Dionaea

The wheels of Eliza's skateboard clicked as they rolled over each gap in the sidewalk. A cool wind gently blew down the streets in stark contrast to the heat that bore down upon the entire city; it wicked the sweat from her brow and flowed through her tank top as she coasted down the hillside streets. It was a lazy Tuesday - though, so far as Eliza was concerned, every day was a lazy day, now. She'd been laid off two weeks ago after her job had been outsourced, given a mediocre severance, and left out on the street. Since then, she'd had little else to do than to prowl job listings and send in ignored application after ignored application.

And skateboard, of course. At least she had that - not that it mattered much.

Soon, the hilly suburbs ended and the flatter, tighter parts of downtown began. The clicking of the wheels slowed and faded beneath the patter of feet and the howl of traffic. By now, Eliza was practically walking, pushing herself lazily between pedestrians as they shuffled from one place to the next. Her pale, lime hair stood out in a sea of brown and black, dotted only by the occasional blonde. She liked that about herself, and her partner did, too; everything about her was so loud. Up-front. Maybe that's why her previous job hired her - and why no one else would even bother to send her a rejection.

Eliza wasn't going anywhere - not in particular, at least. She did want to visit her girlfriend across town, but more importantly, she wanted to get out of the house. Aside from her morning visits to the gym, she'd been spending most of her time binge-watching TV on her computer, huddled up in bed; it was starting to get to her. She hated being boxed in, even when she was the one doing the boxing. It made her feel... useless. Being laid off didn't help - and the rent was due next week. Not much longer before her severance would dry up, now. Eliza grimaced at nothing in particular as she kicked her board up into her hands and stood on a crosswalk beside a few others.

A stark, white paper caught her eye as she turned her head down the street. It was pinned to a wooden telephone pole a few feet down the sidewalk, covered in little more than plain, black text - though from here, she couldn't quite make it out. Something about it caught her eye. For being pinned in such a public place, it was almost immaculately clean and precise, as if it had been locked away in an invisible box and safe from the heat and the traffic.

Cars on the street in front of her began to slow down. The light was about to turn green, and yet, Eliza couldn't break her gaze. She had to read it, right? If nothing else, it could be one of those joke adverts people pinned on noticeboards as part of their meme Instagram project - something she wouldn't mind missing a light for, really. The little white stick figure on the stoplight and the buzz of the robotic voice over the speaker instructing people to cross made her decision for her.

Eliza held her skateboard under her arm as she held the pinned paper in her hands. The texture of it alone was defied description; it was luxurious, soft and immaculately smooth in a way she wasn't even aware paper could be. It was a crisp, off-white, with plain black text printed on by what looked to be a typewriter.

"Help Wanted.

"My live-in staff and I require extra assistance this weekend as I will be out of the house on business. Interested in hiring a strong, capable housesitter to stay watch for twenty-four hours.

"At the end of twenty-four hours, assistant will be paid $2,000."

Eliza blinked in confusion and reread the notice. Below the message was an address and a meeting time. Two thousand dollars? That would cover easily four months' rent - and then some. She'd barely ever made that in two paychecks, let alone a single day. It had to be a misprint. The silken texture of the paper under her fingers reassured her, though; whoever would waste this level of luxury on a public notice was not one to hide their wealth, clearly.

Something about it struck her the wrong way. The sounds of the city faded back into her focused mind as she poured over the page, looking for any sign of a catch - for there must be one, surely. And yet it was only on the fifth re-read that Eliza resigned in her efforts. $2,000 could be hers for little more than a few lazy hours spent scrolling down Instagram on her phone. It would, if nothing else, save her and her girlfriend from the stress of living without her income, at least until she found new work.

The crowd around her had thinned out and she hadn't noticed. Was she that transfixed on the paper? It drew her in so fully, even despite the twinge of suspicion that tickled the back of her mind. Still - $2,000 was $2,000, strange ad or not. Eliza knew she'd be completely foolish to pass up an offer like this. Visiting her girlfriend could wait.

Again the wheels of Eliza's skateboard clicked as they rolled over the gaps in the sidewalk. She had passed through downtown, now, on her way to the richer part of town, decadent flier in hand. It'd been a long time since she'd even thought to come through here, let alone have an actual need to. The trees and hedges were foreboding, isolating; presumably the rich people who owned all the houses here kept it that way on purpose to ward off the poorer folks from up the hill.

Soon the sidewalk would end. Eliza stared down the black road that wound into the trees and hedgerows like a snake. The address the flier had said to come to was only a few down, if the mailbox she found herself standing by was any indication; of course, with how large the lawns surrounding each house were, she had a feeling it could take a while yet. She sighed and tossed her skateboard onto the smooth asphalt and kicked herself forward.

Why was it so cold down here? Up in the suburbs it'd been a comfortable warmth, the sun beating down on every inch of Eliza's pale skin. Down here, the thick canopy of lush, well-tended trees blocked most of the light and warmth, filtering it in as glowing speckles cast upon dewy, trimmed grass and bushes. But surely that couldn't be the whole reason, could it? Trees alone couldn't keep it so cold; Eliza wondered if it was something else. Anxiety tickled the edges of her thinking mind. Perhaps she was just nervous?

That's what she hoped, at least.

The house was enormous. Even from the street it almost loomed over her with the peering eye of a disapproving superior, silently judging her, evaluating her, before she even buzzed the doorbell on the front gate. It was old-looking, built almost completely white; marble pillars supported high, vaulted roofs, flanked by fine wooden walls and surrounded by a sea of immaculately-tended gardens. From the level of polish, it seemed almost impossible to believe she wasn't simply walking into an art exhibition. A quaint speaker above the buzzer on the gate stared at her.

"You got this, bitch. Put on your game face."

Eliza shook herself around, dancing in place, before pressing her thumb into the buzzer. The silent judges were watching, from the house to the gate itself, and she was determined to please them. A moment passed in silence. Another. No answer.

Maybe this was a bad idea. The owner presumably wasn't home, or they'd found another person to hire; or perhaps they saw Eliza, with her green hair and tattoos, from a window, and decided that someone of their class was in no position to deal with a ruffian like her. There was still time, after all, to visit her girlfriend at work...

As soon as she turned to leave, the speaker crackled to life.

"Hello, dear." the voice said. It was a woman; her voice was mature and imposing, rich like a glass of red wine Eliza couldn't dream of affording. It stopped her dead in her tracks, arresting her entire body with a sense of satisfaction. Yes! Yes! "May I help you?"

Flustered, face turning pink, Eliza skipped up to the speaker and held down the button.

"H-hello," she stammered, hesitating. "Are you the one who left this flier?"

The voice on the other end paused for a moment. "Of course. It is my address, is it not?"

Eliza felt stupid - she never did, though. Not... not like this.

"I... Sorry." she said, lowering her voice. The woman chuckled and Eliza's spine froze solid.

"That's quite alright, love. I'll send one of the maids down to let you in - assuming you are interested in the position?"

"I - Y-Yeah!" Eliza replied, perking up and smiling. "I can't believe you'd offer so much!"

"I charge what I'm worth," the woman said. "And I can most certainly afford it. The maid is on her way, darling. See you soon."

The speaker clicked off, and with it, the voice of the woman disappeared. Eliza stood stunned and silent, pondering what had just happened. She... she should text her girlfriend. Right. Somehow she'd... forgotten. Everything felt like such a rush. Her hand reached for her phone before she'd even thought about it.

She tapped open her messaging app and began composing.

"Hey babe! Won't be home tonight - took on a quick side gig for rent. 2k big ones! Love you see you soon!"

Off it went. Eliza looked up - only to find a figure staring right at her from the other side of the fence. Panicked, she leapt backwards, almost losing her footing; the figure tilted its head at her, not reacting to her sudden movements.

It was a woman. She was clad in a heavy, body-covering French maid's uniform. A conservative white apron covered her entire front, reaching down to her ankles; it rested upon a flowing black dress, the fluffy sleeves slid into white lace gloves. She was much shorter than Eliza, eyes only coming up to her breast-level. On her head was a white, lacey bonnet, concealing a neatly-tied bun of raven-black hair.

"A...Are you the... owner? Jesus, you scared me." Eliza said, catching her breath and composing herself. The maid didn't reply, merely giving a quiet hum. It'd taken Eliza a moment to notice, but there was something... off about her face. Her skin was impeccably soft, the kind she'd only seen on airbrushed models in her girlfriend's style magazines. Smooth, matte black lipstick covered her pouting lips - it showed no sign of disturbance, as if she never even moved them.

"Uh... Guess not, I guess. Are -" Eliza began. The maid cut her off by unlocking the gate and pulling it open with a quiet creak, stepping aside to let her in. She bowed her head.

This was getting slightly strange. It was $2,000 - but... But maybe Eliza didn't need it that bad, actually. She... she could find another job. Right? Right. For a moment longer she hesitated, the maid staring right at her.

Eliza put her phone away and stepped through the gate. She shivered impulsively.

The maid's simple heels clicked against the smooth, marble pavers that made up the path to the front door. Every blade of grass was trimmed to an almost frightening regularity, like each had been plucked by hand. It certainly made sense for the owner to pay so generously to watch the home for only a night - the security guards at the Louvre probably made less.

The maid rung the doorbell as soon as they climbed the steps to the front door, wasting not even a second. Eliza felt the need to say... something, anything, to the curt woman; after all, she'd let her in, hadn't she? It felt so odd not to thank her at least out of courtesy.

"Uh, thanks. I appreciate it." she said. There was a pause before the maid turned and looked directly into Eliza's eyes - and hummed quietly, once again. That was all Eliza got, apparently. Hopefully, the owner would be less quiet.

Eliza leaned to the side in an attempt to peer through one of the large, bay windows to get a glimpse of the inside, but was only met with her own reflection against a darkened pane of glass. Every window on the manor was tinted out, blocking the inside from the rest of the world. They looked like black splotches against a white canvas from up close. Inky blemishes.

It struck her that she hadn't heard any birds chirping since she'd walked through the gate.

With a creak the large front door opened. A gust of cool air from inside swept between the two women on the doorstep before dissipating into the warm, summer day; beyond the doors, in the dim front hall of the manor, stood a woman.

She was tall. Oh, my God, she was tall. Eliza got stares sometimes, due to her height, but even she was dwarfed by the woman - who she presumed was the owner. Her long legs were exaggerated by her black heels, sticking up several inches from the floor and arching her hips seductively. Her long body was wrapped in white silk clothes, reflecting the low light onto the flowing black scarf she wore draped over her shoulders. Long, jet-black hair hung straight down her face almost to the small of her back, perfectly smooth and sporting a beautiful, glossy sheen.

"Goodness. You must be my new hire." she said through her soft, matte black lips. She was leaning against a low wall in the foyer, observing Eliza with judgmental eyes. Behind her, in the various halls and rooms with doors ajar, several more maids busied themselves with cleaning tasks and the shuffling of bedding and clothes - all black and white, of course. To that end, everything Eliza could see was that same, monochromatic color scheme - even the glass of champagne that sat on a low countertop behind her.

Already Eliza felt so... distinctly out of place. Her bright green hair, frayed from bleaching and cut into a rough sideshave, her vibrant, fresh tattoos... it simply felt wrong. Strangely, she almost felt the need to apologize - but for what? Looking different? She shook her head as she extended a hand to the owner; don't be stupid, Eliza.

"Indeed I am!" she said, extending a hand. "My name's Eliza. It's wonderful to meet you, Ms...?"

"Madame Geôlière," the woman said with a smirk, scoffing at her hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you in turn, my dear. I must say - your... peculiar sense of style is so much more apparent up close."

Eliza's bright green hair started to contrast how red her face was getting. She shouldn't have to take that shit from this... fucking... rich asshole! What the Hell? A reply formed in her mouth too late to stop her eyes from running over every inch of Geôlière's body, taking in the finest details of her plush curves and generous breasts. She... Damn it.

"It's... it's not for everyone, I suppose!" Eliza replied, essentially faceplanting over her words as they left her mouth. Why was she like this? Were all of her interviews this stressful? Truthfully, she couldn't remember; speaking to people in authority was never an issue to her - she'd read Kropotkin enough times to make any coop leader's eyes bleed - but now... now it felt completely impossible. Eliza just wanted to stare at her and stare at her and stare -

"I'm speaking to you, la copine. You're not allowed to space out until after I've left, you know."

Eliza blinked impulsively and rocked her head back. "Huh?"

"I asked you if you would be alright spending the night in my bedroom; it's the only empty one, aside from the maids' quarters. You really must be more attentive, dear."

Something made Eliza want to spit. Any other time, she'd have run out the door with a raised middle finger; she was not the kind of woman you could be so... fucking dismissive to and get away with it!

Why couldn't she?

Maybe it was the woman's prestige and wealth that made her nervous, aware of how badly Geôlière could ruin her life if she really wanted to. It could've been the way her curves seemed to suck Eliza's gaze right into them like a sinkhole, her pupils swirling around her generous cleavage. God, they looked so... soft...

"Eliza."

"O-of course, Ms. Geôlière. I'd be all right with the couch, you know, I-I don't want to make you go out of your way." Eliza replied. Why did she feel so small? There was something going on with the proportions of the house, constricting her breath and her confidence.

"Would you mind, uh, showing me around?"

Before she even answered, Geôlière clapped in the air. "Madame Geôlière, la copine. I am not paying you to denigrate me. Maid, take the girl's skateboard for her and place it in the guest room. I will be showing her around."

The maid approached Eliza and gingerly took the skateboard from under her arm. On instinct, she pulled back and hesitated, shooting a glance at Geôlière - who promptly shot another back. Her eyes were so cold. Quickly Eliza averted her glare and allowed the maid to take her board, only to be met with a confused look from the smaller, black-clad woman.

"What? Are... are you going to say something, for once?" Eliza asked, only for her reply to come in the form of the maid gesturing at her feet. Geôlière smiled, perhaps only to herself.

"No shoes beyond the foyer." she said, taking a sip of the sparkling white wine that sat behind her on the countertop.

...Eliza nodded and slipped off her combat boots, handing them to the maid. What the fuck was going on? Why... why was she acting like this? Turn around and go home. The thought burned in her mind, and yet ever gaze over Geôlière's plush body overrode them, shattered them to ten thousand pieces. The curvature of her breasts, her cleavage, the way her white dress clung to her body, all amplified by the surreal shape of the architecture that closed around her ever closer with each passing second.

Keep your cool. Eliza cleared her throat and cracked her neck. "So, uh, what did you want me to do here, tonight, exactly? It seems like your maids have it all under control." she said.

"They're rather meek, the poor maids. Sometimes they have difficulties lifting things and reaching some of the trickier places to dust," Geôlière replied, beginning to walk towards the staircase. "And besides - someone needs to supervise them."

Eliza followed Geôlière up the stairs to the second floor, doing her best (and failing) to look forward rather than straight at the taller woman's shapely ass pressed tight against her white dress. She tried not to let it bother her that she was made to take her shoes off, but Geôlière's stilettos continued to clack against the plain, stone floor.

The upstairs hallway was immaculate. Marble statuettes of abstract figures lined the walls and minimalist paintings in shades of black and white hung beside them, acting as the only contrast in the bright, white environment other than the uniforms of the maids and Geôlière's hair.

Eliza stood out like a sore thumb. Green and red. Each swaying step Geôlière took simply cemented it further in her mind. She was elegant - Eliza was not. $2,000 was $2,000. Eliza shook her head and focused her vision, finally managing to break her gaze away from Geôlière's plush thighs.

"Can't they just... supervise themselves? They're your employees." Eliza asked.

"My maids prefer to act only when I - or someone in my name - tell them to. They're simple, like that - I reward them generously for their work."

Before Eliza could reply, a maid shuffled past the two of them. She bumped gently into Eliza, but took diligent care not to even so much as brush the fabric of her flowing dress uniform against Geôlière's - and then she was gone, sliding into what looked to be an office as they passed, dustpan in hand.

"Jesus, yeah, I'd say. If you pay me $2,000 just for a night I'd kill to figure out what their salaries are like."

Geôlière giggled to herself, holding her hand over her mouth. "Mm. They are rewarded excellently, I suppose you could say. All of them love it here."

The two approached a door which, strangely, was actually closed. Clearly Madame Geôlière preferred an open floor plan, with how few rooms were blocked off otherwise. From behind the two of them a maid approached, eliciting a smile from the Madame as she wrapped a white-gloved hand around the door, opening it for the two of them before bowing her head and standing idly beside the door.