The Brand Ch. 01

"Oh you have your work cut out for you." Answered Victria as she turned on her heel, "Follow me please."

They headed back down the hall into the foyer, and then mounted the steps leading to the second floor. Melody only gave a cursory glance into the bathroom at the top of the stairs before following Victria to the right. Entering the master bedroom, Melody saw that it was even worse than she'd expected. The room, remarkable in its spaciousness, closetry, cathedral ceiling, sky light and polished mahogany furnishings, had no floor that could be seen. It was, in stead, carpeted in layers of discarded clothes and empty hangers like so many twigs and fallen autumn leaves on a forest floor.

"Have a seat at the desk," said Victria as she sat on the bed and removed her shoes, "Please complete those forms and sign."

Melody watched Victria get back on her feet and begin going about undressing. Averting her attention, she high stepped her way through the piles and bundles of clothes, stumbling over a hidden boot or two before finally reaching the desk chair. Melody then went immediately to task; filling out the forms to the best of her recollection. Presently, she sensed her new employers approach behind her.

Do you; like to cook?" asked Victria.

Melody turned to see the business woman clad only in black lace bra and panties; her supple body and smooth taut skin creamily pale, the top of her dark brown hair glowing under a blade of sun cutting down from the sky light. Briefly dazed by the sight of the woman's bared flesh, Melody watched her lean down to pluck two articles of clothing from the floor at her feet. It seemed as if the woman knew exactly what she was looking for and where she'd left them, as if she depended on the chaos in order to remain organized.

"Uh, it's been a while," she answered, "But, I think I can get back into it."

Over Victria's squatted body, Melody happened to look into the second of her two walk in closets. The bar, from which clothing was intended to be hung, she estimated to be eight feet long, was entirely bare. On the floor lay wide heaps and mounds of random varieties of shoes, boxes and lids. It was inconceivable to Melody. Even some desperate thief looking for some hidden treasure, turning the closet's contents asunder wouldn't leave such a mess in his wake.

"Good." Said Victria as she jumped into a surprisingly wrinkle free pair of gray slacks, "I would be delighted and honored to have a home cooked meal some night soon."

"Yeah well," Melody laughed a small laugh of irony as she returned her attention to her forms, "It still might be a long time coming, considering; what I see as to the extent of my obligation."

"What a nice way to say I live in a fucking seriously messy house."

Melody glanced up at Victria as she shook the wrinkles from a gray and brown strip patterned blouse.

"I wonder," she said; her eyes back on the page she was working on, "Will having this place all cleaned up and organized interfere with your dependence on chaos?"

"I don't depend on Chaos Melody." Victria intoned as she buttoned her blouse, "I'm just lazy when I'm not otherwise busy."

"What happened to your last help?"

Melody had almost completed filling out the contract before realizing that a silence had settled between them. Turning again to glance at Victria, Melody observed that she had her back turned as she fit herself into the blazer that matched her slacks. Victria's posture and lack of a spoken response added weight to the silence. Somewhat bothered by it, Melody thought to repeat her question, but thought again. She cursorily looked over the last clause of the document in stead before finally inscribing her signature on the bottom line and dating it.

"It didn't work out."

Melody turned to see that Victria was facing her again, trying to artfully arrange a scarf beneath her collar that didn't exactly match.

"What?" uttered Melody, "Oh; your last help you mean?"

"Yeah. She couldn't cook."

"She couldn't clean either aparrantly." Remarked Melody, "And speaking of things not working, that scarf has got to go too. Do you have a broach or some kind of string tie somewhere?"

She watched Victria stare about the room, scan the area around her feet, drop down, and then rise again, a handsome white gold broach shining in the palm of her hand. Melody, speechless, looked down at the spot where the woman had found the thing. Slack jawed, Melody peered back up at Victria to see an impish smile playing around her lips.

An hour later, having been given a change of clothes, towels and a fresh set of toiletries, Melody emerged from the shower; thoroughly washed, her arm pits and legs cleanly shaven and feeling quite revitalized. She watched herself in the guest bath's mirror as she blow dried her hair; not having been able to admire her long silky golden brown hair for over six months. A sudden flush of contentment colored her face, but soon faded as a memory suddenly burst its way into her now typically elusive sense of well being.

The color returned to her cheeks, though it was now the red of shame. Melody sadly looked away from her reflection as she shut off the hair drier, and then set it down beside the sink. She peered about the slightly soiled splendid bathroom as she switched her towel for the clothes Victria gave her. The jeans were a little snug, but the sweater was roomy and soft. Trying to sooth herself, Melody stroked the sweater's hem with her thumbs.

She turned to face the mirror again, unable to avoid what felt reflexive when putting on new clothes, and stopped suddenly. Phantom images of fluttering hands and trampling feet seemed to blend in with the wall, the door and the towel hanging behind her. Faded echoes of shouting, crying seemed to come like insubstantial whispers in her ears; distant, directionless.

"Melody?" called Victria before rapping her knuckles twice on the other side of the door, "You okay?"

"Yeah." Melody said over her shoulder.

"Well come on then. Chop chop! Time is money."

Melody opened the bathroom door to see Victria seated at the top of the stairs; holding a copy of the contract in one hand and eating an apple with the other. When Melody clicked the door shut behind her, Victria turned. Melody became aware that the woman had stopped mid chew before swallowing and clearing her throat.

"You look like you feel better." She remarked.

"I do." Melody agreed, "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it."

Victria extended the hand that held the contract. Melody took it.

"That's your copy. Everything seems fine with it. I'll have your account set up by tomorrow afternoon."

Victria got to her feet and took another bite of her apple. Then, speaking as she chewed, she said:

"You're a long way from home, it appears."

Melody only answered with a quick nod of her head as she looked over the contract a second time. It seemed to her that there was something about one of the subsections of the document she wanted to ask about, but it had escaped her. She let another moment pass before the weight of Victria's stare demanded that she look up. The woman had folded her arms, the half eaten apple held in her hand as she pensively stroked at the small space between her bottom lip and chin. It made Melody think of that morning, Victria's sheer confidence and the way she'd played big Hennessy.

"I started to make a to-do list for you." said Victria as she took another small bite of her apple, "But I didn't know where to start. And then I thought; let this be her first test. She'll either figure it out or she'll, well, walk right out the door and hitch a ride somewhere."

"I'll be starting in the kitchen." Said Melody, "The kitchen is the center of the home, the holiest place in the house."

Victria tilted her head at that. She seemed to want to ask something, but she took another bite of apple in stead. They eyed each other for a few seconds more before Victria turned to descend the stairs. Melody followed, two steps behind.

"I have to get back to the office." Announced Victria as she crossed the landing and stepped back toward the kitchen.

Melody stopped at the foot of the stairs, and peered out through the closest of the living room windows. Victria returned seconds later, without her apple, and regarded Melody as she reached for the front door's knob.

"Feel free to eat whatever I might have that's still consumable." She invited, "There's plenty of apples and I think there might be some canned stuff in the basement. If you're still here when I get back, we can make a shopping trip."

Melody's brow furrowed at Victria's second allusion to her skipping out.

"I'll make a list."

Again, Victria tilted her head before studying Melody for a few seconds.

"Right." She said while pulling the door open, "Enjoy your afternoon."

Melody crossed her arms as she watched Victria disappear behind the door. The swoosh click of its weather stripping and the lock echoed briefly through the foyer. Then there was the silence that held a finality, as the closing of most doors have, that defied definition. It was the unknown Melody knew. She listened to the Lexus's door close, its engine roaring back to life, and then its wheels crunching gravel until it faded with the vehicle's distance.

The silence grew louder then as she remained there at the foot of the stairs, staring at the door, pondering the unknown, realizing that Victria had not locked the bolt. Presently, Melody stepped to the door, wondering why it was so important for Victria to let her know she could leave at any time. Was it a dare, a test; like the to do list? Or was Victria, her kind, bold, stranger and benefactor, afraid to truly commit to having help again? Melody turned the knob and pulled the door open slightly, and then locked and bolted it shut.

Her time alone in the house had passed by quickly enough. First, Melody went about looking for Victria's cd collection, which she found in the bedroom's other walk in closet, shelved in two cardboard boxes. Having taken note of the counter top CD player in the kitchen, she thought some music might do her some good. She also thought that she might learn something about Victria by examining her musical taste.

Melody discovered that it contained no country music, which was favorable. Beyond that, there was a dominance of 90's pop and R & B, which didn't suggest much to her because they were genres she could take or leave. But then, somewhere between the Phantom soundtrack and some 1980's compilations, Melody hit pay dirt: big band swing, at least eight disks worth.

Between having freshened up, filling her belly with almost half a bucket of chocolate fudge ice cream and bouncing her hips to the lively strains of the late 30's and early 40's, Melody turned Victria's nightmare kitchen into a spotless, gleaming, safely disinfected show place. Next, she tackled the sweeping and vacuuming of the remaining rooms on the first floor, and then cleaned the first and second floor guest baths. From there, she dusted and polished the living and dining room furniture, taking a short break in between to watch someone fat showing her audience how to cook something really fattening.

"Hey Cowboy?" Victria called as she entered the house.

Closing the door behind her, she looked quickly around and stopped in her tracks. Impressed, eyes wide, Victria took in the sights and smells of a clean house as she slowly advanced up the hall to the kitchen. Crossing the threshold, she scanned the great gleaming room. She was about to call out to Melody again, but she noticed the sound of music coming from somewhere.

"On the golf course, I'm under par." Sang Melody from the depths of Victria's walk in shoe closet; the CD player perched on the desk where she'd completed her application, "Metro Goldwyn has asked me to star. I've got a house, a show place. Still I can't get no place with you."

Melody looked up mid lyric, erupted with a start, and then quickly cupped her hands over her screaming mouth.

"I'm so sorry!" I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm fine! Just surprised, that's all."

"You sing really well. I'm going to have to revise your job description to include serenading me."

"Oh? Do I strike the chords in your Unitarian Lesbian heart?"

Victria tossed her briefcase to the bed, and leveled a stern look at Melody. Melody, struck silent but not averting her gaze, looked on as her new employer trod toward her, kicking a path through the blanket of clothes that still covered the floor. As Victria advanced, Melody scolded herself for poking fun at the woman in what she now decided was a sensitive area. Then, as Victria's brown flats crossed the closet's threshold and cleared a place for her to stand, Melody looked away. Victria admired her help's position; kneeling on her heels, hands on her lap, palms down on her thighs, her head down. The junior executive brought herself down before Melody, and rested on one knee.

"Maybe I do like to mix religion and pleasure." Whispered Victria; leaning her face down to Melody's left ear, "Maybe I can see people so clearly, through to their core, that I know things about them that they don't know about themselves."

Goose bumps suddenly crawled across Melody's arms and shoulders as she felt Victria's breath warming the tendrils of hair draped over her ear.

"Did you read your copy of the contract?"

"No Ma'am." Melody respectfully intoned, "I just went straight to work. I mean, I read through it twice, while I was filling it in and-"

"No Ma'am," Victria repeated, interrupting Melody; speaking her words through a smile yet still not uttering them above a whisper, "I just went straight to work. Your ethic and your respect, I knew you were something special when I found you. Girl, I advise you to re-read the fine print, later this evening sometime. For now, I will tell you this."

Another wave of goose flesh sent Melody's skin tingling as the weight and tone of Victria's words, the warmth of her body's closeness and the gentle scents of her gently sweat triggered passion fruit sandle wood perfume held her captive inside the moment; extending it in a way that was not altogether unpleasant in its magnetism. .

"Let's just say that I'm never a bottom."

Victria eased her head back then, and let her words hang there between them.

"The kitchen looks fantastic, but it doesn't appear you made dinner."

Melody finally looked up then, and peered directly into Victria's eyes.

"Oh my God," she said; her expressioned colored slightly with hints of panic and dismay, "What time is it?"

"It's around 6:30." Answered Victria as she got to her feet again.

Melody looked at the piles of shoes that still lay jumbled about her as she shrugged and raised her hands and gestured helplessly.

"It's okay." Said Victria, a small warm smile quickly crossing her lips, "We'll eat while we go grocery shopping. It'll be fun. Come on."

"Okay." Uttered Melody as she rose, "I want to get ingredients for this recipe I saw somebody make on TV. I mean there's absolutely nothing healthy about it, but it looked so good!"

"Oh my God, you seriously put those shoes on your feet?"

Melody shifted her gaze from Victria's suddenly not very amused face down to where she was looking: at the ruby red slippers she'd found an hour or so before.

"Yeah, I guess we have the same shoe size. I love that movie. I always wanted a pair."

"Take them off. Those were for Halloween like five years ago. You will not be wearing those in public with me."

"Okay, okay."

Melody hastily searched through the clutter of shoes about her feet and checked under the lids of a few of the boxes stacked behind her. Though only a few seconds had passed, she still hadn't stepped out of the gaudily glistening ruby sequenced shoes. Dithering, unsure as to what she might actually put on her feet, she looked up to see that Victria was scowling at her. . Realizing her displeasure, Melody finally slipped her bare feet from the shoes and kicked them aside.

"I mean; yes Ma'am. She said; her guarded regard shifting between Victria's expression and the pile of shoes at her feet.

Melody caught the woman raise an admiring brow at her bare feet, though it wasn't as if Victria was trying to hide it. Then, with the same speed and miraculous clairvoyance, the young junior executive scoped out each mate of a pair of black running shoes; the left just off to her right; the other, just a step forward, buried under a nest of sandles and stilettos. She tossed them to Melody, who was once again struck amusingly baffled by how masterfully her new employer managed disorganization.

The grocery store was a small operation; quaint, about as large as a pharmacy, but adequately disguised with a deli counter, fresh meat section and a prepared foods station. Melody was impressed, marveling at the variety of items organized on the place's shelves as she and Victria strolled along, dining on sandwiches of imported prosciutto, fresh mozzarella and slices of tomato blanketed in six inch lengths of fresh Vienna baguette.

It was Victria who casually ate and pushed the cart along, while Melody scurried ahead from time to time, nibbling her dinner as she cheerfully gathered and picked items that excited her for one reason or another. Victria caught herself smiling a bit more than she thought she should. But Melody's enthusiastic forays away from the cart, the sight of her overladen cradle armfuls of packaged or bottled items while biting on her sandwich and the child like joy she radiated, made it very difficult to resist the feelings they inspired.

"When was the last time exactly you had access to decent food?" asked Victria as Melody carried her latest load to the cart, and then carefully arranged the items in the remaining spaces.

"Uhm," she hummed between bites of sandwich; tilting her head as she stared reflectively toward the lighting overhead, "There was a nice old couple somewhere outside of New Albany Mississipi that let me come in from the rain one night. Althenia, the wife made Gordon, her husband, and me a big tray of fresh fried chicken. Oh my God, it was so good."

Melody paused to swallow.

"She said, Althenia, that she had the worst time cooking for only two people, even after their kids were long gone away. That's what makes this country beautiful; beautiful people like Gordon and Althenia: work hard their whole lives so that their kids can have what they didn't, and then those same kids never come back home. They wanted me to stay, but I couldn't. I wanted to leave them what money I had, but they got mad when I begged them to take it. I left the next morning with the left overs. God; even cold and wet, they were awesome. After that, if I went into a supermarket, it was to buy the cheapest stuff that lasted the longest and didn't take much to open, like chips and candy."

"I'm surprised you've still got decent looking teeth in your mouth." Remarked Victria as she assessed the contents of their cart so far,"When's the last time you were seen by a doctor?"

"For what?" asked Melody; suddenly sullen and wary, "What kind of doctor?"

Noticing the change, Victria raised her gaze at Melody and searched her eyes.

"Any kind:" said Victria; clarifying, "Ddentist, general, gyno; you know."

"Oh." Melody Answered; looking away, "I guess it's been like; almost two years now. Why?"

"Two years? Well I'd say it's high time. I'd like to set up some appointments for you. I hope you don't mind."

Melody stepped away, and then distractedly resumed eating her sandwich.

"Sure; that's fine." She answered; her tone now flat and somewhat cool.

"Good." Said Victria, suddenly entertaining her own suspicion as she carried up the rear with the cart, gazing watchfully at Melody's good posture, swaying hips, attractive rolling bottom and easy gait.