The Assistant

Note from the Author:

Hey all.

Here is another chapter following Callum's first days in the Complex, as well as introduction of new character. For a better understanding of the scenario and setup, I recommend reading Chapter one first.

That said, I will try to put out one chapter per week, as time allows.

Comments and feedback are highly appreciated.

Hope you enjoy :)

*****

Chapter two -- Uninteresting

Mirrors know no mercy. I wiped the fog and the guy staring back at me had worry marks all over his face, his normally thin lips now all but disappeared pressed together. Bright green eyes looking as tired as I felt, despite having had the whole day to himself. Tense. And for a good reason.

Running a brand new towel along my body, I wiped myself dry of the best shower I had in a very long time. In my thoughts, a compilation of events guiding from the day I was born to the conversation I had had on the previous night.

Callum Arthur Langley, 23. Son of parents who were already divorced on the first memory I could remember. My father had found new, shinier love and built a new, shinier family; for a while, he tried to keep around, then the awkwardness became too strong. Mom got sick when I was 15 and didn't make it. Middle school, a struggle: gay. High school, a struggle: ADHD and dyslexia. College, a struggle: broke. Small jobs, small payments, living month by month. Then, the offer which brought me there, to the front of that huge, unforgiving mirror.

Why me, though?

My eyes were nice, yes. Otherwise, a quite unremarkable face, in pale shades of white. I couldn't grow a beard if I tried, so all I had was a weak chin and light brown hair I kept short enough not to have to worry about. Body-wise I wasn't better. While lean, I had never been an adept of exercise. My looks wouldn't stand out in a crowd and, compared to the guys I had seen in that house, I would call myself ugly.

The answer wasn't that difficult: bizarre as it was, the job offer hadn't been for me. That, as many before, was just another place in which I didn't belong and where I would stay until someone inevitably noticed it, too. My concern was what would happen in between those points.

I had been hired to serve men. From the shallowest to the deepest meaning of the word. By accepting to work there, I waived many of my constitutional rights. The Complex had its own set of rules, some of which had been explained to me last night. I had also spent that morning and afternoon forcing myself to read their terms and, upon significant mental strain, drained away the fancy words and made notes that could actually make sense to me.

1. Every day of the week I am assigned to one of the patrons. I must not interact with other patrons that day without permission.

2. I am only allowed to leave the Complex on my day off.

3. My shift starts when they arrive from work and ends when they sleep. I must not keep them waiting.

4. I have access to all the doors, but only I can open the door for the room number 7.

5. I must not disclose one patron to another.

6. If I am given clothes, I must wear them. The same applies to cosmetics.

7. If I am invited to an activity, I must join it.

8. All and any happening or information within the Complex is covered by a non-disclosure agreement.

There were other rules in a myriad of minor details which seemed less important when compared to the seventh rule.

"If you feel like it is too much to handle, you can always end the contract and go back,"

had said Josh on the previous night.

Go back where? And to what?

The smartphone I had received together with the identification card rang a notification.

[Aaron 3:57PM]

"Dear Callum, Today I shall arrive at 18h. I would be obliged if you could meet me by the garden bench. Sincerely, Aaron."

Among the tension of my own thoughts, the message was amusing in a way.

Who texts like this?

, I thought. I recognized the patterns from the infernal Terms and Conditions I had forced myself into reading. It only made sense that Aaron would be my Monday patron.

*****

Outside, it had been a beautiful day. Some clouds to add ease to the sky and be props to the sun about to set. From that bench I could see grass fields all the way to the horizon. No other property, no other building in sight.

Approaching from the house behind, Aaron cleared his throat to make himself noticed. Khaki pants and a dark blue thin sweater over a button shirt. And, of course, the impeccable hairdo.

"You're not required to..." he started, one second too late. I had already got to my feet. He invited me to sit back with a gesture, and did so himself beside me, resting the thermos bottle he carried on the ground aside the bench. One person could fit between us. "Did you have a pleasant day? Are accommodations to your liking?"

I nodded in confirmation. Then, decided that more than that was necessary.

"Yes, I should say yes," I still faced the horizon, but could feel and see Aaron's stare from the corner of my eye. "I'm sorry, I don't speak a lot. Less when I'm nervous."

Aaron shifted position, resting his ankle on his knee.

"I can understand your circumstances. And admit to the fault for the initial misunderstanding," he said. "I am glad you decided to stay."

My eyes darted to his. With all the formality of his manners, Aaron seemed to be comfortable with long, honest eye contact. And his words, so many meanings could be drawn from them. Some flattering, some definitely offensive. However, I brought myself to sense. The excessive kindness I had been treated by the patrons could make it way too easy for me to believe I was the victim there.

I'm here for my decision

, I reminded myself,

and for the payment. I don't get to be outraged.

My thread of thought was broken by a light touch on my arm, making me wince. Aaron offered a paper cup, with hot tea from the thermos bottle.

"Thank you," I accepted it in a second, but I was sure he had seen my reaction.

"There is something I should inform you," Aaron was pouring tea for himself. A calm breeze caressed his hair. "Upon meeting this morning, we agreed to rule out sexual requests for the first two weeks of your contract".

I briefly burned my lips on the tea. I was no prude, but also wasn't prepared to hear that my future sexual activity was a topic discussed over breakfast.

"It is only fair, considering present situation." Aaron concluded, sipping his tea. "The decision was almost unanimous."

With the rules in mind, I held back from asking who had not agreed to it. Instead, I let out a relieved sigh, feeling some of the nervousness fade.

This is officially a problem for future-Callum.

"Thank you for letting me know," I finally was able to taste the tea. A black blend with floral notes. "and for...you know, the consideration."

"You seem surprised," he looked at me from the border of his cup. His eyes widened a bit. "Certainly you didn't expect to be taken here out in the open, like wild animals do?"

"W-well, there was the vibe! I mean, a bench to this landscape...and sunset." I blushed more than at any point before, which seemed to amuse Aaron to chuckles. Rare and genuine, I had been right when considered his smiles to be precious.

"The sun sets every day," he observed, lowering his foot to the ground and leaning slightly to the front. The warming effect of the stance change was as efficient as the tea had been.

The conversation continued onto lighter topics. Aaron was a nice guy, that was certain. Lawful to a fault, but caring. I could also understand more the reasons behind the use of official words in his speech. Aaron was a leader and, as such, didn't allow himself mistakes. When he did, they impacted everyone else. As a result, the tension in him could be seen on his broad shoulders.

I was 23. I had been on dates before, and that felt like a date. Perhaps that's how it was supposed to feel, at least for the patron. After all, the assistant was also supposed to be the social outlet just so patrons could keep themselves concentrated at the task at hand -- whatever that was (Aaron would not mention it).

Time went by and the wind became more chilly. Aaron stood up with his empty bottle and graciously accompanied me back into the house. On the way, some other patrons seemed to cross our path: Samuel was in the kitchen having dinner with a guy I had not been introduced to, while Josh watched a basketball match on the living room. Looking back in time, I should have found weird that none of them talked to me, not even a single word; in my defense, I only had eyes for the blonde guy who walked half a step ahead and talked about suspense books.

And it ended with goodnight wishes. Not cold, but strictly limited to it. He thanked me for my company and politely turned his back towards his bedroom while I closed the door to mine.

Later that night, crawling in bed and wearing pajamas, my mind continued. Was I developing a crush for Aaron? Was he my mind's newest temporary obsession? I didn't know, but I couldn't stop thinking. And thinking made me think more, and beyond.

"The sun sets every day." Translation: not today, but I

will

take you.

The thought made my body respond and my blood flow faster. In some seconds, I was indulging on it, my hand rushing caresses on my hardness as my mind weaved a whole alternative version on how that night could have gone.

*****

[Olivier 1:12PM]

"hey"

[Olivier 1:12PM]

"we haven't met yet. Olivier here"

[Olivier 1:13PM]

"I'll arrive late tonight, around 10."

[Olivier 1:15PM]

"bedroom 2"

With all of the patrons working, I had had the Complex to myself most of the day. I worked out at the gym, taking advantage of the moment alone. I walked around the pool and explored the small pool house next to it. There was a sauna inside, as well as cold shower cubicles and a spa area.

Such huge spaces for only six people. Seven, including the assistant.

The Complex had a pre-programmed system of deliveries, and groceries arrived every Tuesday in large cardboard boxes dropped inside the main gates. With some trips, I took them in and opened, wondering if I should put them away. I was sitting at the table when Samuel arrived, drawing my eyes from an empty plate.

"Hey there!" He greeted me with enthusiasm and moved down the headphones to his neck. "I'm Sam, do you remember me?"

"Yes," I retorted, wondering if I was being mocked. I had seen him thrice on the three days in that house. Samuel's bright eyes moved to the boxes over the table.

"You brought those here?"

"Yes. I would have put them in the proper place, but... well, I don't know what they are".

It was true. Everything about the kitchen seemed to be tidy and well organized. A well-intended mess would still be messy. Samuel snickered briefly and unsealed the first box.

"Don't worry, you were already very nice as it is," he came out of the box bringing a group of boxes with kitchen supplies and bending to arrange them on the cabinet under the sink. "Plus, you shouldn't even hang out too much with me today."

There was it. At first, the rule had made me chuckle a bit. I would never imagine the rule was actually enforced. It wasn't like LexoDev could know or control all interactions in the house, could they? Spending the whole day without company would get tiring very soon.

"Samuel, t-"

"Sam", he interrupted me.

"Sam," I corrected. "This rule sounds farfetched."

"It does," Sam admitted from inside the cabinet. Then leaned back, and my eyes were drawn away from the back of his jeans. "

But

things can get very awkward if one or another hogs all your time for himself, no? That's why we behave."

I had stood up to bring the box from the table to where Sam was. He looked up and took the box from me, with a nod.

"Tomorrow, on the other hand, you're with me," he turned to the cabinet again, but stared at me once more. "So get ready for a cool time, okay?" And winked.

"What are we talking about?" Josh had walked in, still carrying a backpack from work hanging from one shoulder. Distracted from the cabinet yet another time, Sam replied before I could, and not the same answer I had.

"Callum here was just saying he'd like to spend the whole week with me."

Josh laughed.

"It can only be because he hasn't had his first Saturday yet." Then turned to me and I blushed.

"I didn't...that- that's not what we were-", but Josh interrupted my fumbling.

"I know, I know. The little dude likes to dream," and dismissed the topic with a wave. "Is everything alright? Is the house treating you well?"

His concern had a deeper meaning. Aaron and Josh were the only ones who knew my hiring had been, well, a misunderstanding.

"All is doing well," I answered. And, feeling I should add something else. "And I am appreciating it. I look forward to learning more."

"That's the spirit!" said Sam from inside the cabinet, having finally emptied the first box. Josh nodded approvingly as I walked away feeling his eyes on me on each step.

*****

Olivier's bedroom was the first on I had visited aside from mine. Space-wise it was a large suite, even for less urban standards. Wardrobes, bed and furniture in fine wood, but positioned in a somewhat strange way.

It felt weird to be in someone's bedroom without the owner. But it was already 10:03. After convincing myself I was where I was expected to be, I explored. There wasn't much clutter on the shelves, or on the desk. The walls, however, were almost completely taken by frames of several sizes disposed in a plethora of alignments and displays.

Photographies

, I thought, moving closer to examine them. Artfully composed photographies. Landscapes. Flowers. Wild animals. A falling leaf. A ballerina on flight, a split of second before landing on her partner's hands.

I could, then, understand the askew positioning of the bed and desk. They provided the best possible angle to observe the arrangement of frames. Only following this line of sight I could notice that not all of them were complete: there was a patch of eight empty frames, grouped directly in front of his bed. Before I could think any deeper, the door unlocked and Olivier walked in.

"Sorry, I am late. Really, I'm so sorry," Olivier's looks were unique in many ways, when compared to the other patrons I had met. First and foremost, he had mixed blonde and dark-copper colored hair, long enough for a side comb, but also short enough for no comb at all. A very short beard of the same color garnished his jawline. Then, there was the glasses. Round-lensed spectacles with thin frames circling his bright green eyes. And freckles, sparse but lovely freckles on his faces and nose. I had counted four before he took my hand on both of his, bringing me back. "At your service."

"It is nice to meet you," I greeted in low voice, but Olivier had already left and rushed toward the corner of the bedroom.

Olivier moved the sole armchair from there so that it would be perfectly central relative to the corner of the walls. Then waved his hand, requesting me to sit down while he dragged the office chair to sit on front of me. Finally, checked his watch.

"It's a pity we missed almost the full night," he grumbled in frustration. "but we can use this short conversation as a way of getting to know each other. Do you agree?"

What? Not a single word about the museum of photography around us?

I noticed he required an answer.

"That would be great." My response seemed to make Olivier sincerely happy.

Was he expecting me to refuse it?

"Thank you," he clapped his hands and kept them together. Rested his chin on the thumbs and stared at me intensely. Not only my eyes. The silence and the stare lasted for minutes in which I felt like my thoughts were exposed, until he broke the former. "So, Callum Langley..."

"Yes?" I asked after the moment Olivier took to play with my name in his lips.

"In

your

opinion, how would you define yourself?" he tossed at me and gave me less than two seconds to overcome surprise and think before interrupting. "No need to think for it, shoot it from your first thought. Only two words. One word, maybe. No, give me two."

Weirded out and literally cornered by Olivier and his questions, I didn't feel like I

knew

any two words to say. Luckily, he patiently waited while I worked out in my mind whatever he could be wanting me to say.

"Uninteresting." I tried. "Bland."

Olivier raised his eyebrows in surprise, his lips forming a perfect circle. He scratched the beard on his chin before drawing a conclusion in his mind and waving his finger at me like to a misbehaved child.

"You know, those are not true at all," he said with a you-almost-got-me smile. "but it has a lot of importance that you chose those words."

"Does it?"

"Absolutely." He confirmed, but apparently did not want to explain. Instead, he kept his stare on me for minutes that felt like hours. In an attempt to save me from discomfort, my mind allowed me to stare back.

He wore somewhat baggy twill pants, dark brown. A tight black t-shirt revealed his form, and Olivier was not on top of his shape as the other patrons this far. Which did not mean I didn't appreciate thoroughly the way the black shirt tightened around his biceps, or the size of his hands and everything they could d-

"Have you ever had sex?" the question was blurted out so suddenly I was stunned. Olivier smiled. "I'm sure you would know that. Have you?"

"Yes?"

"Of course. How many partners did you have? Nuh-huh," he mistook my shock for an answer and interrupted it with a finger. "I bet this was a fake answer. Give me the real one, now."

"Four," I said, reluctantly.

I was about to say three.

"This is interesting," he replied. His eyes now piercing through mine. "I want you to think about the best you ever had."

"Best?"

"Best sex, obviously. With the best partner," his voice became lower, yet more demanding. From his expression, I couldn't make what he was growing inside his mind. Or outside it. "Although I would prefer you not to tell me what you did."

"I was not gonna say it!" I protested.

"Exactly! You're very good at this!" A lively Olivier waved his finger again. "Now I need you to think about it. Every memory, like you're feeling it again. Close your eyes, if it'll help you."

The very last thing I wanted to do was closing my eyes before Olivier's scrutinizing stare. On the other hand, having his eyes on me felt like being in front of a crowd. I could feel my own tension, that wasn't good. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes.

I did my best not to succumb to cynicism before the exercise.

The best...that would be Cory, I guess?

it was hard to believe that had happened over a year ago. Cory was a journalist, sent there solely to cover and report the inauguration of a giant resort. We were together for two weeks, if that long, but Cory had special ways.

Hm?

Cory had been kind,

hot

, but, for some reason, all that my mind could summon of him were scenes of him leaving.

"That won't do, now," Olivier's whispered voice startled me from how close it sounded. I opened my eyes to meet him standing close, leaning slightly over me. I could smell the lotion from him. He reached up with his hand and I felt the lightest of touches on my face. "See, your lips are all compressed, and your forehead..."

He slid his pointer finger from one temple to the other, across my forehead. I took in a deep breath, watching his kind eyes so close.

"This is better. Not ideal yet. May I?" Without waiting for response, Olivier's left hand touched my right one. The surprisingly light touch embraced my hand and moved it up towards my face, slowly using my own open fingers to caress down the side of my face, from ear to chin, before resting my hand on the opposite shoulder, while his own fingers crept up the side of my neck, his big hand like a warm pillow.