She hated that she'd lied to the teenage boy, especially in that she made him believe that she was helping him, and that she had a niece, but it had been necessary. Not only did get him out of the manor quicker, but it also fulfilled a titbit more of the contract she had taken with the master of house. Lying back on her bed, Angelique gazed up at the ceiling and listened to nothing in particular. Somewhere below, Mike's friends where still about, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before something happened to them as she prayed none of them ran afoul of Brutus.
Thoughts on the man who had been partially turned into a gorilla, the maid went over what he'd told her.
It had been only a view minutes after she'd pushed the teenage boy through the doorway when, as she slipped back the way she'd come, that she had run into the manservant. They'd tried to form a relationship sometime after her own transformation, but it hadn't worked and the two had remained uneasy friends. Now, scared by what he might say or do, seeing that he carried an old fashioned doctor's bag, she listened as he grunted, "The master will be here in two day, outside time. Be sure to have everything tidy. I'll see to Angela," before he turned and lumbered off.
After he'd left her, Angelique had slipped back upstairs to her room, where she lay down, and hoped to drift back to sleep. Being the maid for the Spelstorm Manor had not been easy, nor was it what she'd wanted. Her thoughts slipping back, she tried to make sense of how time outside never seemed to run the same as time within the manor. Outside, it could move fast, whilst inside it ran slow. Or even vice-versa, or backwards sometimes. From her perspective, she had come to this place in the nineteen fifties, but inside, only three years had passed, whilst outside, it was hard to tell, but she thought it might be closer to sixty or seventy years. Sighing, she turned over on her side, placed her hands together, slipped them under her pillow, and as she felt her breasts pressed comfortably together and against the soft fabric of her negligee, she left her mind drift back to before she'd ever come to this place, before her contract, and before she'd been Angelique.
---
His name had been Aaron, and he had been a struggling journalist, fresh out of journalism school, and hired to a tiny rag that seemed to only publish hogwash. But it had been a job, and figuring the only direction he could was up, that he needed to start somewhere, he had taken the post. The first couple assignments he'd been were as a copyboy and editor. But then he got her first assignment, which turned out to be ludicrous, as it was to interview a farmer who claimed a race of beings that looked like cucumbers, and who came from beyond the known universe, had invaded.
Privately, he thought the guy had breathed in one too many farm chemicals, but he'd filed her story, and saw it printed in the Midnight Sunrise the next day.
From there, he'd been given other assignments until he had begun to travel to other parts of the US to interview people he had viewed as crackpots and nutcases; people who claimed to have been abducted by aliens, or forced into bondage by their neighbour, or, in one case, a cow, claims of the government conducting experiments on ordinary citizens, or some other equally bizarre story. This had gone on for almost two years, and he was almost at her wits end in with the garbage printed, so much he'd started to looking for another job, when the boss had called him in to his office for a meeting. Sitting down, been ready to tell him he was quiting, he never got the chance when the boss told him about a place owned by a recluse of guy with the name of Spelstorm, somewhere out in the midwest, how people supposedly disappeared, and that when their disappearances where reported, they were never connected to Mr Spelstorm.
With barely a nod after he finished, Aaron got a few more details, including that the task would likely take a bit to cover completely, The meeting concluded, he had stood and started to leave, but stopped. Turning to look at his boss, Aaron stated, "This is last time. After this, I am done. I feel my skills need to grow, and the Midnight Sunrise has taken me as far as I can go."
Flabergasted by this, the boss sputtered, "But, Aaron, you're one of my best reporters."
"I know, and I am sorry," he'd replied and after a bit more banter between the two, as his boss had been one of the few he'd gotten along with, he had left on his last assignment.
It hadn't taken him long to track down where Mr Spelstorm lived. Finding him proved to be a different matter. Setting himself up in a motel room, he set to work, interviewing people about town, doing research in the library, and finding the exact address of Spelstorm Manor. When he reached the point where there was nothing left to do but find Mr Spelstorm, he had set out for the mansion.
He had no words to describe it when she first laid eyes upon it, especially as she didn't know the first thing about architecture and the different styles of houses. Knocking, but getting no answer, he searched for a bell to ring, but didn't see one. The summer heat starting to get to him, he had almost given up after knocking a couple more times, something would often wonder later how her life would have turned out if he had left. But, he hadn't, and after a couple more tries, he tried the door handle, and was surprised to find the door was unlocked. Letting himself in, Aaron found herself in a shadowy foyer that was dusty, had cobwebs, and furniture covered by sheets. Seeing no one, he called out, "Hello? Is anyone there? My name is Aaron Ellner. I work for a respectable newspaper out west."
When he had gotten no answer, he almost left. Whispering to himself, "There's no one here," and, "This place has been abandoned for years," he stopped in midturn when he heard something.
Journalist instincts piqued, he had stepped deep into the hall and peered to the left, the right, then up the flight of stairs. When he heard the noise again, he was certain it was someone walking around upstairs. Cautiously moving up the steps, he called out, "Hello?" once more as he came to the landing on the second floor. A door closed from somewhere down the hall, and not happy that someone seemed to be playing games, Aaron had considered that maybe somebody else might have been in the house who didn't belong. Heading in the direction of the sound he'd heard, intent to capture whoever it was, and maybe get some answers, he tried a couple doors as he passed them, but found most of them locked, except for one that led up a rickety set of wooden stairs.
Ready to head back the way he'd come and leave, he had started to close the door, but stopped when he again her the sound of footsteps and despite a small voice that told him he should just go, he instead headed up to what he believed was the third floor.
To his surprise, he had found herself in the attic, which looked to run the whole length of the house. Dust covered every square inch, and the furniture stored about was also covered in sheets, all very dirty. On catspaws, he had crept down the hallway until he came to a room. The door open, he peered in and gasped when he saw that it was cleaner than the rest of the house. Stepping in, he looked about, guessed it was a maid's or butler's quarters, and peeped into the wardrobe.
Inside, he found a handful of standard maids outfit from the Victorean-era - black dress with white cuffes, a white apron that covered the bodice and skirt of the dress, a cap, and a series of undergarments, including a simple corset - among other simple, turn of the century dresses. Never one to wear the opposite sex's clothes, he'd interviewed a handful who had done so and thought them loonies, Aaron had almost turned away. But something stopped him, and before he could figure out what he was doing, or why, he'd taken off his clothes. Standing buck naked, thinking, "This is insane?! What the hell am I doing?" he reached for one of the outfits and, with some difficulty, he had dressed himself for the first time in woman's clothes.
After he'd finished, a mirror caught her attention and when he looked in it, he had giggled, a high, feminine sounding laugh that caused her to clap a hand that looked small and dainty over her mouth. Her reflection, if he didn't know any better, was now one of a woman in a Victorean-era maid's outfit. Curtsying, he had said, "Beggin the mistrisses and masters pardon. I meant no disrespect," Aaron found it amazing that he even could make herself sound like a woman. And then, to his surprise, a voice behind her had said, "It's master. And no disrespect was given," and whipping around, he found herself looking at a man that she was unable to stop herself from thinking looked really cute. Fumbling for something to say, he again cursied, tried to explain who he was, and to apologise for being caught dressed in woman's clothing, and was stunned when the man said, "I am Rogers. You must be my replacement."