The Right Side of the Hill

"No!"

The woman grinned. "If I were a fan of Freud, I'd think you protested too quick."

"Well, you're not," I insisted. "And neither am I."

"Which? Freudian or a virgin."

"Either. Or neither."

Alex's grin widened into a smile. "Ok, if you aren't a virgin, tell me about your other girlfriends. Start with the most important."

"Brenda." I uttered the name as a hiss. My eyes fell to the dark wood of the table. Where was Brenda now? I wondered. Married? Probably. A girl like...

"And?" Alex prompted.

"Oh, " I started. "Brenda was the first girl I ever considered marrying. The only one so far. We got along ok, I guess; I mean, I loved her and all. I thought she felt the same way." I paused to breathe, pinching the center of my lower lips as I exhaled.

"So why aren't you married?" Alex pressed.

I issued a sharp snort. "She said I wasn't assertive enough."

Alex grinned. "She said that?"

"Yes."

"So Brenda said you weren't assertive enough for a normal relationship and you still think you can make a good master for a slave?"

"That was a long time ago."

"How long?"

"Two years."

"Oh," Alex started, her sarcasm unbridled in spite of her soft tone. "That's practically ages."

"I've matured a lot in two years!"

"Matured, perhaps," Alex said. "But that doesn't mean you're dominant."

"You're right," I snapped. "I'm not that dominant. I'd like to be, but I'm not. I may never be. Am I disqualified? Can I finish my soup before my steak arrives?"

To my surprise, Alex issued a demure smile. "Yes, let's eat the soup before it chills."

And we did. I never had a more awkward meal. Every time I looked up her emerald beacons were locked on my face. She kept that same wide grin, even when her lips parted to accept a spoon and, later, a fork.

I didn't say a word as we ate, determined to simply get the check, issue a polite farewell, and depart. Sure, I was still curious about what sort of woman was behind the ad, but not so curious as to allow myself to be drilled any longer.

"That was good," Alex declared some minutes later. Her fork landed on her plate with a clink. Her chest surged with a breath of satisfaction. Slumping against the back of the booth, the woman turned her attention from her plate to me. "Where were we?"

I put my utensils down as well, though I would normally have eaten more. "I think I was about to say, 'Thanks, but no thanks.' "

Alexandra stiffened at once. Her smile vanished as she bolted upright. "Really? Why?"

I shook my head. "This is all just too weird."

Alex cocked her head. Her brow fell. "You answered an ad for a sex slave and you were expecting what, normal?"

"I wasn't expecting you."

"Me?"

"Yes," I began. "What kind of daughter meets strangers and interviews them regarding butt-fucking her mother?"

Alex's eyes narrowed. "The kind of daughter that has a mother that wants to be butt-fucked by a stranger. The kind of daughter that loves her mother enough to help her get what she wants no matter how fucking weird it is. That's who!"

My eyes fell to what remained of my meal as I considered her words. I passed a breath and then licked my lips before I could bring my gaze up again. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Accepted. Are you really not interested or shall we continue?"

Three breaths I took to reply, "Ok. I guess I'm still interested."

Alexandra's smile returned. "Good. I believe the only thing we did not cover in the ad yet was discipline. What did you have in mind?"

"What?"

"The ad says she expects discipline when she does not please you. What do you have in mind?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. She's a bit old for a time-out, don't you think?"

Alex's smiled broadened. "That's the best answer I've heard yet. You'd be surprised how many applicants think discipline starts with a nipple and a soldering iron."

I closed my eyes and shivered.

"What my mother needs, and wants, is a really good spanking," Alexandra continued. "My grandfather was a strict disciplinarian. Spanked her a lot, so much that she equates that act with affection. She thought my father should have spanked me more, but he was a kind man and for that I am thankful. But he was too gentle a man to ever make my mother happy, as it turns out."

"What happened?" I asked. "Between them, I mean."

Alex looked away for a few seconds, twirling a finger within the lower reaches of her tresses, before returning her gaze to me. "I guess she didn't think he loved her and that was eventually contagious. So by the time I was an adult he felt the same way. He left her two years ago for his secretary. I understand why he did it, but Mom's never had to take care of herself. She doesn't even know how to write a check, not that she has any money."

Alex leaned forward, her bosom pressed against the edge of the table. "That's why it has to be a 24/6 relationship. If I select you, you will take care of her." She paused to wink. "Of course, she'll be taking care of you too. I promise."

"24/6?" I queried.

"That's right. She's still my mother and I want her on Sundays."

I chuckled. "Ok. I guess that would be fair."

"Yes, it would be. But you must have some questions?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Too many, I think."

"Don't you want to know what she looks like?"

I shrugged. "Appearance isn't the most important thing to me. Besides, if you're her daughter, I doubt I would have much to worry about in that regard."

Alex smiled. "Thank you. You're right there. She does look a lot like me, only better."

I cocked my head, narrowing the eye nearest to the woman. "That seems a bit hard to believe considering how gorgeous you are."

"Beauty is a subjective thing. If you like smaller boobs, you might prefer me. Whatever your tastes, though, I can assure you that she is no dog; or whale."

"When do I get to see her?"

"I can bring a picture if we have a follow-up interview," Alexandra replied. "You would not actually meet her until I brought her to you and handed you the leash."

I ran my tongue over my gums and teeth. "I see. What do you mean by a follow-up interview?"

"Well," Alex began, "I have two more applicants to meet over the next few days, so I wouldn't get back to you before Friday at the earliest. But I'd probably sleep on it over the weekend..."

"Alright," I interjected. "Monday's fine."

"Don't you have any other questions?"

"I have too many," I repeated. "But I can probably pair down the list by Monday, if we decide a second meeting is in order."

Alex issued a servant's nod. "So far, I'd have to rate you as a leading candidate."

"Why? How many respondents have you met?"

"Dozens."

"Dozens?"

"Yes," Alex said. "Per week. More really. Those are only the ones that I decide to meet. I probably get three times that many messages."

My throat flexed as I attempted to swallow. "I see. How many of those ever rated a second interview."

"So far? None."

"Well," I said. "Thanks for that vote of confidence for what it's worth."

"You are still interested then?"

"To be honest, I'm probably more interested now than I was when I arrived."

Alex cocked her head as her brows bounced into her forehead. "Really? Well, that's good. Shall I e-mail you then, regarding Monday?"

"Sure, please do."

"Excellent." With that Alexandra stood and started to gather her things.

I glanced about the table, realizing the waitress had not brought the bill. "I can get the tab," I offered.

Alex smiled. "I know you can. But I have an account. You can get the tip though, if it'd make you feel better. Hope to see you again."

"Yeah," I nodded in something of a hurry. "Hope to see you again too." By the time I fished a twenty out of my wallet and tossed it on the table, the lady was gone.

* * *

I spent the better part of the following week preoccupied with an older woman I had never even seen and might never see. The entire idea seemed so preposterous, so utterly bizarre, yet even more tempting. My work suffered and I got chewed out twice. I put in overtime, unpaid of course, on Saturday.

I wasn't expecting any response until Monday, but I checked first thing Sunday morning and was surprised to find:

~~~

Dear Benjamin,

I think you do have everything my mother wants. Shall we meet again to confirm what we discussed with the prospect of reaching an agreement regarding the issue? I can be at Martin's again tonight. Same time, same table. Reply before 5 PM if you wish to meet.

Alex

~~~

I brought my index and middle fingers to my lower lip as I considered the message. I looked around my modest apartment. It was a classic bachelor's pad. Do I really want some old woman here? I asked myself. I was surprised at the speed at which I arrived at my answer, more than the answer itself.

Springing forward, my fingers found to the keyboard. I sent a single word in reply: Yes.

* * *

My hand quaked as I reached for the door to the restaurant. What the hell are you doing? I wondered as I threw open the door and walked inside. Relax, I counseled myself. It's not like you're signing a contract, and you do get to see a picture this time. You can still back out.

"Ben," Alex began with a smile. "Good to see you again."

"Same here," I said, once more taking my seat across from her. My eyes fell to the dinner already on the table.

"I already ordered," Alex explained. "Didn't care to be interrupted by the waitress like last time. Shall we eat first and talk business afterward?"

"Sure," I agreed with a nod.

Thus we ate amid a surreal amiability, chatting about everything except Alexandra's mother. A quarter-hour later, my companion again pushed her plate away from her before I was quite finished with mine.

"That was excellent," she noted. "Do let me know when you are finished."

I placed my utensils on my plate. "Close enough."

"Very well, then," Alexandra began. "I'd like to offer you the position as my mothers owner."

I cocked my head. "The position?"

Alex nodded with a wide grin. "Yes. You will of course resign from your current position."

"What?"

"Your lawyer job; you must quit."

My jaw fell.

Alex raised her eyebrows. "Is there a problem with that? I thought you hated your job."

"I do, but it's still a job."

Alex head moved in a brisk nod. "Of course it is. I'm simply offering you a different one. You will receive an allowance in an amount equal to your present salary, with reasonable annual raises."

"I didn't realize..." I began, then paused, bringing my fingertips to my scalp and scratching. "I never thought of this business with your mother as a, uh, a job."

"You said you wanted a full time slave, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, my mother deserves a full time master. That makes it a job for each of you. Now are you ready to hear the particulars of the position?"

I gave my surroundings a bit more scrutiny, seeking possible locations for hidden cameras or one of the Funt clan. "Sure," I said, directing my focus back across the table. "What did you have in mind?"

"As I said before, this is a full time job, 24/6. You get Sunday's off too, of course. Where do you live now?"

"Thirteen-fifteen Bartholomew, number eight-B."

"An apartment?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"I see. I think you'll find my mother's house far more comfortable quarters. I know she will."

"What?"

"You'll need to move in with my mother."

"But, I have a lease?"

"Of course," Alexandra said. "But I'll take care of that, and your student loan too."

"What?"

"I'll buy you out of the lease and pay off your loan. Consider it a signing bonus."

"So, you're offering to set me up as, uh, your mother's gigolo?"

"No!" Alex snapped. "You must treat her as your whore, never the other way around!"

I tongued my lips once as my gaze wandered. "Forgive me, this just isn't what I expected."

"I know." Alex's smile returned. "It's even better, isn't it?"

"I thought your mother didn't have any money? How is it she has a house?"

"She doesn't have the money," Alexandra explained. "I do. You see, I lied about my father. He didn't leave my mother. He never would have, and neither would she. He died two years ago in an automobile accident."

My jaw fell and remained limp for a few seconds before I recovered to offer, "I'm sorry."

Alex nodded. "I'm sorry too. But that's not why we're here. You see, Dad had a ridiculously large life insurance policy, payable to me. He knew mother wouldn't have a clue what to do with it all, but I'd see she was taken care of. I doubt this is what he had in mind, but it is what she wants." My companion paused to sigh. "It's what she's always wanted."

"So you lied to me?"

"Damn right I did. I knew there'd be tons of deadbeats that would take the position if they knew it came with a generous allowance plus free room and board. I wanted you to be willing to accept my mother for free. And you were willing, weren't you?"

"I don't know, you see..."

"See!" Alex interrupted. "Yes, I forgot that. Silly me." She reached into her purse and produced what looked to be several postcards. As she slid them across the table, I noticed that they were photographs.

"This is mother," Alexandra explained. "That is what was worrying you, wasn't it?"

I looked at the woman in the pictures. She did resemble Alex, except obviously older. Still, the alleged mother didn't look anywhere near fifty. The shots weren't the clearest however, and there was no way for me to tell their age.

"Well?" My companion prompted. "What do you think?"

I looked back to Alex. "You're right, she does look like you. But that wasn't what concerned me."

"What is it then?"

"The job, the house," I started. "I didn't realize you were going to expect me to just drop everything and move in with your mother."

"You said you wanted her to live with you."

"Did I?" I glanced up and to my left, then directed my gaze back across the table. "I suppose I did. But I wasn't thinking to live with her."

Alexandra's smile turned to a scowl. "What are you quibbling about? You're stuck in a job you hate and all you have to show for it is a crummy little box to call home. And an empty box at that. Now, if you are no longer interested in the position, just say so."

I glanced again at the portraits before me on the table.

How hideous can this woman be if her daughter has to pay someone to fuck her? Then again, can she possibly be as hideous as putting in sixty hours a week for some obnoxious assholes that are making six figures for tacking their names to the documents I produce?

My focus leapt to my companion's green eyes. "How long do you expect me to own your mother?"

I saw her throat flex as she swallowed. "As long as you want to. I hope for the rest of her life. I realize in twenty years, she'll have lost a lot of her physical appeal, but I hope you'll still see fit to find her a suitable companion. If you develop an attraction for someone else, we'll understand. You're only human. We'll work that out when the time comes."

I moved my fingers to my jaw, realizing I had forgotten to shave as I ran my nails across my cheek. "Ok. I'm still interested. Forgive me for being startled by what you had in mind."

"Excellent!" Alex hissed. "Now here's what you need to do in the next two weeks. First, give notice at your job. Second, inform your apartment complex you are moving. Let me know whether it's cheaper to break the lease or just pay the remainder. I'll take care of it. Third, pack your things. I'll arrange for a truck on Saturday two weekends from now. Give us that day and the next morning to get your stuff squared away. You may come over Sunday afternoon.

"Last but not least, get an STD test. I'll want to see it, of course. You'll get another one in six months. If you aren't clean on both, I'll make Lorena Bobbit look like a Girl Scout. That goes for the future too."

I smiled. "You can quit threatening me. The one thing I can promise is that I'll never hurt your mother."

Alexandra flashed a full smile. "Oh, but you must hurt her. Just a little. It's part of the job."

"You know what I meant."

"Yes," Alex said with a nod. "And you know what I meant?"

"Yes."

"So we have a deal?"

Clasping my fingers together, I tucked my hands between my clenched thighs. "Yes, we have a deal."

* * *

I shall always cherish the look on Mr. Brunagger's face the next morning when I resigned. Of course, he wanted to know if I had found another position, could he possibly match their offer, etc. The expression when I told him I was going to be a gigolo was almost as good as the first, though I don't think he believed it.

As the days passed, I very much came to look forward to the impending arrangement, yet this nagging voice in the back of my mind kept saying, If it looks too good to be true, it probably is. And it did look far too good to be true. Or more like, she looked too good to be true.

By the time I was en route that Sunday afternoon, I had convinced myself that had to be it. The photos were likely ten, fifteen, maybe twenty years old; or not of the woman at all. Will Mr. Brunnager take me back? I wondered. Not likely; but Alex did pay the school debt, so I can at least be a little more picky about where I work next.

As I drove through the posh neighborhood, my suspicion increased. By the time I entered the circular drive my inclination was to continue driving straight out the other side, so convinced was I that I had been duped in some fashion. I'm still not certain I should not have done so had a Mercedes not been blocking the path.

I looked from the vehicle to the building. The house was an older one, from the period between the two world wars I would soon learn. I emerged from my car and stood transfixed, admiring the odd angles of its unique design, the weathered surface of the irregular stone, the vaulted roof cloaked by majestic trees, and the wandering vines of the clinging ivy. If asked, I could not have named one thing that made this structure so captivating, yet it had a combined elegance no newer home could match.

Alexandra opened the door before I had mounted the front steps. "Oh, do hurry," she said. "Mother has been so excited, but I want to give you a quick tour first before I leave." She motioned toward the side of the house. "Oh. Did you notice the branch of the drive that goes out back? That's where the garage is. Now over there is the..."

My hostess spent the next quarter-hour in a flurry of chatter, acquainting me with both the layout of the home and its history.

Well," Alexandra concluded my orientation with a massive sigh. "Any questions?"

I smiled as I watched the woman's breasts expand and contract as she replenished the oxygen in the lungs she seemed not to have used for her fifteen-minute oration.

"Yes, one," I replied.

"What?"

"Where's my slave girl?"

Alex returned my smile. "What say make yourself comfortable in the parlor and I'll go get her!"

I nodded, then made my way to the designated room. I found I was anything but comfortable as I waited. Doubts rumbled through my head as I wondered how sexy any fifty-year-old could be. My anxiety regarding the woman's appearance rose with the sounds of the footsteps that foretold of the pair's arrival.

I inhaled and kept a breath as Alexandra made her way into the parlor, leading on a leash another brunette. The trailing woman wore a classic French maid's outfit, filling the garment in ample fashion. Her figure appeared trim beneath the black and white cloth and the legs that emerged beneath were taut and muscular.

My eyes shifted to the woman's face, where I expected to find sags and wrinkles. She had lines to be sure, and the texture of her skin was not so firm as a teenager's, but her visage was nothing short of magnificent. Her flesh was a radiant peachy hue, perfectly complimenting her jet-black tresses. A pair of trim brows hovered above eyes that were a green even deeper than those of her daughter. Her cheekbones were high, as one might expect in a noble lady. Even a substantial mole in the crease of her right cheek seemed a beauty mark on this exquisite woman.