A Strange Arrangement

I had $30 left to my name. Being a girl on your own without any special training or abilities wasn't simple. After graduating from college, I figured I could take a year or two to determine my course in life. I didn't want to "find myself," though I would never put it that way. But I first needed to get a job so that I could discover myself. Despite being enjoyable at the time, my degree in art history did not open any doors for me.

I had made the decision early on to go far enough away from my parents to remove that safety net. In that aspect, I might have even burned a few bridges, but there's no need to revisit that incident at this time. It was sink or swim, and I felt so confident that I was prepared to swim. However, I was gasping and sinking. There just wasn't any full-time job available at the moment, and part-time waitressing wasn't covering the costs. I had minimized my spending as much as I could, which was certainly one truly positive aspect of this experience. Many things that I had previously thought to be needs were suddenly shown to be luxury items. Manicures? Cable television? Eaten outside? All were a part of a prior life, and hopefully will be again in the future. But for the time being, they could wait, and I was very appreciative of that lesson.

I gave the idea of returning to The Creep some real thought as I was writing the final rent check, which I wasn't entirely confident would clear.

*******

It seemed a little like au pair employment to me-clean and cook, maybe some nanny work, and your rent is free-so I answered to the internet advertisement offering room and board in exchange for "household duties." The offer appeared even better when I realized that "and board" simply meant that meals were provided. I then headed home.

It was a modest townhouse on the outskirts of the city, still accessible by public transportation, so I might be able to temporarily do without the car. Things appeared disorganized but not shabby. Although he wasn't a slob, the man was falling behind. My initial reactions to him were positive; he seemed to be a decent enough guy who wasn't obnoxious or pervy. He was also quite beautiful and appeared to be in his early thirties. I saw the wedding band, but at first I didn't say anything. No children visible, which means no nannying (thank God).

He seemed mature and courteous, but not overly affable. He wasn't mean; he just came out as remote. Sad. Tired. Even though I didn't anticipate becoming friends with him, I wasn't concerned about sharing a home with him, especially if his wife was around.

I was already inclined to accept it at this point; free rent and food would really help me out, especially since I could continue working part-time to get back on my feet. He shifted in his seat a little and said, "Before we get any further, we should probably discuss the details of the arrangement I'm proposing." It would be a decent interim measure even if it was only a temporary one.

He continued. "I'm offering a room of your own and full use of the house, other than my room. I'll buy groceries to cover our meals."

I hoped to say, "That sounds great-it's even more than I expected for what you're asking."

Well, you haven't heard what I'm asking yet, he continued, clearly feeling awkward. He started to speak when I interrupted him.

I took a peek at his ring and asked, "Your ad said 'household duties.' I'm assuming that means cleaning, cooking, laundry...Is it just the two of you?"

He asked, shocked, "Two?" before spinning his ring anxiously in his hand and saying, "No, it's just me. My wife...doesn't live here.

"Is she..."

She's not in the photo, he soon clarified. And please...I'd rather not talk about that right now, he replied after drawing in a long breath and settling down a bit.

"OK," I murmured. In the meantime, I was attempting to consider all the options: Dead? Separated? Are you insane and sequestered upstairs? Was this a second residence that was kept hidden?

"Sex."

That certainly made me think about the talk again. Please tell me what you said.

He was serious when he said, "I said sex- that's the catch. Household duties include sexual relations...with me...on a regular basis." Additionally, he was avoiding eye contact and gazing off into the horizon, possibly not needing to look at me in order to read my reaction.

I wanted to slap him, but I held back out of concern for what might happen. I suddenly felt extremely exposed because I was alone in his home and his...sick proposal was hanging out. Nobody even knew where I was, anyway. When I tried to respond, my words came up empty. I shook my head in disbelief with my mouth still wide, got to my feet, and stumbled out the door.

*******

That occurred almost six months ago. He never phoned me back, and neither did I. I didn't think much about it and thought that someday it would simply be a humorous story I told at parties, the one about The Creep who wanted me to be his live-in whore, which I chalked up to, "it takes all kinds of weirdos to make a city."

However, six months later, here I was, broke and in need of a place to live. Accepting his offer now appeared like a somewhat less crazy idea.

I collected my final $30 and headed to the store after sending that rent payment that was doomed. I decided to forgo my strict spending plan and purchased enough wine to give The Creep a call back. I was simultaneously attempting to talk myself out of it or at the very least persuade myself that it wouldn't actually happen.

Most likely, he had already located a match. Maybe he came to the realization that all he wanted was a whore to do the housework, and he had found just that-a working prostitute who could cook a decent supper. He was most likely detained after another female called the police to report his "terms" to them. Or perhaps he had been charged with violence when a potential "houseworker" didn't take kindly to his offer.

I dialed the number (which I had foolishly stored earlier when I thought it was a lot easier arrangement), convinced that it would be a pointless call. He responded right away.

He seemed concerned and said, "Hello? Hello, who is this?" Oh goodness, I didn't even realize it was after two in the morning. I guess.

"Give me your stupid room," you say.

He groaned. He hung up on me after saying, "You're drunk and I'm at work. Call me back when you're sober, if you still want to." That idiot had disconnected from me. Of all the, forget it. I hung up the phone and went to bed.

*******

The terrible truth that I had just postponed my problems rather than resolved them hit me the following afternoon. Despite being utterly broke, suffering from a headache, and having drunk-called a pervert, I still had to phone The Creep. If I had any regard for the man, I would be able to admit that I had embarrassed myself.

I worked that afternoon; while the tips weren't horrible, they served as a painful reminder that even a run of successful days like this wouldn't be enough to support me. The only costs I had left were rent, food, and petrol. I had to stop making cuts. I picked up the phone once more later that evening. While it was ringing, I closed my eyes.

"Hello?"

"I'd like to check to see if your room is still available."

His voice was serious, "Are you sober this time?"

"Yes."

All business when I ask, "Have we met before?"

"Yes."

"And so you are aware of the terms of the offer?"

I suppose I need to hear more about the specifics, but yes, or at least the fundamentals.

"All right, I'll be at home tonight and tomorrow from 4 to 6,"

(Just in case you are a serial killer, I thought) "I'd prefer not to meet at your place. Could we meet somewhere...semi-public? Tomorrow at 4?"

There's a park a block north of my house. It's not too huge. Find a bench, and I'll go there right after work. That's okay. Makes sense-you're surely at least a little scared.

"All right. Do you still remember how I look?"

Only four girls were aware of the terms, and I may exclude two of them.

Oh my god. How did the other two fare? "Um..."

"...by the tone of your voice and your accent-or lack thereof."

"Oh."

"Therefore, I should have no trouble locating you."

Alright, see you tomorrow. Creep, I thought to myself.

*******

My early shift was awful. Breakfast crowds typically leave bad tips. Old individuals who don't understand the worth of money, customers who are too engrossed in their work to realize that you are serving them, mothers who are having brunch together despite the fact that neither of them can truly afford it, college students who are hungover, etc.

Other than that, my thoughts were wholly diverted. I kept wanting to know more information. And could I actually muster the strength to accomplish this?

*******

In the afternoon, I delivered a couple more applications. Now, searching for a job was something I did automatically. Even though I didn't have high hopes for success, I knew I had to persevere if things were becoming so bad that I was considering moving in with The Creep.

*******

At precisely 4, I took a seat on the bench. I had recently given up my pricey data package on my smartphone, which was a luxury. So I scanned the area, observed individuals walking by, and waited. I questioned how many of these people were hiding some depressing issue behind their happy faces, their headphones, and other outward behaviors.

I was deep in meditation when a man sat down next to me and said, "Hey." I was a little surprised, but when I glanced at him, his looks were a little disarming. I believe that he had become a monster due to memories; he was disheveled, gloomy, and had crimson eyes and sharp teeth. But the truth was otherwise.

If the embroidered name tag on his overalls is to be believed, his name is Andrew. He was wearing overalls from a body shop. Funny, I had never before learned his name. His work clothes were filthy, yet he still appeared to be clean enough. He could even pass for handsome if I could choose a different suit for him.

The most I could muster under the circumstances was a "hi."

So, what was your name once more?

I told myself, "Gina." Good, don't tell him your last name. He remains unsettling.

"You need the specifics?"

"Yes, the details. I recall you saying there was sex involved in household duties. I imagine there is more to that. I'm assuming you aren't talking about a once-a-month rent "paying"," the man stated.

Yeah, I don't recall exactly what I told you. It was maybe three or four months ago.

I tersely answered, "Six months," trying not to be offended that it was so unmemorable for him.

I'm not asking for anything weird or kinky; just the two of us, naked, having sex. Oral counts, but not if it's every time. And you'd have to be an active, willing participant. I'm not into rape or tying you up or anything. OK. The arrangement is sex on a regular basis. For me, that means several times a week- at least three, but sometimes more, and never more than two days without.

He continued to glance around, pausing as individuals passed by. What people would think if they overheard bits and pieces of this exchange is beyond my imagination.

If you tell me you're clean, I'll believe you. I can show you my medical record -- I'm clean. No condoms with me. And since that would be the arrangement, if you have any other relationships involving sex, you'd have to use condoms. "You don't have to act like you love it, but don't act like you hate it either. You'd have to be on the pill or something.

He quickly paused and asked, "You're not recording this or anything, are you? You're not..." as he gave me a frightened expression.

Then that got me to thinking. I rolled my eyes and said, "No, and the idea hadn't occurred to me, though I dare say it wouldn't be a bad idea." "You wouldn't be filming anything inside the house, would you?"

He expressed confusion by furrowing his brow, as though he wasn't understanding what I was saying. He appeared to have finally grasped the situation when he abruptly straightened himself and responded, sounding mildly horrified, "O God, no! Hell no! I'm not doing anything weird or pervy here, I'm just talking about simple, regular sex between two people."

I'm just trying to figure out your strategy because, in the larger picture, the conditions you're suggesting are pervy.

I'm just looking for someone whose financial demands I can supply in exchange for; I just have typical needs in the house and in the bedroom.

Why isn't this just prostitution, you ask?

He let out a sigh and briefly met my eyes, perhaps for the first time. He wasn't being sarcastic or irritated when he said, "I don't really know. Maybe it's that it occurs in the context of a longer-term relationship. Maybe all...um...y'know, forget it. Are you seriously considering this, or are you just wanting to ask questions?" He merely appeared worn out.

I'm genuinely thinking about it, but it's a lot to process, especially the concept of not using condoms. Let's assume I'm serious enough that you should prepare for a medical exam. I'll phone you later this week to let you know my choice.

He appeared shocked by that. Thank you for not freaking out, Gina. I'll give you my phone number now. I have to get ready for work.

"Work?"

He remarked, "Two jobs. The next one starts at 6."

I continued to think while sitting on the bench. Despite the fact that his entire plan looked a little strange, he didn't come off as a creepy pervert other than the notion of a putty-eating maid. He didn't look like the type of guy who would go on a date, and if he was working two jobs, he was probably already too busy to do so. Thus, it became a little clearer why he would want someone around solely for sex and cleaning. I didn't like not knowing the wife's situation though.

I took out a scrap of paper and began making notes on it. It resembled a pro-con list somewhat. There are no condoms? Pill? Wife? future partners? ZERO RENT! FREE MEALS! All it is is sex. may depart at any time. He isn't ugly. He travels a lot. a longer commute to work.

The realization that I wasn't overly worried about the concept of trading sex for rent was interesting. It was strange, yes, but I questioned how frequently I had done that. Of course not for rent, but rather for love, safety, and status. When was the last time I had sex without wanting to get something out of it? In this situation, I was merely obtaining access to something more material. And the terms were made official. I had previously attempted to swap sex for love, but since we couldn't come to an agreement, he received sex and I received nothing. I was getting what I wanted this time, right?