He's not My Demon Butler

A romantic stroll through a fairytale garden. A gentle hand upon my waist. The teasing voice draws my gaze from moonlit roses to his lips. I want to kiss him. I want to do more than kiss.

I want to know how I got to this point.

....

I came back home for the summer at the end of my sophomore year. I had to save costs somehow, and helping out at my mother's bakery and sleeping on my old twin mattress was better than trying to pay rent on my own for three months.

Or staying in the big city alone without a roommate. Not safe.

I have no idea how my weeb dad could afford to go all the way to Japan for school, but that's where he met my mother. He always said he fell in love with a black-haired nadeshiko, but she'd laugh and admit she had to dye her chestnut hair black just to fit in. I'm still not sure what she sees in him, but it was enough to convince her to move all the way to the States and leave her (probably extremely disappointed) family behind. I've never been invited to meet them.

Actually, I barely know my father's family either. There's the odd uncle or something that shows up every few years in a fancy red convertible with a date half his age, but he was never someone I felt comfortable talking with as a young girl.

That's why it was so incredibly weird when my grandmother, who I had assumed was dead or lost at sea, called my father one evening while I was helping him clear the dishes.

He was hesitant to accept her offer to fly all the way to motherfucking Switzerland. I thought he was born over here, but nope, he's from the land of exquisite timepieces and sus banking laws.

Of course my parents had a fight about it. Though politely dismissing the other's argument while voicing your concern and reminding them of what's "best for the family" probably doesn't pass as a domestic dispute in most parts of the country.

Eventually, I found myself wedged between them on a couple coach flights to Geneva via Paris, getting the most rushed proper education short of handing me a tablet queued up with some historical trash romance show. I had thought I was pretty good at being polite and charming and well, not a messy eater. But I could tell that my mother was just as worried about her own good first impression with her mother-in-law.

As soon as we landed in Geneva, she dragged me straight to the airport bathroom to freshen up. I suppose the drool marks from my second long nap were not giving her confidence in me. But after changing my pantihose and a short frisking in which she adjusted not only my skirt but my freaking bra too, she deemed us ready.

Dad had already found our luggage and a chauffeur by then. Only the telltale tapping of his finger while he crossed his arms told me that yes, he was really nervous. I was nervous too. Motherfucking chauffeurs and town cars? Didn't Switzerland have taxis? Yes. Yes they do. Grandmother's town car was waiting in the taxi lane.

And this brings us to the most Cinderella experience I'll ever have in my lifetime. I'll never be able to tell anyone at college about it, because they will immediately call bullshit.

....

I am already lost as I try to figure out where we are heading with an out-of-service smartphone and a tourism board-approved map of Geneva. The glittering of sunlight on the picture-perfect ungodly blue lake draws me back to our surroundings as the town car passes by hidden driveways and high, ivy-covered walls broken up by majestic trees. Mom reminds me to breathe, and we finally turn up to a gated driveway.

I can't even see the house yet as the gates open onto a winding cobblestone path with a parklike view of the lake. I'll figure out which one it is later. Turns out I can't read Swiss, or maybe I grabbed the wrong map because I think we crossed the Rhone, and I could swear that it was in France. They don't offer European geography much in American schools.

Our town car passes by what looks suspiciously like a hedge maze, and we finally arrive at a castle. Well, it might be too short for a castle, but it's definitely the fanciest hotel I've ever been to. Or maybe that's a mansion. Because there's a row of people dressed in pristine black uniforms ready to greet us.

Mom is giving Dad a wide-eyed look that tells me maybe he hadn't been honest enough about his past even to her, but he doesn't notice it. Not with how he's looking almost pale, and considering he's one of the whitest guys I know, that's a feat. I hesitate to get out of the car, even after someone opens the door for me.

It's so overwhelming that I almost don't even look at the gentleman reaching for my hand. Almost. The moment he does take it to help me out of the car, there's this rush of warmth throughout my body that I was not expecting. My blue-eyed gaze travels up the length of his torso, clad in a tuxedo with that waistcoat thing and a fancy little pocket watch, and up to his angelic face framed in blond locks, paler than my father's.

Before I can do something stupid, like moan out a "hi," he smirks, eying me sideways with his own dark blue gaze before addressing my family. "Welcome to the Reichling Estates. I am Madame Reichling's butler, Cassius. If you should need anything during your stay, please do not hesitate to ask either me or a member of the staff. Madame has scheduled the evening meal for 6 pm, so there is time for you to settle in your rooms and prepare. Unfortunately, she will be busy until then. Master Noah, if you would like, I can arrange a tour of the grounds for your lovely wife and daughter."

I have to stare at said grounds, or at least the section of cobblestone under my feet, to hide the blush that's taken over my face.

With a flourish of Cassius's hand, the servants, who all look like they just stepped off the runway of Paris fashion week despite the uniforms, descend on our bags and lead us inside.

"Miss Asami, may I show you to your room?" The butler has yet to release my hand. Considering how weak my knees are feeling and the unsteady footing of heels on cobbles, it might just be a very thoughtful courtesy. I try my hardest to walk gracefully. He still has to discreetly correct my tilt, but his smile never wavers.

Damn, Grandma! Where did you find such attractive people and how did you blackmail them into being servants?

Cassius guides us up a marble staircase, real marble, not those small tiles. I'm fairly certain most of the first floor is covered in these impossibly huge slabs. I'm thankful for his steady hand and begin to wonder if I may need to dig out my flats just to avoid embarrassing myself further.

Luckily the second floor has a velvety carpet, and I don't have too much trouble as he leads us down the long corridor towards what I assume is a guest room.

"Miss Asami, this will be your suite for the duration of your stay. Master Noah and Lady Asuka shall be just down the hall." Cassius reassures me as he opens the doors to an opulent room with emerald damask drapes drawn to showcase the view of the lake. The room includes a fireplace and sitting area, and the lack of a bed tells me this is what those trashy period dramas meant when they say "sitting room." Or maybe it's a parlor?

My parents follow us as the butler gives me a brief tour of the attached bedroom and a marble bathroom that looks like it belongs in a five star resort. Grandma must make extra cash renting this place out as a B&B.

Dad waits until we're back in the sitting room to release Mom from her endless repetition of "Oh how lovely" and politely dismiss Cassius. "Thank you, Mr. Cassius, but I think my wife and I should be able to find my old rooms from here."

"Of course, Master Noah." The young butler bows as if expecting this. "Your rooms have been prepared for your visit, though most of your personal effects have been... removed." He somehow manages to keep a casually cheerful expression on despite intimating that he knows all about the Reichling family drama.

I need a monocle if I'm ever expected to repeat all these fancy words I'm thinking aloud.

My dad sighs, "I suppose your father would have seen to that after I was disowned."

"My father, a yes, the previous butler." He smiles away the momentary confusion. "If you require anything, please dial zero from any of the room phones." He bows, playful eyes catching me staring, before leaving the room.

"How the previous Mister Cassius managed to date while under Mother's, excuse me, Madame's thumb, I'll never know." My father shook his head before taking a seat on the leather sofa, patting it to suggest I also sit down despite my desire to go explore.

"Ami, you know that we have always tried to be open with you, and we told you about how our families did not approve of our marriage so we were both disowned. Well, there's a reason. I was already trying to run far away from this place. It may appear lovely, as your mother says, but to me it was always a gilded cage, more of a prison than a home. There is no warmth in my own mother, and I suspect she has ulterior motives for inviting us back."

"Now dear," Mom, always the peacekeeper, "I wish my parents would invite us home someday. I'm sure she is getting a little lonely in her old age. Perhaps she just wants to see you one more time..." She leaves that statement hanging open. My father isn't a young man anymore, so I can only guess at Grandmother's age.

"Well," I finally find the courage to ask questions now that the handsome butler isn't distracting me. And my mom insists ikemen are a myth outside of host clubs. "Do I have any cousins?"

Father shakes his head. "I don't know, if you did they would have to be younger than you. I do have an older sister, so maybe. And you remember my uncle Alfred and uncle Liam, my Mother's brothers. They each had a couple children, but I think they live elsewhere."

"Okay." It's a start. "Can I at least go take a look around before dinner?"

"If you remember to keep your door locked at all times. I don't trust my Mother, or her servants." He gets up to find a key hidden under a vase on the mantel. I wonder if all of the rooms have their own fireplace.

Mom adds, getting up so that I can have some space after our long journey. "And remember to change first. I packed that long red dress you loved wearing out to the opera with me, you can probably wear your comfy shoes underneath without anyone noticing." She knows me too well.

With that, they leave me to make myself a bit more presentable for the evening.

....

Despite following all the corridors, I don't see a single soul as I explore the estate, and I soon find myself outside, scarlet ball gown and all. This Swiss lake nestled among the craggy Alps was truly something. I'm not sure I want to know the property value of this view of the setting sun upon its crystalline waters. If I had been Dad, I don't know if I could give all this up.

I'm lost in contemplation when a smooth, somewhat amused voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Madame is quite lucky to have a lakeside estate away from the townhomes and sports fields and public beaches. There's even sections of the lake bordered by the damned railway."

I probably would have jumped, but there's something about Cassius that has me excited for all the wrong reasons.

"Sorry, I was just thinking of how lovely the view was. I'd take the screaming and train noise if it meant having a small place with a view like this." I hide my blush by pulling on my never-gonna-curl straight locks until two thick strands cross in front of my face. I can swear he just called me cute.

"If you'd like, I can arrange for the yacht and give you a tour of Lac Léman's castles and sights."

I wish I didn't feel the need to turn down his offer. "No, that's alright. Though it would be kinda cool to see a real castle. Besides, you probably have other things you'd rather be doing than babysitting your boss's grandchild."

"I can think of a few things I'd rather be doing that don't involve Madame or Miss Vittoria." And my hair will no longer hide this blush. I haven't seen that kind of hungry look directed my way since I turned down the overly bulked guy loitering in front of the frat houses last Fall. If this really was a historical drama, I'd be fanning myself something fierce. Oh fuck.

It's like he can read my mind, and he gives me a telling smirk that sends a rush of excitement straight to my... well there's no nice way of putting it, is there... straight to my now very wet pussy. I'm glad I didn't opt for the barely-there thong under this dress.

He's the perfect gentleman, and aware of my sexual flustering or not, he demurely offers his arm to me. "I believe I was sent to escort you to the evening meal. It's almost 6 pm."

I'm almost more embarrassed that this butler is everything my parents tried to get me to pretend to be for the trip. But I muster up the fortitude to lay my hand on his arm and accept his invitation to dinner, even if my response came with a slight stutter.

Dinner turned out to be a much more rambunctious affair than I expected. I saw more than a few fancy cars now lined up in the driveway, and we joined a stream of guests heading to a reception hall on the left side of the grand building. Feeling a bit underdressed and overwhelmed in the crowd of what had to be models and aristocrats or bourgeoisie, I am about to go join my parents when Cassius pulls me aside.

"Somehow I knew you'd be the most beautiful mademoiselle here tonight. If you can arrange an opening, I would appreciate it if you saved a dance for me." I almost melt at how genuine his voice sounds.

"O-of course..." I stare at his back until he disappears in the crowd.

"Ami, you didn't get lost, did you?" My mother frets for a moment before allowing Dad to introduce me to his cousin. Or was it nephew? I start losing track as we're forced to greet person after person in a sea of strangers.

It's not until we're whisked away by a pair of maids that look like they walked out of Vogue that I realize that was only part one of dinner. And I didn't get to try any of the finger foods being passed around.

Shame really, because the moment I'm settling in my seat, my tummy sings the most appalling cry of hunger, and I'm forced to apologize with a half-thought out excuse of "long flight". The woman at the head of the table sniffs and turns towards my father, ignoring both my growling stomach and my apology.

It takes me a moment to realize that this woman is my grandmother, flanked by one of my great-uncles and what must be my Aunt Vittoria. Great. I wouldn't have ever recognized her, but there's only nine of us at the dinner table. She looks more like Princess Di than I expected, with blond hair pulled up in an elegant twist and only a few wrinkles around mouth and eyes. Something tells me she's had work done.

Aunt Vittoria by contrast has auburn hair left in loose curls and looks like she could cut someone with her eyeliner. If she's had any rejuvenation treatments, she's been more subtle about it. And where Grandmother Reichling is in a more modest black gown accented by shining sapphire jewelry, the plunging neckline and silhouette of Vittoria's blood red gown leave little to the imagination.

It's hard to tell, but my aunt might be side-eyeing me for wearing a more vibrant shade of red. Not that I look even half as glamorous as her!

I can't seem to focus on most of the conversation as I try to maintain decorum while not spilling food on myself. The eating portion of dinner proves painfully slow. It doesn't help that one of my great cousins tries to ask me questions about my university and studies. I answer as best I can, but the questions stop as soon as the soup is cleared for the next course and we both realize that Grandmother does not seem amused.

Better to be seen and not heard, I decide as I pick at the next dish, some poor little bird soaked in some weird clear gravy. Next is a dish of spiced pears, then a seafood pasta, and finally some sort of gamey roasted meat. I get to at least have a few bites of each before the staff clears the plates. I hope someone gets to enjoy all these leftovers.

The final course is just as excessive as the rest. And on fire. I can only assume this is the fabled cherries jubilee that no one actually serves anymore, except in European apparently. It's not half bad, but even without Mom's warning look, I can tell it is still super boozy, and I only have a couple bites. She's already allowed me to have a glass of white wine to fit in with the family, and I don't want to risk being the underage drunk at a fancy party.

I bite back a sigh of relief when Grandmother stands and bids us all return to the party in the reception hall. The dancing has already started, and the music is now louder than the hum of conversation. When the first older gentleman approaches me and bows, I have to ignore my aunt's glare and look to my parents for guidance. Dad nods, just slightly. He did say if there was a formal event, I could find myself served up like an offering and to try to be graciously accepting if someone asked for a dance or two.

Now I see why he warned me. I'm not exactly, no scratch that, I have never been a ballroom dancer. Best I got was that awkward slow dancing where you just kinda rock from side to side and shuffle while trying not to fall asleep on your date's shoulder. Dad tried to show me the basics for waltzing, but I can't keep up with the exaggerated movements the line of partners is throwing at me.

I step on more than a few feet, and awkwardly apologize to my partner and everyone I bump into. It's not until the song changes for the sixth time that I realize maybe it was my partners that were failing me.

The next gentleman to approach me is Cassius, and as much as I can feel my body pull to him, I hesitate to accept his outstretched hand. "Sorry, but you might have seen by now that I'm not a very good dancer." His long fingers are already warm around mine.

"I think it would help if the lead was sober." He says with a smile, drawing me to his chest anyways. "Though if your feet are getting tired, I have the evening free. We could go find someplace cool to relax at."

"Maybe after a dance?" I accept his offer quickly. "Fresh air might be nice."

Now that I'm close enough to smell his cologne, I realize just how warm it's gotten despite the size of the room. Not that that matters, because now I can feel the strength of his body through his suit. My hand squeezes his bicep as his own hand falls low on my waist and firmly guides me as we begin to dance.

I observe him, somehow less worried about stepping on toes or being pushed into someone else's path. Cassius is still in his extremely formal butler uniform, but now there's a medallion hanging to one side of his waist from a thick black sash, the meaning of which eludes me, but damn does he seem like Prince Charming right now. And it's doing things to me. I'm certain the flush on my skin isn't from the heat generated by all the dancers. My nice panties aren't going to survive the night at this rate, and being this close to him is making me more breathy than winded.

He's an incredible dancer, and somehow I make it through the whole song without incident and even manage not to stumble when he twirls me. Before I know it, he's got me out on a shrub-infested patio where the night air does its best to try and cool off my hormones. It doesn't do a very good job of it. Despite the evening of dancing, I'm not in the mood to just sit, so Cassius escorts me down a hidden flight of steps and into the moonlit gardens for a tour.

"It's a shame this will probably be my only chance to experience any of this." I find myself sharing with the enchanting butler as he pulls a fragrant night-blooming flower down for me to sniff.

"Oh? Are you worried Madame won't invite you back?"