by W A Whyte
"Would you like to be our slave?" asked Tori.
Stunned, taken aback, amazed and more than a little intrigued, Rex heard himself ask, "What does that entail exactly?"
He'd only come into the pub for a bit of peace and quiet, to reflect on what he was going to do next, and enjoy a pint or two on his own, with no disturbance. Now he was on his fifth pint, feeling very mellow. The pub was crowded with loud Londoners celebrating the start of the weekend and here he was sitting opposite two attractive women; he had to admit they were attractive, one of whom had asked him a very peculiar question. He'd known them less than half-an-hour.
Despite the noise all around him, he'd been deep in thought when this female voice had asked, "Are these two chairs taken?" He came out of his reverie and looked up to see two very attractive women.
"Er, no."
"Do you mind if we join you? There's nowhere else," said Sam (as he discovered a few minutes later).
"No. Please."
And that was end of his solitary ruminations.
They were both tall, about 5ft 10 he reckoned. Taller than he was, anyway. One, Tori, was blonde and wore her hair shoulder-length; Sam was a brunette, closer cropped. Both were very well turned out. Probably expensive, he thought; he didn't know much about women's fashion.
Tori said, as soon as she sat down, "Gosh, it's crowded. If we hadn't seen these two chairs we were going to go. I think there must be a leaving-do. Don't you Sam?"
"Yes, I suppose so. White wine?"
"Thanks."
Sam looked at Rex's three-quarter finished pint. "Would you like another of those?"
"Oh, no. No. I'll get my own."
"Let her buy you one. She can afford it," said Tori.
"No. No."
"You'll have to put up with her chatter," said Sam. "It's the least I can do. What is it?"
As soon as Sam departed to fight her way to the bar, Tori started. "We always come here on a Friday. It's not usually this busy. Nowhere near. It's that crowd over there." She pointed. "Bound to be a leaving-do."
"Yes." Rex gave a little laugh.
"What?"
"Leaving-do. I suppose in a way this is mine."
Tori looked quizzical.
"I've just been made redundant."
"Oh, how sad."
"Well, I knew it was going to happen. The place is going to close in a few weeks. Rumours are that it's going to be bought by an upmarket chain... It's a restaurant. It's been struggling for a long time."
"I'm so sorry. How come you've gone early?"
"Last in, first out. I was the number two chef."
"Oh dear. Are you married... kids?"
"No, not even got a girlfriend right now."
Tori looked even more sorrowful.
"Don't worry," Rex laughed. "I'll get another job... and a girlfriend maybe."
"Yes, but... I don't like to hear of things like that."
"It happens all the time."
Sam arrived carrying a tray with the three drinks.
"I'm sorry," said Rex. "I should have gone with you."
"Nonsense, I can manage these no problem," said Sam. "Shoulders." She shrugged them. "They part like waves when they see me coming."
"He's been made redundant," said Tori.
"Oh, that's a shame." She handed Rex his pint.
"Thanks. Not to worry. The future's only just begun. Cheers." He took a large swig. His third pint. He was beginning to feel mellow, and the jokes were about to start.
"By the way, I'm Tori, this is Sam."
"And I'm Rex. Pleased to meet you, ladies."
"...To the left was a young woman with no bra, to the right was another young woman with no panties. I didn't know which way to look. I couldn't make up my mind. I had terrible neck ache next day." Rex moved his head as if he was watching a fast tennis match. The story of his adventure on a Canarian beach wasn't that funny, but the three of them found it hilarious. People nearby looked on as they laughed uncontrollably. They didn't care. They were enjoying themselves, relaxed by two glasses of wine each for Tori and Sam and four pints of lager for Rex.
When they finally brought themselves under control, Rex said, "I've got to go to the loo. He stood up. "I'll get the drinks on the way back."
"No you don't," said Sam, also standing up. "You'll need all the money you've got. You're redundant."
"I'll soon get another job."
"Shush! I'm getting these."
"But you've already bought me two pints."
"So I'll get you a third. Go on, off you go to the loo." And she encouraged him with a firm slap on the bottom.
Rex looked round at her in surprise... but not displeasure.
Coming out of the loo, he saw Sam and Tori deep in conversation. As he approached, he heard Tori say, "It'd be perfect." Then they suddenly stopped speaking as they noticed him.
"Cheers," he said, raising the freshly-poured pint. "And thanks again, Sam."
"Don't mention it," she replied. "Cheers." She clinked her wine glass to his pint and took a sip.
"Yes, cheers, Rex," said Tori, doing the same.
"What'd be perfect?" he asked.
"What?" said Sam.
"I thought Tori said something like 'it'd be perfect'."
"Oh... we were just talking about something to do with work," said Sam.
"What do you do, if you don't mind me asking... You know what I do, I'm an unemployed chef, soon to get a job." He took another swig.
"We run a little business. Well, not so little now... expanding, isn't it, Tori?"
"Yes." Tori was looking at him, no, examining him.
"What sort of business is it?" He glanced at Tori again, who was still looking at him.
Suddenly she said, "Would you like to be our slave?"
Sam exhaled and glared at Tori.
Rex looked dumbstruck.
Then, "What does that entail exactly?"
"Well, for a start..."
But Tori was quickly interrupted by Sam. "Actually, it's more like a servant. You'd be a butler... well, not exactly a butler. You're a chef, you'd prepare our meals. Do a bit of housework..."
"You'd do exactly what we told you to do," said Tori.
"Nothing illegal," said Sam quickly.
"What else?" asked Rex. "What else would I do?" He was definitely intrigued if nothing else.
"You'd also be there to service us, as and when and how," said Tori, lowering her voice so no one else could hear.
Rex felt a quiver go through him. He found Tori's low voice very sexy.
"Ooh," he said. "Do you mean what I think you mean?"
Tori nodded.
"What do you think?" asked Sam.
He took another large swig.
"We have a spacious house. You'd have bed and board and a hundred pounds a week expenses."
"You're not serious. What man could refuse an offer like that?" He had another swig.
"Plenty. Most of them would have commitments anyway - a wife, girlfriend, kids, a job."
"You see, Rex," Tori took over, "you've not got any of those... Do you rent?"
"No, I've got a house." He finished the pint off. "Sorry. I suddenly felt thirsty... No, I was left it... My parents died in a car crash."
"I'm so sorry."
"Yeah... It was several years ago... I was an only child. So I'm quite lucky really... You can't mean it?"
"We do," continued Tori. "And you seem just the fit. You're a chef. We need someone who can cook."
"We lead busy lives," said Sam. "We need somebody to do for us."
"Do?" asked Rex.
"Yes. Do. In all its connotations."
"We have needs but we don't have time," explained Tori. "You're such a find. Free, jobless, good-looking - sorry if you think that's sexist."
"Oh you can be as sexist as you like."
"It's serendipitous."
"What?"
"Happy happenstance," said Sam. "Lucky coincidence... us finding you."
"And all I'd have to do is prepare meals for you and do some housework... and..." he trailed off.
"Yes. A few nights a week... two, three, maybe sometimes four, you'd have to sleep with one or other of us... Is that so bad?"
"No. No of course not. And I'd live with you?"
"Obviously."
"And you'd pay me £100 a week."
"Remuneration, expenses. You might go out once or twice a week."
Rex actually pinched himself. "Ow!... I'm awake. It's real." He touched Tori's arm. "You're real."
"So, what do you say?" asked Tori.
"Yes... I think this calls for another drink. I insist on getting them this time."
But Tori put her hand on Rex's arm. "No. You've had enough to drink. Let's just go home."
"Your home?"
"And yours... for the foreseeable."
He fell asleep in the taxi.
Tori whispered in his ear, "Come on, wake up. We're home."
"Hhhm... Oh...Yes." He regained consciousness. "Oh, I must have drifted off."
"We know. You snore a bit."
"Sorry. Only when I've had a drink." It all came fully back to him. What am I doing?
Tori got out and he followed. Sam got out the other passenger door of the taxi. Rex had been comfortably wedged between them.
He followed the two women through the front garden to the front door. They hadn't been joking when they said spacious. They entered into a big hallway with a staircase coming down the middle. On either side were doors off.
"Chez nous," said Tori.
"Wow!" said Rex taking it all in.
They took him upstairs to his bedroom. It was by far the biggest and best decorated bedroom he'd ever been in.
"Gosh!" he exclaimed.
"It's the third largest bedroom we have," said Sam. "The prize guest room. We don't want to put you in the servants' quarter. Because you'll be more than a servant."
"Yes," said Tori coming up to him. "If it all works out, you'll be quite spoiled." She brushed his cheek with her hand and tickled his chin. Rex responded with a laugh.
"That tickles."
"Yes, I was tickling you. Slightly. Are you very ticklish?" Her hands were suddenly all over him, tickling his face, stomach and waist. And as he fell on to the bed, laughing involuntarily, she leapt on him and her fingers reached under his arms.
Rex could hardly tolerate it. His automatic laughter belied his real feelings. "No, no, no! Ow, get off! Please Tori... I can't stand it!"
She stopped. Rex breathed heavily. "Oh, oh, oh."
"Well, I've certainly found your weak spot." Her fingers waggled at him again.
"No, no! Don't! Please!" He tried to curl up, away from her.
Tori got off him. "It's OK."
"I'm awfully ticklish. I can't help it."
"At least I know."
He stood up. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologise."
He wondered if she was ticklish, but he didn't try to find out. He felt she might be able to overpower him. It was his first proper step to being their 'pet'.
"Come on," said Sam. "Let's have some coffee." And she led them downstairs to the large kitchen.
Rex insisted on making the coffee. The two women were amazed from their first sip. They had the beans, the grinder, the filters. The works. But they had never produced coffee which tasted so superb.
"Wow! This is good!" said Sam.
"Mm!" said Tori. "How did you convert those beans into this... magnificent brew."
"I'm a good chef... though those are not my favourite bean. May I suggest..."
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.