James The Butler

I came home from that nerve-rattling meeting to an empty house before dinner. Dad was still fishing for the weekend with his friend Don and Bobby was out already doing God knows what. Sundays were quiet around there, even the servants were in their rooms or out keeping to themselves.

No one greeted me and I was accustomed to that. I hung my coat, phoned for dinner, and set about to find James. I knew he was in residence and found him in the back of the basement in the workout room. He was seated on the Universal chair station, pulling a hefty amount towards his chest in a butterfly move.

He wore only black slacks and I'd never seen him out of uniform. He was well muscled, the kind of man a woman drooled for. His chest was perfectly sculpted with muscles and the sheen of sweat was inviting. My palms began to sweat, my mouth went dry, and I felt a rush of moisture between my legs.

How had I never noticed his beauty? The perfect symmetry of his face, the plush lips, the long nose, those large eyes with their dark fringe and deep blue color? His cheekbones high and perfect, his jaw line strong? How had I never noticed?

I felt my face color and cleared my throat.

He let the weights clank back home with a start and pulled a towel over his neck, hanging it down and covering most of his chest. The ripple of abs was mow in prominent view and it hurt to tear my gaze from them.

"James, I'm very sorry. I know Sundays are usually quiet but I need you to do something."

"Yes?"

"I need to find a party planner, get some for first thing tomorrow."

"Certainly, I'll get started right away."

"Thank you." God, I was probably still blushing as I turned away. I've only had three lovers, and two of them I'd only slept with once a piece. And though I'd seen men naked when you're not attracted to them you don't really see them. I saw James, enough so that if I clawed my eyes out I'd still see him.

I went upstairs still scared by grandfather and aroused by a man I could never have. I had writing to do but I could put it off. My publisher wanted a call, no matter how late, and I'd blow her off until Monday. Instead of all the things I needed to do, I drew a bath.

I tied my hair up and poured in Ralph Lauren bubbles and salts before slipping in myself. God, I needed it. I needed a massage and some time off and I promised myself that next weekend. Right after Grandfather's party I was going to head down to Arizona for some R&R.

"Miss Hyde?" James' voice was faint on the other side of the door half an hour later.

"Yes?"

"I have four women coming over fifty minutes apart starting tomorrow at nine."

"Great. James, I'm sorry to load you up but I need two more things. Oh, come in, I hate talking through the door." There was hesitation and the door opened slowly. I was buried beneath enough bubbles to look about as enticing as a messy six year old.

“All right, I need two things, ready?”

"Yes." He was writing on his little pad and concentrating on it like if he looked at me he’d go blind.

"Book me a flight to Phoenix next Friday, as close to one a.m. as possible. Also I need a personal assistant. You can wait until Monday but I want to find someone who can start immediately so they can take care of these things."

"All right. Your dinner has arrived, should I hold it?"

"Just leave it on the coffee table outside, please."

"Very well." He closed the door softly and I knew it was time to rinse off and come out.

I was just before pruning, and toweled off, moisturized, and perfumed my body. I touched up my makeup and wrapped the silk robe tight against me.

Outside James was just setting up dinner and stiffened when he saw me. Why? I was wearing a robe. I looked down to realize I was damp enough the robe was clinging, but my evening gowns showed far more flesh.

In the back of my mind I wondered if it was attraction. It had been so long for me since there had been anybody that I was rusty. Could it be mutual? It didn’t matter, it could never come to fruition.

"Thank you. Take the night off."

"Thank you, Miss."

I sat down as he left and dove in. It was my guilty pleasure, two Kosher dogs with Chicago style everything, extra celery salt and hell-no-NONE-ketchup. Added to that fries and a root beer.

I finished and dressed in my nightgown and better robe, sent the tray down to the kitchen on a dumbwaiter and found a good book.

I read for a couple of hours, curled on the love seat, before I got thirsty and bored. Padding down to the kitchen I poured myself a glass of coke and headed to the second floor for a shot of rum.

The empty game room waited while I poured and racked up the balls on the pool table. The canny computer in the corner was patched into the central one. I accessed my MP3s and selected the list I wanted. The music poured into the half dozen speakers in surround, and Tori Amos promised me she could be “Cruel.”

The rum and coke disappeared and I brought s bottle of Jack Daniels out. After every shot I took a pull and sank quite a few balls and liquor.

I didn't want to get drunk, but drinking was my only escape. Writing had once been my way out when times were happier, but it no longer worked for me. My writing was darker and though the fans loved it I didn’t. I hated shopping, couldn't have affairs with men my grandfather didn't approve of, and those he did bored me, so alcohol was all that was left.

Guilt will drive you to drink faster than anything else.

I sank more shots, drank more, and the world softened, dulled around the edges. Tori sang on about every subject of dark female will and it was the lyrics of my life.

I left the bottle out but kept away from it once I knew I was buzzed, wanting to prolong my drinking. The game was finished as Tori brought up a dance beat with lyrics that made no sense to me, but still I loved the song. Another game was racked up.

There wasn't much to do, and that's why the rich drink and do drugs. You feel like you should be doing something, anything.

I was steady on my feet and checked my watch. There was a theater about a mile away and I had time to play a game and walk over to see what was playing. I'd have to sneak out if I wanted privacy.

So I went upstairs to change into black clothes. I dug out a beaten-up White Sox cap and my leather jacket. Once dressed I laced up sneakers and ducked out the back. Down the steps I went, hopped over a fence, and ran into the alley. I hopped two more fences and I was one street over, walking towards the movies with no tails on me.

Grandfather underestimated me, as so many did. Born and raised in rough and tumble cities I could spot a tail from a mile away. His men were still out front and I was free. Alone I slunk in to see the new Gerard Butler movie.

It was good. Dark, but good and it made me think. I made mental notes about my next book and slunk down the street to a bar where I downed two beers and flirted with three men. One was several years younger and not even legal, and two who were more chatable if not sexy.

The last one named Bill invited me to a club and we went in his Beemer, dancing to loud music. More drinks. I wasn't getting drunk though; I paced myself with water and sweated out more than I took in.

By the time we were done it was almost three and Bill wanted me to come home with him. A firm no and a shove corrected him and I hailed a cab. It dropped me off at the house the next street over where I'd departed and I made my way back home.

The house was dark, even Bobby's rooms, and I made it to the back door quietly. Then I discovered I'd forgotten my key and the door was locked. I searched for a spare but apparently, we didn't keep one. I dared not go around to the front for the goons were watching so that left one choice.

I stepped back and spied an open window on the second floor, I presumed it to be left of James' suite and leading into the empty bedroom.

I was fairly strong for my little size, I lifted weights three days a week and did martial arts, so I easily climbed up on the porch and scrambled up the trellis with little noise.

I hooked my hands over the ledge of the open window and hauled myself in, thanking God all the while that I did pull ups. I threw my leg over and felt a sharp sting. I put my weight into it and pressed through the pain to land on a bed that was hard and lumpy, trying not to yelp. Looking up at the window I realized I had caught my leg on the window latch. It hurt like hell.

Suddenly I was grabbed and instinct took over. Though my reflexes were dulled I moved quickly. My opponent was strong but I was lithe and fast. We fought and I scrabbled out of his embrace and landed on the floor. Before I could move he was on top of me, pinning me down. I pushed him away trying to gain my feet.

We wrestled some more and I almost got him down. Before I could get out from under him fully he had me pressed on the floor between his legs. Trapped.

"Don't move a fucking muscle!"

It was James.

"James, it's me!"

He tipped the hat back in the moonlight and I saw his face. His eyes rounded and he froze.

"Hey, James, uh, do you mind?" he was pressing on my wound which hurt like hell, not to mention where his hands had struck me in the fight.

Springing back like he'd been branded, James stood with saucer eyes, waiting. To be fired, I presumed. "What are you doing here?"

I sat up and shook it off. When the light snapped on I saw he wore only shorts, and we were in his bedroom.

"Whoops. Thought this was the spare bedroom next door. Guess I counted the windows wrong." He looked baffled as I dusted myself off. "You got some good moves. Wu Chien Pai?" I was trying hard to be nonchalant.

James nodded.

"Not bad. Sorry. I locked myself out and didn't want to wake anyone."

"So you climbed in the window?"

I blushed and shrugged. "It's complicated. If there'd been any other open window I would have taken it. I'll get going now." I took a step and winced.

"What's wrong?" He was there by my side and I couldn’t hide.

"I think my leg is hurt."

All the blood drained from his handsome face. "My God, are you all right?"

"I'll be fine." I lied. "Nice to know you can handle any cat burglars that come along." I hobbled a few steps past him and saw he was looking down at my thigh.

"You're bleeding."

I looked at the leg, opened the slice of pant leg. "Damn, my leg caught on the latch." A trickle of blood showed through the rip. "I'll be fine except I don't know where we keep the Band-Aids and Iodine."

He looked contrite. "I'll bring it here."

"Nonsense I can walk-"

"Just have a seat and I'll take a look, all right?"

I saw his guilt and nodded. I managed to lean into a comfortable chair as he slipped on a midnight blue robe that matched his shorts.

I breathed a sigh of relief. His skin was golden, that strange kind of color that should have been the result of a tan but was natural, and it was all smoothly stretched over rock hard muscle. The hair on his chest was crisp and golden and my hands were itching to touch it. My head was swimming still with drink and I didn’t trust myself around James the Chest.

It was bad to be attracted to one's employee, but it happened. Actually, in my circle it happened many times. It was entirely possible that of James's last two employers he'd been a lover as well as servant. And though he watched me with those dark eyes so often subdued I could see a spark of something. I'm not a beautiful woman but I am pretty and striking, I can hold my own.

That was a moot point because I could never take a man under my roof while grandfather was waiting for me to fail. God only knew why he was waiting for it when he wanted so badly for the Hydes to live on, but he was nonetheless.

James came back with a towel, a bottle of alcohol cleaner and some bandages.

"Can you roll your pants up?"

"Not to my thigh. I'm okay James, really. You didn't do anything wrong."

He wouldn't meet my eyes. "Let me fix it, please."

His voice was low and I broke out in laughter. When I looked down he was watching me with those dark, dark blue eyes of his.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, it's just funny. God, my grandfather drives me to do the worst things, like assault my own staff in the middle of the night. You don’t have to be so nice, it’s me who’s sorry.”

He just watched me without a word.

"I'm probably the oddest employer you've had." He smiled finally, only a slight curving of his lips. "You’re definitely not what one expects when they hear the Hyde name. Now, shouldn't we clean you up?"

"I can do it, thanks."

He raised an eyebrow and didn’t move from the crouch beside the chair. It was clear he was an immovable object.

"Look, I have to take off my pants, and forgive me but you seem a little straitlaced and I don't want to embarrass you."

"I was a medic. In the army."

I'd wondered about his military history. “I don’t know.” Still, I didn’t want to let him see my thin thigh, and, how stupid of me, I didn’t want to see disappointment in his eyes.

“Forgive the indelicacy, but you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.” He mistook my hesitancy.

"All right, fine." Fear be damned, I just wanted this over.

Kneeling on one leg he waited, and I lifted myself out of the chair and slid my pants down to my knees. The cut was worse than I thought and he cleansed it thoroughly before patting it dry and putting on a large bandage.

James was gentle as he went and there was nothing but detachment in his eyes. Breathing a sigh of relief I relaxed into his touch. His hands were rough, not smooth as I assumed butlers always had, and they soothed my skin with the small scratch of callus. I hadn’t noticed the roughness the last time we'd shaken hands. I'd been too busy for more than a cursory greeting before I turned him loose on a trial by fire with my dad.

I shivered at the sensual touch and he glanced up, over my shoulder. "I'll close the window."

Thank God I had that to blame. I quickly put on my pants when he was turned. I had to make my escape soon before I threw myself at him. "Well, sorry to have woken you up. I'll let you get to sleep now."

I turned to leave and he reached out to grab my arm gently. "Keelin, may I ask something?"

It must have been the intimacy of the late hour because he'd never used my name before. I shouldn’t have permitted it but I was too tired. "What?"

"I feel that you're the kind of person that wishes to be addressed with the blunt truth, is that correct?"

"You want permission to speak freely? By all means."

He dropped my arm and took a deep breath. "Why are you drinking yourself to death?"

I could only blink. "Wow, you shoot to kill, huh?" he must have smelled it on my breath. I hadn’t known I stank so much.

"Why?"

I stepped back towards the door. "If you're worrying I'm an alcoholic there's no need. I have stopped successfully. No, I drink by choice."

"Then why?"

"It’s an escape. Once upon a time I had…I was a different person then. Drinking is my only way out."

"Out of what?"

"This place."

He moved closer to me in the dim dark light. "Why?"

I smiled. "You don’t know it yet, but you’re a jailer in my prison." # Monday was strained between us but at least I got my party planner. James did his best to avoid me and I didn't blame him. He sent in the charges as required and informed me I had five meetings set on Tuesday for a personal assistant.

Other than that the house was quiet. Dad came and went with his friend Don and Bobby was ensconced in his room sleeping the day away. I heard James clanging in the weight room and bothering Svetlana about the dusting while I met with my stockbroker.

The rest of the afternoon I spent writing and contemplating my personal assistant. James was grandfather’s spy, would he handpick another spy? James had taken my word and not let Grandfather in, but did I own his loyalty now?

He came and went passing through rooms as I wandered on breaks and I noticed he looked at me differently. There was more intimacy in those looks now, a disturbing closeness that had the maids shaking their heads.

As the day wore on I knew I would want a male assistant. What I needed was someone to take notes, make phone calls, set up appointments, and act as a courier between grandfather and me now that I was his hostess. They would handle the household accounts, the stipends for my father and brother, and any annoyance I didn’t want to deal with.

At three o’clock I went for a jog along the lake while two of grandfather's burly henchmen wheezed behind me. They were so badly out of shape that by mile two they'd quit and waited in the car for me. I didn’t need the exercise but I liked to keep my endurance up and it was fun to torture them.

I ran three miles and waved to them as I passed. These ones were so bad that gramps really needed to send them away. Maybe someone in the CIA would run me around, but not likely. I wished for the challenge; it would be a nice change of pace at the very least.

The planner was at Grandfather’s getting a tour from his housekeeper so I returned home knowing the party was in capable hands. My night was free and I had a new gown, so the decision was quick. I looked through my stack of invitations and found a gala dinner benefiting AIDS. I hadn't RSVP'd, but no one in town refused a Hyde when they showed up, checkbook in hand.

I called one of Grandfather's lawyers to be my date. I knew Henry D'Antoni was drooling for such a chance and even if he didn't have a tux at the moment he'd hold up a Mr. Formal to get it. This would get back to gramps and no doubt please him, making him think I was trying out contestants for “father of the heir.”

So we arranged for him to pick me up for an early dinner at Charlie Trotter's, he made the reservations, and I went to get ready. I went upstairs and called the salon I used and they agreed to send over a stylist and makeup artist, post haste.

I'd worn the silvery white Valentino already, and the red Gucci was too sexy for a teaser date. So this time I went for the satin ice-blue Dolce & Gabanna. It followed my curves tightly and flounced out beneath my butt, highlighting my curves. The neckline was sweetheart and low, enough to tempt any mortal and the color set off my eyes perfectly.

Underneath I would have my corset style bra in powder blue, the garter belt that matched, and the nude stockings with the scallop lace trim in the same color. I laid it out and got ready.

I bathed slowly in the large tub, Ralph Lauren beads perfuming the water, and smoothed my body with moisturizer. Lastly a dollop of La Mer to my face and a swipe of deodorant. Now it was up to the experts.

James let the stylist and artist in and I sat still as they went to work. First came the makeup and they left off foundation. My skin was porcelain and I took care of it so all I needed was some yellow base around the eyes. Next came brown liner and false lashes, navy blue mascara and translucent powder on the lids. My eyebrows were tamed and filled, my lips lined and rouged with stain and then lipstick. Highlighter went around the lips, peach liner inside my lower eyelid, and lastly orange gloss on my bottom lip.

I was helped into my dress before the hair. It was teased up, smoothed down, curled and loosened into a sexy wave. Another spray of shine serum and then hairspray set it.

They helped me with my shoes and put what I’d need in my purse, then did a final spritz of perfume and hair spray. I was at long last ready, and had to admit I looked like a wet dream. Far too sexy for the likes of Henry but I needed to convince James I was hot to trot for another man.

“You look beautiful!” One proclaimed and I thanked them both profusely. They each got $500 in tips and I signed for the bill. They left just before Henry arrived.