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  Blushing Maid

  Viktor Redreich

  Redreich Publishing Limited

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  Redreich.com/Confessions

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2021 by Viktor Redreich

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Redreich Publishing Limited

  71-75 Shelton Street, Covent Garden

  London WC2H 9JQ

  United Kingdom

  www.Redreich.com

  ISBN: 978-1-913376-14-7

  Contents

  Title Page

  Free Book

  Copyright

  Book One

  1. Not what it looks like

  2. None of your damn business

  3. Obligatory flirtation

  4. Wet dream

  5. Dangerously close

  6. This can't go on

  7. Pretend that you love me

  8. Zip me up

  9. Softness of lips

  10. It's all yours

  11. Ravenous

  12. Mine and yours

  13. Come clean

  14. Bubbles go pop

  15. Take me inside you

  16. Are you ready for this?

  17. First day of forever

  Book Two

  18. Play it close

  19. Let's go away together

  20. Open minded

  21. Damn straight

  22. One foot out

  23. Comfort of your touch

  24. People are talking

  25. She's mine, not yours

  26. Time to let go

  27. You deserve better

  28. Just want you to be happy

  29. Invitation to the unknown

  30. Real life

  31. Wuff wuff

  32. Together

  33. Bonus Chapter

  What to read next

  Also by Viktor Redreich

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  Book One

  Chapter 1

  Not what it looks like

  I gazed out the window, watching the sea sliding by beyond me, but I couldn’t focus on that.

  I could see my reflection in the mirror, a little frazzled after traveling for so long – blonde hair knotted behind my head to keep it from getting too crazy, the make-up I had optimistically applied this morning slightly smudged beneath my greyish eyes. I smoothed down the shirt I had worn for the occasion and wondered if the salty sea air was going to do anything to mess up my look even further.

  I glared at the beach - I could already feel that sand getting into the nooks and crevices I didn’t want it to. I was supposed to look even better than usual, given the people I was working for-

  "We’re here," The driver of the taxi announced, making me jump slightly. I hadn’t even noticed that the car had been pulled to a halt. I could hear the sound of the waves lapping on the beach, a few birds in the distance. And I realized I had no choice but to pay the driver, get out of the car, and face what was waiting for me. I did just that, grabbed my bag, and stepped out of the car, peering up to the enormous house in front of me.

  I inhaled deeply, gathered myself, and tried to get ready for what I was about to walk into. I had no idea what I was going to be facing in there. What were rich people like, anyway? I had never met genuine, bonafide rich kids in my whole life, and now, here I was working for a couple of them. It was going to be a learning curve and a half, that was for sure.

  I lingered outside the door to the residential complex, wondering if I should have given it a little longer before I headed inside. I could have just pushed it open and strolled in, used the key they sent me to let myself into their building, and walk in like I owned the place, like some magical nanny here to make everything better. But I didn’t feel like a movie character – no, I felt like I was dumped here fresh from some bad sitcom, trying to navigate through a world I had no real grasp of.

  But I needed this job. When I had received confirmation that they were taking me on, I could still remember punching the air and letting out that long sigh of relief; I needed cash to live, of course, but I needed money to continue my studies more than anything else. If I was ever going to do something with my life, which, you know, I wanted to, I needed to save enough cash to fund the rest of my post-grad studies.

  Alana and Rick King were the kind of couple, I was told, who never did anything by halves. They were one of the wealthiest married couples in the city, with him running his own super-successful business and her acting as the socialite housewife who put in appearances all over the city in one expensive outfit after another.

  They were traveling over the summer, staying out at this incredibly fancy place for the time being so that Rick had easier access to all the clients he would need to meet up with to keep up with work, and the villa they were living in was so huge they had hired me to keep the household running. It was the kind of decadence I couldn’t even come close to imagining, paying someone just to keep the house in order, but I supposed it was different for rich people. They grew up with this kind of money, and never had to think twice about spending too much or too little of it. Maybe one day I would be wealthy enough to treat myself the same way. Though I doubted it – even if I got to the very top of my profession, I didn’t imagine that academic historical studies were going to take me to my billions.

  I realized I had just been standing there outside their house for what felt like hours. They probably thought I was a burglar casing the joint or something. I took a deep breath and gathered myself, and finally pressed the buzzer next to the gate. I could have just let myself in, but I figured it was best for my own safety if I let them do that for me.

  "Hello?” A voice snapped back down the line, sounding stressed. It took me off-guard, and I gargled the next few words out of my mouth.

  "I- uh – hello," I finally managed to get out. "I’m Billie, I’m here to-"

  "Oh, yes, right, the help," the voice on the other end of the line muttered, and the gate slid open before me. I let out a relieved sigh. So I hadn’t come to the wrong place. That was a good start.

  I made my way up the driveway towards the huge building that sat waiting for me at the other end; I knew it couldn't have been that old, but it looked like some ancient Roman villa or something, all crisp, shimmering marbles and exposed brick. Beyond the house, a path led down to the seafront, where the morning sunshine was bouncing off the gloriously blue waves. It was so beautiful it looked as though it must have been put there by a painter, planted on the earth just to impress. I smiled to myself. And I was getting paid to stay here for the foreseeable future.

  "Billie?” A voice calling my name drew my attention, and I glanced around until I could make out where it was coming from. I saw a woman, a little older than me, standing in the doorway of the house; she had long, dark hair that flowed in easy waves over her shoulders, and piercing blue eyes that were the same color as the sea beyond us. She was wearing a light dress that brushed casually over her milky-white skin, but her arms were crossed tight over her chest as though there was something stressing her out. I hurried up towards her, holding out my hand.

  "Hey," I greeted her, a little out of breath by the time I arrived in front of her. "You must be Alana, right?”

  "Yes, that’s right," she replied, and she hesitate
d for a moment before she reached out to take my hand.

  Her hands were soft, the kind that spoke of having dozens of manicures just to keep up appearances. Up close, her eyes were even brighter. A strand of hair had fallen into her face, and I had to fight the urge to brush it back for her. Which would have been crazy, given that I barely knew this woman. I clenched my fist at my side to keep from doing anything crazy.

  It was just the stress of all of this that had me thinking like that, nothing more.

  "Good to meet you," she greeted me. She seemed to mean it – she offered me an actual smile, one that lit her whole face up, and I felt a sharp shock run down from her fingers to mine. I pulled my hand away like someone had pushed it into an electric socket, and did my best to catch my breath.

  "You too," I finally managed to reply, and I ran my hand over my hair, smoothing it back in place. She looked so perfect, I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about how I must have seemed to someone like her.

  "I thought I could show you around the place, let you get a feel for it," she suggested, turning back towards the house. She was barefoot, I noticed, and the sound of her soles slapping against the tiled floor distracted me for a moment.

  "Hmm? Yes, that sounds like a good idea," I agreed. "Is your husband here? It would be nice to meet him too-"

  "No, he’s not here," she replied, almost curtly, taking me aback. There was an edge to her voice that told me that I shouldn’t delve any deeper into that question. I figured it was best to go with my gut.

  "I’m so glad we have some help around the house this summer," she continued, as though I hadn’t even mentioned her husband. "It was so hard last time, trying to keep on top of all of it by myself, you know?”

  "I can only imagine," I agreed, glancing around the enormous place; a giant entry-hall had what looked like a dozen rooms leading off of it, and that wasn’t even mentioning the staircase that swept up to another floor beside me. How many people had this place been built for? I hooked my bag over my shoulder and held it close to me. My little apartment back in the city seemed almost pathetic by comparison.

  "You’ll be staying in one of the guest bedrooms, next to mine," Alana continued, pointing up the stairs. "And you can use the kitchens and bathrooms as much as you want, don’t bother checking in with either of us or anything..."

  "Will do," I agreed, trying to take it all in. I was already crunching the numbers, trying to figure out how much time it would take me just to maintain a place like this day-to-day. Even the dusting alone would take most of my time and energy...

  "Your job is mostly to just make sure that this place stays ticking over," she continued, yawning. "Keep it clean, make sure the food is stocked up – sometimes we’ll need you to help plan events and stuff like that, but honestly as long as you make sure that there’s plenty of wine in the house, you don’t need to worry about taking too much care in that. All these people want is some cheap booze and my husband is usually willing to give it to them."

  The way she spoke about her husband wasn’t exactly imbued with fondness, I noticed. What was going on there? My curiosity was piqued, but I pushed that down – they were my employers now, and no matter how much juicy gossip I might have been able to get out of them, I was going to keep my head down and stay focused on the task at hand. Which was making enough money to fund my way through the rest of my studies so I could commit myself to doing stuff that actually made me happy.

  "I’ll show you to your room," she announced, and turned on her heel and headed to the stairs. She had a commanding air about her, but there was something underneath it, too – something vulnerable, a little nervous, maybe. It made me curious.

  This was a woman who seemed to have everything that anyone could possibly need. How could she seem so...out of sorts? I watched as she made her way up the stairs in front of me, trying to glean it from the way she carried herself, but I was coming up dead short. It was confusing to me, curious. I wanted to know more.

  Before we reached the top of the stairs, I heard the door open behind us – she paused without turning around, and I could see the tension roll up through her body. She slowly swiveled around on the spot, and I did the same.

  A man was standing there in the doorway, a phone pressed to his ear; he was chatting away into it distractedly. A gold ring glinted on his finger, and he held up his hand in greeting to the two of us without breaking the conversation he was having on the phone for an instant. This had to be her husband, Richard King – he had an air of authority about him, and seemed like the kind of man who would have been running a business.

  "Sure, sure," he spoke quickly down the line. "But we’ll discuss this more when I’m there in person, alright? Yeah, yeah, exactly. Okay, I’ll speak to you soon. Catch you later..."

  And with that, he hung up the call and turned his attention back up the stairs.

  "Hey there," he greeted me, striding towards me with a smile on his face. He had dark hair speckled with salt-and-pepper specks, and kind eyes that crinkled around the edges as he got nearer to me. I expected Alana to go towards him, but she just lifted her shoulders to her ears and didn’t move a muscle.

  "Hello," I replied, and I held my hand out. "I’m Billie..."

  "I’m Rick," he replied. "And I see you’ve already met my wife."

  "Yes, she was just showing me around," I replied, and I felt myself flushing slightly. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt like I was making it up – as though we had been up to something far more nefarious but now we had been rumbled I had to think fast to cover it up.

  "Well, I don’t want to get in the way of you girls," he replied, and I bristled slightly. I didn’t like being referred to as a girl. I was a grown-ass woman. But this man was my employer, and that meant I had to stifle down any irritation and hope to God that he didn’t notice it.

  "I was showing you to your room?” Alana reminded me, and I nodded as Rick backed away from us once more, lifting his phone to his ear. I had a feeling most of the encounters I had with him were going to involve him breaking off to make a phone call halfway through.

  "Right, of course," I agreed, and I turned my attention back to Alana. She smiled at me, a little nervously, but it made her whole face look younger like she had traveled back in time to some younger and even lovelier version of herself.

  She led me up the rest of the stairs and along the tiled landing towards a door at the end of the corridor.

  "That’s our room," she explained, pointing to a huge set of doors that must have led into the master bedroom. "And this is where you’ll be staying..."

  She pushed open the door with a flourish and I stepped inside – and I swear, my jaw nearly dropped when I saw where I would be living for the next few months. This room was practically bigger than my entire apartment back home, at least a hundred square feet, with an ensuite bathroom attached. A giant double bed was backed against the far wall, and a beautiful picture window looked down onto the sparkling sea beyond. I would have paid hundreds to stay in this room just for a night at some fancy hotel, but here I was going to be paid to live here instead. It didn’t get much better than that, right?

  "I hope everything’s alright for you," Alana remarked, and I realized I had just been standing there gawking at the place without saying a word for ages. I nodded quickly.

  "It’s fantastic," I assured her. "Perfect, actually. I love it. Thank you so much."

  "Well, I’ll let you get unpacked," she suggested. "If you need anything, my bedroom’s just along the hall, you know where to find me."

  "Yeah, I do," I agreed, and she lingered in the doorway a moment longer, running her hand over the wooden frame, as though there was something else she wanted to tell me. But before she could say another word, she turned and headed out of the room, leaving me to it.

  I found I was a little disappointed at her retreat, even though I knew that was crazy. She was my boss now, and I would do well to remember that I wasn’t meant to be BFFs with her.

 
A bit of distance was healthy in these kinds of scenarios.

  Alana seemed lonely, and the lost-puppy magnet in me wanted to help her with that. I supposed she might well have been, being all the way out here with nobody but her husband for company. She probably had this real social life back in the city, with friends and events and people to spend time with. But out here, it was different – out here, she just had the man she had married to entertain her, and it didn’t seem like he was too into giving her that much of his time. Which made sense, given that he was in this place to work, but still.

  If that had been me, it would have driven me a little crazy. Even the thought of being away from my friends back home had been enough to spark some nervousness in me, some fear that I was going to forget who I was or something and not be able to go back.

  I unpacked my things slowly, yawning as I did so – it had been a hell of a journey out here in the first place, and I was exhausted from all the travel. I wanted nothing more than to hit the hay and catch some rest so that I could come bright and early to my duties the next day.

  I listened out to see if I could make out the sound of Alana moving down the hall, but there was nothing. She probably wanted to be left alone now, anyway. Last thing she was after was for the clueless help to come crashing in and asking for her assistance on something or other. I decided that, for the rest of the night, I was going to keep myself to myself - I still had some of the snacks I had scavenged for the long train journey left in my purse, enough to keep me going through breakfast, at least, so I had no reason to leave this room at all.

  I threw open the windows and inhaled a big lungful of the sea air; man, it was good to be in nature for a while. The city was awesome in so many ways, not least because I knew it so well and because it felt like my home, but this was something else entirely. It was so beautiful, in the kind of way you saw restrained to postcards and “wish you were here”-s sent by relatives who could afford this kind of vacation. Sure, it might not have been a break for me, but it was still an adventure, and I was going to enjoy every moment of it while I could.