Chores Build Character - Week 02

"How's my slut today?" Braden remarked, his tone oozing with that oh-so-charming confidence.

I shot him a playful glare, trying to hold onto my sarcasm as best I could. "Well, you know, Braden, like, shut up."

"I'm pretty glad I picked that outfit out."

I shot him an amused glance. Teddy had a bashful smile, his cheeks a soft shade of pink as his gaze wavered. It was kind of endearing, and I couldn't help but grin. Teddy clearly agreed with Braden.

Then, Jason walked in, his expression appreciative as he said I looked great.

I returned his smile, relieved by a compliment that contained no innuendo. "Thanks, Jason. See, it's, like, not that hard to be a gentleman, Braden?"

Braden chuckled, "I can be a gentleman too. Do you want to earn an extra 5 points? We need some groceries. See."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes, "Oh, so you just want to parade me around?"

He shrugged, not bothering to deny it. "Can you blame a guy for wanting to show off his hot roommate?"

Before I knew it, he handed me some cash and gave me a grocery list. I took it all in stride, accepting the chore with a sigh. Why fight it? After all, it was just another day in the life of Izzy.

The grocery store was relatively quiet tonight. Today's outfit, while attention-grabbing, was better than what I wore to the mall last week with Teddy.

Guys' eyes lingered a little too long, and even some girls couldn't resist casting curious glances at my ass in these pants. The attention was undeniable, and though I hated to admit it, it had an appeal.

"Hey there, beautiful. Did it hurt?"

Lost in shopping, I didn't notice this middle-aged man approach me. In my thoughts, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Seriously? Was this guy for real?

"Oh my gosh, like, hurt? What are you even talking about?" My response oozed with exaggerated sweetness, making it sound like I was playing along even though I was not too fond of this.

He chuckled, clearly encouraged by my reaction. "When you fell from heaven," he added, his tone dripping with cheesiness.

He leaned in a little closer, undeterred by my inner cringing. "You know, I've never seen someone so stunning shopping for groceries before."

Inwardly, I fought the urge to gag. Outwardly, I let out a faux-giggly laugh. "Oh my God, seriously? I mean, I guess it's, like, not every day I hit up the produce aisle."

He laughed in response, his eyes gleaming with misplaced confidence. He continued to throw compliments my way, his attention-getting more intense. My attempts to steer the conversation away from flirtation failed spectacularly. This guy just didn't take the hint.

Desperate to escape, I racked my brain for a solution. With a half-forced smile, I slipped the loser a fake number. "You should totally call me sometime, maybe. If you're not too busy, like, admiring other girls shopping."

He eagerly took the number, promising to call. I couldn't help but feel relief as I managed to extricate myself from the situation.

Finishing up my shopping, I pushed my cart toward the exit. As I walked out, I couldn't help but feel a whirlwind of emotions. Was this the path my life had taken? The girl who was turning heads at every corner?

Chapter 4

Wednesday [32 pts]

Gearing up for the day, I slipped into the most okay outfit I could find from Braden's selection. Sexy jeans with enough rips to question their structural integrity, paired with a one-shoulder, figure-hugging top. High heels again, well, I guess I better get used to these, right? I admired my reflection in the mirror, assessing the overall result. Sexy, maybe even a bit slutty, but somehow within the realm of doable. Bravo, Izzy.

Knowing that my roommates had all ventured out, I seized the moment and dove straight into today's round of training videos. The walking videos continued. I couldn't help but chuckle as the instructor demonstrated exaggerated hip swings and come-hither glances.

"Like, really?" I muttered to myself, mimicking the movements the best I could. After several rounds of practicing, I had to admit. My walk did feel more confident.

In the mirror, I watched my reflection sway with an extra helping of hip action. Who knew that a little additional hip action could have such an impact? I smirked at myself; my best asset just got even better.

With plenty of time, before I had to start dinner, I pondered my options. Should I scavenge the chore list for more points or focus on prepping for that upcoming job interview at Jason's workplace? Speaking of Jason, I couldn't help but let my mind wander in his direction. Was there a chance I was developing feelings for him?

Nah, no way. The entire situation was too bizarre, too convoluted. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the thought before it could take root. Focusing on the task at hand, I sighed. There was no time for romance, especially not with everything else on my plate, literally and metaphorically.

Later, sitting across from Jason, awkwardness filled the room. The memory of our kiss lingered in the air, casting a unique shadow over our interactions.

"Like, what's the deal with your boss being an 'old school traditionalist'? What's that even mean, you know?" I inquired with a giggle, my mind shifting to the job interview that was looming ahead.

Jason sighed, a hint of weariness in his expression. "He's not the easiest person to work for. He values respect and obedience, and he's not known for being particularly warm. Plus, he's got some pretty outdated views about women."

Raising an eyebrow, I probed further. "Outdated views? You mean he's a misogynist?"

Jason nodded, a hint of distaste on his face. "Yeah, you could say that. He expects women to follow orders and to dress properly."

A giggle escaped me, the gravity of the situation mixed with irony. "Well, I seem to be doing a pretty good job of that lately," I emphasized my point with a playful twirl, fully aware of my current appearance.

A smile appeared on Jason's lips, his eyes holding a touch of amusement. "You're certainly looking hot."

Stop it, Izzy. He is blackmailing you. You don't have feelings for him.

Shifting back to our interview prep, we dove into discussions about possible questions and strategies. As the evening wore on, our conversation became this delicate balance between professional insights and this subtle, unspoken connection that we both felt but didn't explicitly mention.

Glancing at the clock, I let out a sigh. "Like, omigosh, Jason! Thanks a million! I, like, totally need this."

He offered a reassuring smile. "You've got it, Izzy. Just be yourself. I think the boss might appreciate your unique--personality."

"Oh my gosh, like, seriously? So, your boss, like, totally wants a blonde genius or something?"

Jason's smile grew. "I think he might be into your whole deal. And hey, if he's not, just remember to call him 'sir.'"

With a nod, I took his advice to heart. This interview could reshape my future, and I was ready to face it head-on.

There was one last item on my interview prep checklist: choosing my outfit. I reminded myself of the arrangement: my wardrobe had to be approved by Braden all week for 14 points.

I marched to Braden's room, mentally bracing myself for the conversation ahead. I had to try and reason with him, explain how important this job was for my future. And maybe, just maybe, he could cut me some slack.

Despite my inner frustration, my voice sounded more flirty than serious, "Hey, Braden, I, like, need to talk to you."

He looked up from the playbook he was studying, that characteristic cocky grin on his face. "Hey there, babe. What can I do for you?"

I took a deep breath, summoning my resolve. "Look, I know the whole outfit thing is part of the deal, but this job interview is, like, super important. Can you, I don't know, cut me some slack this time?"

Braden leaned back in his chair, amusement dancing in his eyes. "A deal's a deal, Izzy. It's either my stamp of approval on all your outfits this week for 14 points or 0 points."

I couldn't help but feel my annoyance bubble up. "Like, seriously? You can't, like, make an exception just this once?"

He smirked, clearly enjoying my predicament. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it. I've got something nice picked out for you."

My frustration simmered beneath the surface as I turned to leave. The decision weighed heavily on my mind. Would I let Braden dictate my appearance yet again, or would I take my chances with my own choice?

As I lay in bed that night, sleep proving elusive, my thoughts danced between the possibilities. Who would even care about those damn points if I got the job? But then again, perhaps Braden's pick would be merciful. Either way, the anticipation of the upcoming day's events mingled with my inner turmoil, creating a restless night.

Chapter 5

Thursday [35 pts]

With a rush of excitement, I greeted the morning sunlight as I woke up. Today was the day of my job interview, and the anticipation was coursing through my veins. I knew that this interview had the potential to change everything!

After a refreshing shower, I stood in front of the mirror in my bathroom, a towel wrapped around me. As I applied my makeup, my thoughts drifted to the future this job could bring. No more having to have my outfits approved. No more mandatory cleaning. No more training videos. No more, most importantly, sexual favors!

I silently thanked Jason in my thoughts. He had been the sole bright spot in this surreal roommate situation. His support and encouragement gave me hope and strength to face each bizarre challenge head-on.

As I finished applying my makeup, I looked at my reflection, contemplating my decision for the day. I had two options. I could either wear an outfit of my choosing or the one approved by Braden. This job interview was important, but could I risk losing those 14 points? It was a dilemma that held more weight than I could have imagined.

Determined to make a choice, I wrapped the towel around me and left my room in search of Braden. Today was pivotal, and I needed to know what my options were.

Standing before Braden's door, I knocked hesitantly before it swung open, and Braden's gaze met me, checking me out.

"Hey there, Braden. I was, like, wondering about the outfit for my interview."

"Oh, I have it right here. You'll be pleasantly surprised."

He disappeared into his room momentarily, only to return with a bag in hand.

"Here you go," he said. "Wear this, and trust me, you'll ace that interview."

I took the bag, "Thanks," I muttered.

Back in the privacy of my room, I took a deep breath and mentally psyched myself for what lay ahead. The job interview was my ticket out of this chaotic arrangement, and I was determined to seize the opportunity. Glancing at the bag that held Braden's chosen outfit, I knew the moment of decision had arrived.

I pulled out the first item, high heels. At this point, they had become a staple of my daily wardrobe, and I reluctantly accepted their role. I slipped them on with a resigned sigh, steeling myself for what came next.

As I extracted the rest of the outfit from the bag, I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the sight before me. It was undeniably a secretary's attire but pushed to the extreme of sluttiness. The skirt barely qualified as such, the stockings were hot, and the top was a tad too small for my comfort. A note accompanied the outfit, suggesting I undo a few buttons. Yet another push-up bra completed the ensemble, a consistent theme in this week's wardrobe.

Contemplating whether I could bring myself to wear this ensemble to the interview, I weighed the points against the job itself. The points were crucial for my current situation, yet the potential of escaping the chore arrangement was even more compelling. I thought of Jason's description of his boss and his old-school, traditionalist views. Could this over-the-top slutty outfit be what he was implying?

With a hesitant determination, I made my choice. I was going for it. If the chore arrangement had taught me anything, it was the art of adaptation and playing along for a greater goal. I stepped in front of the mirror; the heels accentuated my legs, the skirt left little to the imagination, and the top--well, with a few buttons undone, would make me like the office slut.

Standing there, I reminded myself this was a means to an end. With a determined nod, I embraced the persona I had reluctantly adopted, my mind set on the interview that could potentially reshape my life.

The wait for the interview seemed to stretch on for an eternity, testing my patience to its limits. My foot tapped restlessly on the floor as I glanced at the clock. Finally, a voice broke through the silence, calling out the name I had been waiting for, Isabella Cervantes.

Gathering my nerves, I stood up and followed the man. He led me through a corridor and into a grand, impressive office. As remarkable as the office was, it seemed designed to draw your eyes to the man behind the desk. He was in his sixties, his expression stern, yet traces of the good looks from his youth still lingered in his features.

He took a slow, deliberate glance up and down my body, his thoughts a mystery as his face remained unreadable. With an air of arrogance, he rudely dismissed the man who had accompanied me into the room, leaving the two of us alone. "Isabella Cervantes," he addressed me, "You may take a seat."

As I settled into the chair, excitement and anxiety surged within me. This interview was the moment I had been preparing for: the chance to prove myself and potentially secure a way out of the chore arrangement that had taken over my life and, for once, to get my life on track for the first time since I dropped out of university. With a deep breath, I braced myself for the interview.

Finally, I mustered up the courage to respond, my high-pitched voice coming into play as I informed him, "It's, like, Izzy. Thank you so much for the interview." Despite my discomfort, his expression remained inscrutable, not showing any approval or disapproval.

He took a note, his gaze lingering on me still, seemingly dissecting every detail. I braced myself for his first comment, and it wasn't long before his voice filled the room. "You have no experience," he stated matter-of-factly, the words hanging in the air like a challenge. Then, in a tone that made it clear he considered me a waste of his time, he asked, "Isabella, why are you even here?"

Flustered, I fought to regain my composure, recalling Jason's advice during our prep. The words tumbled out of my mouth, "Well, like, I'm, um, really good at following orders, and I've, like, got loads of customer service experience. Making clients happy is, like, my jam. Also, I did two years of journalism school, so I can totally use those skills to help out, you know?"

Before I could continue, he cut me off with a dismissive wave. "Ever work in an office?" he inquired sharply, leaving no room for evasion.

I hesitated, then responded, "No, but--"

Once again, he interrupted, his voice dripping with disdain. "I don't need an office slut. What I need is a real secretary, someone who's qualified. And you, no matter how slutty and hot you might look or how stupid you sound, you don't qualify."

I sat there in shock, his words reverberating in my mind. However, he continued, "However, there is one thing you look to be very qualified for. I've had a long, stressful day. Why don't you come here?"

The room spun as I grappled with the absurdity of the situation. Did this fucker just--I couldn't even fathom it. Struggling to regain my footing, I muttered something idiotic in my bimbo voice and hastily got up, my cheeks aflame with humiliation.

I practically raced out of the office, avoiding eye contact with Jason, who was waiting in the hallway. My heart pounded as I fled home, the weight of the encounter bearing down on me. How had things gone so wrong? I wanted to bury my head in a pillow and forget this nightmare.

As the day wore on, I found myself in the solitude of my room, the weight of the failed interview still hanging over me. When I thought I couldn't bear the embarrassment any longer, a soft knock on my door roused me from my thoughts. I turned to see Jason entering, a concerned look on his face.

He offered me a comforting smile and said, "Hey, don't let that jerk get you down. He's a total asshole, and honestly, you probably wouldn't have liked the job anyway."

In return, I mustered a weak smile, appreciating his effort to cheer me up. "Thanks, Jason. I, like, totally know you're right, but it still stings, you know?"

He sat beside me on the bed, offering a supportive presence. "Don't worry," he reassured me, his voice gentle. "For now, you've got a free board here, and maybe we can help you find a new career path."

I blinked in confusion at his words. What did he mean by that? I let it slide momentarily, my emotions too raw from the day's events to process his statement fully.

Then, the realization hit me: I had lost points today. The thought brought fresh tears to my eyes, and I couldn't hold them back any longer. As I cried, Jason's arms enveloped me in a comforting embrace. "Hey, tomorrow's a new day," he whispered, rubbing soothing circles on my back.

I appreciated his attempt to console me, and my gratitude grew. In a moment of vulnerability, I leaned in and gently kissed his lips. He returned the kiss, which deepened into something more intimate. The moment's warmth spread through me, a welcome distraction.

Eventually, Jason pulled back, his eyes meeting mine with a mixture of understanding and a hint of desire. He excused himself, leaving me alone in my room, my emotions swirling with longing and frustration.

Chapter 6

Friday [33 pts]

I was jolted awake by the chime of a text message. Groggy and disoriented, I blinked at the screen and couldn't believe my eyes. It was a message from Kimmy, the encounter at the restaurant coming back to me in a hazy memory. Her text read, "Hey Izzy, It's Kimmy! It was nice meeting you last weekend at the restaurant. I hope we can meet; I have something to tell you."

My sleep-addled brain struggled to process the implications of this unexpected message. What could Kimmy possibly want? My initial instinct was to dismiss it. In my half-conscious state, I agreed to meet up with her on Sunday and pushed the thought to the back of my mind.

Yesterday had been a complete disaster, the job interview leaving me feeling humiliated and degraded. Today was a fresh start, a chance to rebuild and regain control of my life. As I took stock of my situation, I realized the urgency of my predicament. I had accumulated only 33 points so far, and with just three days left to reach 100, I had a lot of ground to cover.

I prepared to tackle the day head-on. Before getting dressed, I grabbed my laptop and started today's training video. After missing one yesterday and feeling the impact of those negative points, I was more determined than ever to make up for it.

As the video loaded, I realized we had moved on from voice and walking exercises. Today's training was all about behavioral adjustments, focusing on the art of flirting. I frowned at first, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the idea. But as the video progressed and I mimicked the exaggerated movements and practiced the hair tosses, I got into the rhythm. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all, and the playful aspect of it made it almost fun.

With the training session completed, I moved on to today's outfit. I was down to three choices. Arranging the clothes, I wore short shorts and a small top that boldly declared, "Don't be jealous." There were no high heels today, but the ensemble resembled something you might see in an acrobatics performance, so pink sneakers replaced them.