16.0101-0900 I need a job!
<hr><hr>
@23.0724-9999.30 by atx
<hr>
Dear Marla,
I had to pee.
I mean, I had to pee really bad!
From the bus window, I could see the library coming up on the left. They would have a public bathroom. Hey, maybe they might also have a job for me.
It had been almost a year since Frank kicked me out. Like many of my previous partners, when he began to understand the depth of my rubber fetish, it disgusted him. (Yeah. Those were his words.) Since then, my life had crashed. Worse yet, it's one thing if you are young, beautiful, and can rebuild, but I'm old. I'm tired. And my bones hurt. What am I going to do?
Things were so bad, I didn't even have a cellphone anymore! At that point, I was a “homeless” person. My life went from zooming around in the upper crust suburbs in a shiny, new, officer-give-me-a-ticket red, Ford Mustang convertible to riding a city bus to find some crappy job that probably didn't exist anyway. Fuck Frank!
It was only about mid-morning, and I was already beginning to warm up. The latex panties under my jeans and T-shirt caused Tom and Dick, my buddy phallus's down in the lower, strategic parts of my latex bodysuit, to send me a little thrill. I stepped down from the bus onto the pavement. (Remind me to tell you about Harry someday. “Tom, Dick, and Harry”—get it? ;-)
I've always had a thing for stuff like extended edge play, such as wearing phalluses under my latex fetish garments all day long. When Frank was off on his many business trips, I would force myself to wear them all day long. It felt great while I was shopping or doing my housework! (Or, maybe it feels bad, but I liked it because I'm a masochist??) Walking, kneeling, or just about any motion of my body created additional erotic feelings. It injects a constant bit of fetish energy into everything I do, such as looking for a job.
“Could I see the manager, please? I'd like to apply for a job.”
Nope. Not hiring. No job.
“Why don't look in the want-ads for some kind of work. We have many current newspapers in our periodical section. Maybe you can find something there,” the manager suggested.
The papers had several pages of “help-wanted” ads. I spent nearly an hour pouring through them. Most were for high-skill jobs like software engineers, truck drivers, customer service, and that sort of thing. I had been out of the workforce for so many years, I had little to offer. Besides, who is going to hire an old broad like me with no apparent employable skills, saggy tits, and not one of the 'beautiful people'? I had just about decided to give up when I noticed this small ad in a penny saver:
DOMESTIC ASSISTANT wanted by elderly couple. Light duty housekeeping, etc. Live-in required. Very isolated location. Includes modest salary, clothing allowance, room and board. Start immediately. Call 555-1212
Hey! Here was something I could do! I have taken care of the homes of my three ex-husbands and Frank over most of my life. I cook well and can manage household budgets.
The library let me use their phone to call. The man who answered told me that he and his elderly wife were retired and needed someone to take care of their home located over on the coast, an hour drive west of the library. He was a published writer and also operated a small online business where he sold software he wrote. She dabbled in all sorts of handcrafts and did a bit of writing. They required someone to cook, clean, do laundry, etc. When I mentioned my age, he stressed that this would be a very light duty job. I would usually work just a few hours each day, but that would include housework and the three meal times.
James repeatedly stressed that the house was in a very isolated location and that I would have almost no contact with other people. He asked me, “On a scale of 1-10 where 1 signifies extreme introversion and 10 is extreme extroversion, where on that scale would you be most of the time?”
He explained that many people recharge their “batteries” through social interaction. Those are the extroverts. In contrast, the introverts are at the other end of the spectrum. They tend to be de-energized by social contact and are revitalized instead by going within.
“Oh, I'm probably a one or two on that scale, I replied. “I spend most of my time alone, and I prefer it that way.”
"That's good, because I want to make clear that one of our main rules is no visitors. We like being alone, too."
Apparently, I passed that test because he then said he would come to the library to interview me in an hour or so.
I must have read a half-dozen magazines from cover to cover before an older man walked into the door of the library. He was obviously looking for someone. He had silver-gray hair in a ponytail and wore jeans and a t-shirt with the faded logo of some rock band imprinted on it. I guessed he was probably in his late 60s or early 70s. For an older man, he was gorgeous! He reminded me of Sean Connery in the Medicine Man movie.
“Thalia?” he asked?
“Yes, I am Thalia Koster.” We shook hands.
“Hi, I am James Hahn.”
We exchanged small talk about the weather, the library, and other stuff as people often do when they first meet. He seemed very bright and intelligent, but also had a sort of soft, quiet magnetism about him. I immediately liked him. After a while, as we became more comfortable with each other, our conversation became more serious as it drifted toward the job.
James and his wheelchair-bound wife lived in his generational family home out on the coast, about an hour drive from Thorpton. (Thorpton is my home city, located about 40 miles (64 km) inland from the Pacific Coast, where It rains a lot. The city has a population of almost one million.) James was caretaker of his family forest farm, located about 5 miles (8 km) inland from the Pacific coastline.
Mr. Hahn's wife, Lorraine, was wheelchair-bound from an auto accident a decade ago. He was getting to the age where he needed some help with her and around the house.
James said, “In a way, I suppose you could think of Lorraine and me as some sort of secular monastic monks or nuns. We live a quiet, sequestered life focused on pursuing what the Greeks called 'ataraxia'. We seek the deep peace that comes from becoming fully self-actualized. I mostly write space opera novels but also dabble in a little philosophy and some photography. I also run a little software store on the Internet where I peddle the programs I write. Lorraine also does a bit of writing — she likes psycho-drama but is mostly into her many hand- and needle crafts. These activities give us a sense of purpose and direction in the Winter of Our Lives. It gets us out of bed each morning and gives us an excellence to pursue.”
Then he paused.
“It gives us a reason to live. We're too old to be in the baby-making business anymore, so having some sort of mountain to climb is important, even if other people see it as inconsequential or stupid. If it's important to you, that's all that matters.”
Oh, this guy is deep!
James continued. “Writing is something that works for both of us because, as long as we can type, we can share our dreams with others. In that act of attempting to write a book -- or even a sonnet -- a sense of Purpose is immediately engaged."
Without thinking, I blurted that I do some writing but never thought of it in that light.
It 's often a matter of momentum. Once you start flow writing from what is in your head, it does not take much to kill that forward thrust. I like the monastic life because there are fewer interruptions that also require my attention. It's the same for Lorraine. But, we're also getting to that age when we just need some help with the mundane, day-to-day stuff of living. That’s why we want to hire a home assistant.”
Then he thought for a moment and asked, “Do you have any creative aspirations or activities which may help you stay sane while you are living in the middle of nowhere? It’s really important that you have something to loose yourself in. Make the isolation of my home work for your dreams rather than against them.”
We were sitting next to a window that looked out over the parking lot. James stood up and pointed out the window. “See that pickup truck at the end of the first row?”
I stood up to look out the window. The truck he spoke of had big tires, the whole body was jacked up and it was covered in mud. A big winch was mounted on the front bumper. It was a seriously heavy duty vehicle.
“Our driveway is almost a mile long and has some nasty muddy spots. If it has rained recently, some of the puddles need a truck like that to
“This is going to sound sort of crazy,” I replied. “A few years ago I read a book called ‘Work as a Spiritual Practice’ by Lewis Richmond. It changed my life! A 'spiritual practice' is simply the practice of a `deliberate attitude' which helps us transform something mundane into something sacred. This is not about religion. When I started to think of 'practice' as a noun, it became clear how even something like housework can be a sort of 'martial art' by adding in a bit of Zen. I began to choreograph the way I did things around the house purely as an art form, perhaps something like ballet. It is a dance that is done artfully and with full consciousness.” Then I paused for a moment and giggled. “I’m generally too embarrassed to do that when other people are watching!”
“Wow!" he exclaimed, "You are a deep thinker! A Zen approach to housekeeping! I can almost picture you doing something like vacuuming the living room with Tai' Chi-like movements or 'forms'. I'm impressed!”
“Oh, I don't know much about Zen, though I think the author of that book was a Zen monk, or something like that. I once saw a video about the classic Japanese Tea Ceremony on TV. Now I just think of my housework as something like that. It’s my ‘art’. The 'do' part of 'doing housework' becomes an end in itself. Work becomes play.”
I could see his eyes widen a bit. "Now I’m becoming really impressed," He smiled. “I was a wannabe-monk in a monastery for a short while back in the 70's. I meditated a lot then and still do now and then. I have never been a student of formal Zen, per se, though I am somewhat familiar with it – I read a lot of Alan Watts, among many others back then. I have some insight into the dynamics of what you are describing. I would welcome an attitude such as that in my home.”
It sure seemed that, unlike everyone else around here, this guy was certainly no red-neck.
I explained how I was Frank's 'girl friend' for almost ten years, which meant I took care of his extravagantly huge household in a wealthy suburb as my full-time job. He was gone on business trips often, so I was alone much of the time. Fortunately, all his kids were grown and far away, so I didn’t have to do any child care. He would sometimes refer to me as his 'domestic engineer'. Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed that role. I like housework. Growing up, I was the little girl who played house a lot. Sometimes I think that Hestia, the goddess of Home and Hearth, is in my soul. I was made for managing a house.
We talked back and forth like that a few minutes, each of us testing the water. I immediately felt at home with this man. Just from the words he used, the way he said things and indications of his general worldview he seemed to be cultured, well educated and honorable. The more we talked the more I sensed that working for him might be a good experience. He was professionally distant but in a friendly sort of way.
“If you are still interested, we could continue our interview in the truck. It’s an hour drive so that will give us lots of time to get a good feel for each other. I also want you to meet Lorraine, see the house and get a first-hand glimpse of where you would be living.”
Was I interested? Wow, this sounded like a great job. “Sure!,” I replied emphatically. “Let's do it!”
The parking lot was quite full so we had to walk a ways to get to his truck. Even though the temperature was a bit on the cool side, I could feel the sweat continually building under the latex on my back and between my boobs. With each step, “Tom” and “Dick”, tucked warmly in my lower holes, tickled my mind, coloring everything I thought and did with a subtle touch of sex energy magic. They rarely get me to orgasm but there are exceptions which are often in an inconvenient time and place -- that was part of the fun.. By the time we had almost reached the truck, the action of my two intruders almost made me orgasm. It was all I could do to fight it off. The action of climbing up into the truck put me over the top and I came hard and fast. Fortunately, Mr. Hahn was rearranging something in the back of the truck at the time and did not see it.
Marla, I occasionally enjoy the challenges of getting myself into potentially embarrassing situations like that. I don't kow why. Also remember that I am an older woman, not a twenty-something babe. ( I never did fit the description of a "babe". I was never a member of the “beautiful people” because I am not pretty.) Imagine what it would be like if you and I were, say, having lunch in a restaurant and you and some of the other customers watched me, this older woman sitting across from you, try to conceal an orgasm while you ate your tuna fish sandwich!
I didn’t have to think much about it. Well, oh yeah, there was the brief moment of doubt when the question became, “would you trust this unknown man enough to live in the same house with some old dude and his wife, way, waaaay out in the middle of nowhere”?
Well, if I were 30 years younger there would be red flares of caution in my head. This is how you could wind up as a sex slave or some other unpleasant thing.
But, yah know what? I’m NOT 30 years younger! I’m just an old hag. I was never particularly pretty to start with and the ravages of time have made me even less so. What did I have to lose?
Besides, I really needed the job.
We started driving toward the coast.
“Let explain what I am looking for, Thalia. My wife, Lorraine and I both write long-winded novels. She also likes crafts. Much of the time, the focus of our worlds are the characters, plot and settings of the novel in our heads. It requires a lot of concentration and freedom from distractions for us to build the momentum that allows the words in our brains to spew out onto my computer screen. I simply want someone to tend to the domestic stuff so I don’t have to. It’s pretty much the same thing for Lorraine.” He took his eyes off the road briefly to look at me. “I assure you, Thalia, we are gentle people. There are no sexual implications or expectations of any kind. Our social life is virtually non-existent, so there would be no parties and guests. We're just looking for someone to take care of our home as if it were their own, that’s all. This is all just business.”
He continued, “Of course, that is not to say we won’t develop some level of friendship or even companionship. You are invited to dine at our table for all meals, if you want. You may also join us socially in the evenings after dinner if you like. We would enjoy your company now and then although that is not a requirement of your job. During the day you will be on duty on your own. That's when Lorraine and I mostly live in the worlds of our respective novels and only come back to the real world only for meals. You won’t see much of us then.”
I had to ask. “What do you do in the evenings?”
“We’re usually somewhat fatigued from the writing, so we tend to like rather mindless activities like watching TV or, if there's still daylight, we take walks in the woods.”
I’d better ask about this.”Mr. Hahn, how would you like me to address you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought about that. This will be an unusual arrangement because of the isolation of the Hahnestery.”
“Hahnestery?”
He stroked his chin for a moment. “Many years ago someone remarked how the Hahn residence was like a 'monastery' because is was so isolated.”
“The Hahn Monastery' became....”
“The Hahnestery”
“The name stuck. Now everyone uses it. In a sense, those who live there become 'monastics'. The word 'monastic' is derived from 'mono' which means 'one'. A monastic is focused on a single centrally unifying principle, which is what provides the 'mono' in the word 'monastery'. It doesn't have to do anything with religion or even isolation. It's all a matter of trying to focus on one particular thing, like a personal mantra. It doesn't matter what that is or how you do it. It simply needs to be your primary passion. I think there is even a book called something like 'How to be a monastic and keep your day job'. In my case, it is my writing. As much as possible, it is my primary focus. Lorraine's interests are a bit more diverse. You'll see why once we get there.”
He continued. “You will have lots of free time there with no one to share it with. You will be your own. Mono. Solo. Hopefully you have some sort of hobby or activity that you will consume your passions and time?” It was a probing question.
I replied. “Mr. Hahn, I like solo. I prefer it. I am an avid reader and do a little bit of writing, which could be developed into something. Also, I'm no expert, but I can spot bad spelling and bad grammar fairly well. Perhaps you or Lorraine could use an extra set of eyes proofreading your rough drafts.”
“Hmmm. That's possible.” He responded. “During the day, when you are on duty, why don't you address us as Mr. or Mrs. Hahn. That will signify that we are in 'business mode'. When you on duty, you are 'The HouseKeeper' and we are your employers. It's all strictly 'business' then. You'll be on duty between 8am and 6pm Mon-Sat. Don't worry. I want to make it clear that being 'on duty' simply means you are available to work for us. It does not mean that you will actually working all the time. In fact, I honestly think that you might only need to work 2-4 hours per day. Besides, it's just Lorry and I, and we do not generate mountains of laundry or dirty up the house much. Your mandate is simply to 'keep' our house as if it were your own. This is a salaried job. You will be pretty much your own boss and manage your own time. Lorry or I may have an occasional 'special project' for you but most of the time during the day we'd just prefer to be left alone and let you keep the house.”
Then his facial expression softened. “But at meals and any other time, we're just James and Lorraine. Don't get hung up on any of this, tho'. Neither Lorraine nor I care much about formal relationships, so don't lose any sleep over this. This is sort of an experiment. Let's just see how things evolve.”