Chapter Four

Lust

Dorothy had responded the way Richard supposed that she would. He informed her that he had already filled the position and that she shouldn't worry herself about it anymore. Dorothy had asked, suspicious of Richard's motives, as to why he bothered to fill the position himself. "You've never taken any interest in the household duties before," were her exact words.

Richard drank his morning coffee and tried to ignore eye contact. It was real coffee, not a substitute, and as such came from above at great cost. There just simply wasn't enough space in the greenhouses and plantations of Arcadia to grow enough beans to meet the demand, and a result most people drank ground-up chicory roots with added caffeine. His most beloved wife, however, could not get it through her skull that since it was very expensive she should be exacting in measuring it out. It was always too strong, and as a result Richard often had a caffeine related headache by lunchtime on the days his wife made coffee.

"I told you, I wanted to help her, she's down on her luck," Richard answered.

"Who cares if she's down on her luck? That's her problem," Dorothy shot back and sneered.

"Why are we arguing about this? Our house is a dump. In the week since Marlene killed herself it's gone to hell here," he illustrated his point by gesturing around the dining room, which was cluttered with empty cups and newspapers and an overflowing ashtray.

"Marlene was fat and plain. You've gone and hired some harlot from a brothel to parade about for your pleasure!" Dorothy accused him

"How on Earth did you get that impression?" Richard stonily said. He hadn't told Dorothy any of the particulars about his and Lupe's conversation, only that they had chatted at the Fort Frolic metro station. Dorothy was a touch too correct though with her wild accusations for Richard's comfort. Had he continued his line of questioning with Lupe last night his follow up question would have been "If I want the whole night, how much is that going to run me?"

But Dorothy, of course, knew nothing of this, and was just being her usual unpleasant self. "You couldn't be content to go and gallivant around with your brother, huh? You had to bring a piece of filth into my home," she spat angrily.

Richard brought his cup down to the saucer and it clinked. "For one, I give you my word that I have not used the services of prostitute. For two, if you would consider alternative methods of intercourse this would not even be an issue. Thirdly, if you could deign yourself to come down from Mount Olympus and tidy up yourself, we wouldn't need a maid. And finally, it's my money that pays for the maid, so should I want to hire, say, a dozen young nubile women to work in the nude and perform acts of sodomy with me, I will do so," he dryly intoned. His headache was coming on much sooner than usual today, he realized dully. There was a way to deal with that, but he usually waited until he got to work to do it.

"Why must you constantly undermine our sacred bond, Richard?" Dorothy asked with an air of haughtiness. "You must constantly bring up your sinful desires-"

Richard had had enough at that comment. "Dorothy! I haven't had sex with you or anyone else in seven fucking years! Seven years! Do you know what that's like?!"

"Yes, I do," she answered curtly. "I am in the exact same position as you are. But I chose to accept things. Besides, you don't need intercourse to live. You should channel your energy into more constructive things, if you feel like your carnal desires are starting to control you."

Richard thought that he would be used to his wife's condescension by now, but she always managed to surprise him with the endless supply of her contempt for male sexuality. "I work so much I dream in blueprints," he said caustically. "If that isn't channeling it enough then I don't know what you want from me."

"What I want is for you to be a decent gentleman and never bother me again with your suggestions that I, as a decent and well-bred woman, cannot repeat."

"I'll breed you well," he muttered under his breath.

"Disgusting," Dorothy said shortly, and reached for the coffee pot.

Richard fumbled with the small black leather case in which he stored prepared morphine injections. It was his morning ritual for the past few years; a cup of coffee, minor or major fight with his wife, morphine injection, then off to work. He stuck the needle into his inner forearms and moaned lightly as he pushed the plunger down. Richard hated being a junkie, but he hated being blinded by pain much more.

As the drug worked its way through his blood, Richard leaned back in his chair and stared at Dorothy. For the first time he seriously began to wonder how divorce in Rapture would work. It was another facet of his regret in moving here. On the surface he was familiar enough with the rules, but here he was uncertain. They had registered as a married couple when they emigrated, however he had not yet heard of anyone getting a legal divorce. One of his employees and his wife had split, but he just simply moved out and nothing had been formalized. As much as Richard would like to kick Dorothy's ice-cold bonebag to the curb, he wasn't quite ready to sever the ties just yet.

Richard's commute to the office was typical. His office was temporarily located now near the production floor in a rather small former conference room. But it was private and had a locking door and wasn't open to the sea nor was it buried under pipes and vents and that was all that really mattered. Someone had already put up a little metallic sign with "Richard Stone-Head of Design '' stenciled in it in black ink. Richard took off his hat and coat, hung them on the stand, and locked the door behind him. He settled into his chair and hung his cane off of the side of the desk. He opened a desk drawer, pulled out a sheet of onion skin paper, and crumbled it up in his hands until it was as soft as tissue paper. Then, with a quick glance to the door to make sure it was securely shut, he unbuttoned his pants and began his methodical and steady masturbation routine.

There were a dozen or so scenarios Richard would cycle though; today he chose an old chestnut. Two lovely ladies, both vaguely resembling the dancer at The Seahorse last night, were kissing each other and suckling at each other's breasts, then advancing on him. And, since it was fantasy and he was able-bodied, he then proceeded to penetrate one of them while lying on his back. The other girl was hovering over his face, not so much that he was smothered by her moist and warm lips, but that his nose and mouth could nuzzle against her just enough that he could taste it.

He could almost taste it. And the first lady, currently bouncing on his admittedly average cock, was squealing in delight. "Oh Richard," she moaned in ecstasy while he roughly fondled her breasts, "that feels so good! Fuck me harder!"

Gladly, he thought, and stroked the shaft faster. His angle of attack was a bit awkward, but it was the best position to avoid mood-ruining contact with his wounds. He had pinched a jar of lotion from Dorothy for the purposes of lubrication and he paused briefly to unscrew the lid and apply a dollop. Richard was rather fond of this particular brand. It made his hands smell like almonds afterwards.

The lady he was eating out was starting to purr as well. He was quite pleased with himself. Her juices ran into his mouth, and in the fantasy the fluid tasted much better than in real life. Like peaches. He hadn't had a peach in so long…

That train of thought distracted him so much that he began to lose sight of the lovely women. They faded into the recesses of his mind and began to think about all the things he had enjoyed on the surface that were now either black market goods or flat-out unavailable at any price. His erection deflated and he was soon holding his flaccid penis and looking at his desktop with a detached stare. Even he, wealthy as he was, was starting to feel the strangle of the very limited variety of foods and could only imagine how the populace who made a fraction of what he did felt about it. People like Lupe…

At the thought of her his organ plumped back up, and since she was a real person and not some sort of vague compilation of anonymous women he was able to maintain focus easily. Without much difficulty Richard was able to suppose what she looked like under her modest cardigan and wool skirt. He imagined thrusting into her on his desk, her legs tightly wrapped around him, screaming his name so loudly that everyone in the building could hear. Richard did not dwell on that thought for long, however, and he soon emitted into the prepared onion skin paper.

A rare and genuine smile traced its way across his lips as he balled up the used paper and casually tossed it into a wastebasket. Unlike most of the time, this masturbation session hadn't been an exercise of sheer utility. He had actually enjoyed himself. After a moment of contemplative thought over his new situation he fastened his pants back up and began to review some plans that were sitting in his inbox.

Would you kindly imagine a page break here?

Lupe closed her suitcase and heard the Bakelite snap as the clips fell into place. She had been rather depressed that all of her worldly belongings had fit into the medium sized yellow suitcase. This morning Lupe had forgone her usual breakfast of corn mash and hot water scantily flavored with "coffee" and had instead stealthily packed her bag in preparation for flight. She did not know for sure what would happen if Mr. Van De Graf caught her trying to sneak out. She seriously doubted there was much in the way of a court in Rapture that would prosecute her for breaking her contract, but by that same token she doubted there was much anyone would do much if Mr. Van De Graf broke her legs to prevent her from walking away.

Ever since Helena had run off Mr. Van De Graf had been more vigilant, lest his stock get it into their heads that they too could leave. Each morning as they left for work he watched them carefully in case they took all of their belongings with them and he now locked them in at midnight. When he announced this new policy one of the women pointed out that it was a fire hazard and for her trouble she received the back of his hand across her face and everyone else received a short lecture on how unlikely it was for there to be a fire.

Lupe wished that she had more time to plan because her plan simply consisted of running faster than Mr. Van De Graf. She had no reason to believe that she could run faster than he did, especially while carrying a suitcase, but there wasn't really much else she could do. She couldn't very well escape out a window and the only exit out of the dormitory was past Mr. Van De Graf's apartment/office. He always had the door open and usually sat in a plush leather chair, carefully eyeing the women as they walked past his office, keeping a sharp lookout for anything out of the ordinary.

Realizing that a suitcase would be a hell of a tip of anyway , Lupe slipped off her shoes and tucked them into her purse. In case she had to run she didn't want to deal with high heels. Without so much as a glance around what had been her home for over a year she marched down the hall, keeping her eyes dead ahead.

"Hey! Hey!" she heard Mr. Van De Graf shout at her as she strode past his door. "You get your ass back here!"

Lupe picked up her pace. She was almost at the exit to the street, which this time of day would be crowded with throngs of other blue-collar workers heading to their jobs. She flung the door open and hurried down the steps without looking behind her.

"Oi! Lupita!" Mr. Van De Graf mistakenly called to her. "Where do you think you're going!" Judging from his voice he had gotten out of his chair and was giving chase to her.

The rough paving stones scraped the soles of her feet but she didn't slow down. Lupe pushed her way through a cluster of young men who were enjoying a morning smoke. They cat-called to her but she ignored that as well.

"You are in big trouble missy!" Mr. Van De Graf hollered at her. She wasn't surprised that he was able to keep pace with her, but she was hoping that he would be reluctant to tackle a woman in full public view.

Lupe doubted very much that once she was out of his immediate sphere of influence that Mr. Van De Graf would do anything much to reclaim her as an asset. She thought that a man who's business model relied on lying to naïve women was unlikely to undertake much in the way of actual effort to collect a wayward indentured slave. It wasn't too far now to the metro station and if she hurried she should catch the next departure on the line to Adranos Place. She hustled past narrow tenement buildings made of wafer-thin lumber, past food stalls with hand lettered signs that tried to make seaweed sound appetizing, past empty oil drums and crates of radio parts waiting to be assembled.

She was within sight of the metro platform when she felt Mr. Van De Graf grab her arm and yank her backwards. "Just what do you think you're doing?" he demanded, his face screwed up in anger.

Lupe bashed him in the face with her purse but he didn't let go. Oh God, oh God, she began to panic. I'm going to be trapped in this awful place forever! "Get your hands off of me!" she shouted. No one paid much attention to her, however, and the mass of people continued to stream past her and Mr. Van De Graf without more than a cursory glance.

Mr. Van De Graf pulled her closer to him. "I'm going to make an example out of you," he threatened.

Lupe heard the colossal train pull into the station. Mustering up more courage than she thought she had, she punched Mr. Van Graf in the face with her free arm. She must have shocked him more than hurt him, but he did let go of her arm in a stunned moment of shock.

She ran up the steps to the platform and hurled herself into the train a split second before the doors closed. Keeping a firm grip on her suitcase still, she turned around to see Mr. Van De Graf glaring at her through the glass. She couldn't help but smile since her plan had worked and she was on her way to her own little room now. Lupe did feel bad though because Mr. Van De Graf would no doubt be tightening security and the next escapee would probably have a tougher time of it.

Lupe found a seat and slipped her shoes back on, then pulled out a pocket mirror and readjusted her hair. She wanted to look calm and composed for her first day of work for Richard, even though he had said he wouldn't be there when she arrived. She wondered what his wife was like. Lupe supposed that she was beautiful and classy and snobby.

The train ride to Adranos Place involved two transfers and about an hour later Lupe rang the bell to the Stone residence. "Hello," she greeted Dorothy. Lupe had been correct. Dorothy was indeed beautiful, with dark blonde hair pulled back and set with barrettes.

"So, my husband chose you, did he? Don't get interested in him, do you hear? You're here to clean, not flush out his pipes," Dorothy stoutly replied.

"Um," Lupe stuttered, shocked with Dorothy's attitude. How did she know? "I wasn't planning on it."

Dorothy pulled the door open and told her to get inside. "First things first," she said with her back turned to Lupe as she sauntered down the hall. "You'll address me as ma'am, like a proper servant would. Even though you're not, and down here we must make do, mustn't we?"

"Yes ma'am," Lupe said and hoped that Dorothy didn't catch the slight sarcasm in her voice.

"Secondly, you must behave like a proper servant. Which means do not speak to me unless it's either urgent or I speak first. I don't want to hear about your thoughts or problems or whatever nonsense you want to go on about, understand?"

"Oh, most certainly," Lupe replied and rolled her eyes.

"Good. I suppose you'll want to be shown to your quarters then, hm?" Dorothy asked.

Lupe wondered exactly what Richard had said which had made Dorothy so hostile to her. A small thrill crept up her spine. Perhaps Richard had said something to make Dorothy believe he fancied her. "Yes, please," she replied honestly, both in answer to Dorothy's question and the possibility that Richard found her appealing.

Dorothy said nothing further while leading her down a narrow hallway. They passed a kitchen and a laundry room before coming to the end of the hall. "There," Dorothy said with a chill in her voice. "There's two uniforms in the wardrobe from the previous maid. She killed herself. Should you feel the same urge please do not take concern for my comfort into your decision."

Lupe brushed off Dorothy's not too subtle hint that she should kill herself and instead enjoyed the room. It was small, but there was a bed (with an actual mattress unlike the lumpy pallets she had slept on at the dormitory) and a nightstand with a brass-finished lamp on it. True to Dorothy's word a slim wardrobe was against the wall and behind a pulled back curtain there was a toilet, a sink with a mirror above it, and a shower head. For Lupe, it was a small slice of heaven.

Lupe set her suitcase on the floor. "Don't get too comfortable," Dorothy said as soon as Lupe stepped inside the room. "There's a lot of work to be done. Change and see me in the kitchen as soon as you can," she ordered. Dorothy left and closed the door behind her.

Lupe quickly took off her modest red dress and black cardigan and changed into the dull gray and lumpy maid's uniform. Apparently the previous maid had been a bit heavier than Lupe because the dress hung off her body like a sack on a stick. She tried to refine the shape a bit better by tying the apron around her, but it was still lumpy. Richard will never go for me in this, she thought dimly. If she could seduce Richard she might be able to wheedle enough money out of him to escape sooner than she thought. That was what she told herself, that was the reason why she wanted to sleep with him. Not because the more she thought about her meeting with him last night the more infatuated she found herself with him. She resolved to take in her uniform at the first possibility.

In the kitchen Dorothy quickly outlined Lupe's duties and set her to work almost immediately. Lupe's first task was to tidy up the entire house, then to change the sheets, wash the windows, prepare lunch for Dorothy, do the shopping, and then when Richard came home she was to make herself unseen in the kitchen, where she would be set about the task of polishing all of the silverware.

Lupe went about her work, rather slowly considering it was her first day, which gave Dorothy plenty of opportunity to criticize her. However, Dorothy couldn't hide the fact that Lupe was changing the linens on two beds in two separate bedrooms. As she tore the sheets of what she presumed was Richard's lonely bed she could help but feel a twinge of excitement at the implication that Richard was apparently not sleeping with his wife.