Marcus! Where is it?!"

His expression looks bored and perhaps a little annoyed. "There is no footage, Ms. Melody."

"But...!"

"That was a traditional camera. It only takes photos. You saw the flash yourself."

"I thought it was a camera/camcorder combo thingy...?"

There is a sense of bored superiority in Gerald's face. "A combo... thingy? No, my dear. It was a normal, film-based camera. Mr Deluna wanted a few photographs of you for his personal collection. However, no footage of the 'stuff' that you've done exists."

I glare at the butler, my eyes narrowing with distrust. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

I can sense the tiniest thread of humor in his words as he speaks. "I have absolutely no reason to lie to you, Ms Melody. If the video existed, per the terms of your agreement, it would belong to Mr Deluna, and he could do with it as he chooses. He is, however, a skilled actor... it seems unlikely to me that he would ever want to film your escapades with an amateur camera set up. He has never shown any sort of interest in such nonsense, at least not to my knowledge. He was there for the entire experience, as were you. If he wants to see you..." he pauses for emphasis, a sneer in his tone, "'doing stuff' with him again, I'm sure he'll pay you a visit and have you perform your duties once more. I highly doubt he will ever bother with sex tapes or the like."

A second notion rises to the forefront of my mind, and my brow furrows. "Wait, you're telling me that the camera doesn't record video? So it wasn't even filming me scrubbing the floor? Why the fuck did I bother cleaning the whole room then?"

Gerald lets out a long, incredibly impatient sigh. "Because you are the

maid,

Ms Melody. What do you think a maid does all day?"

Suddenly, I feel a little embarrassed. Of course I know what maids do. I mean, who doesn't...? It's just - I thought this was going to be an acting job. A real job! Not this... servant work! And the sex stuff?

My thoughts are interrupted by an upbeat jingle. In my exhausted state, it's difficult to place the sound. "My phone...! You have it?!"

Gerald nods, staring at me with those same cold, disinterested eyes. He pulls it from his pocket and extends it out towards me. As I move to take it, he pulls it back slightly just out of my grasp. "You admitted to Mr Deluna that you only skimmed the contract you signed. I suggest that you reveal as little about the terms of your employment as possible. I will warn you just this once that if you say something which breaks the rules of the agreement, you will void your contract. Since you don't even know what the rules are, I suggest you keep your conversation brief and vague."

I snatch the phone from his hand. Looking down, I see the contact name. Oh fuck! It's my parents! Irrationally embarrassed, I glance around the room, looking for a place of privacy. Gerald is just inside the door, so I can't even shut him out.

I consider trying to hide anywhere within the room, but it's pointless. Normally, in a situation like this, I would simply ignore the call. I'm a grown woman, I don't have to answer the phone every time my parents call. And yet, some strange part of me feels the irrational need to speak to someone I know... just a familiar voice right now can shut out all this insanity that's been building since I got here.

I hold a finger to my lips, glaring at Mr Snooty-Butler with icy daggers, but he seems entirely unperturbed.

With nervous electricity rippling through my core, I accept the call.

"Hello...? Hello, Melody! Is that you? Are you there?"

A wave of relief washes over me as the voice of my mother reaches my ears. "Yeah, mom. I'm here. What, uh, what's going on?" I turn my back on Gerald, and step further into the room. It's a relatively plain bedroom, reasonably nice, but a far cry from the luxuries of the rest of the mansion. I plop myself back down on my bed.

"Your father and I have some excellent news, Melody! Can... hang on!"

My phone blips, and I look down.

*Accept Two-Way Video Call*

In my periphery I can see this skimpy maid's get-up and I swallow down a hitch of guilty paranoia. I can't let them see me like this. But it's fine... it's fine...! They can't see my outfit, as long as I don't turn on my camera. I swiftly decline the video chat, and I can hear the disappointment in my mother's tone as she responds.

"Melody...? It says you denied the video chat! What's going on?"

"Ummm... I'm at a job, Mom! I can't really talk."

"A job?" Her voice is full of apprehension and doubt, all at the same time. "What kind of job?"

I rack my mind, trying to think of a way to create a convincing lie. As an actress, I should be better at this, but I haven't really had time to get into character. "I'm playing... a role."

"A role...? Well what are you playing? Who are you working with? Is it anyone that we would have heard of? Up until now, you've only starred alongside D-list actors. Did you actually get a job with some big-name talent this time?"

I can feel my blood beginning to boil. Of course, this entire day has been a nightmare, and being insulted by my mother and reminded of my shortcomings doesn't help.

"Listen Mom, I can't... I can't really talk right now. I'm busy. You know... with the job."

"Well you need to let me tell you why I called!"

I let out a pent up sigh. "Go ahead, but hurry." From the corner of my eye I can see Gerald radiating disapproval. It is not as if his demeanor has obviously changed, more a slight stiffening that clearly communicates his displeasure. It's subtle yet so effective I wonder if it's something they teach in England at Butler School.

"Your father has spoken with the upper management, and they've agreed to let you start an apprenticeship at the factory! You'll be working right alongside your father! Wouldn't that be great?" Her voice is full of an ecstatic excitement that in no way matches the mundanity of the statement. Working at the factory? Like my father? An image fills my mind, of myself, wearing a set of dark blue coveralls, coated in sweat, with my beautiful face and hair dotted with grease, leaving the factory after a grueling 12 hour shift.

That can't be the life I accept! I have talent, damnit! Real talent! I can't let it go to waste working as a nameless grunt right along with all the other nobodies in Ohio! Just because my father is fine with laboring his life away in obscurity, doesn't mean I'll accept that fate.

"We've talked about this, Mom! I don't want to work with Dad at the fucking factory...!"

"Language, Melody..."

"Fuck the language! I have talent, Mom! I'm going to be... I

am

a skilled actress, and soon you're gonna see exactly what I have to offer the world!"

From across the room, I can hear the muffled words of my father. They are so patronizing, so dull; I can hear the displeasure and impatience in his voice. I can't make out all of his words, but I don't have to. I've heard his derision before.

"Don't say things like that, Harold!" My mother snaps.

Again, his words come through. They are mostly inaudible, but I understand his sentiment completely. "... factory... I've done... honest work... better than sucking cocks for a living in..."

My blood is boiling. My father has never had faith in my abilities! I hold the phone out in front of my face and shout into the receiver, "YOU TELL DAD THAT I'M NOT SUCKING-" My voice hitches, and I cannot continue. Because he's correct. He's probably offhandedly accused me of sleeping around for roles a dozen times, and every single time I've been able to scream back at him with righteous fury. And yet now... for the first time... he's right. He's 100% right.

I can feel tears of fury building at the edges of my eyes. For once in my life... for once in my fucking life... I can't dispute the accusation. I've never been like this before, but my previous actions flood into my mind. I struggle for words, but nothing comes to mind. It isn't just that I have a shameful job now, and cock-sucking is one of my new responsibilities. It's the fact that part of me... a slimy, weak-willed part... really enjoyed being used like that. That can't be true. It can't! It just

can't!

"I... I've-gotta-go-bye!" The jumble of words streams from my mouth, and I hang the phone up immediately. A rush of sobs escapes my lips, but I try to straighten my back and regain some of my dignity. Gerald is still watching me, of course, with his normal, disinterested expression, and somehow still manages to radiate dissatisfaction. How does he do that? I stare at him with a mixture of fury and hurt. I don't know how much of the conversation he heard, but I know that he has gleaned the gist.

I just want to see some compassion, some shared humanity in his eyes, but it isn't there. He's entirely made of stone. "You have a closet full of sleeping garments over there..." He points towards a single chest of drawers. "... and all of your maid's garments are in that closet over there. Through that door is your bathroom, along with toiletries, and feminine products that you will require. If there is anything else you need, there is an intercom by the door. One more thing: while I am a butler, I am not

your

butler. My role is to manage the house on Mr. Deluna's behest, and as such, maids report to me, not the other way around. Do you understand me, ma'am?"

I can feel my anger simmering, a low boil. "I understand." I mutter.

"Very good. There is a copy of your contract on the nightstand. You should read up on it before bed. Remember: you have your phone, but if you breach your contract with it, ignorance will not be an acceptable excuse. Goodnight."

He turns and walks away without another word, leaving me alone in the empty room with nothing but my disquieting thoughts. I need to put my mind to anything other than the hurricane of apprehension that is pounding my exhausted mind, so I step over to the chest of drawers and open it up.

I'm greeted by the sight of neatly folded rows of fabric. Hesitantly, I draw a garment from the drawer and examine it closely. It's a simple cropped tank top, although I can tell from the softness of the fabric that it is very high quality. Normally, I would be ecstatic to have a designer garment like this in my hands, but under the circumstances, part of me is apprehensive. All that is here is a variety of identical pieces in a myriad of colors... well that, and one drawer filled with panties.

The undergarments are all soft... almost heavenly... and they are undeniably sexy. Again, part of me is thrilled to have all of this delicate lingerie to call my own, but part of me knows exactly why they are here. These are my sleeping clothes, apparently. I wonder how long before I have to make an appearance in them.

I strip myself of my maid's getup, gather up a top and underwear, and step into the bathroom. It's a relatively simple setup, but a hell of a lot nicer than the one at my apartment. There is a towel already hanging up for me, and the shower has been polished to a pristine shine. As I close the door behind me, I notice to my chagrin that there is no lock on the door. At the realization, I swallow hard. There's nothing to stop someone from barging in on me during my shower. I need to get this done quickly.

I turn on the hot water and step inside. The warmth cascading across my bare form feels so amazing. I can feel it washing away all of today's events. I work to steady my breathing and center myself. What happened today was... unexpected, to say the least. It was bad... not entirely, but mostly. Marcus Deluna certainly isn't what I was expecting.

I mean, he's a man, and he has all the human desires I would expect. I want to call him a creep, to act like he's disgusting or something, but I can't bring myself to do it. There was something about his touch that was so... fuck. Intoxicating? I don't know, but it's the only thing that won't wash away with the rest of my emotions.

For the first time, I notice a series of soaps and conditioners which sit neatly on the shower's shelf. They are all in elegant, nondescript bottles, labeled only with their contents. I grab a bottle labeled "shampoo", squirt some onto my hand, and give it a sniff. As the sweet cream scent fills my nose, I remember the exact disparity between the haves and have-nots. Between Marcus and myself. This is just shampoo. It shouldn't be anything special, but it is. The delectable scent of this fucking soap dwarfs the finest hair products in the most expensive hair salons I've ever visited. And it's in the maid's quarters.

I want to get angry over this fact, but I calm myself. Eventually, I will have this. All of this. I will be the one in the mansion, bossing around my servants. When that time comes, I'll be more respectable than...

The face of Marcus, my boss... my master... it fills my mind as I stand under the water, lathering the soap into my long, red hair. As the soap begins to foam within my locks, my mind continues to focus on the rugged, handsome face of the man who now employs me. Employs? Hell. He basically

owns

me, from a certain point of view. Of course, I could always end the contract, just like he said... but that would mean going back to Ohio and... Ugh... I can't even bring myself to follow that line of thought to its completion.

As soon as my hair is clean, I throw my head backward. My rich, soaked hair flows rearward over my shoulders. The gesture always makes me feel like a mermaid bursting from the water in the movies. The movies...? I swallow hard. My desire to be on film is what has put me in this position. Now it looks like it will be at least five years before I'll even have a chance to try out for another audition. These oppressive thoughts continue to rain down upon me as I apply body wash to a loofa and glide the delicious smelling soap all over my body.

I can't get his darkly handsome face out of my mind. I brush my soapy fingers across the pink flesh of my areolas, and I am surprised to find my nipples are stiff. What...? Why is my body reacting like this? The memory of the previous encounter forces its way into my mind.

His eyes, bearing down on me, the heavy weight of his hands upon my head, the salty taste of his masculine liquid. I grit my teeth. It isn't right for me to be pondering all these notions. Ignoring proper etiquette, I allow my hands to slip down towards my womanhood. It only takes a single finger to determine that I am wet... and not from water.

I know that I shouldn't be doing this. What happened today was... well it wasn't something that should have happened, and it

certainly

isn't something I should be touching myself thinking about...

'

Not with your hands, little one. Use your mouth.'

In my head, these words run round and round, and I bite my lip. The gesture immediately makes me think of the way I bit his boxers to pull them down.

"Good job, my fierce little tiger. Tear it out of the way, to get what you want."

These words join the others parading around, flaunting themselves to my poor wounded psyche.

What I want

? I want to be an actress, but I also want... I suddenly realize that my finger is already massaging my clit. Oh no. I can't let this happen. The soothing, warm water washing over my naked body, combined with my own hand's gentle ministrations... It feels so good. I'm no stranger to self-stimulation, of course, but the devious thoughts flowing through my mind fill me with such shame. Embarrassment tinged with sickening arousal courses through my thoughts, and my delicate fingers penetrate deeper into my vulva.

I work to steady my breathing. I need this so damn much. My body is exhausted and sexually frustrated as well, and I can feel myself yearning for release. I spread my lower lips apart, stroking deeper as my salacious desires climb.

"Mmmm, oh Marc..." I bite off the name before I can finish it. The sight of his turgid masculinity dominates my thoughts, and I grip fiercely into my tits with my free hand. Silently, a portion of my mind wishes that he was here, but I cast these thoughts aside angrily.

I need to pleasure myself; I need release and relief, but I

don't

need to be thinking about Marcus right now. He isn't my boyfriend. The man doesn't want a relationship with me. He wants to use me! I know that he's just toying with me... holding all of my dreams hostage while dangling a carrot in front of my face-

'

But what a large, masculine carrot it is!'

The juvenile, perverted thought rises in my mind, and I hate myself for it. Fuck. I can't deny that the man is attractive, with plenty of alluring qualities, and well gifted in the physical department. Still, that doesn't excuse his actions.

I force all of these distracting ideas from my mind. I can feel a climax approaching, and my breath quickens. I try to picture myself with any man I've been attracted to in the past, but somehow Marcus' damn face keeps replacing theirs. It's infuriating and yet so stimulating.

I am trying to quiet my moans as the pleasure continues to climb. I don't want anyone to hear me or worst of all -

A terrifying thought crashes into my brain, and all of my sexual reverie is replaced with a crippling fear. My finger slips from within my sex, as my hand moves swiftly to cover my crotch. My other arm wraps around my body to seal away my breasts, and I begin searching the ceiling for anything out of the ordinary.

Could... could there be cameras in this shower? Fucking hell. The idea is crushing me at the moment, and I cannot hope to push it away. The ceiling looks practically nondescript. There is nothing out of the ordinary; the lights within the ceiling look perfectly ordinary and mundane, and yet a horrified voice within my mind tells me that I'm being watched at this very instant.