Summer Gold
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Chapter 2.
🕑 Added 2023-10-26 16:55:33 +0000 UTCWhen Cindy finally arrived home, she was too exhausted to answer any of her husband’s questions.
Pete demanded to know why she hadn't called and where she’d been. She simply answered that she was tired and that they'd talk later. It wasn’t as if she could admit she had spent $600 from their savings to pay the grocery bill of her old high school obsession. Nor could she confess she owed more money on top of that to pay for a tennis racket she hadn’t even broken. He would never have understood her feelings.
Even after twenty years of marriage, she had never mentioned Eleanor to him. All Pete knew of her high school years was that, in his mind, she had grossly underachieved. He had diagnosed her with severe social anxiety and low self-esteem. Her refusal to talk about anything that happened to her in high school had led him to believe her problems stemmed from extreme bullying. She neither admitted nor denied his speculations.
It was true she had once been considered a promising student. She was top of her class back in middle school. Her aspiration was to be a doctor. She had always wanted to help people. Cindy would occasionally think back to herself at that age and wonder what that girl would think if she knew what was to become of her: a middle-aged woman who stacked shelves at Krogers and lost out on countless promotions to literal teenagers. In a sense, Pete was right in his assumption, but he was also far too simplistic.
Cindy was well aware Eleanor had exploited her. Cindy had allowed it to happen. She had been desperate for any attention from Eleanor, positive or negative. If anything, the more Eleanor abused her, the more eager Cindy was to serve her. There had been freedom in servitude. She never had to think for herself. All that mattered was Eleanor.
She was ashamed to admit it, but those had been the happiest days of her life. She wondered if she had subconsciously allowed others to get ahead of her without resistance in the hopes of discovering a new Eleanor who might take control of her life.
But there was only one Eleanor. And now, twenty-five years later, she was finally back in her life.
Cindy crawled under the sheets of the bed she shared with Pete. The same teenage excitement raged in her stomach. Her hand quivered as it found its way inside her panties.
Eleanor was more beautiful than she remembered. A lifetime of success and luxury had molded Eleanor's body into a goddess. Cindy gently massaged her fingers down her wet pussy lips. Finally, she was able to stimulate the tingle she had felt ever since first smelling Eleanor's expensive perfume.
Cindy dreaded the thought that Pete might try and follow her. The last thing she wanted was his unwashed body lying next to her, distracting her thoughts from Eleanor. This was Cindy's reward for all her service. It was worth every cent of the money she had lost. She had deprived herself of this pleasure for too long.
She moaned as she inserted her fingers into herself. She wanted to take her time. She had waited a long time for new memories of Eleanor.
She rubbed against her clit and gasped into her sheets. The roundness of Eleanor's ass in her tight jeans, the pout of her glossy lips, the commanding sound of her voice, the perfect curve of her back. Warm waves rippled through Cindy's whole body. She squealed as she came better and harder than she had in years.
Eleanor was pleasure. Eleanor was bliss. Eleanor was life.
*
It was still dark when she rolled out of bed. Pete stirred from the disturbance.
“You working?” he said half-asleep.
“Yes,” she lied, having already made the decision to call her manager and claim a family emergency. He would be annoyed, but it wasn't as if she made a habit of it. Considering her pitiful wage, she had been a model employee. “I'll be back later.”
Eleanor's coffee, Jessica's racket, and Alison's juice were too important to allow her job to interfere with.
She had never once been late for Eleanor and she was not about to start now. She remembered once when Eleanor had called her demanding snacks for a sleepover she was hosting. In Cindy's haste to reach the store, she had accidentally ridden her bike over broken glass. She lost control of the burst wheel and swerved down an embankment. She cracked her head and broke multiple fingers. She did not let it stop her. She abandoned her destroyed bicycle, clambered up the embankment, and ran the distance to the store. She picked up everything Eleanor wanted and arrived at her door with time to spare. She was panting, bloodied, and concussed, but still, she had succeeded. Eleanor had her snacks, and she was able to sit in the waiting room of the ER proud of that knowledge.
First, Cindy drove to a second-hand tech store to pick up a cheap Samsung Mini to replace the one she lost in Eleanor's pool. Next, she drove to the high-end mall nicknamed "the Gucci Mall" by those of Cindy's class who rarely had a reason to set foot within that Romanesque palace. She passed stores like Agent Provocateur, Giorgio Armani, Balenciaga, Cartier, Louboutin, Fendi, Jimmy Choo, Rolex, and Swarovski, just to name a few. Wherever she looked there were designer stores, botanical gardens, fountains, marble columns, and aquariums.
She received more than one disapproving look from the privileged clientele. Their judgemental stares made her feel as if she should apologize to them for sharing their space.
She wished there was an alternative, but trying to find a Bosworth 96 that matched Jessica's specifications was not as straightforward as she had hoped. If she tried to order online, it would take weeks to arrive. Jessica did not have that time. She needed it quickly. Cindy decided her best chance was to visit Athlétique, the luxury sportswear and equipment store. She knew she should have called and asked if they kept Bosworth's in stock, but she was too afraid they might say no.
She entered the store and made her way over the glossy tiles. Busty and athletic mannequins taunted her with physiques and designer brands she could never hope to afford.
“Excuse me,” she said to the girl in a tight-fitting polo shirt and shorts working behind the counter. Her blond hair was tied into a messy top bun. She folded her arms and stared at Cindy, clearly annoyed to be bothered. Cindy stuttered. “I was, um, wondering if you might help me? I um, have this racket-” she placed it on the counter. The girl glanced at it once and then back to Cindy, furrowing her brow as if challenging Cindy's right to even speak to her. “Is it possible to maybe get a replacement, please, if that isn't too much trouble, Miss.”
She scoffed. “Do you even know what this is?”
“I uh, think it's a Bosworth 96, isn't it?”
“They’re bespoke. Do you know what that means? Built to order? We don't just keep things like this in stock.”
Cindy felt the panic of failure pound inside her head. “Um, do you think I might be able to order one to pick up later today?”
She curled her lip. “Um, no? It would take like a week.”
Cindy's panic turned to fear. The thought of Jessica's rage prickled her skin. She had to try harder. “The thing is, Miss, you see, this racket isn't actually mine. It belongs to a really talented young woman. I mean she's good. Really, really, good, and she really needs it sooner than that.”
The girl shrugged.
She took a shot. She still remembered Eleanor’s surname. “Do you know Jessica Kingsley?”
The girl was blank. Cindy cursed herself. Eleanor must have married. “I mean, not Kingsley. Her mother is called Eleanor? She has a sister, Alison? They live in Paradise Hills?”
The girl relaxed her face. “Jessica Noble?”
“Yes, her! You know her?”
She spoke with enthusiasm. “Sure. Jessica is great. We went to high school together. She's basically won everything she's competed in since she was like four or something.”
“Then isn't there something you can do? She really needs this racket. Please?”
She sighed. “Fine, if it’s for Jessica, I'll make a call.”
Cindy waited, wringing her hands, pleading with watery eyes for the girl to come through for Jessica.
“Hi, this is Athlétique,” said the girl down the phone, “we need a Bosworth 96. No, the customer doesn't know the specs, it isn't for her. Hm mhm, well it's a replacement. We have the original. No, it has to be today. I understand but it’s for Jessica Noble. Yeah, that's right, okay, we'll deliver the prototype today. Okay. Good. Thank you.”
She hung up the phone. Cindy stared at her, wide-eyed and nervously optimistic.
“Two days. Leave your number and we'll text you when it's ready.”
Cindy exhaled her relief. Two days wasn't too bad. This was surely better than panic-buying one that didn't even match Jessica’s specifications. She wondered if there was something she could buy her to soften the blow.
“That'll be $450.”
Cindy was startled at the amount. “Oh, um, really? Okay, sorry, uh, sure.” She opened her cheap handbag and rummaged through old receipts and prescriptions until she found her credit card.
The girl snatched it from her hand and slid it over her reader, tossing it back along with her receipt. “That all?” she said.
“Um-,” Cindy searched in her purse again and presented a twenty-dollar bill. She passed it over the counter toward the girl who stared at it. “Just a little something for your trouble.”
The girl made no move to take it.
Cindy flushed. “Oh, and this too.” She found a ten and a five and added it to the girl's pile.
The girl rolled her eyes and gathered it. Cindy smiled nervously. “Thank you,” she said as if the girl had done her a favor by taking her money. She wanted to ensure the girl did not forget her. Jessica needed that racket. What was another $35? It was just 3 hours at Krogers. In total, she would have to work 110 hours to pay off Eleanor's bill. It was manageable. It was worth it.
She left the store and checked her phone as she walked. It was 9.15. Eleanor expected her at 10:00. She still had time, but she would have to be quick. She placed her phone in her purse but was not looking where she was going as she walked directly into the path of an oncoming shopper. A drink spilled and ice cubes scattered.
Cindy backed away to see a tall, dark-haired woman with designer shopping bags over her forearm, clutching a now-empty iced coffee. Her peach Amalfi tank top was covered in a wet stain as the coffee soaked into the expensive silk.
Cindy stared, horrified by what she had done. The woman stared through the darkness of her Versace sunglasses.
“I'm so sorry,” said Cindy, bowing her head. “I'm really sorry, but I can't-” She turned and ran.
Tears welled in her eyes. She knew she was pathetic, running from her responsibility. She should have offered to pay for her dry cleaning but the thought of another bill terrified her. Besides, Eleanor expected her soon. She had no time to make amends for her clumsiness. Eleanor was her number one priority. She could not let her down, no matter what.
*
Delicacé was the top-rated coffee shop in town. Cindy knew she could not bring Eleanor substandard coffee. For someone like Cindy, Starbucks was a luxury, but Eleanor would expect better. Cindy knew it would cost more, but that was fine. She could always work extra hours later to recoup her losses. It was far better than risking Eleanor thinking poorly of her.
There was a rainbow of cupcakes, freshly-baked muffins, cookies, and cakes within the glass cabinets. The smells of dough, chocolate, and coffee were sumptuous and nostalgic.
Cindy walked across the black and white diamond tiles and perused the selection as if they were Tiffany jewels. The barista stared at her from beneath her nose. Cindy flushed under her disdain and wondered if she had made a mistake in coming there.
“May I help you?” said the barista, curtly.
“Um, yes, sorry, I would like three coffees please.” Jessica and Alison had not technically asked for coffee, but she thought it best to be prepared, just in case.
The barista waited with her hands on her hips. Cindy wondered what she had done wrong.
The barista sighed with frustration. “What coffees?”
Cindy gulped, realizing her mistake. She looked at the chalkboard. She recognized some of the names: Americano, Espresso, Mocha; but what was a Ristretto? Vienna? Con Panna? No prices were listed and Cindy knew enough to know that was not a good sign for her bank balance.
She had no idea what they would want. She knew from high school that Eleanor had expected Cindy to know what she wanted and to go get it. It was doubtful anything had changed.
“Well?” said the barista, impatiently.
She took a chance that Eleanor had been there before. “Um, I'm new to this.”
“Clearly.”
Cindy blushed. “Um, I'm picking them up for someone else. You, uh, don't happen to know Eleanor Noble, do you?”
The barista immediately brightened at the name drop. “Oh, now I understand. You're Eleanor's new housekeeper?”
Cindy nodded and smiled. She was not really anything, but it was easier to play along.
“Eleanor will have a Spanish latte. The girls usually take a honey vanilla latte and an Italian cappuccino.”
“Yes, wonderful. Thank you.”
The barista started to prepare the coffee as Cindy remembered Alison's juice. “Um, sorry to bother you again, but Miss Alison asked for juice?”
The barista turned back hatefully making Cindy feel awful for disturbing her work. “Do you mean a smoothie?”
Cindy was sure Alison had said juice, but maybe she was wrong. Was a smoothie different from juice? Had Alison meant to say smoothie? “Um, I think so?”
The barista shook her head. “You don't know much, do you? How did you get this job again?”
Cindy smiled nervously and wrung her hands beneath the counter.
The barista rolled her eyes. “I recommend the strawberry, kiwi, and mango mix.”
“That sounds delicious. Thank you.”
The barista got back to work and Cindy looked at the selection of muffins. She might have failed with the racket, but she could make up for it with a surprise. Of course, she couldn't forget Alison. She would expect a treat too if her sister was getting one. And how could she leave Eleanor out? No, all three of them deserved something sweet. She waited until the barista had finished her previous orders before asking for three blueberry muffins.
“$95.35,” said the barista, sliding the card reader at Cindy.
Cindy gulped at the price but reassured herself she could make it back. It was only around nine hours of work. She entered her credit card and balked at the option for a tip.
The barista stared coldly at her, waiting, expecting.
20% 30% 50% Other? Cindy was embarrassed to choose the lower option under the scrutiny of the barista. Her finger hovered over the 30% until at the last moment a tingle in her pussy directed her to the highest option. Her total came to just over $143. The barista would net herself a good $47 for five minutes work. Not a bad hourly rate.
*
Cindy rang the buzzer outside the gilded gate that led to Eleanor's mansion and waited for a response.
Eleanor answered through the speaker. “Yes?”
Cindy felt the excitement of hearing her voice in the pit of her stomach. She waved happily at the camera. “Hi, Eleanor,” she said, “I've brought treats.”
“You're late.”
Cindy felt her skin prickle. She had driven well over the speed limit to ensure she had arrived with time to spare. It was 9.45. She still had 15 minutes, but she did not dare contradict her. She hung her head apologetically.
“Anyway,” continued Eleanor, “you can leave your car parked on the street. I don't want to see that eye sore anywhere near my driveway.”
Cindy looked at the dents and dirt on her 2001 Ford Taurus and flushed with embarrassment. What had she been thinking? She could have at least washed it. Eleanor hung up before Cindy had a chance to apologize. A moment later the gate opened.
She reversed her car and backed up along the sidewalk facing the tall hedgerows blocking Eleanor's compound from the street. She took the coffee, muffins and Alison's smoothie from the front passenger seat and bumped her door closed with her bottom. It was a struggle to carry everything in two hands.
She headed up the driveway and the gate closed behind her as if on a timer. It was a long walk across the stone pavers. On either side of her were sweeping lawns of finely cut emerald grass that appeared plush enough to sleep on. It was a pleasant Spring day and Cindy found herself enjoying the walk in the sunshine. Eleanor's home looked like a luxurious Château in southern France and Cindy smiled as she imagined herself on vacation.
A spitting sound startled her daydream. The sprinklers had activated. They spurted spirals of crystal water and Cindy found herself in the crossfire. Instinctively, she ducked her body over the box of muffins and cradled the drinks to protect them from the water. She hurried away from the bombardment but the sprinklers seemed determined to spray her as each one seemingly activated just in time to catch her before she could run beyond them. She made it to the white marble steps that led up to Eleanor's front porch completely drenched, but at least she had saved the coffees and muffins.
She remembered how Eleanor had wanted her to use the kitchen entrance and made her way there, wet and bedraggled. She wished she could stop and clean herself up, but there was no time. Eleanor was expecting her coffee. She checked her shoes would not trail water across Eleanor's floor before gently knocking on the blurry glass of the kitchen door. She waited for someone to answer but when nobody did, she figured Eleanor expected her to let herself in. She gulped and opened the door.
She saw Eleanor and Jessica sitting across the second island, eating breakfast. There was fruit, healthy cereals, juice, glass-bottled water, and tea. She saw paper delivery bags. Cindy was disappointed Eleanor had ordered food instead of entrusting Cindy to bring her what she needed. She shook it off and gave them her happiest smile. Eleanor wore a long sleeve white cotton t-shirt with a modern boatneck that snugly extenuated her figure. Jessica wore a black scoop-neck tank top and a loose-fitting, short-hipped white cardigan.
“Good morning,” said Cindy, cheerfully.
Jessica stared, hatefully chewing her all-bran cereal.
Eleanor glanced up from her phone. “Why are you wet?”
“Um, I got hit with the sprinklers on my way here.
Eleanor sighed and shook her head in exasperation. “Coffee?”
“Oh yes, of course. It's right here.”
She placed everything down on the marble countertop and placed the coffees in front of both Eleanor and Jessica. Eleanor picked hers up and took a sip, placing it back without complaint. Cindy smiled. It had been worth the added expense. Alison was nowhere in sight.
“Um, Eleanor? Where's Alison?”
“It's a school day.”
“Oh, of course, it is. Sorry. It's just that I have a smoothie here for her?”
Eleanor returned to her phone disinterestedly.
“Um, would you like it, Jessica?”
“Do I fucking look like I want a smoothie?”
Cindy's skin and pussy tingled at the sudden outburst.
Jessica pointed at her coffee. “Do you even know what caffeine dose this is?”
Cindy stammered.
“You've got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Language, baby,” said Eleanor.
Cindy wrung her hands. “I'm not sure I understand.”
Jessica reddened with rage. “I only take 9.88 milligrams of caffeine in my coffee. That is the optimum amount to enhance my performance.”
Eleanor lovingly stroked her daughter's arm. “She's training for the Open, aren't you, baby? She has to be extra careful what she puts in her body.”
“I'm sorry, Miss Jessica,” said Cindy, letting slip the title without thought. “I didn't know. Maybe I can get you another?”
“What's the point? You'd only fuck it up again.”
“Maybe you'd like a muffin?” She opened the box and presented them for Jessica's perusal, nervously smiling, hoping the treat would diffuse her anger.
Jessica stared as if ready to punch Cindy in her face. Cindy felt herself shrink.
“I uh, thought you might like blueberry?”
“Are you seriously trying to fuck with me? I'll beat the fucking the shit out of you.”
Eleanor sighed. "Baby, language please.”
“Mom, look at this. Look what she's done.”
Cindy quivered. She felt like crying. She was confused. She had just wanted to do something nice. "P-please, Miss, I don't know what I did. I didn’t want to offend you. Honest.”
“I'm on a strict diet of complex carbohydrates and protein. You think I can eat this much sugar? Are you a fucking retard?”
Eleanor shushed her, rubbing across her shoulder. “It's okay, sweetie. I'm sure Cindy didn't mean anything by it,” she turned to Cindy, warning her with her eyes. “Did you?”
Cindy shook her head furiously. “N-no, Miss, I'm just stupid. I'm sorry.”
“And I'm sure Cindy has your racket. Don't you?”
Eleanor's warning sent a thrill through Cindy's pussy. “Um…”
Jessica stamped her fist on the countertop and Cindy jumped in her skin.
“Please, Miss. It'll be ready soon. Three days at most.”
Both Jessica and Eleanor stared. Cindy flushed under their contempt. She felt like she should say something but her throat was dry. She was ready to break down in tears. How had this gone so wrong? This was her worst nightmare. All she wanted was to make Eleanor happy. The failure stung her core.
Eleanor tapped her long fingernails over the marble countertop. Cindy anxiously awaited her judgment.
“This is very disappointing,” she said.
Jessica stared with satisfaction at seeing Cindy squirm.
Eleanor continued. “I don't think you fully appreciate what you've done here. Jessica's trainers all agree she has the potential to be the greatest tennis player of her generation. The Open will be her first major tournament. Her preparations should be perfect. Because of you, she will have to train with a secondary racket. How is that fair?”
“It isn't, I'm sorry. Wh-what can I do?”
Eleanor turned to Jessica lovingly. “This has been so stressful for you, hasn't it, baby?”
Jessica smirked at Cindy and nodded.
Eleanor squeezed her daughter's shoulders. “Then you deserve some relaxation time. I think we all do. How does a long weekend at La Maison de Verre sound?”
“So long as I have my own suite. I'm not sharing with Alison.”
Eleanor smiled at her and kissed her head. She turned back to Cindy. “You can make the reservations for Friday. Two nights. Three suites. Got it?”
Cindy paled. She knew Eleanor would never stay in an affordable resort. How could she pay for this? She and Pete had tried so hard to never fall into debt. They had deprived themselves of so much to maintain stable finances. She felt the safety net they had worked so hard for being yanked away from under them. This had gone too far. She was not a teenager anymore. She had a job, a husband, a daughter. She had responsibilities. She was too old to live out some kind of twisted fantasy. She had to stand up for herself before she allowed this to degenerate further.
The tingling in her pussy told her otherwise.
“Yes, Eleanor. Thank you.”
“Now then,” said Eleanor, taking another sip of her coffee, “I think you need a lesson.” She stood from her seat and walked around the island.
Cindy gulped at the curve of Eleanor's ass in her form-fitting leather pants.
“'Follow me.”
*
Two huge glass cabinets lined the wall beneath a stunning crystal Cressida chandelier. The shelves were stacked with gold and silver trophies and medals inscribed with all manner of athletic and artistic competitions dedicated to Jessica and Alison. Jessica had won tennis tournaments, soccer leagues, freestyle, backstroke, butterfly, and front crawl swimming, baseball, badminton, and lacrosse. Alison had won piano, violin, singing, and harp contests.
Cindy already knew what a talented athlete Jessica was, but she had no idea Alison was such an adept musician.
She backed away from the cabinets and looked up at the wall. There were framed certificates of achievement and professional photographs showcasing Jessica mid pose, furiously striking a tennis ball; and Alison basking in a standing ovation and accepting a bouquet of flowers. In the middle of them, all was a glossy onyx plaque bearing an elevated golden Egyptian Ankh.
Eleanor stood with her thumbs looped through her golden buckle belt, and her back curved exquisitely, pushing her breasts against her tight-fitting Armani tee. “Do you have any children, Cindy?”
Cindy nodded. “A daughter, Sarah.”
“Has she ever won anything?”
Cindy thought for a moment. The closest she could think of were the swimming certificates she earned as a child. She once came fourth in the county spelling bee. She flushed at the idea of presenting that to Eleanor as a comparable achievement to what Jessica and Alison had accomplished. She loved her daughter, but Sarah had never been 'talented' per se.
“Not really, no.”
Eleanor's pout was a smirk. “Well, as you can see, I'm raising champions.”
“I can see that,” she said enthusiastically. “Congratulations Eleanor. You must be so proud.”
“Yes, my daughters are truly special young women. It hasn't always been easy for me, but you can see for yourself the results have been worth it. Both are set up perfectly to be tremendous successes in life. Of course, they both have natural talent. I merely nurtured what was already there. I allowed them to flourish and become their best selves.”
“It's amazing. Inspirational.”
“Yes, well,” she said, pouting a smirk. “You see now the difference between my family and yours?”
Cindy shuffled uncomfortably. She knew Eleanor was right, Jessica and Alison were objectively better than Sarah, at least by measurement of their achievements. Still, it was difficult to hear.
Eleanor continued. “My daughters must remain in peak condition in order to maintain optimum performance. They can’t just shovel whatever into their mouths like Sarah. Do you appreciate Jessica's anger now?”
“Yes, Eleanor. I do.”
Eleanor smiled and tapped Cindy on her nose. “Well, you know, I think you'll appreciate my daughters a whole lot more after you've finished buffing each and every single one of their trophies and medals.”
Cindy paled. There were so many. It would take her hours. Eleanor glared and Cindy felt herself shrink. She smiled nervously. “Definitely, Eleanor. Great idea.”
Eleanor pouted. “And you can clean up the kitchen too. Just don't forget about our reservation.”
“Thank you, Eleanor,” said Cindy, unsure what she was grateful for, but exceedingly grateful nevertheless.
*
Cindy looked on her phone for La Maison de Verre.
It was an ultra-modern resort and spa. Sleek, glass sail panels blended into nature and offered panoramic views of the surrounding forest, mountains, and lake. It boasted sun terraces, bio saunas, steam rooms, massage parlors, gymnasiums, meditation rooms, solariums, boutiques, lounges, and salons. The suites offered private balconies, plasma TVs, King sized beds, and hot tubs.
Cindy tried to ignore the prices. If she couldn't see them, they weren't real. She took her credit card from her bag and her hand trembled as she dialed the number, hoping to receive a deal if she spoke to an actual person.
The woman on the line had an accent Cindy assumed was French.
“La Maison de Verre.”
“Um, yes, hello,” said Cindy. “I would like to make a reservation?”
“What would you like, Madam?”
“I need three suites for tomorrow, please. Leaving Sunday?”
There was silence. Cindy gulped. “You cannot be serious madam. This is La Maison de Verre. There is a waiting list. We cannot just give away next-day suites. Impossible.”
Cindy felt the dread of failure return. “No-no, please, you have to help me,” her voice cracked, she felt the tears well. Her pussy reminded her how much she needed this. She could not fail twice. What use would Eleanor have for her if she did? “There has to be something you can do?”
“I don't think I appreciate your tone, Madam.”
'I'm sorry, please don't hang up, please.” Name-dropping had worked once before, why not again? “The suites are for Mrs. Eleanor Noble and her daughters. They are good customers, aren't they? Don't they deserve better than your average customer?”
There was silence. “Madam Noble you say?”
Cindy breathed in relief. “Yes, can't you do something?”
“I must speak to management. Hold.”
Cindy waited anxiously. She had to remember to simply say she is ordering on behalf of Eleanor in the future if she expected to get anywhere. She had always known on some level that the world made special allowances for people like Eleanor, but now she had seen it for herself and knew it to be true.
“We can move some things around for Madam Noble,” said the woman.
Cindy whimpered in relief. “Thank you so much.”
She heard the woman typing on her keyboard. "Am to assume Madam Noble wishes her usual package?”
Her skin prickled with dread. That sounded expensive. “Um, yes, please.”
“Very well. Breakfast and dining options, three bottles of Champagne Louis Roederer Brut, personalized flower arrangements, taxes, resort fees, late check-out, late booking fee-”
Cindy felt a cold sweat.
“Your total comes to $10289.42.”
Her knees buckled. She had tried so hard to never fall into debt and in one moment it was all ruined. It would be years before she would even come close to paying this off. Her head told her to stop this madness. She could leave Eleanor's mansion and never return. Eleanor could not make her do this. Cindy was choosing to do this. Why? This was insane. The wetness in her panties gave her all the logic she needed to give her credit card information.
“Check-in is at 12 p.m.”
“Thank you so much,” she said, feeling a warmth wash through her. Her trembling hand hovered over her crotch. She was desperate to touch herself.
The woman gave a noncommittal grunt and hung up leaving Cindy staring into space as if trapped in a coma.
“Hey!”
The voice of Jessica made Cindy leap back into reality. She turned to see Jessica with her hands on the hips of her short-pleated skirt, revealing the tan and tone of her athletic legs. Cindy fumbled her phone at the surprise and dropped it. She whimpered as it crashed onto the hard marble floor. She prayed it was okay. She couldn't afford anything else.
“Who said you could take a break? Why aren't you buffing my trophies?”
“S-sorry, Miss Jessica,” she said buckling into a curtesy. “I was just making your reservation.”
“You'd better have remembered to book my own suite. I'm not fucking sharing with Alison.”
“N-no, of course not, Miss Jessica. I wouldn't dream of-”
Jessica interrupted her by marching at her. Cindy instinctively backed away. She collided against the cabinets. She raised her palms in surrender and was already pleading before Jessica grabbed her nose and twisted, pulling Cindy toward her face and staring directly into her eyes. Cindy whimpered from the sharp pain.
“Don't you dare think this is over yet.”
Cindy began to sob. Her pussy was ready to spasm. She squirmed her thighs for relief. Her quivers began to mimic a hump.
"I'm not going to forget what you did just because of some poxy weekend away at a fucking spa. You hear me bitch?”
Cindy nodded. “I really am sorry, Miss. Please believe me.”
“We'll see,” said Jessica, twisting her nose 180 degrees and causing Cindy to yelp.
*
Eleanor and Jessica's trash from breakfast was all over the island countertops. Cindy folded the paper delivery bags and placed them neatly into the trash storage hidden inside the cabinet. There were a few scraps of fruit and berries left from Eleanor's plate and nothing in Jessica's bowl. Jessica must have had the exact amount of nutrition and she did not waste any of it. Cindy could not help but admire her dedication to her sport.
Eleanor was right, Jessica was under a huge amount of stress. It was unsurprising she had a temper. Cindy had to remember not to take it personally. She hoped that a long weekend being pampered would help her relax and maybe realize that Cindy was not her enemy. Yes, it was expensive. Yes, it would take Cindy more than a thousand hours to pay for, but if Eleanor and her family had a great time at Cindy's expense, then maybe that would prove she could be useful. They might even start to think of her as someone they wanted to have around.
As Cindy cleared Eleanor's leftovers into the trashcan, she had to remind herself where she was. She was inside Eleanor's house! Her teenage self had dreamed of this.
She looked at the empty cushioned stool where Eleanor had sat for breakfast. She double-checked she was alone and leaned her face close against the cushion and inhaled. It was faint, but Eleanor's perfumed scent lingered.
She reached inside her cargo pants, and into her moist panties. She bit her lips and suppressed a squeal as she began to furiously tap against her clit. It was an effort to pull away before she came. What if someone saw her? This wasn’t right. She had to control herself until she got home. Besides, the longer she teased herself, the better her orgasm anyway.
She was still trembling as she resumed her chores.
Only Eleanor had taken her coffee. Everything else had been wasted. Nobody had touched her blueberry muffins. She felt a little sad as she emptied the untouched coffee and smoothie down the sink. She placed the muffins in the box in the fridge just in case they changed their mind or if Alison wanted them when she came home from school.
She filled one bucket with clear water and another with mild soapy water and took various polishing cloths. She carried everything back to the glass cabinets, careful to not spill any water onto Eleanor's floors.
She kneeled on the floor and carefully removed the first of Jessica's gold trophies. She dipped and rinsed a soft cloth in the soapy water and gently wiped over the gold. She removed the suds with clear water and dried the trophy with a soft microfiber cloth.
She saw herself in the reflection of the gold, on her knees, taking greater care polishing Jessica's trophy than she did her own furniture. What had she become? All that mattered to her was doing a good job. If she pleased them, they would let her stay, then she could masturbate to them every day.
She had no idea how much time had passed when she heard the tap of Eleanor's chic, Nappa leather, Salvatore Ferragamo booties over the marble. She turned and stared at the points of Eleanor's boots, overcome with the desire to crawl over and kiss the toe.
“Working hard I see,” said Eleanor, “starting to appreciate my daughters now I hope.”
“Absolutely! Thank you so much.”
Eleanor pouted. “Well, you seem to be making an effort at least.”
Cindy smiled shyly. The compliment filled her with pride. “I, um, made the reservation too,” she said hoping for another.
“Good. You can pack our cases tomorrow. I'll make you a list.”
“Thank you, Ms. Eleanor.” It no longer seemed appropriate to refer to her without a title. She felt far more comfortable this way.
“Finish up here and then get started cleaning the house.”
She knew Eleanor's mansion would take far longer to clean than her own small house. The estate was huge and she was only one person.
Eleanor stared through her and she shrank, tilting closer to the floor as if ready to prostrate herself. “Of course, Ms. Eleanor,” she said. “Thank you.”
*
The housekeeper had maintained an elite level of cleanliness. Cindy was impressed and grateful for her attention to detail. There was nothing that required a deep clean. Cindy was able to get away with adding soapy water into a spray bottle and gently wiping the surfaces clean. She had made good progress when Eleanor messaged her phone.
-Lunchtime. I'll have a Greek salad. Jessica will have a chicken salad.
Cindy texted back -of course :)
She searched online for the best Greek salads and healthiest chicken salads. She felt lucky that she already knew what ingredients Eleanor had stocked since Cindy had been the one to complete her grocery shopping yesterday. Everything felt like it was coming together nicely.
She first made the dressing by whisking olive oil, vinegar, garlic, oregano, mustard, salt, and several grinds of pepper in a bowl. Next, she chopped and arranged the cucumber, green pepper, cherry tomatoes, feta cheese, red onions, and olives, mixing them all together in a large bowl. She drizzled the dressing over the top of the salad and gently tossed it. She served it on a plate and finished with a sprinkle of oregano and mint leaves. She was delighted with how it looked. It looked as good as the pictures. She just hoped it tasted okay.
She pan-seared Jessica's lean chicken breasts in olive oil. She mixed Greek yogurt, mustard, mayonnaise, lemon juice, smoked paprika, sage, and garlic powder as a dressing. She added hardboiled eggs, celery, red onions, and nuts.
It was the perfect high-protein meal for a sports superstar. She hoped it might help prove to Jessica how much she respected her talent. She ignored the grumbling in her own stomach. There were far too many chores to finish before she could worry about her own hunger.
She placed everything on a silver tray with a glass bottle of Penta water and two crystal drinking glasses with ice. She carried it into the lounge where she saw through the glass sliding door, Eleanor and Jessica were sitting outside across a stone bar table with an oriental bronze base.
They looked majestic against the backdrop of exotic plant life with the warm sun beaming upon them. Eleanor wore Chanel sunglasses whilst Jessica opted for tinted Nike. Wind chimes gently rattled in the breeze. Bronze Buddhas, stone animals, and Hindu gods were hidden within the foliage giving a sense of zen.
They stopped their conversation upon seeing Cindy with their lunch. They stared as Cindy placed the tray on the stone surface of the table. She smiled nervously as she placed each of their personalized salads before them and set their stainless-steel cutlery on carefully laid silken napkins.
Eleanor gave nothing away, but Cindy could see Jessica's vindictiveness. It was as if she was waiting for Cindy to mess up so she could explode on her.
Cindy determined to not make any mistakes. She poured the chilled water and added a slice of lemon. She backed away from the table and clasped her hands before her as politely as she could and curtsied. Her subservient manner around them had become second nature. It felt correct in her pussy and mind to show them the proper obeisance.
“Well,” said Eleanor, pouting, “it looks reasonable. Let's see how it tastes.”
She gathered up a healthy portion on her fork and slowly guided it into her mouth. Cindy listened to the crunch of her chew like it was ASMR. Eleanor said nothing as she shrugged a single shoulder and took a sip of water. Cindy smiled happily to herself.
Jessica took a mouthful of her chicken salad. Cindy watched her nervously.
“How is it, baby?” said Eleanor to her daughter.
“Too much mustard,” she said, turning to Cindy. “Do better next time.”
Cindy figured that was as good as a compliment considering everything she had put Jessica through. It meant there would be a next time. They trusted her enough to cook for them. She nodded happily and curtsied once more.
“Of course, Miss Jessica. Thank you.”
*
Alison's baby pink and white bedroom was a mess. Clothes had been thrown over her hardwood floor. Her duvet and sheets were strewn over her super king bed. Her vanity table was covered in products, many of which had spilled over the surface. The double door to her walk-in closet was open and more clothes, shoes, and sneakers had been thrown around.
Her ensuite held even more products tipped over the marble countertops. Toothpaste had dried inside both her sinks. Hair clogged the plugholes. Wet towels were in a pile. Her toilet seat was up and the water was golden from her morning pee.
Cindy panicked upon seeing the carnage. She wasn't sure how one girl could make such a huge mess. What if Alison arrived home before it was clean? What would she say? What would Eleanor say?
Cindy rushed around as quickly as she could. She put dirty clothes in the laundry, scrubbed the surfaces, changed the sheets, laid out fresh towels, and sprayed her bedroom and bathroom with aromatic freshener.
She had barely finished when she heard giggling from down the corridor. She quickly smoothed over the fresh duvet cover to remove any creases and fluffed her pillows. The door burst open and Cindy immediately stood to attention as if caught in the act of a wrongdoing. She smiled nervously and held her hands behind her back.
Alison strode inside wearing high waist, designer, torn jean shorts, that showed off her powerful, tanned legs. She wore sneakers without socks, a baby pink bandeau tube top, and a loose-fitting Prada hoody. A brunette friend followed her inside, wearing a white crop top, tartan skirt, and sneakers. They both glowed with healthy skin and products.
A tall, plainer girl trailed them dressed in ill-fitting clothing. She carried both of their bags across her skinny shoulders. She wore no makeup to hide the unfortunate zits across her face. She had cheap glasses and dirty-looking hair.
Cindy shuddered a little. It was like looking at herself in senior year. The girl blushed upon seeing Cindy and Cindy did likewise. They stared at each for a moment in mutual shame as if recognizing kindred spirits.
Alison grinned as she saw Cindy. “Lucy,” she said to her friend, “this is her.”
The brunette Lucy smiled. “Did you know you're like totally famous now?” she said to Cindy.
Cindy blushed harder.
Alison giggled. “I shared that video of you splashing around in the pool. It's got like ten thousand views already.”
Cindy stared, horrified.
Lucy sat on the edge of Alison's bed and scooted up to rest her back against the pillows. “So, like, is she your new housekeeper or something?”
Alison joined her, giggling. “She wishes. A housekeeper gets paid.”
They both laughed.
“Hey,” said Alison to Cindy, “go get us some lemonade.”
Cindy curtsied. “Um, r-right away, Miss Alison.”
Both girls laughed.
“Wow,” said Lucy, “she might turn out to be even more pathetic than your last one.”
“Ha! She might. Try not to fall into the pool this time, loser.”
Cindy absorbed their laughter, longing to touch herself. She smiled at them nervously and backed out of the room, moving beyond the plain, third girl who blinked at her curiously through her large glasses.
*
Cindy knocked on Alison's door before entering. She heard giggling and the faint sounds of RnB music. There was no answer to her light knock. She held a silver tray with a jug of icy lemonade and three glasses. Alison had not asked for any snacks, but she had placed the blueberry muffins and a selection of fresh fruits and berries for the girls to pick at if they were hungry. She stood awkwardly for a time before braving the door uninvited.
Alison and Lucy were both lounging next to each other on Alison's bed playing with their iPhones. Alison's was encased by a quilted baby pink Chanel case while Lucy had opted for glitter and rose gold. Their sneakers had been kicked off and they wiggled their bare feet at the plain girl now kneeling at the foot of the bed massaging lotion into their soles. Cindy placed the tray on the vanity table and began to pour the lemonade.
Alison kicked the girl's face with her foot without glancing away from her phone. “She doesn't need any," she said to Cindy. "Go get her some water.”
The girl blushed and immediately went back to rubbing the foot that had struck her.
“Um, okay,” said Cindy, uncertainly. She turned to make her way back to the kitchen but was stopped by Alison.
“Where're you going?” she said.
“To bring water?”
Alison turned to her and grinned. “But there's a perfectly good toilet through there.” She nodded toward her bathroom.
Lucy held her smile, studying Cindy’s reaction.
Cindy looked down at the girl who had shrunken even lower to the floor, hanging her head, still working hard on Alison's foot.
“I uh, don't think that is appropriate Miss Ali-”
“Do it!”
Cindy jumped at the sudden command. Without thinking, she took the spare glass and hurried to Alison's bathroom with Alison and Lucy giggling behind her.
She stared inside the toilet bowl. Was she really going to do this? Serving Eleanor and her daughters was one thing. The only person she was debasing was herself. In theory, she could have refused any of their demands if she wanted to. But this was something else.
“Hurry up!” came the demanding voice of Alison.
Cindy immediately forgot her reservations and dipped the glass in the bowl, filling it with toilet water. She returned to the bedroom to find Alison and Lucy with their phones pointed at her, grinning.
“You first,” said Alison.
Cindy gulped but it took only a single annoyed glance from Alison for Cindy to obey and take a sip of the stale water.
They laughed.
“Now spit in it,” said Alison.
Cindy grew as flush as the girl still working on Alison's feet. Her skin prickled. She stared at them in disbelief. “Um, excuse me?”
“Just do it,” whined Lucy.
Cindy knew this had gone too far. She had to put a stop to this, but their challenging stares were too much. She had to avert her eyes. Her hand trembled as she slowly lowered her face and dropped a line of saliva into the glass.
Alison and Lucy both burst into more laughter.
“I can't believe she did it,” said Lucy.
Alison tapped the girl's nose with the same foot the girl was massaging. “Okay, loser, drink it.”
The girl slowly raised herself up. She was taller than Cindy but her limbs were gangly. She took the glass from Cindy without even looking at her.
Cindy just stared, helpless. What had she done?
“Thank her, Emily,” said Lucy.
“Down it,” commanded Alison.
Cindy watched in horror as Emily did exactly what was ordered of her, gulping it all down her throat in one as Alison and Lucy cheered, recording the whole thing on their phones.
When Emily finished, she handed the glass back to Cindy, mumbled a “thank you,” and returned to her knees, crawling back to the feet of her tormentors, applying more lotion to their soles.
Cindy stood stupidly. Video footage now existed of her spitting in a glass and handing it to a senior high schooler to drink. What had she done and why did the humiliation turn her on so much? She squeezed her legs together to try and satisfy the tingling.
“What else can we make her do?” said Lucy.
Cindy whimpered a little. “Please, Miss, I have cleaning to finish.” She knew how pathetic she sounded. She couldn't help herself. She didn't want to help herself. She wanted more. She deserved the abuse. She craved it.
They both laughed at her request.
“Alright, loser,” said Alison, “you can go.”
“Thank you, Miss,” said Cindy, curtseying.
“After you kiss our feet.”
Cindy didn't even pretend she was going to refuse. She lowered herself to her knees and crawled to them.
Emily backed away and slowly rubbed her crotch with her fingers as she stared at the older woman taking her place at the feet of Alison and Lucy.
Cindy slowly kissed the balls of their pampered feet. Their skin was so soft and smelled like shea butter. Cindy's own hand trembled as it hovered over her own crotch. Her panties moistened. How could something so wrong feel so right?
“Alright,” said Alison, still recording. “You can fuck off now.”
*
Cindy had just finished the last of the cleaning when her phone buzzed. Eleanor wanted a gin and tonic.
Cindy went to the kitchen and searched the cupboards for everything she needed. She looked up recipes on her phone for the perfect gin and tonic. Eleanor would expect nothing less and Cindy would be embarrassed to serve her anything less.
She added large ice cubes made from frozen Penta water. She poured a measure of Nolet's Silver gin followed by three times the amount of Premium Indian tonic water. She peeled a strip of lime and twisted it over the glass to drip its oil into the mixture then dropped the peel fully into the glass.
She was proud of her creation when she delivered to Eleanor who had moved into the living room. Eleanor sat with her legs crossed, her elbows rested on the back of the sofa, and her breasts pushed out confidently.
Jessica sat facing her mother's side on the U-shaped couch, her face tilted slightly to the tennis match playing on the massive plasma TV.
Eleanor opened her hand and Cindy approached to pass the glass directly into it. Eleanor took a sip and passed it back. Cindy smiled and placed it on a coaster on the cherry wood coffee table.
“So,” said Eleanor. Cindy immediately straightened as if called to attention. “We've been talking.”
Cindy gulped and glanced at Jessica who smirked back at her with evil satisfaction.
Eleanor continued. “Jessica is concerned you're going to try and weasel out of your obligation to her.”
“No, Ms. Eleanor, I would never-”
“I'm speaking!”
Cindy hung her head in shame and nodded. “Sorry, Ms. Eleanor.”
“Now, as I was saying,” she said with a pout. “It is vital that Jessica has her favorite racket before her tournament and you've already proven once that you can't be trusted.”
Cindy felt a sting in her throat and at the back of her eyes. She had tried so hard to make amends.
“I think it is only right that we have some insurance, don't you?”
Cindy shuffled her feet. “I, um-”
Eleanor nodded to a large, glossy, onyx shoebox on the coffee table. “Open it.”
Cindy felt the hateful stare of Jessica as she leaned over to remove the lid. It had the same elevated golden Ankh she had seen on the plaque. She froze as she looked inside to find a collar. She looked up at Eleanor confused.
Eleanor smiled. “Maybe I should explain. There's a microchip inside that will allow us to keep track of your movements.”
Jessica sneered. “You won't be hiding from me, bitch.”
“Language,” said Eleanor.
Cindy had no intention of hiding. The price of servitude was high, both in money and dignity, but her pussy had not felt so alive since high school. She had been kidding herself for years. There was a reason why she thought of Eleanor every time she had sex with Pete. There was a reason why her experience at high school was what she came to. Her pussy hungered for this. She needed Eleanor. She needed the humiliation and exploitation.
“Of course,” continued Eleanor, “this is usually reserved for misbehaved dogs, but it will work just fine for you too. Myself, Jessica, and Alison will all be able to monitor you on our phones. Go ahead, put it on.”
Cindy trembled as she reached for it. It was bulkier and heavier than she thought. It was clearly an expensive piece of technology. Cindy did not even consider refusing. She looped it around her neck without a word of complaint. Jessica chuckled.
“Come here,” said Eleanor, pointing before her.
Cindy shuffled over and Eleanor grabbed the thick leather, tightening it and clipping the metal buckle closed. Cindy felt the pressure, squeezing against her neck. It would take some getting used to.
“Okay,” said Eleanor, “let's try this out, shall we?”
Cindy felt her palms sweat with nerves. Eleanor took her phone and tapped on the screen. “Status active,” she said.
“Mom,” said Jessica, taking out her own phone and grinning down at it. “You haven't told her the best bit yet.”
“Oh yes,” smiled Eleanor. "There really wouldn't be any reason for you to not just take it off and carry it around with you, would there?”
Cindy shook her head, fearing what was coming.
“We have some insurance against that too. Go ahead and try to take it off.”
Cindy quivered as she reached for the buckle. There was a whir from within the collar and electricity zapped into her neck. She screamed and dropped to her knees, grabbing at the collar with her fingers to prise it away. It only lasted a moment but it was intense. She gasped and felt her heart beat a thousand times.
She whimpered as she looked up from the floor at Eleanor, staring down and smiling at her. Jessica clapped her hands and laughed.
“As you can see,” said an amused Eleanor, “disobedience will be quite painful.”
Cindy trembled. She was numb from the aftershock.
“Of course, you can still remove it if you can get through the pain. But I'd be very disappointed in you. You don't want that, do you?”
Cindy whimpered. “N-no, Ms. Eleanor.”
Eleanor leaned down and tapped Cindy on her nose.
“Good girl.”
If Cindy had a tail, she would have wagged it. She wanted to be a good girl more than anything else in the world.
“H-how can I hide this from my family?” she said, weakly.
“That sounds like a you problem.”
Cindy nodded and looked down at Eleanor's boot. She wanted to kiss it so badly. She looked back up at her with puppy eyes and whimpered.
Eleanor smiled at her triumphantly. “You may.”
Cindy leaned close to the point of Eleanor's boot and placed a single kiss upon the point.
Jessica chuckled. “Wow, what a fucking freak.”
Eleanor tittered at her daughter. “Language, baby,” she warned, playfully. “Oh, and Cindy?”
Cindy looked up from the leather.
“This collar was $450.”
Cindy nodded. “Thank you, Ms. Eleanor.”
