Blushing Maid, page 5
"You still paint now?”
"When I can," she replied. "But it’s a little bohemian of a hobby for the lifestyle that I live at the moment, so I don’t talk about it so much."
"I thought that was exactly the kind of thing that you were meant to be doing," I remarked. "You know, the businessman doing the businessy stuff, the partner the one actually having fun..."
She laughed. She had the most gorgeous laugh, the kind that seemed to fill my whole head at once. I could have lived off the sound of that laugh for a week straight.
"Yeah, well, I wish I could have a little more fun," she admitted. "Wish I had some more time for painting, but there never seems to be enough, given everything that I’ve got to do..."
"What kind of stuff do you have to do?”
"I’ve just got to stand around and be the attentive wife, most of the time," she replied. "You know, go to events, look nice, laugh at dumb jokes..."
She trailed off and stared at me for a moment.
"I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this," she admitted, and I reached over and patted her arm.
"Hey, it’s not like I know anyone relevant to tell it to," I assured her. She smiled.
"I guess so. Though what about that guy I saw you with at the party?”
"What guy?” I asked. "Oh, right, Andrew..."
"Yeah, you guys seemed to be hitting it off," she remarked. "Anything going on there?”
"No, no," I replied, waving my hand as though I was brushing the very notion off. "I’m not interested in him, not really."
"You got a boyfriend at home?" She asked, and she trailed her finger around the rim of her glass, not looking up at me, as though she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear my answer.
"Uh, no," I admitted. "It’s just me."
She looked up at me again, and I felt a heat begin to grow between us. It was just the wine – just the wine, and the fact that her foot was so close to me, and that I could have reached out and run my hand over her thigh if I wanted to...
"I should go top us up," I suggested, getting to my feet hurriedly. She did the same.
"I’ll give you a hand."
"You don’t have to-"
"You’re not working for me right now, remember?" She reminded me firmly. "I can help you if I want."
I didn’t have anything to protest against that, so I let her follow me into the kitchen. I wondered why I was feeling the way I did. Nothing was happening here, after all, it was just...it was just that being alone with her, under the light of the moon, with a little wine in my system, felt dangerous. For reasons that I couldn’t figure out quite yet.
I grabbed the bottle of wine from the counter and poured us both another glass. She lifted hers to mine and tapped them together.
"To blowing off a little steam," she toasted, and I smiled and took a sip of the deep crimson liquid in my glass. I leaned back as I did so, planning to rest myself on the counter behind me, but instead I slipped an inch and sent a little of the wine over my chin.
"Oh, shit," I muttered to myself, but Alana just chuckled at my clumsiness.
"Here, let me get it," she suggested, and she reached out to wipe the liquid from my skin with her thumb.
It was the closest I had really allowed myself to be to her, especially now that we were both a little tipsy. And the feel of her finger against my face, so close to my mouth...I couldn’t stop staring at her, at the absurdly, outrageously beautiful woman before me. How did she get away with being this gorgeous and not having dozens of men beating down her door for a chance to get to know her better? I felt my breath catch in my throat, and the heat that had been building low in my belly flared up-
And she pulled away swiftly, as though she had sensed it. I pulled my gaze away from hers at once, flushing bright red. I couldn’t believe that I had just allowed myself to do that. What was I thinking? What was I doing?
I stepped away from her and put the glass of wine down. I needed to get out of here before I did something else, something I couldn’t come back from. I wasn’t even sure what it was I had in mind yet, but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out.
"I should get to bed," I muttered, not looking her in the eye.
"You don’t have to-"
"I want to get up early tomorrow, go for a run," I lied. I had no idea why my mind had gone there. I had never gone for a run in my life before.
"I’ll see you tomorrow," I finished up, and I planted my glass of wine down on the counter, nearly untouched.
I didn’t dare even look back at her as I hurried up the stairs and towards my room. I could feel her eyes burning into the back of my head, and I wanted nothing more than to turn around, to ask her what the hell had just happened and why it had made me feel that way. But that was way too dangerous. I needed to get out of here, get some sleep, and wake up sober and with better sense tomorrow.
I closed my bedroom door behind me, and leaned against it, letting out a long breath.
Okay, so maybe that dream hadn’t been a one-off.
In which case, I was in some serious trouble.
Chapter 6
This can't go on
I was cleaning up in the kitchen when I heard Rick come back through the door – as soon as I realized he had made his return, my heart sank. I put on the biggest smile I could muster and went to greet him.
"Billie, good to see you," Rick greeted me with a big smile. "Is Alana around?”
"I don’t know," I replied. "I haven’t seen her all day."
Which was the truth – in fact, after I had made a break for it the night before in the aftermath of that weird moment we had shared, she had basically vanished. I’d heard her moving around that morning, but she seemed to have been making a point of avoiding me otherwise. Which was probably for the best.
"Oh, right," he replied, furrowing his brow. "Did she seem alright last night? Sometimes she can get in these moods..."
"She seemed fine," I replied quickly. "Uh, I was just cleaning the kitchen, if you don’t mind I’ll..."
"Yeah, of course, don’t let me keep you from it."
I headed back through to the safety of the kitchen once again. I felt a little guilty, being right there in front of him, even though I knew I had done nothing wrong. I had just spent the evening with his wife, the way she had asked me to. I hadn’t overstepped any lines, hadn’t jumped in on anyone else’s territory.
And yet, that moment we had shared the night before...that split-second when she had touched my face and I had found something looping in my chest, something pulling me in fiercely towards her, something that made my heart ache and my body tingle from top to bottom. Something that I didn’t want to let go of. If I’d been a bolder woman, I would have leaned forward and kissed her, just like I had done in my dream.
But I wasn’t.
And, more to the point, I wasn’t gay.
Well, I was pretty sure I wasn’t gay, anyway – I'd never had the urge to cut all my hair off and wear overalls all the time, and I’d never so much as stepped foot inside a lesbian bar. And yet, being around her...
No. I shook that thought angrily from my mind. Being around her did nothing to me, because there was nothing to be done. We were just friends, that was all. I had extrapolated our closeness a little too far into something else, even where there was nothing. Starved for contact, I had turned whatever the hell it was that we shared into something bigger than it was.
"Billie!” Rick called through to me, snapping me out of whatever little hole I had been allowing myself to get stuck down. I cleared my mind, feeling guilty, even though I knew he couldn’t exactly reach inside my head and expose what I had been thinking about.
"Yes?” I called back.
"Could you take my bag up to the room?” He asked. I sighed. The last thing I wanted was to be lugging his shit around, but I didn’t have much of a choice. Every time I came near him, I felt like I was reminded rudely of the fact that he was very much still a part of this world. It wasn’t just us girls, the way I wanted it to be.
I headed through to pick up the bag he had left in the hallway, a rectangle with wheels and a pull handle. As I lifted it off the ground, something buzzed, and I nearly dropped it out of surprise. And then, I spotted it – tucked in the side, his phone, kept carefully in a small plastic pocket for easy access. It had lit up with a message. I opened my mouth, planning on letting him know – but then I saw the contents of the message. And my stomach dropped.
Last night was incredible. Can’t wait to see you again. Thinking of you...
Attached to the message was a picture that didn’t open automatically, but I could guess what it contained anyway. I stared at the words on the screen for a while, and my heart twisted. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be complicit in helping him cheat. He had obviously been away hooking up with one of his other women, and that just...it made me so mad I wanted to scream. Why couldn’t Alana go off and do the same? Where was her hot, sexy toyboy to keep her fires lit? She had told me that she was allowed to have someone of her own if she wanted, but I hadn’t seen anyone coming into the house, no men who could have served her the way she deserved...
I took the bag upstairs like I had been asked to, and I decided the best course of action was to keep my head down and my mouth shut and my eyes open to try and figure out what the hell was going on here. I knew it was none of my business, but as long as I was staying in this house, I was going to make it mine. Besides, I felt protective of her already, determined to prove that Alana wasn’t being treated the way she deserved to be within this marriage.
And for the next few days, I kept my ear to the ground to try and figure out what was going down between the two of them. They seemed to spend most of their time avoiding one another, one leaving the house just as the other arrived back, like they were used to this dance of avoision. They had been married for so long, it was hard not to wonder why the hell they had done it in the first place if they were going to spend all their time trying to get away from one another. But what did they get out of this? He would go off and have his affairs, and she would just wait around at home and...
I waited for her to confront him. She must have known what he was up to, and yet I watched her like a hawk and came up with nothing. I wanted Alana to storm up to him and demand to know what the hell he thought he was playing at, bringing all those girls into their home, humiliating her. She had told me she didn’t care, but I couldn’t believe it. How could she not be stung by this level of rejection? None of it felt fair. And Rick was crazy if he thought I was just going to stand by and let this happen to her. Maybe other staff they’d had would have allowed it to just happen, but that wasn’t who I was. That was never who I had been.
But she did nothing. She didn’t seem to give much of a damn, if she really did seem to realize that this stuff was going on in the first place. Which she must have, right? She might not have been paying specific attention, but she wasn’t stupid, she must have understood what he was getting up to. When he said he was going away for the night, did she actually believe him? Or did she just want to?
I decided I had to speak to her about it. I knew it was way past the realms of what was appropriate for me as her employee, but maybe as her friend, it was different. When we had spoken that night, the night we had shared the wine together, I felt as though something had fallen away to make space for something new. Maybe something that I could use to protect her. To save her. To help her escape whatever prison she was wrapped up in right now.
Chapter 7
Pretend that you love me
"Alana, can I talk to you?” I asked awkwardly, leaning in the doorway of her bedroom and watching as she carefully put her hair up in a high bun. Her fingers moved so delicately over the locks of her chestnut-brown waves, it felt as though I was being hypnotized by them. She glanced up at me, some bobby pins in her mouth.
"Yes, of course you can," she replied. I had made sure that Rick would be out of the house when I asked her about all of this, and I just hoped that he wasn’t going to make a surprise re-entrance from whatever errand he had claimed he was going on to cover for the fact he was probably giving it to one of his many mistresses. I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me, for privacy, even though it was just the two of us in the house.
"I need to ask you something," I began nervously. I didn’t know how I was meant to come out with it. She turned to face me, and as soon as those eyes met mine, I felt some of the doubt lift; if it was to help her, I couldn’t imagine much I wouldn’t do in the world. She smiled encouragingly.
"Go ahead."
"You and Rick," I started, forcing the words out of my mouth even though I hated putting their names so close together like that. "I know we talked about the two of you after I...after I saw him with that girl..."
"Yes," she replied, wincing slightly. "And I’m still sorry you had to witness that, especially so soon after you started working for us."
"No, no, it was fine," I assured her. "But I’ve been...worried about you."
"About me?” She asked, raising her eyebrows. She seemed amused by the notion. "If it’s me you’re worried about, don’t be. Rick uses condoms with-"
"No, it’s not about that," I replied, though I was relieved to hear it, at least. "I just...I know that you said you know about it all and that your relationship isn’t conventional, and everything. But you don’t ever seem to take advantage of that. And I was worried that you’ve been pressured into it by Rick and now you’re stuck here."
She stared at me for a moment, her mouth set in a hard line, and I convinced myself that I had said the wrong thing. What had I been thinking? She was still paying my wages, after all, and I didn’t get to come in waving my arms around and telling her how she was meant to live her life...
But then, her face softened and she sighed.
"You know, you’re the first person to ever ask me about that," she remarked quietly. "I guess I should thank you. Everyone else just assumed that I was happy with it..."
"And you’re not?” I asked. I hated the thought of her being stuck in this marriage she couldn’t get out of. I hated, even more, the thought that nobody had looked twice at it and wondered if she was truly happy.
"You know, it’s not what you think," she confessed. "I can see how it would look like Rick was taking advantage of me if you were on the outside looking in. That he was just using my good nature to bang a bunch of girls on the side while he kept me at home."
"Yeah, that is what it looks like," I agreed.
"But that’s really not what it is, functionally," she continued. "I mean, yes, he does go out and get his all over the place – but he’s discreet about it, and all the girls know about me and what to expect from the relationship. In terms of his ethics, he’s clean. He’s honest with them, he’s good, he needs the excitement."
"And you don’t?” I asked. She shrugged.
"I honestly haven’t found any guy who makes me crave it," she replied. "Nobody who’s made me think, yes, I just have to have you. I know that the door’s open for it if I ever want it, and I think that Rick would be glad if I had someone on my side of things, but I just...never found the right person. I’ve been on a few dates here and there, but none of them have done anything for me. I don’t want to force it just for the sake of leveling the playing field, you know?”
"I suppose," I muttered, but the furrow was still in my brow.
"We’re still friends, I would say," she continued. "There’s just no romantic spark there anymore. I’m not sure there ever was, in all honesty."
I stood there, not saying a word.
"What is it?" She asked, sensing that I was far from satisfied with her answer.
"Look, tell me if this is overstepping the line," I sighed. "But I have to ask – if the two of you don’t feel anything romantic for each other, and you never really did, what’s keeping you together? Why don’t you just break up and move on?”
"Trust me, that’s a question we’ve asked ourselves before," she assured me, smiling, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "It’s about his business. He gets accepted into that world easiest when he’s got a wife to show off, when he can prove that he’s solid and stable and can maintain a traditional marriage. It’s stupid, and it’s old-fashioned, but so are a lot of the people he works with, so I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything less."
"But he sleeps around," I pointed out. "Surely that must get in the way of all of that?”
"Oh, so does everyone," she replied. "Most of them just don’t have the decency to tell their wives about it first, though, so I suppose I’ve got to be thankful to him for that."
"What about you?" I asked. "What’s in it for you?”
"Making my family happy," she replied at once. "They like that I’m settled, gives them less to worry about. And being married to Rick, I get to build some valuable bridges from my family to anyone and everyone that he’s worked with, so I get a boost out of it like that. Plus it’s easier to just be married, sometimes, than to think about dating or anything like that."
I pressed my lips together. This still didn’t sound right. A sham marriage, built out of convenience, for people who didn’t really feel anything romantic towards one another. I just didn’t understand it. I would never have considered myself some great, sweeping romantic, but surely there was more to life than just this – than just taking what you could get because it was easy and made practical business sense?
I realized I had been standing there for a good long moment without saying a word, and Alana was staring up at me with her brow slightly furrowed.
"Billie?” She asked finally, and I blinked and came back to reality. I supposed I had no reason to be worried about her, not now, but I was still sad for what she had to endure. Was this what life was like for the upper echelons? Did you just have to give up on anything you might have felt in the way of happiness to ensure that everything ran smoothly? Or was this what made her happy, this watered-down version of what real love was?
