* * *
Ok, I know I promised her first day as Kaiba's maid, but...I try to keep my entries at around 1,000 words. The last one was 2,000! So I figured it was time for a new chapter. So...prepare to be amazed! Or horrified, whichever ^_^
* * *
Toria arrived at Kaiba's doorstep promptly at seven o'clock, feeling sleepless and defensive. She was going to pay her penance and leave, without hysterics or arguments or anything crazy. Just do it, get it over with, like ripping off a band-aide. Then she would try to forget that she had ever had to be Kaiba's maid.
She was greeted by Roland, who looked rather alarmed to see this ferocious young lady back again. He was not pleased. However, seeing her weary face and quiet eyes, he felt soothed. Perhaps she was not so bad as she had seemed. He took her duffle bag from her.
"Ma'am, I'll show you to your room, ma'am." As they traveled through the mansion, he indicated this room and that so that she might acquaint herself. He led her up the grand staircase with its sweeping banister up to the second story foyer, a long row of closed doors on red carpeting. As they traveled through the mansion, he indicated this room and that so that she might acquaint herself. He used his master key to let her into a nearby room, ushering her in.
Toria gasped. The room was a beautiful place, brightly white and airy, the slim gauzy curtains flapping in the gentle morning breeze. The windows looked out onto the British gardens, mazes of hedges and colorful perennials in delicate, orderly stone flower boxes. Cool fountains and angelic statues adorned corners. Each curve in the path was another exhibit for another fountain or statue.
The room itself was peacefully beautiful, if not overly luxurious. A huge white bed crowned a dais by the windows, and a large Turkish bath adjoined the room. The serenity and design of the room was fit for a princess.
"You'll find your uniform in there, ma'am, and you should report to Master Kaiba's study as soon as possible." He exited to allow her to change. She turned towards the large wardrobe on one wall and flung open the doors, finding it filled with all the comforts a girl would need for her stay – besides her black and white maid's uniform, it also contained a Japanese yakata, a night gown, slippers, a bathrobe, several outfits, shoes, and even and evening gown – though why a maid would scrub latrines in an evening gown was beyond her.
Looking dubiously at the black knee length skirt, matching blouse, and white half-apron. She tried them on, finding them a perfect fit. She examined herself in the long mirror installed on the wardrobe's inner panel. She looked the very picture of a maid, black, white, and cute, although the cute was dimmed by the long raven hair that did not quite match the dress – and her uncertain expression. She half-heartedly tried to bob a courtesy, feeling embarrassed. The dress was not as modest as she would have liked – rarely did she wear short skirts. Her fuku had been a stretch. She tugged at the hemline, attempting to lengthen it. How dare Kaiba give her this slut's dress to work in? She wasn't his toy. Well, he would get a piece of her mind.
She slid her feet into the maid's pumps and set down on her way to Kaiba's study downstairs. She found the room easily enough, a tall oak set of double doors, framed by two large portraits – a Blue Eyes White Dragon painting and a photograph of Mokuba. She paused by the doors, pulling at her skirt in a vain attempt to convince it to ride lower, and wondered whether or not she should knock. With a sudden surge of bravery and outrage, she disregarded knocking altogether and flung open the doors, barging in.
Kaiba had been quietly going over his finances and shipment reports, sipping more of his special strength black coffee. The bitter, acid flavor washed over his tongue, a constant joy and a constant pain. He, who was never surprised, shocked, or caught off guard, almost spit coffee as he saw a tiny girl angrily storming into his study, in the shortest maid's uniform he had ever seen. He gulped his coffee just in time, barely able to retain his cold dislike.
Cute when's she angry, hmm? hissed the voice.
He ignored it and turned to face Toria.
"You showed up. I'm surprised that you would face me." Where had Roland got that getup? It was cut very low in the top and very high in the skirt. He was barely hanging onto himself at the sight of her rounded – he mentally blushed and caught himself. His eyes grew colder in an attempt to control himself.
"I nearly didn't, and would you like to know why?" she said, her voice quietly dangerous. "Because I might as well go around nude, this skirt is so short! I don't know what you've seen in American movie theaters, Seto Kaiba, but I am not going to dress like a harlot for the next three days!" she shrieked, angrily tugging the skirt shorter and the blouse higher.
"I had no hand in the choosing of your uniform. I will tell Roland to replace it." A chill silence enveloped the room. Neither spoke for a minute, until Toria defensively demanded:
"I'm here as your maid, aren't I?" Kaiba's eyes flicked from his papers to the girl, standing thrust forward as though she was about to attack.
"So what would you like me to do?"
For a moment, Kaiba lost his grip. Do? He hadn't really thought of that, had he? He frowned into his coffee cup. Inspiration struck.
"Coffee. I will need a fresh vat of coffee every hour."
"Anything else, gov'n?" mimicked Toria, snatching his coffee mug. He reached for it.
"There's still coffee in that, you idiot," he growled. No one should ever mess with his coffee. He used it to make millions of dollars every day. Before now, no one had ever dared to go anywhere near his coffee. His mind turned this over as Toria felt the cup's heat.
"It's cold coffee. I should make you drink it." She sniffed at it. "What is this, rocket fuel? My father's car exhaust smells better."
"I don't criticize your beverages," he snarled back at her. He became colder, as though ice caked around him. "I expect the saloon to be dusted, have its curtains vacuumed, and the magazines and coffee cups removed. Prepare lunch for Mokuba. At noon I will personally check on your progress." His eyes traveling back to the laptop screen, he added to her:
"Now get out."
"Fine with me, Kaiba." She jangled that empty coffee cup at him. "I'll be back in an hour with a fresh mug of tar for you." She sent him a searing glare with violet eyes, receiving one.
He glared at her leaving figure. How could she be so infuriating? Even Joey, with his constant threats and remarks, never made his anger boil so heavily. But still...something in her ignited something else. He wanted to know who had selected that costume she had been wearing –
So you could give him a big hug, Kaiba? whispered his voice.
No, so I could fire him, snapped the boy. No woman should ever wear something so degrading.
Woman? Woman, is she? I thought she was another faceless loser you had beaten.
He remembered her shapely figured squeezed into the tiny maid's dress. The vigor, the life, the ferocity – she was something he had never seen before.
Yes, she is most definitely a woman, he replied, and for the first time in long years, tuned out the coming retort.
* * *
Toria surveyed his mess of a saloon. With two boys in this house, including the butler, what else would she expect? Boys knew nothing about cleaning. The floor needed vacuuming, and the curtains, the tables and decorative false flowers dusted, the chessboard wiped of fingerprints. And to have every single newspaper, every single coffee mug, thermos, and cup, along with every single piece of discarded technology that either Kaiba boy had been fiddling with removed. She heaved a sigh, reaching for the supplies she had absconded with from the cleaning closet.
She worked for nearly an hour simply dusting and scrubbing fingerprints and coffee smears and newspaper print. As she worked, she thought. And as she thought, her mind came to rest on Seto Kaiba.
However impolite, intolerable, and infuriating she found him, for some reason she was drawn to him. Perhaps it was his shaggy brown hair, or his piercing blue eyes, or tall figure. She had always had a thing for tall guys. But it couldn't be any of those. Toria was not the sort of girl to be interested in only a guy's looks. And even if she was only interested in a boy's appearance, why not Tristan or Yugi or Joey or any of the other boys at her new school? She had to pick the most insufferable of them all, didn't she?
Checking the tall grandfather clock, she realized that in ten minutes Kaiba would want his stupid coffee. Leaving her cleaning half-finished, she strode to the kitchens, a bright room filled with far too many gray marble counters, and found the coffee maker, loaded with a heavy dose of his own special blend. She flicked on the coffee maker, methodically and orderly bringing out the ingredients to make a hearty dish of homemade macaroni and cheese for lunch.
By the time it was in the oven, the coffee was ready and it was approximately an hour since she had last spoken to Kaiba.
She was feeling slightly pleased with herself, glad she had managed to put lunch together, make coffee, and almost finish cleaning the saloon. She marched toward the study, a huge mug of a coffee and a plate of scones in hand.
She flung open the doors and approached the desk. Kaiba, his head bent with muttering calculations, did a very good impression of a deer in headlights.
"Here's your coffee." He sniffed it suspiciously. "Drink it." Her tone left no room for argument. He took a slow sip, as though testing it for poison. For the second time that day, he almost spewed coffee.
"WHAT in the WORLD did you do to my special blend?" he sputtered, trying to remain calm. Gozaburo had told him more than once that anger was weakness. He attempted to remain frigid and impassively deadly, but failed. Glares, stares, and dangerous tones did not work on this girl. She knew them all, having used them personally.
"I added something called sug-ar, Kaiba. It was like motor oil. And eat these biscuits. You can't live on a drink made from greasy water dripping through burnt beans. You'll go all spare, you idiot."
"I'm fine," he said coldly, shoving aside the saucer of pastries. "I don't need this heavy stuff."
"Yes, you do," Toria said sternly. "Eat them. And at twelve you're coming downstairs to eat lunch. The way you work, I'm highly surprised you're not dead." She turned on her heel and hurriedly sailed off to the saloon.
Kaiba stared at his sweetened coffee and plate of biscuits, the butter pats and jam dish alongside. Gruffly, he tasted a scone. The voice in his head tried to interrupt him as he mentally running off another lie, claiming the biscuits to be rock hard. He reached for another.
Fine, he snapped at himself. Maybe I do like her. Maybe. But if, IF, I do, it's only a physical attraction. He nodded to himself, stifling the mental debate team. Any man would be pleased to see a pretty young girl attend to him. He gave a faint smile, sipping his sweetened coffee. Even one so fierce, so wild, and so free as this.
* * *
Whew! Double WHEW! More later...romance grows!
Ok, I know I promised her first day as Kaiba's maid, but...I try to keep my entries at around 1,000 words. The last one was 2,000! So I figured it was time for a new chapter. So...prepare to be amazed! Or horrified, whichever ^_^
* * *
Toria arrived at Kaiba's doorstep promptly at seven o'clock, feeling sleepless and defensive. She was going to pay her penance and leave, without hysterics or arguments or anything crazy. Just do it, get it over with, like ripping off a band-aide. Then she would try to forget that she had ever had to be Kaiba's maid.
She was greeted by Roland, who looked rather alarmed to see this ferocious young lady back again. He was not pleased. However, seeing her weary face and quiet eyes, he felt soothed. Perhaps she was not so bad as she had seemed. He took her duffle bag from her.
"Ma'am, I'll show you to your room, ma'am." As they traveled through the mansion, he indicated this room and that so that she might acquaint herself. He led her up the grand staircase with its sweeping banister up to the second story foyer, a long row of closed doors on red carpeting. As they traveled through the mansion, he indicated this room and that so that she might acquaint herself. He used his master key to let her into a nearby room, ushering her in.
Toria gasped. The room was a beautiful place, brightly white and airy, the slim gauzy curtains flapping in the gentle morning breeze. The windows looked out onto the British gardens, mazes of hedges and colorful perennials in delicate, orderly stone flower boxes. Cool fountains and angelic statues adorned corners. Each curve in the path was another exhibit for another fountain or statue.
The room itself was peacefully beautiful, if not overly luxurious. A huge white bed crowned a dais by the windows, and a large Turkish bath adjoined the room. The serenity and design of the room was fit for a princess.
"You'll find your uniform in there, ma'am, and you should report to Master Kaiba's study as soon as possible." He exited to allow her to change. She turned towards the large wardrobe on one wall and flung open the doors, finding it filled with all the comforts a girl would need for her stay – besides her black and white maid's uniform, it also contained a Japanese yakata, a night gown, slippers, a bathrobe, several outfits, shoes, and even and evening gown – though why a maid would scrub latrines in an evening gown was beyond her.
Looking dubiously at the black knee length skirt, matching blouse, and white half-apron. She tried them on, finding them a perfect fit. She examined herself in the long mirror installed on the wardrobe's inner panel. She looked the very picture of a maid, black, white, and cute, although the cute was dimmed by the long raven hair that did not quite match the dress – and her uncertain expression. She half-heartedly tried to bob a courtesy, feeling embarrassed. The dress was not as modest as she would have liked – rarely did she wear short skirts. Her fuku had been a stretch. She tugged at the hemline, attempting to lengthen it. How dare Kaiba give her this slut's dress to work in? She wasn't his toy. Well, he would get a piece of her mind.
She slid her feet into the maid's pumps and set down on her way to Kaiba's study downstairs. She found the room easily enough, a tall oak set of double doors, framed by two large portraits – a Blue Eyes White Dragon painting and a photograph of Mokuba. She paused by the doors, pulling at her skirt in a vain attempt to convince it to ride lower, and wondered whether or not she should knock. With a sudden surge of bravery and outrage, she disregarded knocking altogether and flung open the doors, barging in.
Kaiba had been quietly going over his finances and shipment reports, sipping more of his special strength black coffee. The bitter, acid flavor washed over his tongue, a constant joy and a constant pain. He, who was never surprised, shocked, or caught off guard, almost spit coffee as he saw a tiny girl angrily storming into his study, in the shortest maid's uniform he had ever seen. He gulped his coffee just in time, barely able to retain his cold dislike.
Cute when's she angry, hmm? hissed the voice.
He ignored it and turned to face Toria.
"You showed up. I'm surprised that you would face me." Where had Roland got that getup? It was cut very low in the top and very high in the skirt. He was barely hanging onto himself at the sight of her rounded – he mentally blushed and caught himself. His eyes grew colder in an attempt to control himself.
"I nearly didn't, and would you like to know why?" she said, her voice quietly dangerous. "Because I might as well go around nude, this skirt is so short! I don't know what you've seen in American movie theaters, Seto Kaiba, but I am not going to dress like a harlot for the next three days!" she shrieked, angrily tugging the skirt shorter and the blouse higher.
"I had no hand in the choosing of your uniform. I will tell Roland to replace it." A chill silence enveloped the room. Neither spoke for a minute, until Toria defensively demanded:
"I'm here as your maid, aren't I?" Kaiba's eyes flicked from his papers to the girl, standing thrust forward as though she was about to attack.
"So what would you like me to do?"
For a moment, Kaiba lost his grip. Do? He hadn't really thought of that, had he? He frowned into his coffee cup. Inspiration struck.
"Coffee. I will need a fresh vat of coffee every hour."
"Anything else, gov'n?" mimicked Toria, snatching his coffee mug. He reached for it.
"There's still coffee in that, you idiot," he growled. No one should ever mess with his coffee. He used it to make millions of dollars every day. Before now, no one had ever dared to go anywhere near his coffee. His mind turned this over as Toria felt the cup's heat.
"It's cold coffee. I should make you drink it." She sniffed at it. "What is this, rocket fuel? My father's car exhaust smells better."
"I don't criticize your beverages," he snarled back at her. He became colder, as though ice caked around him. "I expect the saloon to be dusted, have its curtains vacuumed, and the magazines and coffee cups removed. Prepare lunch for Mokuba. At noon I will personally check on your progress." His eyes traveling back to the laptop screen, he added to her:
"Now get out."
"Fine with me, Kaiba." She jangled that empty coffee cup at him. "I'll be back in an hour with a fresh mug of tar for you." She sent him a searing glare with violet eyes, receiving one.
He glared at her leaving figure. How could she be so infuriating? Even Joey, with his constant threats and remarks, never made his anger boil so heavily. But still...something in her ignited something else. He wanted to know who had selected that costume she had been wearing –
So you could give him a big hug, Kaiba? whispered his voice.
No, so I could fire him, snapped the boy. No woman should ever wear something so degrading.
Woman? Woman, is she? I thought she was another faceless loser you had beaten.
He remembered her shapely figured squeezed into the tiny maid's dress. The vigor, the life, the ferocity – she was something he had never seen before.
Yes, she is most definitely a woman, he replied, and for the first time in long years, tuned out the coming retort.
* * *
Toria surveyed his mess of a saloon. With two boys in this house, including the butler, what else would she expect? Boys knew nothing about cleaning. The floor needed vacuuming, and the curtains, the tables and decorative false flowers dusted, the chessboard wiped of fingerprints. And to have every single newspaper, every single coffee mug, thermos, and cup, along with every single piece of discarded technology that either Kaiba boy had been fiddling with removed. She heaved a sigh, reaching for the supplies she had absconded with from the cleaning closet.
She worked for nearly an hour simply dusting and scrubbing fingerprints and coffee smears and newspaper print. As she worked, she thought. And as she thought, her mind came to rest on Seto Kaiba.
However impolite, intolerable, and infuriating she found him, for some reason she was drawn to him. Perhaps it was his shaggy brown hair, or his piercing blue eyes, or tall figure. She had always had a thing for tall guys. But it couldn't be any of those. Toria was not the sort of girl to be interested in only a guy's looks. And even if she was only interested in a boy's appearance, why not Tristan or Yugi or Joey or any of the other boys at her new school? She had to pick the most insufferable of them all, didn't she?
Checking the tall grandfather clock, she realized that in ten minutes Kaiba would want his stupid coffee. Leaving her cleaning half-finished, she strode to the kitchens, a bright room filled with far too many gray marble counters, and found the coffee maker, loaded with a heavy dose of his own special blend. She flicked on the coffee maker, methodically and orderly bringing out the ingredients to make a hearty dish of homemade macaroni and cheese for lunch.
By the time it was in the oven, the coffee was ready and it was approximately an hour since she had last spoken to Kaiba.
She was feeling slightly pleased with herself, glad she had managed to put lunch together, make coffee, and almost finish cleaning the saloon. She marched toward the study, a huge mug of a coffee and a plate of scones in hand.
She flung open the doors and approached the desk. Kaiba, his head bent with muttering calculations, did a very good impression of a deer in headlights.
"Here's your coffee." He sniffed it suspiciously. "Drink it." Her tone left no room for argument. He took a slow sip, as though testing it for poison. For the second time that day, he almost spewed coffee.
"WHAT in the WORLD did you do to my special blend?" he sputtered, trying to remain calm. Gozaburo had told him more than once that anger was weakness. He attempted to remain frigid and impassively deadly, but failed. Glares, stares, and dangerous tones did not work on this girl. She knew them all, having used them personally.
"I added something called sug-ar, Kaiba. It was like motor oil. And eat these biscuits. You can't live on a drink made from greasy water dripping through burnt beans. You'll go all spare, you idiot."
"I'm fine," he said coldly, shoving aside the saucer of pastries. "I don't need this heavy stuff."
"Yes, you do," Toria said sternly. "Eat them. And at twelve you're coming downstairs to eat lunch. The way you work, I'm highly surprised you're not dead." She turned on her heel and hurriedly sailed off to the saloon.
Kaiba stared at his sweetened coffee and plate of biscuits, the butter pats and jam dish alongside. Gruffly, he tasted a scone. The voice in his head tried to interrupt him as he mentally running off another lie, claiming the biscuits to be rock hard. He reached for another.
Fine, he snapped at himself. Maybe I do like her. Maybe. But if, IF, I do, it's only a physical attraction. He nodded to himself, stifling the mental debate team. Any man would be pleased to see a pretty young girl attend to him. He gave a faint smile, sipping his sweetened coffee. Even one so fierce, so wild, and so free as this.
* * *
Whew! Double WHEW! More later...romance grows!