The Perfect Job (Closed for Fira)

Maximillian Black, the tall, broad-shouldered, handsome CEO of a large telecommunications company sat in the living room of his largish suburban home, waiting. The woman who was coming to interview for the maid and cook position was not yet late, nor even close. He simply preferred to be prepared, and so was waiting early, quietly sipping from a bottle of water, his blue eyes focused on some point in the distance as he considered the possibilities, wondering what sort of woman she would be, and if she would be able to handle his...eccentricities.

His house was not huge, only a five bedroom, but as he was a bachelor, it was big enough for his needs. The woman who took the job would have her days full, but other than cooking dinner, her nights would likely be fairly idle unless she had an active social life. Max, as most people who were on a first-name basis with the blond-haired executive called him, hoped that was not the case, however, as the more friends this potential maid had, the less likely it was that one of them would notice some of the oddities that would go along with the job, and urge her to quit. She didn't seem to have much, if any, work history, which was a promising sign.

Hearing the knock on the door, Max stood up, and adjusted his coat and red tie before walking toward it. He was in no rush; unlike his previous conversation with her, they would not be interrupted, as he had taken the rest of the afternoon off; he needed to finish this bit of business in order to make any headway with the projects he currently had on his plate. Opening the door, the smile he had for her went from simply courteous to quite warm as he saw her for the first time. She would do nicely, if she had the right sort of personality. Extending his hand, he introduced himself, "I am Maximillian Black, the man you spoke with over the phone. I do apologize for the way we were interrupted, but my job does tend to keep me busy during the day. We will be able to finish today, though, I assure you." His grip was firm, but not crushing; he clearly felt no urgent need to prove how much of a man he was.

After they had exchanged greetings, he led her into the living room, which was furnished in dark, earthy colors, though plenty of light made its way into the room through the windows. The furniture was all made of wood, apparently hand-crafted. "Please, have a seat," he told her, and waved his hand toward the plush red sofa. He returned to the recliner that sat near the far end of that same sofa.

The warm smile he greeted her with threw her for only a moment. She was expecting someone a bit colder since he was a CEO. In her experience, most men of power were. He had seemed a bit indifferent over the phone, but his manner in his own home was very welcoming and inviting. His height intimidated her somewhat. A lithe 5'10" herself, she wasn't used to having to really look UP to many people, but whether it was his actual size or just the way he carried himself, she felt like he towered over her.

She took his hand and smiled up at him. "A pleasure, Sir. I'm Ann Johnson. I completely understand about needing to take care of business, so there is no need to apologize."

Looking round as he led the way to the living room, she smiled in appreciation of his tastes. Watching as he sat in the recliner, she took a place at the end of the couch closest to him so that they could talk easier. "You have a very lovely home, Mr. Black. And I'd like to thank you for taking the time to meet with me today. I know you're a very busy man." She offered him her most engaging smile. She really had to nail this interview. When she left here, she would have to go clean out the cheap motel of anything she had remaining there, find a place to keep it, and return the car by 5. Not knowing of anywhere that would hold on to her things, she felt desperate at the moment, and wouldn't have cared if he had showed up at the door looking like Freddie Kruger, she would still be doing her best to get the job. That he was an extremely attractive man was just a bonus to her, and the prospect of working for him was genuinely appealing.

"If you could tell me more about the position, I would be grateful," she stated with a soft smile.

She had a lovely smile, to top it all off. Now he just had to see what sort of woman she was, to find out if she would be a good fit for what he needed or not. Watching her sit, he listened to her ask him about the position, and nodded slightly. "Yes, I didn't even get to finish describing what it was you would be doing here, did I Ms. Johnson? Well, its pretty simple really: if you are hired, you'd be responsible for keeping the house clean, and making meals. Most of the time, that means you would only be cleaning up after and cooking for yourself and me, since it is a live-in position," he summarized the position for her, watching her face for reaction as he continued, "But there are times I hold parties here, and you would be expected to cook for those, and clean up after them, though I would likely hire temporary assistants for you if a particular event was too large. Still, you would be the one responsible."

Pausing to take a sip of water, he then had a question of his own, "Now, I saw on your resume that you have virtually no work history of any sort. Can you tell me what sort of experience you do have that would qualify you for this position?" He'd taken a chance with her in this regard, and hoped that it would turn out for the best. No work history could mean any number of things, so he had been willing to give her a shot. It was up to her now to convince him that it had not been a mistake on his part.

A smile of relief brightened her features at the mention of a live-in position. At least she wouldn't have to worry about finding a place to stay...IF she could land the job. Leaning foward a little in her seat as the general expectations were presented.

Ann laughed lightly when he asked for qualifications. "I'm sorry, Mr. Black. I wasn't laughing at you. I just can't imagine you finding anyone else so uniquely qualified for the position you just described." She wondered just how much of her situation to divulge, and decided to be as honest with him as she could. "You see, for the past 3 years I have been doing exactly that: cooking, cleaning, running a household, and entertaining. It was not a job I was paid for, which is why it's not on my job history." She paused for a moment, looking him in the eyes. "My soon-to-be ex-husband is Michael Johnson." She watched as his eyes widened in surprise and recognision. "I never cared for hiring others to do what I felt I could do better in my own home, and so refused to ever engage a housekeeper, much to his dismay. Anyway, I have been replaced...and not just as housekeeper, so here I am."

She sat back in her seat, knowing full well that he now held the upper hand. He obviously knew of her husband, possibly even knew him on a professional, if not personal, level. If he was on friendly terms with Michael, she was sunk.

Her laugh had a musical sound to it that made her even more appealing, especially after she assured him that she was laughing at the situation, not at him. Not that he had been overly concerned about that. He then listened to her explain her unofficial qualifications, only occasionally allowing his eyes to drift downward to the cleavage she was showing off so nicely for a brief moment, and could not help the look of surprise on his face when she gave her husband's former name. Composing his face once more, he realized she was perfectly qualified, and it did not matter to him who her former husband was. Max knew Micheal Johnson somewhat, and while he had some level of professional respect for the man, he did not fear him, and was not so loyal that he would not hire her based on her former marriage.

"Impressive," he told her, quite sincerely, "I have been to a couple of those parties you mentioned. A shame he never got around to introducing you then. I'd heard he was going through a particularly nasty divorce. If you're applying for this job, you must have been on the receiving end of the nastiness, and that is a shame." After a short pause, as if considering his next words carefully, he asked her another question, "I'd say you are qualified to do the job, but there is another aspect of it that bears mentioning. As I said, this is a live-in position, which means you will be seeing me after hours, and you may see and hear things that I would consider private. Is there any sort of assurance you can give me that such things would remain private?"

She relaxed visibly when she realized her husband wasn't going to be a hindrance to this job. "Mr. Black, the only assurance I can give you on that issue is that the nasty side of the divorce is all from him. I have much dirt I could give my lawyer, but choose to keep certain thing private. As much as we can no longer live with each other, I wish him no ill will, and refuse to try to destroy him in such a manner."

Her eyes met his with grave intensity as she continued, "As you can guess, I'm in a tight spot, Mr. Black. I need a job and a place to stay. You can provide both. As you have been to a few of the functions I have hosted in my home, you are well aware of my capabilities. I will run your home no differently. All I have to offer is my word."

He had not been fishing very hard, but she gave him the information he needed anyway, letting him know for certain that she was the perfect candidate for the job. It was hard not to grin, but he managed well enough; doing so after her revelation that she was not doing well might have spooked her, after all. "Well, there will be a few differences," Mr. Black responded, a warm smile touching his lips instead, "You will be fairly compensated for your time here, and if you do as well as you did for your former husband, you will also have my appreciation. The only question I have left is when you would be ready to start."

Ideally, he would want her to start at once, so that he would be able to stop dealing with the maid service he had been forced to accept ever since the last woman quit. As he awaited her response, he seemed visibly more relaxed than he had been when she first arrived. Taking a sip of water, he briefly glanced down at her body; it was not a lingering stare, just a quick, appreciative look at a lovely woman. One that he would not, at all, be ashamed of having around when visitors came in. Appearances could be very important, after all.

Her heart skipped a beat as she realized he was offering her the job. Trying to maintain an outward calm, Ann smiled. "To be quite frank, Mr. Black, the sooner I can start the better." Realizing that she was going to sound rather desperate, but having no choice, she lowered her eyes and her voice as she continued. "The last of my funds have run out. I have to clear out of my motel room today and have the rental car back by 5 this evening." She looked up at him then, her eyes haunted. "If there's anyway you could allow me to go ahead and move my things today...." Her words trailed off, afraid that her situation would wind up being more than the man was willing to take on in a new live-in employee.

As she revealed more and more of her situation, he found himself glad that he had given her a chance, despite the lack of work experience on her resume. "It is not a problem at all if you start this afternoon. You won't have time to clean the house, of course, but you can demonstrate your cooking skills for me, and I will have time to show you around the house," Mr. Black told her, seeming sincerely glad that she was willing to start so quickly. He stood up, then, and reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

Taking it out and opening it, he pulled out a fifty dollar bill, and offered it to her, explaining, "Here, a small advance on your first paycheck. You have a little to do before returning, and you might need it for something. I will be here the rest of the afternoon and evening, so I will be glad to start your 'orientation' when you get back." Once again, he offered her his hand.

After she left, Max slipped into his home office, and worked on one of his projects for the company. A good thing about his position was that he had the ability to work from home for about a quarter of the work week, and it helped prevent him from burning out. Now that he had his home situation straightened out, at least for a little while, he could turn his attention more fully back to his job, at least until she got back. Time flowed around him without his notice, until he heard the doorbell again. Looking up at the clock, he realized she must be back already, and after a quick glance back at his work to see how far he had gotten, he stood up and went to answer the door.

Opening the door and seeing just how much she had been left with after having been married to such a successful attorney really gave him a different perspective on her ex-husband. "Welcome back," he told her, and reached down to pick up the largest of her bags, "Let me get at least one of these, and I will show you where you will be sleeping. After that, I will show you the rest of the house."

He led her up the stairs, and past a couple of doors until he reached the bedroom he was seeking. Opening the door and walking inside, he set the bag he was carrying down on the queen-sized bed that was centered against the right wall. Opposite it, there was a long, low cherry wood dresser with a medium-sized LCD television sitting on top of it. Just beyond the dresser was a door that led into a walk-in closet. Turning to her, he told her, "Well, this will be home for you as long as you are working for me. You'll have to share the guest bathroom, but not too terribly often."

Thanking him for the help with her few belongings, she followed him up the stairs and down the hall. The room he had chosen for her was sparse, yet functional, the warm wood of the dresser suiting her own tastes. She laid the bags she was carrying on the bed next to the other one and turned to her boss. "Thank you again for giving me this opportunity. The room is lovely. If you want to go ahead and show me the rest of the house, I can unpack later this evening after dinner."

"Yes, of course, though it is me who should be thanking you. Or perhaps your husband, for letting go of you. A shame you had to go through what you did, but it has left me with a uniquely qualified woman to run my household for me," he responded with a warm smile as he took her back out into the hallway. Mr. Black took her directly across the corridor to the door that was opposite hers, and said, "We may as well start here. This is one of the rooms I will want the most attention paid to, after all." Once she was inside, she could see why; it was clearly his personal bedroom.

It was a large master suite, with a double glass door leading into the bathroom. The walls were the same color as the ones in her own bedroom, but were adorned with paintings of women from different eras, every one of them beautiful and tasteful, with no nudity, though some of the greek and roman ones came close. Against the far wall, under the window, sat a king-sized bed made of oak. The headboard and footboard had eyelets set into them, spaced evenly, six of them at each end, but that was the only visible oddity. There were two walk-in closets in this room, both of them closed at the moment. A fireplace sat across from the bed with a large LCD television mounted to the wall above it, and large oaken dressers lined one wall. Beyond was a huge bathroom with both a shower and a tub large enough for four people in it.

"This is my bedroom, Ann, though I am sure you had guessed that already. Every day, I need it this state exactly when I return home, no matter how I might leave it," he told her, and waved his arm, as if to tell her it was alright to look around, to take in every detail. "I am sure you will quickly learn where everything goes," he added, watching her with curiosity. It was difficult to keep from staring at her; in addition to being ideal for the job, her body was ideal for his tastes. For some reason, though, he felt certain he would find out soon enough if she felt similarly.

The room was beautiful. Taking his gesture as consent to look around, she wandered first over to the bed, noting it's odd adornments. Taking in the numerous dressers, and the fact that he had what appeared to be two closets, she marveled that a man would have so many clothes. She trailed a hand along the footboard as she headed towards the bathroom. Gasping in surprise at the size of the tub. It was going to take a lot to keep the master bathroom clean, she thought with some dismay.

Walking back out, she went to what she supposed was a closet door and stopped, looking over her shoulder at him. "May I?" she asked. "I'd like to get an idea of how you like your things arranged so that I can place them in their proper places when it's needed..." She waited for his consent, one hand on the knob.

As he watched her walking around, looking at everything, he leaned against the wall to give her an admiring glance. She really was lovely, and he found himself wondering what her ex-husband might have been thinking when he got rid of her. He was shaken from his thoughts by her asking permission to open his closet. The one she was in front of now only had clothing in it, primarily suits and dress shirts, but he would allow her to open both of them. There were some things it was going to be best if he got to see her initial reaction to. "Yes," he told her with a slight nod of his head, "You may open any of the closets or dresser drawers you'd like. You are correct that you will need to know where everything goes. And even if not, you'd have the opportunity to look while I was gone, not that I think you would go through my things without permission."

The first closet was normal, of course, but the second had little clothing at all. Most of it was filled with things that she'd likely only seen in movies: what looked like leather harnesses, floggers made of varying materials, cuffs and chains, all hanging down, arrayed neatly before anyone who might open that door. As he waited for her to get to that particular closet, he watched her, wondering if it would scare her away from the job or not, though from what he could tell, she couldn't really afford for that to happen.

Opening the door and taking a step in, she admired the man's taste in clothes. "His suits definitely didn't come off a rack at the local chain store," she thought to herself. She looked over the space quickly, taking note of how he had it organized, and then stepped back out, closing the door behind her before moving on to the next closet.

She admired his openness and honesty. He was right, she WOULD have opportunity to look through his things if she wished, but having his permission to do so made it not seem quite as important. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, a smile on her face, "No...I wouldn't open anything that you wished me not too." She turned back to the second closet, which she had opened while her head was turned away, an audible gasp seeming to echo in the suddenly too quiet room. Unable to control her impulse, she took a step forward, a hand reaching out to touch the items arranged there. Well oiled supple leather sliding through her fingers, gleaming polished metal dazzling she eyes as the light bounced off it. She stood as if transfixed, her mind trying to catch up with what she was seeing. "No wonder he was worried about my discretion," she mused.

She could feel the heat rising up her neck and engulfing her face in color. Stepping backward out of the room, closing the door softly, she leaned her head against the door, trying to will the blushing away before turning to him. When she finally turned around, she found she couldn't look him directly in the eye. Staring at his feet, she said quietly, "I...I think I've...s-seen enough f-for now."

She was suddenly nervous. The blush she had so carefully controlled a few minutes before crept back as visions of the items actually in use played havoc with her system. She wondered about the women that he would most likely be bringing home that would allow him to use those things on them. A picture of herself chained to the huge bed flashed in her mind's eye, and an unfamiliar heat seared through her. Trying to maintain what little control she had, she offered, "Well, I think it's starting to get rather late. If you wouldn't mind showing me where the kitchen is, I should really get started on dinner." She needed the job too badly to let this ruin it.

As he saw her run her fingers over a few of the things, he could not help a slight grin, though he did not let it linger long. She was definitely intrigued, though it was clear that she might not be ready to admit it to herself yet. The blush in her cheeks gave it away, though; it was far too deep a color for just the embarrassment of having seen something like what was in that closet for the first time up close and personal. Not wanting to shame her further, he nodded when she asked about the kitchen, and told her, "Of course, Ann, right this way." The rest of the bedrooms on that floor were just guest rooms, after all, and the bathroom she would be able to sort out on her own, he was certain.

Leading her back down the stairs, he remained quiet about what she had seen. She would want to forget it for the moment, and he was content to allow her to try, for now. At least, until she made some mistake or another, which was bound to happen at some point. Taking her through the living room, he brought her into a large room with hardwood floors. There was little furniture in that room, other than the long cherry wood table in the center and the ten matching chairs that lined it. As they walked around it, he commented, "I normally do not eat in here, unless I have a few guests."

With that, he took her into the next room, which was the kitchen. White marble topped the counters, and there was a large island with its own sink in the center. A smaller table with four chairs sat in one corner, this set made of oak. "I think you will find the fridge well-stocked with anything you might want to cook. I will leave the menu up to you; I am not a picky eater, and if I have specific requests, I will usually let you know before I leave for the office," he told her, "And feel free to re-arrange things as you wish, so long as it remains as neat as it is now. You will be the one cooking in here, after all."

The trip to the kitchen allowed Ann to compose herself a little better. By the time they walked into the spacious room, she was feeling more like herself and was able to look at Mr. Black again. "I think it will do just fine," she said evenly. She opened a few cabinets to take a peek at their contents and turned back to him. "Any preference as to the dinner hour?" she asked as she found and donned an apron.

Her mind had already turned to the dinner for the evening. She had seen several possibilities, and wanted to impress him with this first meal. Even though he had been to a few of her functions, she wanted him to see what she could do on a more normal day.

Max was glad to see that she had been able to compose herself by the time they got to the kitchen. It meant that she was strong, in her way, and that she wouldn't let what she had seen so far scare her away from the job. "I am normally home no later than six in the evening, so I prefer to have dinner as close to that time as possible," he told her, then continued, "And just like my bedroom, I expect this room to be as clean as this any time I walk into it, unless you are in the middle of cooking, or some other large project." Seeming happy with the situation so far, he went on, "I will let you get to it now. I have a few things I would like to finish before I go back to the office tomorrow."

He left her then, in the kitchen, allowing her to prepare the meal, and returned to his office. It took him much longer to finish what he had left than it would have before she had arrived, as his concentration was on other things. Namely, it was on the way she had touched one of the leather harnesses in his closet, the look of curiosity in her eyes before she realized that societal norms demanded that she be embarrassed. Smiling to himself, he went about finishing up what he needed to, paying little attention to the time as he progressed.

She set the table for one, not knowing if he wished her to dine with him. She had made a simple tossed salad, an Italian sausage and pasta dish that her grandmother had passed down to her, fresh baked crusty French bread, and a mix of steamed vegetables.

She took a quick look around the kitchen to make sure everything except the dishes in use were washed up and put away. She then set a bucket of ice next to the table in it's stand and nestled the bottle of wine she had chilled in it. Making sure everything was perfect, she looked up at the clock. "Nearly 7, but surely it wouldn't make a difference since he had been home all evening," she thought to herself as she went in search of him.

She knocked softly on his office door, waiting till she heard his deep "Come in." before opening the door. Stepping into the room, she could see immediately that it suited him well. Very warm and masculine, much like the rest of the house. "Mr. Black, I just came to let you know dinner is ready."

Once more, he had lost track of time, between the project he was working on and his thoughts about his new hire. That is, he had forgotten until right around 6:45, when hunger made him look at the clock. Still, he remained in his office, riding it out to see when she came to get him for dinner. It wasn't too much longer, thankfully, but it was clear that her first lesson would have to come soon. Not immediately, but not far from it, either.

"Thank you, Ann," Max told her as he rose from his desk, his tone of voice no different from the last time he had spoken to her. He followed her back through the house, into the kitchen, and nodded appreciatively at what was on the table. "I forgot to mention," he spoke again as he sat down, waving his hand to indicate the seat across from him, "You are welcome to join me for dinner, or any other meal I eat here, on the nights when we are alone. It seems a bit foolish to insist that you eat elsewhere or at a different time when we are the only ones around." After letting her know, he served himself from the food on the table, and began to eat. It was difficult to gauge his silence as he ate, as she had known him for such a short period of time; he could have been angry, or he might just not be very talkative.

She stood still for a moment, almost nervously, as he sat and invited her to eat with him. Quietly she went to the cabinet and pulled out a plate for herself. Grabbing silverware and the glass she had been drinking from as she cooked, she sat gingerly in the seat across from him. Filling her plate as she watched him eat out of the corner of her eye.

After several minutes of silence while they ate, and no word from him, she began to fidget a little, concerned that he wasn't pleased with the menu. "I...I hope that the meal meets with your approval..." she said softly, as she finished the last bite and stood to clear her things away.

When she received no reply right away, she hesitated. Figuring he couldn't ignore her next question, she plunged on, "If you don't mind, what time do I need to have breakfast ready? And do you have any preferences for you morning meal?"

She began to wonder if the timing of the meal was to blame for his silence, and hoped that she hadn't screwed up too much in that respect. After all, it was her first time preparing a meal in an unfamiliar kitchen. Her mind turned to the items she had seen in the closet, shivering slightly at the thought of one of those soft leather items being used on her as a punishment. Her face flushed at the thought, and became mortified at herself when she realized the thought was actually turning her on.

"The meal is delicious, actually," he responded, though his tone revealed what the silence might have implied: that there was something wrong, though he sounded sincere in his compliment of the food. Of course, that really only left the timing as the possible problem.

When asked about breakfast, he shook his head slightly, "I rarely eat breakfast during the week. As long a thermos of coffee is ready for me to take to work with me by 7:30 am, I will require nothing else unless I ask for it specifically ahead of time." As usual, his requirements were concise as he explained them, giving no real room for anything other than what he wanted, exactly as he wanted it. "I take my coffee with two teaspoons of sugar, and just a splash of cream," Max added, before continuing to eat.

Only when he was done eating, did he speak again, telling her, "It was an excellent meal, Ann, but there was one problem with it. Would you mind telling me what that was?" Looking across the table at her, he was certain she was smart enough to have puzzled out what it was by then, and wanted to hear it from her, knowing that it would help her remember for the future so that she would not likely make the same mistake.