The Underclassman

Some Temporary Domestic Assistance

As he had intended, Mick was roused from his sleep at 7:30 a.m. by the alarm on his cell phone. He struggled to focus his eyes enough to be able to see the screen and hit the snooze button. It seemed like before his head was able to land back on the pillow the klaxon was sounding again. Mick laid there struggling to gain clarity. In the back of his mind, he was aware that he had a very full schedule ahead and he did not want to get a late jump on getting the day started. He willed his legs over the side of the bed as he sat upright, planting his feet on the floor and his head in his hands.

Not surprisingly, Mick's first lucid thoughts were of his saturnalia with Hannah from the night before. He smiled into his palms as the fog in his mind continued to lift, giving way to clearer and clearer recollection of the previous evening. As much as he wished to linger and ruminate about Hannah, Mick could not help but veer towards the thought of all that the rest of the day was going to bring.

Mick dropped his boxers down to the floor as he stood up, then walked over and opened his armoire where he donned his bathrobe and shower sandals and grabbed his toiletries bag. He shuffled down the hall and for once was glad to find he had his bathroom all to himself. Mick grabbed a quick hot shower even though he was heading for the gym just a bit later, as a good shower always helped clear his head both figuratively and implied.

Back in his room, Mick made himself a cup of coffee then sat down at his desk to spend a little time checking his social media accounts and reading his emails. When he opened up his inbox he found a message from Cory Jensen who was an old squad mate from their days in the military together. He was getting married and wanted Mick's current mailing address so he could send an invitation to his wedding sometime in the spring. Mick sent him a reply with his school post office box and congratulated his friend on taking the plunge. "Better him than me," thought Mick.

He then turned his attention to studying for finals which were throughout the upcoming last week of scheduled classes for the semester. As Mick worked through his notes, he gnawed on a nutrition bar and finished a second cup of coffee in preparation for his workout.

When Mick saw that it was 9:00 a.m., he got up and put on his exercise clothes including a fleece hoodie and pair of athletic pants for the walk to the gym and his jog back to the dorm. Before leaving his room he made sure to grab a sports drink for his workout. The fitness center was not far from Bradley Hall but the trip was a little quicker than usual that morning as it was rather brisk outside.

Mick arrived at the campus exercise facility and immediately placed his outer layers in a locker, grabbed a towel from the shelf and headed over to the stationary bikes to get warmed up. He fiddled with the equipment's settings to get the difficulty set to where he wanted it to be before turning his eye towards the television directly above him. The weekend morning news program was discussing how abnormally bitter it was outside for southern Colorado. "No crap," he quietly said to himself.

Having completed his warm-up, Mick hopped off the cycle and went to grab the sanitizer bottle and a few paper towels to wipe the apparatus down with. He happened to look over towards the weight rack and caught a glimpse of his friend Sean Ellis having a conversation with a girl that Mick had seen in the gym from time to time. Mick turned his attention back to cleaning his bike and then moved on to the circuit equipment as there were a few pieces he liked to utilize before hitting the free weights.

After he was done, Mick moseyed over to the free weights where Sean was still very much engaged with his lovely acquaintance. Mick made eye contact with his friend as he approached and both of them nodded to the other while offering their hand for a loose, passing handshake. "I'll talk to you later," Mick heard the girl say to which his friend Sean responded, "Good seeing you."

Mick let several seconds pass to give the young woman time to get out of earshot before turning back towards to his buddy and saying, "Sorry man, I didn't mean to be a cock-block."

Sean laughed and replied, "No worries, we were pretty much done." Mick nodded hearing his friend's words but Sean quickly witted, "Besides, you couldn't cock-block a hummingbird with that dick!"

"Fucking homo," replied Mick before adding, "I've told you to stop looking over the partitions in the men's room." Both of them laughed heartily as they engaged in a semi-embrace man-hug, being sure not to allow their torsos to come into contact with each other.

Sean was graduate student majoring in chemical engineering. He was an attractive African-American with a cut physique who was as about as tall as Mick. Early in the semester the two struck up a friendship when they met in the gym during their working-outs.

"I've seen her in here a few times... she is smoking," Mick stated before asking, "Are you and her...?"

"No I wish," his friend replied before adding, "That's Reggie Patterson's girl."

By the tone of Sean's voice, Mick took it that he should have known who Reggie Patterson was, but he had absolutely no idea and shrugged his shoulders.

"Reggie Patterson?" spurted Sean, "Senior... six-seven... starting small forward for the Colorado Buffaloes basketball team?" Mick stared back at Sean blankly while slowly shaking his head side to side. "Word is," remarked Sean, "he is being scouted by the pros and has a shot at being drafted."

"I guess it's true then," said Mick, "jocks get the hot women."

"Yeah she is," Sean remarked emphatically before further adding, "You should hear her talk... Even her accent will give you a hard-on."

"Do tell," Mick directed.

Sean said, "She's one of those island girls, I think she said Martinique."

"So how is it that she hooks-up with a guy all the way up in Boulder?" inquired Mick.

"Apparently she has a girlfriend from back home attending Colorado," said Sean, "and she was at a party up there with her friend and that's how Gabrielle and Reggie met."

"Gabrielle...," thought Mick, "pretty name for a pretty girl."

"That guy is a lucky dude," stated Mick.

"Well from the sound of it, I'm not so sure how much longer they'll be together," offered Sean.

It was obvious by Mick's reaction that his curiosity had been piqued. "Must have been an interesting conversation the two of you were having," surmised Mick.

"Very, and I'd love to tell you all about it," replied Sean, "but it's going to have to wait for another time because I have to get out of here."

"I have to get moving too," stated Mick, "We'll have to catch up later."

The two fist-bumped each other before Sean collected his water bottle and hurried out of the gym.

Mick immediately attacked the free weights and moved methodically through his routine as he was very mindful of the time. As he focused on his workout his interest in Sean's and Gabrielle's conversation quickly waned. After he had completed his sets, Mick put his outwear back on and headed out for his run. Fortunately, the morning had decided to warm up a bit while he was inside the fitness center which made his three-mile trot across campus and through the adjoining neighborhood a bit more bearable. As he arrived back at Bradley Hall, Mick checked the clock on his phone and was pleased to see he still had enough time for his usual post-run cool down and stretching.

Mick walked into the dorm and up the stairs to his floor. As he turned the corner he immediately peered down the hallway to see if Whitney was waiting by his door. He was not surprised when she was not. "I've got another five-hundred bucks that she doesn't show," he mumbled to himself as he made his way to his room.

After unlocking his door, Mick entered his room and tossed his ID badge, keys and cell phone onto his desk. He removed his shoes and stripped off all of his dank garments leaving them strewn across the floor. Mick grabbed the towel he had used from his earlier shower and dried himself off the best he could as it was still pretty damp itself. He put on a dry pair of boxers and a tee shirt before retrieving a bottle of water from his mini-fridge and sitting down at his desk to recommence cramming for finals.

Several minutes passed and Mick almost began to forget about Whitney as he became engrossed in his studies. His concentration was interrupted however when his cell phone rang. He picked up his phone and let out a throaty breath, as he was very displeased to see that it was his mother calling. For more than a few seconds Mick sat there looking at his phone contemplating if he should take the call, or let it go to voicemail. "Hello mother," he answered impassively.

"Where were you?" she demanded before snidely inquiring, "Too busy to pick up the phone?" Mick immediately could feel his blood pressure begin to rise.

"Actually I am studying for final exams before I have to go to work," he answered, gritting his teeth and regretting his decision to answer the phone.

"Did you get my email about coming home?" his mother asked with an aggressive tone to which he replied, "I did."

"So why haven't you given us an answer?" she snapped continuing her interrogation.

"As I said I have been studying for finals," he replied, doing his best to remain calm.

"Hmmph," she snorted, "Doesn't seem to stop you from posting on Facebook."

Mick was quickly becoming very perturbed and he inadvertently let out a huff due to his agitation. "Is it really so difficult to have to talk to your mother?" she shrilled having heard him. Mick buried his face into his free hand. "Well your father and I have decided our Christmas present to you will be a plane ticket and your gift to us will be you flying home for the holidays," she informed him before continuing, "Seeing you didn't want to spend any time with your family during Thanksgiving."

Just like Thanksgiving, Mick had no desire to be anywhere near his family during the semester break which was why he had yet to reply to his mother's email about coming home for the holiday. "A Frank Capra Christmas," Mick remarked sarcastically.

"DON'T give me any of your SHIT ROGERS!" his mother instructed with a shout. Incredulous, Mick pulled the cell away from his ear and stared at it, still able to hear his mother's mouth running which only continued to erode his patience.

* * *

From a fairly young age, Mick's parents had lectured him about getting good grades and continuing on to college. His father was a construction worker and would often say to his son, "You don't want to work out in the weather with your hands like I do." However, when the time came and Mick expressed interest in pursuing higher learning, he was astonished to find that for all their sermons, his parents admitted they had not put away any money to provide for what they had expounded about for so many years. Their dereliction was what had propelled Mick to join the military and he had no regrets about having done so as his service helped provide greatly for his further education, his independence from his parents, and not to mention the indubitable pride he gained from having served his country.

Mick sat there for a moment looking at his phone, pondering the absurdity of the situation. "I've busted my ass to get here," he told to himself, which was irrefutable. From his first gainful employment bagging groceries during his high school years and putting away almost every nickel he made, through his military service and now to his current job while carrying a full course load, Mick had worked, saved and invested almost everything he had earned to pave his own road forward. Each class credit, his room and board, the wreck he drove, his health insurance, the clothes on his back and the mobile phone he was staring at--everything he currently had and enjoyed was due to his own labor and on one else's. It was at that moment Mick came to the realization he was under no obligation to justify himself to anyone no matter who they were or how reasonable they thought that expectation was.

* * *

Mick brought the phone back alongside his face and temperately replied to his mother, "No... don't you give me any of your shit," as he had enough of his mother's to fill at least two lifetimes.

"Go to hell you ungrateful bastard!" she screeched in his ear.

"Ungrateful?" he thought, "What gratitude does she think I reasonably owe either of them?" Mick could hear her screaming to his father right before she hung up, "Do you know what he said to me?"

Mick sprung from his chair and cocked his arm back like a pitcher winding up to hurl a fast ball, focusing on the center of his dorm room door like it was the catcher's mitt. Fortunately before he delivered his offering to the plate, Mick regained lucidity and realizing the folly of his impending action, tossed the phone onto his desk as he let out a slow, steady sigh.

Needing a shower and knowing it would help him to relax and clear his head, Mick retrieved his toiletry bag and a clean towel. As he stepped to his door to open it and head for the shower, he heard two light knocks emanate from the other side of the entryway.

Mick opened the door to his room and standing there was Whitney Harrington. He literally could not believe that she had shown. She was wearing a knee-length camel colored cashmere coat and she had an oversized dark leather handbag slung over her shoulder. Whitney stood there with her arms crossed tightly, looking unpleasant as usual.

"Bonjour," Mick said, grinning at her. "Bienvenue, s'il vous plaît entrer," he continued as he swept his hand motioning for her to come in. Whitney took several steps into his room before turning around and saying with her arms still tightly folded, "Laissez-nous en finir avec, devons-nous?"

Mick had no idea what she had said but the condescension in her voice and facial expression were quite clear. He shut the door and walked past her and stood in the center of his room.

"Here are the ground rules," Whitney barked assertively as she turned to face him.

"Ground rules!?" interjected Mick. "If you care to remember your part of the wager, you are to do everything and anything I tell you to do for two complete hours," he reminded her.

"One!" she roared, holding up her index finger. "No pictures," Whitney instructed. "The second I see your phone in your hand, I'm out," she informed Mick. "Two," she continued, "Nothing rough or anything that hurts."

"But I was sooo looking forward to putting you over my knee and giving your ass a good spanking," Mick told her before adding, "We both know you certainly deserve one." "What's number three?" he asked scornfully.

"Nothing goes in my ass, not even your tongue," Whitney ordered.

"I'm okay with that," Mick thought to himself, "Got that out of my system last night."

"And four," she said through her teeth, "you will wear a condom."

Mick chuckled and said "One!" obviously mocking her, "I am fresh out of condoms from Louis Vuitton." His comment drew a snide smirk from Whitney. "And two," he continued, "I need to see what the quality of your work is first before I consider granting you that privilege." It was apparent to both of them that the other was not going to give an inch.

Whitney looked around for a place to put her coat and bag. She had a look of disgust on her face, like she was standing in the middle of some sort of hazmat zone and did not want to lay her belongings down in any contamination. She spotted the hook on the back of his door, walked over and hung her coat and bag upon it. She withdrew a feather duster from her bag and turned around.

Mick couldn't help but take a moment to survey her French maid costume as it was exquisite. The fabric of her dress, apron, gloves, even her shoes appeared to be actual silk. The ensemble was complete with delicate lace trimmings. It should not have come as any surprise to Mick that this was not just some cheap, run-of-the-mill costume she had bought online, but he was surprised nonetheless.

Whitney made a snappy, exaggerated gesture with her hands and eyes while shrugging her shoulders as if to say, "Well?"

"Uhh..," Mick sputtered, as he had not actually given a moment's thought to what he would actually have Whitney do in the unlikely event that she did show up because he did not expect her to. "Take my coffee cup down to the women's room and give it a good cleaning," he instructed her before adding, "There is liquid soap and paper towels down there." Whitney rolled her eyes as she picked up his mug and walked out of the room.

"This is going to rock," Mick said aloud as he sat down on the couch sporting a huge smiled on his face. A few moments later his temporary servant walked back in and set the coffee cup down on his desk and impassively asked, "What now?"

"Probably should change the bedding," he told her.

Whitney walked over and began to the strip the bed. "No wait!" Mick blurted. "It will probably need to be changed when we are done here," he stated.

Whitney stopped and stood up straight with her eyes closed tightly. There was no ambiguity regarding Mick's inference and she began to silently curse herself for not only making the bet, but for honoring it.

"Ah, go ahead and strip it," he instructed her, "Clean linens are on the shelf in the wardrobe."

After she had remade Mick's bed he directed her to, "Pick up my clothes and towels lying on the floor and put them and the sheets in the laundry bag." Whitney did her best to not let on but she was disgusted at having to handle his sweaty clothes which included his athletic underwear. She was thankful that she was wearing gloves.

"Check under my bed," Mick told her, "I think there may be one or two things under there."

Whitney stooped down and placed one hand on top of his mattress and the other down on the floor to balance herself before doing her best to lean over and look under his bed.

"You are just going to have to get down on your hands and knees and get under there," Mick told her before adding, "I think I dropped something between the wall and the bed the other day."

Whitney got down on all fours and growled through her teeth as she searched under the bed as directed. She knew that her bottom was on full display for Mick's enjoyment.

For the first time he could see that Whitney was wearing a frilly white petticoat underneath the dress which gave the skirt portion of the garment its flare and volume. Her black satin panties had rows of white ruffles and her black thigh-high fishnet stockings sported white garters at the top. Mick had to hand it to her, she had gone all out and looked pretty fantastic. "You have a really nice ass," he stated complimentarily.

His remark caused Whitney to raise up and bang her head against the bottom of the bed frame. "Are you okay?" Mick asked her as he jumped up from the couch. "Fine," Whitney answered as she stood back up rubbing the back of her head.

Mick walked over to his desk and opened the top drawer to retrieve his wallet. "Here's six dollars," he said as he handed the money to his temporary domestic help. "There is a change machine in the laundry room down in the basement," Mick told her. "Divide up the lights and darks and wash them both on normal cycle," he instructed.

Whitney was about to inform him that she knew how to properly do laundry but quickly realized it would only result in more denigration. She took the money from him and grabbed the laundry sack, then walked out the door. On her way down to steps to laundry room she passed two girls and heard one say under her breath to the other, "Kind of late for Halloween."

Mick sat down at his desk and did his best to focus and review his notes for the few minutes that Whitney was briefly absent. Around ten minutes later she came back through his door without bothering to knock, tossed the laundry sack on the floor and flatly asked, "What else?" Without lifting his eyes from the computer screen he pointed down to the waste basket stationed beside his desk and directed her to, "Take my trash and deposit it in the rubbish and recycling room down the end of the hall."