back exactly how I liked it, which was nice.
I found that I liked watching her. She moved with an energy that I envied. I tried not to stare, but sometimes I couldn’t help myself. Once, she caught me looking. But she hadn’t seemed to mind. She’d merely tossed her shiny hair, and she’d smiled at me over her shoulder.
I wasn’t home much, but when I was, I found that I was turned on almost all of the time. Just having her nearby was enough to get my cock hard most nights. She’d only been here for five days, but I had already adjusted to having her in the house.
I’d miss her if she moved on.
So she was captivating, but she was odd. And there were several things about her that I couldn’t find an easy explanation for. Like the high-end laptop. It was brand new, and it was the top model offered for the current year. She also had a new smartphone, the matching watch, and the newest bluetooth headphones. I had to assume she’d had a lucrative career before she ended up working for me, or maybe she’d had wealthy parents who’d passed away.
Her car and her laptop were expensive, and so were her phone and accessories, but her clothes were not anything special. They were new, but they were cheap.
I wasn’t complaining though.
On Tuesday afternoon, I stopped by the house to bring Sadie home. She’d had a fun morning supervising a 5K race with me, but afterward she was tired and hot. As I stepped into the kitchen, I saw Ava’s laptop open. I didn’t intend to look at her screen, but the screen brightness was turned all the way up. The webpage was titled, ‘how to mop a floor.’ The words were in a large font -- I couldn’t miss them.
Was that a code phrase for something? Didn’t everyone know how to mop? My mother had made me learn when I was about seven years old.
She’d ruffled my hair and said, ‘a man needs to know how to keep a house running.’ It was hardly rocket science.You only needed a mop, a bucket and whatever you were going to clean the floor with.
Hoping it wasn’t some code for making drugs, I turned away from her screen.
I’d turned away just in time. She came into the room, mop in hand, and smiled at me.
I was shocked to find that I liked having her in the house. Her presence was unobtrusive. But late at night I could hear her typing frantically. Her keys didn’t make a lot of noise, but the sound was unmistakable.
She was cooking all the time too. I continued to insist that cooking wasn’t required, but she attacked it with a vengeance.
She was an adventurous cook too. Last night, she’d made salmon with asparagus. Tonight there was a wonderful aroma coming from the kitchen when I walked in.
I opened my mouth to say, ‘what’s for dinner?’ but I closed it immediately. I didn’t want her thinking I had come to expect her to make dinner, even now that she’d been doing it for the last five days.
“I made spinach enchiladas,” she said.
I inhaled again. “They smell great.”
She even had taken to setting the table. Each day was a little more elaborate. “You can go ahead and sit down,” she said.
I sat down and picked up my glass of tea. Instead of the misshapen plastic cups I’d collected from the gas station, my iced tea was now in what looked like a glass mason jar. I picked it up and took a sip. Yep, it was a real mason jar.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I picked up a set of six jars at the resale shop for $1.”
“I don’t mind at all.” I’d gotten pretty familiar with the resale shop lately. They had all kinds of furnishings, even more than our local hardware store, and the resale shop was more convenient than driving into the city to visit one of the giant chain stores. And cheaper too.
I’d given her a prepaid Visa card with $300 for the groceries. I’d prefer for most of that to be spent on food, but if having a mason jar as a glass made her happy, I could handle that.
Yesterday, the cheap clothes had been missing. She’d worn a pair of sleek looking skinny jeans that she wore with a flowing white top. Sometimes she even cleaned while wearing it. Tonight, she had on flowing black pants and a fitted