The Benefactor

By William Malic

Nicole answered a help wanted ad seeking female college students for light domestic duties, promising free room and board and tuition assistance. She gets more then she bargained for: living in a mansion, a new wardrobe, traveling by private jet, opulent parties, and a lengthy tour of Europe. An unknown benefactor sees to every need of Nicole and the other girls who were accepted for the job. Interacting with a unique cast of staff members she feels trapped, while at the same time freer then ever. Nicole pursues her dream of becoming a doctor, finds her beauty a useful commodity, falls in love, and learns life lessons through adversity; accused of being a witch, a victim of a horrible crime, and learning to bound with her housemates.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781105914676

Book preview

The Benefactor

The Benefactor

Chapter 1-Room and Board

In exchange for light domestic duties - Female college students only.

Fabulous large upscale estate house - 8 positions total.

Immaculate, clean and tidy - very friendly too!

Includes all expenses, internet and a possible tuition subsidy!

Superb amenities - pool-home - theater-game room-private room

15 minutes to University Center - safe neighborhood

Call or text anytime for interview.

Nichole had almost persuaded her parents to let her live off campus her sophomore year.  The freshman dorm had been almost too much to tolerate.  For he first year, she had seemingly drawn the party floor, and half of them would either be returning on probation, or not returning at all.  Managing a respectable 3.0 G.P.A was not enough, she knew could do better.  Always up for a good time, the real  purpose of college, after all, was an education.  Nichole had aspirations, and that required graduate school.  It was time to buckle down and she needed her space.

The fifty percent scholarship helped, as did her summer job, but it was still tough for her folks to manage the expenses.  If living off campus was less costly, she would have a major selling point, giving her more ammunition to convince them she was responsible.  Scanning the classified, her eyes caught the ad.  Was it a dream come true?

Quickly she texted a message through the secure link requesting an interview.  Almost instantaneously a reply came back, directing her to a web page.  The page contained very little information beyond what was in the ad, but it linked her to a comprehensive form which she began to fill out without reservation.

Nichole was raised in a small rural town by working parents, not like some of the girls at the University which came from privilege.  In High School she had been a cheerleader, bottom of the pyramid figuratively, and middle row literally.  Her athletic ability and stunning appearance carried her through the preliminary trials, permitting her to make the squad, but was not enough to rise to the elite tier.  From the wrong neighborhood, even in the country bumpkin class had its deterrents.  At the University she was cut from the squad the first day, not fitting in with temperamental prima donnas who snubbed her.  Her linage was far beneath their stature, and she never had a chance.

Athletically she was far superior, academically as good or better and her attractiveness was natural and authentic.  Standing just shy of five feet five inches, she was the poster child for a blond bombshell.  Deep crystal blue eyes twinkled when she spoke and could melt the hardest heart.  Perfect red lips begged to be kissed.  Her figure created a disproportionate amount of interest.  In a short mini-skirt and tight blouse she attracted more attention than the other girls, which might have been part of her downfall.  She was basically too much competition for the chosen few who slid through on their names, rather than their ability.  Perfection spawns envy among the young; she was a distraction, and it got her dismissed from the college cheerleader squad. Her only disappointment was the prospect of turning her scholarship into a full stipend.  That hurt.  As for the petty jealousy, she found it boorish, rude and undignified.  In truth, to be associated with this kind would have been against her principles.  She had principles.

Nicole was a kind, gentle soul, with a lot to give and demanded little in return.  Her volunteer work, with the hospital, had made her aware of how blessed she was compared to those really suffering.  That may be why she chose to pursue a degree in nursing, and if allowing her ream, possibly go on to getting her MD.  Occupying her mind with petty, shallow peer pressures was a waste of her precious time.  She held no animosity towards the other girls, actually feeling remorse was for THEM.  They hated her for not being devastated.

Having earned the title of MS Harvest in her county, she had been exposed to the glamor associated with physical beauty.  She wowed an admiring audience while accepting habitual voyeurs as an obligatory liability.  Her trophy remains at home, on her dresser, but she had no desire to flaunt it; or to become a trophy for anyone.  She started dating fairly late, just for fun, however quickly she realized she was not sought after for sincere companionship but a caricature of mockery; a challenging conquest,.  Her opinion of the male sex changed dramatically.  The boys only wanted to use her for their own greedy sanctification, pursuing her for boastful egotistical pleasures.  She could have given liberty to the right guy, but only after he had manifest his genuineness by stealing her heart first.  Unfortunately they had their designs set on thievery of other parts of her anatomy.   She exhibited remarkable patience and was content to bide her time.  Some dubbed her the ice queen, who should have been more aptly crowned MS Winter Wonderland.  Every guy her age, in her home town, was obsessed with curiosity as to how she might be between the sheets, but none had a legitimate intelligence based on actual experience.  A few were so crass as to falsify a claim to have had these privileges which she had never granted.

Her freshman year offered no dissimilar experiences, though she had hoped the maturity quotient would have risen substantially.  The jocks came at her hard, till she was blacklisted.  Once they realized that readily accessible tramps, who threw themselves at anyone in tight pants, would deny them favors if they pursued the country girl, they desisted from making further advances.  Unfortunately the wholesome guys saw her beyond their league and shyly avoided her.  Her beauty had become an impenetrable shield of protection against giving what she was willing to share, if an appropriate suitor chanced to offer a gentlemanly pursuit.   She was not prudish, mildly flirtatious and definitely sensual, but so many had placed her high atop an artificial pedestal that few saw her as attainable.

In a way, she accepted this as a blessing, for it allowed her to concentrate on her career goals.  Yet at times it was an impediment to her social development.  She was a normal red blooded American girl and enjoyed the normal activities of a woman her age.  Females saw her as competition and guys saw her as impenetrable; she only saw herself as normal.

The online form asked most of the general questions; demographics, background, personal statistics, and questions on career goals.  It transcended in to more esoteric inquires that became increasingly personal.  Views on a range of topics, from woman's issues, political orientation and even sexual preferences titillated Nicole's imagination.  She thought that getting through the questions may in itself be a test of endurance; meant to weed out potential candidates.  Determined, she plodded on.  The main points of the ad kept coming back to her.   Female college student’s only, possible tuition subsidy, safe neighborhood and light domestic duties flashed in her mind.  She had worked during High School in fast food and casual dining restaurant, so hard work was not foreign to her.  Possible tuition subsidy, what did that mean?  All expenses paid.  What expenses?  She answered every question, but few of the ones she had were answered.

After completing the survey, she speculated if maybe she had revealed too much about herself.  There were predators looking to capitalize on young girls like her.  She was no fool.  Whoever read this form would know everything about her.  She had exposed some things she had not shared with anyone else before.  She could be vulnerable.  Yet thinking she could get a full scholarship and have expenses paid; she hit the summit button.

For weeks she heard nothing about her submission.  Nearly giving up, she pursued other avenues to secure a shared apartment, but nothing seemed to meet her needs.  She was about to give up, summit her housing form for the next fall, and then she received an email directing her to call a specific number at a specific time to set up an interview.  Hope eternal.   Was she on the way to achieving success or down the road to destruction?  Only time would tell.

The call was brief, professional, taken by a female voice who was evidently reading from a script.  She was informed of a time and place and a told registered letter would be delivered to her residence.  The call was over.  An envelope arrived the next day.  She signed for it and hurried to her room to see what secrets it held.  Inside was a form letter, her name filled in ink, and it summarizing appointment details.   She thought she knew the address; a large professional building off campus.  She was directed to report to the receptionist.  A prepaid one-way bus ticket from her town to the bus station about a mile from campus was included.  The letter said a car would be waiting to take her to an upscale hotel, where a room was registered in her name; prepaid.  She was to arrive the day before her appointment.  Another sheet of paper fell from the envelope.  It detailed precisely what she was to wear for the interview and other directions.

Interviewees will be furnished a complimentary executive car with driver for transport to and from appointments.  Interviewees must wear professionally appropriate dress, suitable for modeling.  Dresses should be strapless, and no longer then knee length.   Foundations shall be stylish undergarments, nude or taupe pantyhose and it is advisable to wear platform shoes.   Hair should be styled and make-up applied with discretion.  A photo-session will precede formal interviews.  All meals are furnished.  Interviews will be conducted at various sites and may encompass most of the day.

Your driver will escort you to all venues.  Good Luck!

Nicole read and reread the form.  Despite an ominous warning her brain strained to alert her, she was determined to go through with the interview.

On the prearranged day she boarded the Greyhound and occupied her herself by reading a romance novel on her Kindle, her one luxury she granted herself from her proceeds from working all summer.  One thing immediately evident was there was nothing romantic about her trip on the bus, which had few other passengers and made numerous stops.  A crusty guy tried to make conversation with her, but she avoided him as best she could, only hope he would get off before her stop.  He didn't.  When she finally reached her destination, he followed her off the bus, purposefully bumping into her.  She felt his passion.  It wasn't her first time at being groped, but that didn't make it any easier.  Once on the ground she sidled discretely over to the bus driver putting him between her and the molester.  At the corner of her eye she saw he continued to eye her, obviously undressing her in his mind.  The hair on the back of her neck bristled and she searched desperately for signs of a professional driver.  A hand gently pressed against her arm, and she turned nearly jumping away, seeing a man dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform.  He discreetly introduced himself as her driver and whisked her away, carrying her small suitcase to the car.  As they drove away the bus driver was admonishing the crusty guy who grasped his duffel and hustled away.  She leaned back in the seat with a sigh of relief.

She was driven the short distance to her hotel in silence.  At the hotel a bellman took her luggage and escorted her to her room.  The driver said he would be on call, giving her his card with a number to call if she needed him.  A slight change in itinerary had been made and she was told to be ready at 8 A.M. the next morning.  Until then, she could sign for anything she needed at the hotel, including room service.   Settling into her well-appointed room, she decided room service sounded perfect.  She fell asleep watching an old movie on the hotel TV.

In the morning, she had room service again for breakfast, met the driver and he drove her to an upscale salon.  She had awakened early and dressed in the outfit she had chosen to meet specifications, applied make-up and carefully arranged her hair.  In here estimate she though she looked pretty good.  Once in the salon a stylist greeted them, saying to the driver you were right, this just won't do.  She was guided to the chair, offered sconces and tea, and a crew of specialists worked their magic.  Once washed, rinsed and styled she was led to a private room were a lovely girl instructed her to remove her dress.  Eying her discerningly in her undergarments, she said they would do, and the shoes were acceptable.  From a closet a lovely deep pink chiffon dress was presented.  It was strapless, four inches above her knees, accented with white lace embroidery at the hem line and it fit her perfectly.  She had been transformed from a beautiful, but relatively common specimen, to a gorgeous enchantress.   Like a princess, she pranced before the full length mirrors admiring herself.  Quite satisfied with their handy work the salon staff escorted her to the driver who had been patiently waiting for her and they drove to the office building.  He presented her to the receptionist, offering his own compliments and said he would wait in the car.

After about fifteen minutes another woman took her to the top floor of the building and left her in a spacious meeting room with a mahogany conference table and straight back chairs.  She was instructed to wait for her interview there; the interviewer was running late but should be present soon.  She was offered snacks and drinks, but Nicole was too excited and more than a little apprehensive to take up the offer.

For almost an hour she sat, waiting, her hands clammy, hoping she wasn't sweating too much.  Finally a man entered the room.  He was immaculately dressed in Armani; neatly pressed.  He sat down and carefully opened a legal looking folder, silently perusing the contents.  Aaron Silverberg was a smallish gentleman with beady eyes and a large nose.  He spoke in short phrases, never quite completing his sentences.  Everything satisfactory, to your liking?  Nice hotel, they tell me.  Never been there myself.  Your driver, one of the best.  He knows his way around.  Nice outfit.  You ready for your shoot?

Nichole simply nodded. 

Fine, then.  Meet you later, here.  With that he left the room, taking his paper work with him.

That was the interview? Nichole thought to herself. 

A woman entered and asked her to follow her as they went a few floors down on the elevator and she was left in a small reception area.  A tall blond haired man in bright pink shirt, green striped pants and purple sneakers glided into the room and introduced himself as her photographer.  He led her into a studio were his assistant, a skinny pasty faced girl, obviously into Goth was arranging the lighting equipment.  Nicole was directed to a tall three legged stool and prepared for her portrait.  After considerable fussing with the lighting, tripod camera and her pose he seemed satisfied enough to actually snap a picture.  Previewing the digital image he announced in a high pitched voice that it was perfect.  The assistance rolled in some palm trees and the background changed to a beach scene.  Again there was a lengthy preparation, this time she was standing, ending with one snap shot.  A number of sets were used with different backgrounds and various props.  Each time there was only one picture taken.

The photographer was animated and literally danced as he prepared her for each shot, while the assistant was gloomy and moved so slow Nicole was certain the trees would root themselves before she moved them.  A day bed was rolled in and she was instructed to recline for the next shoot.  This time the photographer used a hand held Nikon and snapped picture after picture as she changed positions and he moved around getting different angles, some close-ups and others panned back.  Attempting to remain ladylike Nicole had considerable trouble keeping her dress decent.

More leg he commanded.  Come on, let the ladies show, he lowered the camera and with both hands cupped her breast adjusting her bodice so her breasts nearly popped out.  "Up on your knees, like a tigress, ready to bounce.   Give me a snarl.  Yes, that's it.  Now let