Pleasuring the Maid

Chapter 3

***Ava****

My alarm went off at exactly 9 AM, I wasn't supposed to report to work until 11 so I still had time to do

my chores. But instead of leaving the comfort of my bed, I lay on my back on the old bed. My body was

covered half way from my waist down by a grey duvet that was quite tattered with a few holes in it. My

sleep filled eyes remained glued on the old rickety ceiling. I let my gaze trace the barely invisible

patters on the wooded ceiling, while my mind drifted to my unworthy life.

I didn't understand why I was left alone in this world. I couldn't help but think what if my mother had

stayed home that day. Would she still be alive? What if my dad had been around, would I have been

forced into this bitter loneliness?

I didn't have answers to the what ifs, and so I decided to stop my thoughts from wandering further. I

threw the duvet off my body and stepped out of bed, I gracefully strolled to my small bathroom, the old

wooden floor creaking under my bare feet. My bathroom was not fancy at all, just one shower head and

a sink, no bathtub or big shower heads and multiple sinks. It was just what you'd expect an orphaned

girl to live in. After taking a shower I put on a grey Tee, black sweats and black snickers. and strolled to

the kitchen for breakfast.

My house was pretty small, one bedroom, with a small bathroom, a small kitchen and an equally small

sitting room. But I was happy, I had a roof over my head, I had enough salary to feed me, I paid for

water and electricity bills and I was able to pay for bus fare and that was all okay.

I missed my old place, the house where all the good memories I shared with my mother were made. It

was impossible to forget such a lively and cosy place. A place where I learnt that true love wasn't a

fantasy. My mum made sure to tell me every day that she loved me. I still remember the

neighbourhood, it had a serene environment. Every house had flowers arranged on their front porches.

Growing up I didn't have any friends except for one boy but that was a bygone. I remembered how my

mum would chastise me every time I left my dishes undone or when my bedroom floor would be strewn

with clothes.

'Ava Awino James, do you want me to descend on you with blows! ' She would shout. 'Or you think

your little thighs are not so little anymore for my fingers to pinch? ' She would continue. Then she would

do the dishes and tell me to run along.

Going back to my break fast I fixed myself a mug of black coffee and sat on the couch in the sitting

room. I didn't feel like cooking anything else, my appetite had long gone the moment I had thought

about my mum. I just couldn't help it, especially when I was all alone.

Times like this made me miss my mum real bad, If she were here I know she would have made me

something good for my stomach. Bacon, waffles, pancakes name them. She was a great cook, making

sure I was fed all the time. No doubt in my mind she would have forced them down my throat with a

smile on her face. She was a great mum, but she just left me. She perished in a road accident when I

was 17, my senior year of highschool, just before my final exams.

The only family members that I ever knew only helped with the burial, and once it was all over and

done with, they left. I could see it in their accusatory eyes, they blamed her death on me. That was a

year ago, I was better now, I had learnt how to live with the pain. I never got to see my dad, heard that

he dumped my mum once he found out that she was pregnant. They were both 18 then, but he just left

her telling her that he wasn't ready and that he wanted to have fun and not settle down.

The thoughts forced me to relieve the painful moments. Tears stung my eyes and I just let them flow for

a while, I surely missed her. I probably stayed like that for a few minutes before finally wiping them off

with the back of my right hand. The coffee was long forgotten and already cold. So I dumped it in the

sink and picked up my phone and bag, locked the door and left for the bus stage. It was time to go to

the Romans for work, but I was still wary of Bryson.

Today being on Monday, I knew that the boys were in school. Sometimes I wished that I had parents to

pay for my college fees, I never went to college after highschool. But there was nothing I could do

about it, I couldn't afford it.

They both had classes today and I was glad that I would be alone in that mansion till 3 in the evening. I

was not ready to face Bryson yet, so I would finish up my work and leave before they came back home.

My only mission that day was to avoid him at all costs that meant leaving earlier than usual.

I was supposed to be there till 6.30, to make dinner for them but today I wanted to prepare it early,

leave it there for them to warm it up, when they felt like eating. After all they were not small kids to be

spoonfed.

I still walked around the mansion in awe, even after working in there for over a year. I loved the family

protraits they put up on their walls. The sunny pink paint that was plastered on the hallways halls

blended in with the crystal chandeliers that hung on the tiled ceiling. The lights were always on, even

during the day. I loved how they usually illuminated on the pink walls their images reflecting on the

gloss porcelain tiled floor.

The living room was another story, it screamed of elegancy from crafted doors, to the leather couches,

all the way to the well polished floor. The intricate patterns on the walls intrigued me, I must agree, Mrs.

Romans had a wonderful taste.

I was done cooking at around 2.30, so for the next few minutes I fixed up a cup of coffee. I had opted

for Indian Biriani, with a tomatoe salad on the side. I had also prepared some fried chicken, and a nice

black forest cake for desert. My plan was to finish it up in 10 minutes time and leave before they

arrived.

"Crap!" I shouted. I had accidentally poured half of the coffee on my shirt. I had to take it off fast before

it stuck to my body and end up burning me to an extend of blisters forming. What a killjoy, this is notThis belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - ©.

what I had in my mind. Now what was I supposed to do? Go home with the stained tee shirt? Or, I

could go wash it fast before the boys arrived.

The fuck is this? I swore now I had to go wash it cause I couldn't go home with it, The stain was too big

and I didn't want people stares in the bus. I was busy fuming over my stained shirt, that I failed to hear

the screeching of tires outside, or the creaking of the front door or the footsteps that suddenly came to

a stop.

It was only when Ray spoke that I realised my upper body was exposed to his lust filled eyes.

'That is one hell of a sight to come home to. '