Blue Snow

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

*****

This is just what happened. It's the way I remember it.

The rattling of the windows shook me out of a reverie, rain pelting the pane as I sat looking out at the plain from the second story of the place I had come to call home. The water on the glass obscured the view of the field behind my house here in Montana, my little mountain sanctuary. It was a Spring day. Beyond the water drizzling down the glass lay flowers in full bloom, pastel purples, yellows and blues with deep reds and orange. But this day wouldn't allow me to enjoy any of it. Not the open air with its scents that would waft in, not the sounds of the grass and flower petals that would come and go with the breeze, nor the ability for me to get lost in moments of just gazing into its beauty. No. Instead I would only have the rattling of the windows and the prattling of the rain pouring down on this little home I made, barely within reach of civilization.

The doorbell rang. I placed my cigar on the ledge of the ashtray as I left the study to greet the potential maid I had been in search of. I closed the door of the study behind me and proceeded down the stairs.

I opened to door to see her wringing water out of her dirty blonde hair, bent over underneath a yellow raincoat. "Sorry," she said, "The wind blew back the hood."

I grunted, stepping back reflexively to dodge the splashing water before looking at the offense before me. "Are you..." I extended the word, "going to come in?"

She whipped her hair back and I tried to cover myself as little sprinkles of water hit my face. I grimaced and my nose curled up as she walked in past as I tried to wipe away at the wetness. Her back turned to me she took off her raincoat, water dripping onto the hardwood floor. Underneath the coat she had on thick sweatpants and a puffy jacket and I was already pretty sure I wouldn't be hiring her on when she looked at me, her lips in a big embarrassed smile and blue eyes that glistened in the soft lamp light.

"Well, I better clean up the mess I made if I'm to get this job."

She was young, pale skinned, radiant.

"Towels?" she asked.

"Uh," I bumbled. "Towel closet."

Her face lit up as she suppressed a laugh "Upstairs or down?"

I tried to help her clean, but she insisted she do it on her own. Afterwards we sat in the living room. She sat on the sofa as I sat beside on an armchair. Her hands were in her lap, hair pulled back into a ponytail. We looked at each other for a moment and we both took a deep breath at the same time that elicited little laughs from each other, and when her lips, plump and large and wide, curled into a gentle smile, I knew I was going to have a hard time.

I couldn't remember how I normally started these interviews. "So uh," I began, unable to really focus, distracted by her. "Uh. So where are you coming from?"

"Like, just now, or where do I live?"

A chuckle. "Uh, where do you live?"

"Well, I've gotta a place in town. You know Ovando?"

I nodded

"There. A place I'm currently renting out, a trailer, but um..."

I interjected, "Quite a drive to get here."

She smiled, "Yeah. It was," she said adding a nervous but cute laugh at the end. Her voice was slightly husky, almost boyish. "I mean, but I didn't mind. It was pretty. Well, what I could see, anyways," another nervous laugh.

I sunk back into my chair a little bit, my back relaxing into the seat, "Well, I'm sorry it was such a drive" I put my hands pointing about the house, "I don't get out much."

"Not much to do around if you did anyways. Even if you did manage to get into town. Is there anywhere closer?" she asked.

"No. How'd you hear about this job? Craigslist or..."

"The posting on the bulletin. So"

"Well yeah. That's the only way to get here. The road leading up from town."

She smiled brightly and looked away, "I figured."

"That's where you're from?" I asked

"Yeah."

"So, why do you live here then?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Well, I never did very well in school. Besides, I need money to move."

My head tilted as I wondered what she looked like underneath the jacket. Around here, girls that look like her get picked up by someone pretty quickly. Then the typical thing. Kids, then marriage... I looked at her hands and saw a couple rings, but none on her ring finger. I wanted to ask if she was single but thought it'd be too inappropriate to ask. I cleared my throat, "Parents?"

She shifted in her seat. "Kicked me out when I was sixteen," her lips curving up her face nervously.

"Sorry to hear that," I said.

"Don't be. They suck, anyways."

I nod my head uneasily. "You drive though."

"Car's beaten up, but it runs," she said with a smile.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about. When I was about your age my car would break down all the time. If you're ever in a jam, we could work something out." I wanted to kick myself as soon as I said it.

"I've got the job then? She said brightly."

I felt myself turning red. "Well, sorry. We could work something out if this works out," I said pointing from her to me.

She shrank.

"Wait. No. I mean, like, the job. If the job works out. I mean if you get the job, if you're

right for the job. Hold on," I said sighing.

She seemed to relax, "Don't worry Mr. Ellison. I know what you mean."

"I don't want you to think I meant..."

"I didn't think you meant that."

"Oh, good," I said. We both laughed a little. "So... The job."

She smiled. "The job."

"You can drive, so every week or so You'll have to bring me groceries. You're old enough to buy liquor?"

"I can buy liquor."

"Great."

"How much experience do you have with this kind of job?"

"I worked at that motel down by the highway for a few summers"

I scrunched my lips. "So you can keep a place tidy?"

"Sure can."

"Thing is I'm kind of particular."

"I'm a fast learner."

"Thought you didn't do well in school."

She smirked. "Well that's books and stuff.. Who likes books?"

My left eye squinted, "I'm a writer, actually."

"Oh! I mean."

I laughed, catching myself. "Don't worry. I'm not looking for a maid to read."

She laughed. "I've enjoyed a few books."

"Don't worry about it."

"Like the Harry Potters. Those were great."

"As long as you don't say the twilight series."

"I never got what all the fuss was about," she said. I swooned.

"So. Can you cook, then?"

"I can follow recipes," she said.

"You can follow recipes," I said pressing my lips together. "Can you make them well?"

"Yeah," she said with doubt in her voice.

I had a feeling this was going south. I had turned away better interviewees, but I already knew I wanted her to have the job. I wanted her to be right for it. I knew why, but also didn't care. "Well I'd like a few dinners per week, along with stuff I could just heat up. Stuff that isn't Pizza Rolls. Not that I have anything against pizza rolls. You'd need to learn to anticipate my needs. Prep snacks and stuff."

She looked into my eyes searchingly. I kind of shrunk back but was equally enthralled. A small thrill as we made eye contact. I always got like this when I was struck by beauty, like the thrill of making contact with a predator, except instead of fight or flight, I'd just turn stupid. "I won't be able to promise I'll get it right away, but given a couple weeks I'm sure I'd impress you Mr. Ellison."

"Please. Noah," I said with a smile I was sure looked silly, though I tried my hardest to make it look charming.

"Noah," she said with that heartwarming curl of her lips.

I felt my shoulders droop. "So, we'll start with say, three times a week? Mondays Wednesdays and Fridays?"

"Huh?" she sounded.

"I'm saying we'll try it out.. Like a probationary period. You come up. Three times a week. Tidy up, cook a couple meals and sometimes groceries."

"Wait. I drive up three times a week?"

"Well, how else would you do it?"

"Sorry. I thought this was a live-in maid position."

My head cocked back, "What? Why would you think that?"

"Well first off, it's a pretty far drive. And the ad didn't say it was only three times a week. Or the pay."

I slumped back into the chair and tilted my head. "Well, I mean, who really hires a personal full-time maid? I'm not a millionaire. You would want to live here? And, what? Work all week?"

"Well I figured there'd be a day off or something."

"How old are you?" I asked quizzically.

She looked at me for a moment, eyes sizing me up again before she said, "Nineteen."

I cracked at my knuckles and rubbed them as I looked at her, biting the inside of my cheek. Eyebrows furrowed.

"Look," she said. "I'd love to come work for you, I just don't think that I'd be able to make enough working three days a week. Not with rent and all that. Not only that, if I work those three days, it gets in the way of me landing another job. It's not like there's a high demand around here for maid service. Also..."

"How much were you looking to get paid?"

"Huh? Like, monthly or by the hour?"

I sighed, my toes curling and uncurling. "Look, I'm not saying I'm considering it, but if I did consider it, the whole live in thing... I mean, I need quiet when I work. Sometimes part of my process is roaming around the outside, but on days like this, sometimes I just wander the house, smoking a cigar."

"That's not a problem."

"No, I mean, but I can't be distracted in my train of thought."

"I'd stay out of your way, Noah. I have headphones for music, and... is there internet?"

"Well, yeah, I'm not a caveman... completely" I said suddenly aware of my protruding gut, unkempt hair and beard.

"Yeah, I just watch TV on my laptop anyways. I'd stay in my room. But think about how nice it would be to have all your meals cooked for you," she said batting her eyelashes, curling up those lips, "the house always clean... You'd basically have someone on call.

I had never considered a live-in maid before. It sounded expensive and I was only looking to spend around 1,800 a month, most of that pay was just for the drive. And to have someone here? Truth was, sometimes I'd wander around in a robe with my dick hanging out, sometimes I'd just walk around naked. A live-in maid would take a lot of getting used to and as I considered these things she unzipped that puffy jacket of hers revealing how thin her waist was before it tapered out to her hips making me only now notice how thin her legs were. She was wearing a thermal, but it clung to her... and she was prominent. Suddenly the idea of having some company didn't seem bad at all. I was just shy of double her age, and I knew a girl like her would never be into a guy like me, but she was sure nice to look at. I knew she'd be more of a distraction than helpful, but it didn't seem to matter all that much.

I found myself leaning on my knees with my forehead in my hand looking down at the ground. "Could you get another job?" I asked.

She sunk into the couch. "So this is a no go, then?"

"No, I mean, if I gave you room and board, along with free reign to the fridge, could you get another job?"

"Well, I mean, what all would I have to do here?"

"Everything I described."

"Well, I don't want to live here just to live here and I'm not going to do those things for free."

"Well obviously, but I can't pay you a whole lot. I mean, I was really only looking for someone to come by a few times a week, you know? Besides, this way being out of each other's way would be easier."

"Well, I mean, town's an hour and a half away from here, and I don't want to be driving three hours a day to work full time."

I sighed. "Look. Just listen. You'd live here, not have to worry about electricity or water, or food, or rent. Work just a day... maybe two... in town, and on the days you're not in town, you cook dinner and keep the place tidy."

"How much would it pay?" she asked. Sharp girl.

"How much would you want?"

She pulled out her phone. I saw her punching numbers into the calculator. She looked up at me. "Give me a number."

"A thousand," I said.

She was staring right through me for a moment, sitting upright, bouncing her leg. "That's too low."

"You're getting free rent and free food. Besides. I'm pretty sure this place is a lot nicer than your trailer."

She considered this looking from one of my eyes to the other, then said "Seventeen."

"Eleven," I said feeling excitement in my gut, aiming for $1,400, which would break me close to even on what I planned to spend after her share of food and water.

Her long, thin thumbs punched at her screen. She was shifting in her seat, tilting her head this way and that. Then she looked up and said, "When should I move in?"

"If you clean the guest room out yourself, as soon as you'd like. Today even."

"Not a problem," she said, straightening her back, almost rigid. Her face brightened up and she seemed almost too happy considering what I'd be paying her.

"You know... I never actually got your name."

She smiled and laughed a little. "It's... It's Jessie."

And that's how I got a live in maid. That's how I met Jessie.

Old Men's Dreams

The first few days were hard on both of us, but by the end of the week she was proving that she was, indeed, a quick study. She was pretty good at finding good recipes online and by the end of two months, the meals were legitimately tasty, especially as she started to learn my tastes. She learned to leave my mess in the study alone until I asked her to clean it, the rest of the house, she would dust and vacuum, putting things back in their proper place. Apart from having to use a different bathroom a few times, she was pretty good at staying out of the way.

She'd even bring me my coffee and all she'd have me do is text her the coffee emoticon. She would go running, or do yoga behind the house using her laptop and watching those instructional videos online. This last bit was the most distracting part because the window my study faces is the back of the house, and now instead of looking out at the fields and meadows I'd be watching her.

She'd get on all fours in downward dog, her taut round bottom up in the air. She'd wear shorts, and tight shorts at that and I could see the muscles beneath those, skinny, long legs, pale skin, holding poses like a ballerina, twisting her body, spreading her legs as wide as they would go, making the jersey cotton shorts ride up into her, outlining the gentle curves of what was forbidden.

There were admittedly nights I'd fantasize about her showing up in my room, that young, pale, long yet curvy body glistening wet from having just came from the shower, unable to bear her own loneliness in this quiet place, hair drenched like that first time I saw her with those lips. I'd imagine she had those big areolas like Nicole Aniston in her youth, back when she only had boob jobs done with a thin frame like Brooke Banner when she was new on the scene.

She'd kneel down in front of my bed and beckon me, wrap my five inches between her tits and make it disappear. She'd say something sweet like, "It fits just right," as she stroked it up and down. Of course, in some fantasies my dick would be bigger and she'd wrap her lips around the tip while my shaft lay in between those tits she'd squeeze together with her arms, those big plump lips, and that big mouth eating me like she was hungry.

Then I'd picture her riding me. Cunt glistening pink, with a hole so small a pinky finger could finish her, but she'd take me, wincing, gasping and moaning as she fucked me, riding it like she was a cowgirl, hips thrusting rhythmically... and how she'd let me do whatever I wanted to her...

I wrote less of what I should be working on in those early days. I made sure to dress up like a socially functioning person, complete with a shirt and a belt. And every time she would bring me my coffee I'd watch her walk away.

After dinner, we would sometimes watch movies on the couch. I'd offer a cigar and she'd decline saying, "I don't smoke."

"But you don't inhale," I'd say as I'd sit awkwardly in the armchair, wishing I had invested in a recliner, or more, that we would sit together if only for the companionship that people need. Over time, I grew to love hearing the way she would react during those movies. Those little facial expressions.

Eventually she started going into town like we had discussed. After the first time she left, I went into the kitchen naked, excitedly. It had never been anything of note before, but after not being able to do it, it was nice. Then I realized how silly I was being and put on a robe and got down to writing.

It was the climax of a sci fi book. It wasn't anything special, but they sold and allowed me to live out here alone the way I liked it. I had a modest fan base. This one was a series. At the end of the last book, the heroine had been captured by an opposing force called the Cromions, who weren't evil or necessarily bad people, but they had been locked in a battle to control the last substantial deposit of an important mineral and both sides had resorted to doing some pretty shady things to gain this control.

In this book she was held in captivity as her crew members had to figure out a way to rescue her. She had been kept in the brig and at one point had even been raped by a prison guard in an utterly tragic scene where the heroine felt like she was betraying her girlfriend who was the captain of their ship after orgasming while under the influence of something like MDMA.

Anyways. I had the climax figured out and the crew was to breech the ship she was being held in and they were going to get to the captain who had heard about the rape and was questioning what they were really fighting for and who they were becoming in order to win. There was going to be a showdown where they're firing on each other and when the captain of the opposing force has the captain of our side in his sights chooses not to fire because he knows who she is to our heroine and his remorse towards her and so he ends up dying without ever expressing his regret at the turn of events. There's a scene where our heroine gets her excruciating revenge on her rapists, a big romantic reuniting of the captain and our heroine before we teased what would happen next and set the course for the next book in the series which... full disclosure, I had no idea what was going to happen.

It had been a flurry night, that is to say it was a night where I chain smoked cigars while intermittently eating out of a large leftover bowl of stir fry while sipping on a liter of coffee. I glanced at the clock and mindlessly texted the coffee emoticon to Jessie only to realize when she opened the door I was in my bathrobe with my privates greeting the light. I quickly threw the robe over as I heard her approaching, yanked out of the world of my novel but acting as if I was still in it, feeling red.

She took away the liter jug and gave me a smile of playful judgement, one eyebrow slightly raised higher than the other, a slight curl of one side of her mouth. Our eyes met. She looked at my shoulder, and placed a hand on it. I heard myself gasp and felt my heart quicken as she began to caress it. "Nice robe," she said, pinching at the material. But I felt myself already stiffening.

It was the one benefit of having a small dick as I was able to hide it by crossing my legs, squeezing it between my thighs to hold it in place. "Thanks," I said, searching for something else, anything else to say. My mouth hung open, but then I just shut it. She was wearing her running outfit. Short shorts, a sports bra that hugged her breasts tight to her chest, but they were right at my eyeline. A breeze blew in from the window and I could make out her nipple at the early stages of stiffening, subtly outlined by the black fabric.