The Housekeeper, Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Right away, I realized that my plan might not be as simple as I expected.
The whole point of begrudgingly going along with the bullshit role I was trapped in, thanks to Hannah’s parents and my own inability to sort things out with their daughter when an audience was around, was so that I could ‘do my job’ and avoid the girls while trying to find myself something less humiliating to wear.
Surely not all the doors locked, right? I’m sure there had to be something around. I hadn’t tried the downstairs rooms yet, and I’d honestly prefer to wear one of Hannah’s dirty outfits in the laundry room than the way too small french maid dress. However, I couldn’t exactly retreat inside when the blonde eighteen year old just demanded that I clean things up around the pool. As her ‘housekeeper,’ it’s not like I could pick and choose which messes I wanted to clean up. The title had sounded fine when I thought it was just some posh term that implied I had some degree of authority, but I probably would have thought twice about it if I knew how old Hannah was before arriving on her doorstep.
Hannah and her friends all looked like bikini models, with perfect hair and perfect bodies as they lounged by the pool. I would have expected rich girls to have some class to go along with such pristine appearances, but perhaps they were used to being waited on hand and foot. Rather than simply placing their empty drink cans down on the numerous side tables, most of their trash was strewn about the side of the pool on the ground. That came with two separate problems. One, there wasn’t a recycling bin out here, and there were only so many cans I could hold at the same time. Two, the skirt I was wearing already threatened to expose me with every step I took while standing. How was I supposed to bend or squat to pick things up without showing off everything?
“Well, Jessie?” Hannah said. She vaguely gestured to the area surrounding her, “Hop to it. And what do you say?”
Swallowing my pride, and a good bit of anger and frustration as well, I repeated the demeaning phrase. “Yes, Hannah.”
Normally, squatting was the safer play. But not this time, when I was pretty sure the whole dress would ride up on both sides and leave literally nothing to the imagination. Choosing the lesser of two evils, I approached the first few cans I saw and bent over to retrieve them, purposely keeping my backside away from the nearby girls. I could feel the outdoor air on my lower cheeks, and immediately blushed at the thought of how I must look from behind. My proximity to the nearest girls also made me feel self conscious, in that my hair was wet from my shower and no towel, while pretty much all of Hannah’s friends were perfectly put together.
I managed to secure an armful of cans without mooning anybody, and suddenly had the hopeful thought that perhaps a lack of receptacle would work to my advantage. Taking a second to adjust the back of my skirt and praying it would cover me, I turned back towards the house. Drop off the empty cans, and then take advantage of the solitude and the empty house to hunt for my things instead of coming back out.
“Where are you going, Jessie?” Hannah asked, after I had barely taken a single step.
Feeling self conscious all over again as her voice cut through any other little side conversations and brought the attention back to me, I tried to glance over my shoulder without fully stopping. “To toss these,” I said, “I’ll be right back.”
“Taylor will go with you! She can get the door. Then come back right out, okay?”
Was I that transparent? My intentions weren’t supposed to be so obvious, especially since I had feigned obedience. Or maybe Hannah was just micromanaging me and it happened to screw with my idea. “Yes, Hannah,” I muttered. So much for getting a moment to myself.
With a different bikini clad escort every time, as the bossy blonde clearly enjoyed sending one babysitter after another to open the sliding glass door for me and linger so I couldn’t stray beyond the kitchen, I gradually cleaned up all the cans from the poolside. No one made another comment about my exposure, but there were plenty of whispers and giggles going on throughout the experience. With only one hand to cover most of the time, I could only imagine how often the girls caught a glimpse of me despite how carefully I tried to position my body and keep the too-short skirt down. There were just too many of them around, which made it impossible to find a modest angle for my body most of the time. Next, I was made to scoop all the leaves out of the pool, and then clean up a few more empty seltzers that the girls had finished by the time I finished that task.
“Come here, Jessie!” Hannah called out to me after my latest trip to the kitchen. I was already headed back her way anyway, though of course now it seemed like I was doing so because she summoned me. Once I was close to her chair, and trying not to blush as the group of girls all watched the interaction with interest and curiosity, she held out an unopened can. “Here. You look thirsty.”
“No, thanks,” I said. My hands were devoted to keeping my outfit in place now that I wasn’t stuck doing chores, though I had to resist wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead. Every other girl here got to lounge in a bikini, but I was the one moving about in a dress. The summer heat wasn’t my friend after nearly a half hour of work, though the constant stops inside kept me from fretting about burning like before. Regardless, I wasn’t about to drink on the job. I had enough working against me already.
“Come on, Jessica,” she smiled, “Live a little. Tell you what? Shotgun the whole thing, and you can go inside.”
It really was that easy. “Fine,” I said. Taking the can from her, I cracked it open without a second thought. Anything to let me go inside so Hannah could stop bossing me around. Besides, it was just one drink. I may have been small, but I wasn’t that much of a lightweight. Although the smile and the lilting way she said my full name didn’t exactly put me at ease. Was it really that difficult to stick with ‘Jess?’
“Good girl,” Hannah said, “Okay, you have thirty seconds. Starting . . . NOW.”
Wait, what? Even though the word ‘shotgun’ was involved, I didn’t expect her to put a timer on my chugging. With such a full audience, however, I immediately fell for the peer pressure. Lifting the can to my lips, I tilted it back and began drinking. I wasn’t the best at downing things quickly, and the coldness and the carbonation of the hard seltzer served to be a more daunting challenge than expected. Taking as big of gulps as I could manage, my eyes widened when one of the girls called out ‘Fifteen seconds!’ There was definitely more than half a can left, so I redoubled my efforts in order to avoid Hannah going back on her word or something if I failed the task I didn’t realize I had signed up for until it was too late.
Near the end, most of the girls joined in chanting, “FIVE . . . FOUR . . . THREE . . . TWO . . . “
Finishing off the last of it, I sharply exhaled as I removed the cool metal from my lips. Done. I felt a little bloated from both the bubbles and the speed at which I downed the drink, and there was also a hint of internal warmth from the alcohol making its way into my system. Unless I was imagining the latter.
My victory was short lived, however, as Hannah sat up and brought the attention back to herself. “Good job, Jessie. Okay, girls! Let’s go inside.”
Wait, what?
It didn’t take me long to sort out that Hannah technically never said I would be going inside alone, although her phrasing had hinted pretty strongly at it. As she and her friends started to get up and collect whatever drinks they had yet to finish, I spent a few seconds debating how to proceed. My whole plan had hinged on getting back into the house alone, but it’s not like I could complain. I was outnumbered, and any number of the girls around me could come to Hannah’s defense about what was said. Besides, it was the blonde’s house, and I wasn’t exactly in a position to tell her she couldn’t go inside.
So, I simply followed the group of girls, making a point to slightly lag behind. Anything to keep my backside from being revealed again as I held down the front to obscure my womanhood that was also on the precipice of exposure at pretty much all times. The price to pay for being the last one inside was that I was once again the center of attention as all the girls had congregated around the spacious kitchen island.
“This isn’t your first housekeeping job, is it, Jessie?” Hannah asked, only after I slid the door closed behind me.
I had been a babysitter for quite some time, and a pretty professional one at that; doing a few chores came with the territory, often after the kids went to bed. And, since Hannah had put me on the spot, I couldn’t overthink my answer. “Of course not,” I said. One, this was supposed to be a similar job to what I was used to anyway. Two, any confessions about being inexperienced with wealthy clients and unprepared for an unexpectedly older teenager would give her more room to define the job for me. More than she was already doing, that is.
Hannah set her glass down with an idle smile on her face. “Good. We’re going to put some clothes on and hang out in the other room. You should get started on snacks.”
Right. I had completely forgotten about that task given to me earlier after everything that had transpired since then. The prideful babysitter within was tempted to berate this girl for talking to me in such a way, but we were well past that. I was supposed to be in charge, sure, but that’s not exactly where things stood at the moment. “Yes, Hannah,” I said. Still playing along, in the hopes that the girls before me would scatter and I would finally have a second to breathe.
That was somewhat the case, though Hannah insisted I stay in the kitchen to work. Once she and her friends were settled, I’d be told what to do next.
What did rich girls even snack on? Hopefully something easy, as their taste in alcohol clearly wasn’t as snobbish as I might have expected from someone who grew up in a house like this. After a minute of searching, I found a pantry full of junk food that would hopefully suffice. I found a few appetizer bowls and took the effort to prepare the snacks beyond the boxes and bags they were packaged in, then made a small pile of fruit on the counter as well. Ever the responsible girl, I at least had to try to offer some healthy options.
It didn’t take long for the girls to filter into the spacious living room. Bringing them snacks was only the first part of this new ordeal. I figured out quickly that my new role would be something of a waitress, or perhaps female butler. Despite my insistence to Hannah that I knew what I was doing, this was all new to me, and I couldn’t think of a way to avoid being taken advantage of.
Calls of ‘Jessie!’ were nonstop. A different voice almost every time, requesting a new drink or a snack refill. Every time I delivered something, I was to clear the various surfaces of used bottles and glasses as well. My other task was to clean the kitchen from top to bottom; according to Hannah, it had to sparkle by the time I was done. However, I’d barely get three minutes into one of the many areas required before I had to drop everything to tend to the girls.
A number of them had decided to swap to liquor, and I also became their bartender. Rum and coke, vodka cranberry, gin and tonic; their requests were simple, but ensured that the counter was constantly full of liquor and mixers. At first, I attempted to barely put a splash of liquor in each drink, as a way to subtly control the situation. After a number of complaints that I was making everything too weak, however, I gave up and actually prepared alcoholic drinks for the group of eighteen year olds I was supposed to be watching.
All the while, I cleaned whenever possible, but hardly seemed to be making a dent due to all the interruptions. I kept trying to think of ways to get out of my predicament, but found it difficult to think most of the time. I needed to get upstairs and break into the guest room somehow, but I was summoned so frequently that there was never a minute to slip away. And with all the gossiping and giggling and other piercing girly noises from one room over, it was impossible to focus.
I also hadn’t gone to the bathroom since before my drive. First I had been reeling from the surprise of Hannah’s age, and my next trip to the restroom had me too concerned with getting all the chlorine off. Add a chugged can of hard seltzer to the mix, and I found myself with a possibly broken seal and an urge that was no doubt heightened from something that would have naturally come up around this time anyway.
Stepping away to get into my room and get out of the degrading maid uniform was one thing, but I was well within my rights to take a bathroom break. Hannah and company would just have to deal with a minor delay if one of them needed something. Even so, I found myself tip-toeing out of the kitchen to avoid having to deal with a conversation about it. The cool hallway was almost worse on my bare feet than the kitchen tile due to vent placement, and I ended up faced with a series of closed doors. Which one was the bathroom, again? It didn’t matter, because every single door I tried was locked. Just like upstairs after my shower.
Inwardly groaning to myself when I heard one of the girls call out for me, I ducked back into the kitchen to approach from that direction. Taking the empty glass, as well as two half empty ones that a couple of the other girls decided they wanted topped off, I retreated back to the kitchen. Instead of getting to that right away, I made a quick trip upstairs, only to find that the bathroom I recently showered in was also closed and locked. Seriously?
After an aggressive jiggle on both the bathroom door and my guest bedroom on the off chance that one of them would yield, I dejectedly went back downstairs. Taking care of the drinks, I returned to the living room and was half tempted to ask Hannah why she was keeping everything locked up. Surely her friends would need bathroom breaks as well, especially since they were drinking so much. But asking in front of an audience would be so embarrassing. Hannah’s babysitter–or rather, housekeeper–essentially asking permission to use the restroom? No, thanks.
Instead, I threw myself back into my work. Making the kitchen shine in an effort to avoid Hannah finding another excuse to make the afternoon difficult, and constantly waiting on the girls whenever they called me. After another hour, however, the urge became too pressing to ignore. In fact, it was much worse this time around due to the fact that I had put it off for so long. Hannah and her friends seemed content to drink and snack and hang out to their hearts’ content in the other room, and I couldn’t wait any longer.
The next time I returned to the living room with a new bowl of chips and a refill for Hannah herself, I paused next to her and hoped that the fact that I was standing and she was sitting would at least give me a modicum of authority despite my getup and the fact that I had been serving them for half the afternoon. “Hannah, I need to use the restroom,” I said. Direct, and to the point. Even if it was embarrassing to say it in front of a whole room of eighteen year old girls. “And all the rooms are locked.”
“That’s not a very polite way to ask,” Hannah said. Brushing back her hair with a smug smile, she glanced up and met my eyes. Clearly not daunted at all, despite the height disadvantage she had against my standing self. “Try again, Jessie.”
Swallowing my pride, I began saying, “May I please-”
“Ah, ah,” Hannah held up her hand, “What do you say when I tell you to do something? Try again, Jessie.”
I was tempted to slap her. But with all her friends here, something told me that wouldn’t end well. “Yes, Hannah,” I said. Starting with the housekeeping phrase she was pushing on me, I then went on to ask the full question. “May I please use the restroom, Hannah?”
“Hmm,” she mused. Deciding rather quickly, Hannah said, “Maybe in a minute. First, I have some questions for you. We all do.”