Belle Ch. 01

CHAPTER 1: BELLE

The taxi ride from the rundown motel where I stayed the previous night to the house I stood outside of was a unique experience for me. It took half an hour just to leave the city from the area where the motel was located near the bus station. It was another 15 minutes to this gated community. Atlanta seemed impossible for me to comprehend. I seemed to find very little that I could reference to the town in Mississippi where I came from.

The house wasn't even a house by any reference I previously had. Three houses might fit inside this mansion and the ground it sat on was fenced, well cared for, and felt private even though similar homes dotted the area behind the guarded community gate.

I needed this job. It was a nothing job but I was a nothing girl. At least that was what Mother and Father always told me. On my 18th birthday two days ago, I was put on a bus destined for Atlanta with one old, battered suitcase and $300 in cash. Most of that was already gone from the motel, some food, and the taxi.

Walking through the grimy bus station on arriving in Atlanta, I had grabbed a discarded newspaper from a bench. I knew the first thing I had to accomplish was to find a job quickly or end up living on the streets like those I had already seen while entering the city. Those people looked hungry, dirty, and broken. I was only 18 years old. I was already abandoned to Atlanta's streets.

Lying on the musty bed with the ads section spread before me, I had found a small ad: "Young, legal aged woman sought for live-in housekeeping, cooking, and OTHER SERVICES to couple. Salary and benefits." An email address was provided. Of course, my next problem was that I had never been allowed to use a computer. With only an email address provided, how was I going to respond? Luckily, the frumpy lady at the reception desk wasn't as nasty as I originally felt in my exhausted state after the long bus ride. She set me up so I could hunt and peck the letters to words as I explained my difficulty in responding but deep desire for consideration. Whoever was on the other end of the exchange didn't seem impressed with my qualification which was totally understandable since I had no outside the home experience. All I could promise was that I had been raised to care for house and family, including cooking and laundry.

It took some back and forth of exchanges. The frumpy woman at the reception desk appeared to losing patience. But, finally, I had an address and a time for an interview. That was how I came to be standing at the curb before the huge house as the taxi left me behind. To my surprise, before I could ring the bell the large front door opened.

"You must be Gertrude Schmitt," the woman exclaimed as she stood in the open door looking at me from head to foot several times. She didn't seem impressed by what she saw. I didn't blame her. My dress was as old fashioned as the name I was given at birth but rarely use. The short-sleeved dress buttoned in the front with a simple belt at the waist. As always, it was buttoned at the neck and extended down below my knees. The material was worn but clean. Mother gave me new dresses only when the previous ones became too small.

"You certainly are not what I was hoping for," the woman said as we stood at the door. She was hesitant but finally stepped back to allow me inside.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," I uttered. More disappointment. That seemed to be my existence ... such as it was. Mother and Father always seemed to be disappointed regardless of my efforts. My two younger brothers didn't seem to have any impression of me at all.

The entryway was massive. Overwhelming to my limited experience. A wide staircase rose the another floor and a large chandelier hung from two stories up. A doorway to the right showed a very formal looking living room. A door opposite it to the left revealed a large, exquisite dining room. She led me into the living room.

She introduced herself as Julia Matthews. She said her husband should be arriving any moment. They were anxious to fill the position and her husband was leaving the office early. I felt hopeful given the attention they were giving me.

She was an attractive black woman of about 40-years-old. She wore her black hair short. She was about 5' 5" tall with a general body shape that indicated taking care of herself. Her eyes shined naturally and were brown. The clothes she wore were fitted to her body, revealing, and expensive. Her skirt stopped mid-way down her thighs and her white blouse was just sheer enough to hint at a lace bra underneath. Her breasts seemed to be C-cup which would have been the only similarity to me.

She engaged me in idle talk that did not seem like much of an interview until we both heard a door open and close somewhere else in the house.

"Ah ... good, there is Charles now," she exclaimed with some relief in her tone.

A man soon appeared in the doorway to the living room. I stood at his appearance. He took one quick look at me, shook his head, and told Mrs. Matthews they need to talk. I could hear their voices, perhaps in the dining room, but not the words.

* * * *

"Seriously, Julia? She's not at all what we're looking for," he said waving a hand in the general direction of the other room.

"Really, Charles? How many girls have we talked to? Maybe this just isn't going to work," she countered.

"I thought you were wanting this, too."

She stepped up to him. He was a good half a foot taller than her. She patted and smoothed her hand over his chest under his expensive suit jacket. "You know I do. It would be an amazing combination. But, all the girls we've talked to were either sluts who couldn't do a days worth of real work or hardly spoke English, who knew how to work, but were put off by the other part."

"And her?" he waved his hand toward the other room, again. "She's clearly not the type we want. Just look at the way she's dressed. It's like a costume to make sure we don't want her, for crying out loud." She soothed him as only she could before giving him a light kiss. "Maybe, you're right," he conceded. "Maybe this isn't going to work."

She brightened and he knew in that moment he had lost. "Then, since you are home, there is no reason not to at least talk to her." She took his hand and began tugging. "There is something different about her, Charles. I can feel it."

He rolled his eyes and she smiled at seeing he had already given up his fight.

* * * *

When they returned, I was introduced to Mr. Matthews (Charles, apparently). It slipped out that he was a major corporate vice president. It had to be something like that to account for a house like they had. He was a black man, also about 40-years- old, 6-foot tall with an athletic appearing body shape, black hair cut short, and black commanding eyes.

They sat on the love seat opposite the chair where I sat. With him present, the questions quickly flew at me. My answers we just as quick and short. Basically, no. I had no formal experience; no school degree; no anything. He sat back exasperated. Mrs. Matthews smiled pleasantly and patted his leg.

"Dear," she took over, "you have no experience but you are applying for a housekeeping and cook job. Explain." Her expression was soft and open.

"Yes, Ma'am. You see ... housekeeping and cooking and laundry are the only things I have ever done. I am very experienced, just not in the way Mr. Matthews asked," I replied.

She gazed at me as if trying to understand. She switched, "School, then ... you never graduated?"

I shook my head. "No, Ma'am. It's not so much that I failed to graduate. I just never went to school. My job was the house so Mother taught me at home."

"Any sibling?" she probed. I nodded. "They were home-schooled, too?"

I shook my head. "Just me, Ma'am. The boys went to school." They were both watching me carefully. "The boys were boys. They went to school, had friends, sports. Boys stuff." I shrugged my shoulders.

Mr. Matthews leaned forward, his forearms on his knees. "Boys stuff ..." he repeated. "What about girls stuff?"

"I took care of the house, cooked, and did the laundry."

"That's girls stuff?" Mrs. Matthews exclaimed excitedly. "How long did you do that? Did you do it with your mother?"

"How long?" I repeated thinking. I shrugged. "Forever, I guess. When I was too young, I helped Mother. As I grew, about 10-years-old or so, I was doing most of it myself. I know how to take care of a house, cook, and stuff, Ma'am." I looked at the fine furniture. "This is a really big house, but I can do it. I promise."

"Wait," she said as if trying to understand something. I didn't think it was that complicated. I was always told I was nothing. And, these questions, did they really pertain to the job? "You say 'Mother' like it's her name. I mean, not like 'my mother'."

"It was her name," I said. "At least to me. Mother, Father. I wasn't to use 'mommy' or 'mom'."

"And your name is Gertrude," he uttered watching me. He too was having trouble wit things. "That's a really old name. Very unusual."

I nodded. "Mother's mother's name. Mother didn't like her. Mother and Father didn't like me, either. I think that was why I got the name."

They exchanged looks. She shook her head. "No ... how could that be? A name is given at birth. How could they already know they didn't like you?"

I stared at my hands in my lap. I was wringing them like I did to wet rags I used when cleaning the floors. I didn't look up. "Because ... because they said I was an ... uhm ... abomination." Tears welled in my eyes. "That's why," I paused to take a needed breath for control but tears fell from my eyes, anyway. Once I was kicked out of the family, I wanted to forget, to find a different life. Why did they have to ask all these questions about things I just want to forget? I wiped the tears from my cheeks. I looked up and they were both leaning forward and watching me. I took another breath. "That's why I never left the house, wore these dresses. That's why I never went to school or had friends even though my brothers did everything. That's why I am here. When I turned 18, they put me on a bus to Atlanta with some cash which is almost gone now. I need this job, Sir, Ma'am. I'll do a good job. I promise."

Even Mr. Matthews looked at me with softness and concern. "Were you abused, Gertrude? Did they hurt you?" I shook my head and told them I was never touched. "What about hugs, though?" I shook my head.

They looked at each other. She softly told him, "A lot of emotional abuse, though." He nodded.

He took a deep breath as if to settle himself. "Okay, we'll put that aside for the moment. We need to address the job. You understand what the job we have entails?"

"Certainly, Sir," I blurted out relieved to be back to talking about the job. "Housekeeping, cooking, laundry ... stuff like that."

They exchanged another look. She said, "There were two words capitalized. You understood those words?"

"Other services? Of course. You know ... maybe you'd need to rearrange the furniture or sort out the garage or weed a garden."

They looked at each other. "No dear," she said. "A housekeeper might do all those things as part of the job. Our previous one did but her boyfriend got her pregnant and quit. As we thought about hiring a new woman for the job, we ... we thought we'd make the job more ... interesting."

"Sex," he blurted out. "Sex, Gertrude. We want someone who can live here with us, take care of the house, etc. and be a willing partner in providing and receiving sex."

"Sex," I mumbled. "Other services ... huh."

"Are you ..." She began and stopped. She gazed at her husband and turned back to me. "Are you a virgin, Gertrude?"

I nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. I was never to touch myself. Never. That was one of the biggest rules. I only had a small mirror. I wasn't even to look at myself. I had no access to a computer or allowed to watch TV and my books and magazines were carefully screened. I didn't know I was different until much later."

"My God, Charles," she said turning to her husband. "An innocent virgin. Just imagine."

"Exactly. She has no sexual experience. How does that work?" he countered.

"I can learn," I inserted into their comments.

"She can learn," Mrs. Matthews repeated with a smile that spread over her face. "Just think about that. We can teach a virgin."

He stared at his wife for a long time. He was clearly concerned. He turned to focus on me. "Gertrude ..." he paused in thought. I could see he hit on a thought. "Gertrude, explain why you lived the way you did.'

I puzzled. "I don't understand, Sir. I lived the way I did because it was what I had. My job was what it was. They started me young and kept adding jobs. It was what I did."

"Because they told you," she added as if in clarification. I nodded. Why else, I wondered? What alternative was there? She turned to her husband with the same wide smile. Her eyes sparkled. She softly said, "A submissive. An innocent, submissive virgin."

He was still troubled by something, though. "Why did they call you an abomination, Gertrude?" His wife's eyes went wide. He was troubled by that. Had she just ignored it? "It may be personal, Gertrude, but there can be no secrets if you were to fully serve us." The word 'serve' didn't indicate anything different to me but Mrs. Matthew seemed to react with a glance from her husband to me and back to him. She nodded at some understanding before giving me her full attention. "Why did they use that word?" he repeated.

I took a deep breath. It seemed complicated to me because they used that word. "It was something I heard all my life. 'I was nothing'. 'I was an abomination'. I was still young, maybe 10 or 11 when I used the dictionary Mother used to home-school me. I looked it up." I paused. Fear coursed through me. What if they would feel the same way? "It means: a person or thing that is disgusting."

"We know what the word means. Why did they say it?" Mr. Matthews pressed on.

I looked down at my hands that were again wringing together there. I didn't dare look up at them. "I didn't know until maybe half a year ago. I knew what I looked like but I was isolated from anyone and everyone. Don't you see? How would I know that I was disgusting?" They only stared at me.

"Dear," Mrs. Matthews said with a tone of disbelief, "but you're beautiful. Don't you see that?"

"You don't understand," I continued. "It's going to ruin everything. I know it."

"Tell us, dear," he said. "It obvious to us, Gertrude, you are beautiful."

"Okay. About a half a year ago, I was making the beds as I always did in the morning after the boys went off to school and Father went to work. I heard Mother in the shower so I took the opportunity to go into their bedroom to make the bed. While doing it I must have bumped something from the bedside stand. I had to get onto my hands and knees to find it under the bed. I heard the door close and I froze in fear. Mother insisted I was never to see her naked. I stood up to leave the room but as I did she dropped the towel covering her body. She must have heard something because she turned around. That was when I saw it. Or, rather, when I didn't see it. She screamed at me. She was so mad. That was when she said I wouldn't be welcome there ever again after my 18th birthday in 6 months." I took a breath and tried to stifle sobs as my eyes filled, again.

Mrs. Matthews stood up and held her arms out to me. I stood and walked into her arms. She gave me a hug, held me, spoke softly to me. Is this was love feels like, I wondered. I didn't know. I had never felt anything like it before. I knew they still wanted me to continue. I sat back down on the chair. She sat next to her husband, again.

"Sorry. I'll try, again." A pause. "Once I knew what was wrong with me, I decided to find out more about it. So, when Mother left to go shopping, I went into the boys' room. They had a computer."

"Wait ..." Mr. Matthews blurted out. "The younger boys had a computer but not you?" I nodded. He shook his head and glared at something on the floor.

I continued. "Anyway, I went in there to see if I could find out about me. I even opened the window enough to hear if the car returned. I was NEVER to use the computer. It was hard for me to use it because I never had but I had seen the boys using it sometimes when I cleaned their room. I click on icons until a program opened that I recognized. I looked for 'sex', 'male', and 'female' to no avail. I needed a word for both and I couldn't figure it out. Finally, I typed 'male and female same body' and I found a link I needed." I looked up at them finally. "Hermaphrodite. That was the name. That's what I was."

Mrs. Matthews looked confused. Mr. Matthews knew the word. "Hermaphrodite?" He looked directly at me. "You are a hermaphrodite?" I was scared, again. Was I disgusting to him now, too? "Oh ... my ... God ..." He looked at his wife who was still not understanding. "Julia, a hermaphrodite is rare ... extremely rare in humans. Some organisms and plants have the traits. They possess complete functioning male and female sex organs." She stared at him for a moment, then they both turned back to me. "You're a real hermaphrodite?"

I nodded embarrassed. "Yes, Sir. Now you know why I was an abomination." I watched them and they looked stunned. Tears flowed from my eyes, again. I stood. "I'll be going now. I'm sorry I wasted your time."

Mr. Matthews jumped up before I took a second step. He put his hands on my upper arms. "No, Gertrude. Sit down ... please. Wait for a minute. I have to talk with my wife. Give us a minute, please." Again, I could hear the sound of their voices but not the words.

* * * *

"My God, Julia. It's almost impossible in humans but all it really takes is the formula to get slight additions at the right moment," he said.

"Charles, what does it mean?"

"If she is correct, she not only has function female sex organs but male, too. That's what she didn't see on her mother. Her mother had no penis!" He paced back and forth. She just watched. It was what he did when angry and working out a resolution. He stopped in front of her and pointed to the other room. "For that those ignorant people abused that poor girl her entire life!"

"Sheesh ... she'll hear."

"She's lived with this abuse all her life for only being what she was naturally." He took a deep breath. He smacked his palm into his forehead. "Stupid, stupid people." He looked at his wife as he calmed. "She didn't seem to be put off by the sex requirement, did she?"

"In fact," she added, "she hardly flinched. She has no perception of what it means but she is more intent on living a life that includes all the things that have been withheld from her so far. I think, though, she might be terrified more about what she is than anything else."

He nodded. "We need to have her show us."

"Charles."

"If she can do that, we'll know she can do the rest. Are we also in agreement that we want her?"

"Yes, definitely, but ..." He appraised her 'but'. "Maybe we could offer her an option to test that she really wants this and it's not desperation." He nodded. "We can offer to find an agency who could house and assist her in finding a job, for instance." He agreed.

* * * *

"Gertrude," he began as they re-enter the living room, "we were thinking that maybe we could find a government agency that could help you find housing and a job."

"I knew it," I began sobbing. "You don't want me, either. Why am I like this?"

"No, no," Mrs. Matthews countered. "In fact, we do want you. What we don't want is for you to make a decision like this only because you are feeling desperate and hopeless. We only want you knowing you understand and accept the conditions of what we are offering and asking. Committing yourself to having sex on our terms is a big decision. We only wanted to show you there may be an alternative."