Authors: Lorna Lee
She did as she was instructed so that he could see every part of her body.
“Come here and sit on my lap.”
Whether it was fear or apathy, Meri gave up.
What’s the use in trying to prevent whatever’s going to happen to me? He wins…at least for now.
She held back the tears she wanted to cry and the screams she wanted to release. At this point, she felt like a rag doll being manipulated by its owner. He suckled one ample breast with his dry lips and hot tongue while kneading the other with hands too strong and too rough from years of manipulating his wheelchair.
Meri closed her eyes and kept her fists tightly clenched, as if doing either would protect her from the fear and pain. Then, with those same sandpaper hands, Topias pried her legs open and used his fingers to penetrate her.
She opened her eyes.
This is too much!
“Please stop. You’re hurting me. Her voice quivered more than she intended. She didn’t want this man to know how much he frightened her with the new conditions of her job.
Topias continued. “Meri, you are a beautiful woman. I was once a great lover and could bring women great sexual satisfaction. Now, to feel like a man I was, I have learned to use my hands to do the same thing. You can make me feel like a man again by taking pleasure in what I do to you. I know how to bring a woman to climax. Let me take you there and I will feel whole again.”
Meri winced. “Your hands. They’re so…rough. I’m not used to this.”
He removed his fingers from her and placed both hands on her thighs. Looking directly into Meri’s grey-green eyes with an expression of determination tinged with desperation, her said, “I know what I am doing. You will get used to this technique over time and allow yourself to relax into an orgasm. With me in control of your body, you will find great pleasure. Be patient.” He fondled her breasts with his free hand and kissed her neck.
“I don’t know. It really hurts, Monsieur…I mean Topias. I’ve never been touched like this before. Please …”
He pushed her away abruptly. “Fine. Put on your clothes.”
Meri barely caught herself from falling to the floor. She stood, confused about what to do next.
Am I fired? Should I have let him do that strange thing to me until he was finished? Mon Dieu! Men are strange!
He finally spoke. “As for our everyday interactions, nothing will change. You must treat me with the distance and respect you showed me before. I will not show you any favors as my personal assistant.” Then his voice grew softer, yet tinged with something perverse. “For our intimate sessions, well, I have not given up on you. Your job is to allow me to stimulate you for our mutual sexual gratification. All you have to do is be sensual and let me take you to an orgasm. It is simple.”
Meri kept nodding until she was fully dressed.
I’ve never been so ashamed or exposed, not even when Mamma spanked my bare bottom.
Monsieur Nurmi wants to control my body. I’ll never let him.
She stood in front of him waiting for a dismissal. He leisurely surveyed her. She used the time to assess her new foe. Meri was under the assumption that her employer was at least thirty years her senior. Upon closer examination, she realized her error. Monsieur Nurmi’s full dark brown hair had gray strands running through it. His facial features and eyes suggested he wasn’t an old man, just a man who had aged beyond his years. He had sturdy, healthy teeth—not the decayed teeth of an old man. Although surrounded by deep furrows, his eyes were alert.
The physical pain of the injury disabling him or some emotional scar he buried deep within him made him cruel and aged him prematurely
,
but did it make him crazy? Was he lying when he told me about how having people look down on him made him so defensive? He’s a complicated man—nothing like Claude.
He’ll be a difficult man to manipulate,
she decided.
Monsieur Nurmi reached up, cupped one breast, and gave it a squeeze. “That will be all for now. I will let you know when it is time for another…ah, lesson.” He winked in a teasing way and waved her off. Meri was dismissed.
She walked with as much dignity as she could muster from behind the desk to the library door. Turning the handle, she said over her shoulder, “
Bonsoir,
Monsieur
Nurmi.” After she closed the door and was in the hall, she looked to see if she was alone. She did not see anyone. Taking in a big breath of air and releasing it, she darted to her suite.
Meri wanted to do many things: cry, talk to Siri, quit her job, and report Monsieur Nurmi to the police or kill him. Instead, Meri took a long, hot bath and spoke to herself. The steam obscured her beautiful room, making anger at being in his house much easier. “
Mon Dieu!
Is this what life holds for me? My only employable skill is sex! I’m a smart and talented woman, but my employers only see my body. I hate men and I hate sex. I’ll do what I must to keep my job, but someday…someday no man will use me for his pleasure. I’ll stand on my own!”
It was a good speech to make in a steamy bathtub.
§
Only Siri and Antoinette noticed a change in Meri. More serious and guarded, she spoke less to both of them. Siri was more perplexed than Monsieur Nurmi’s maid.
“Meri, you’re lucky like me now. We both have Sundays off. Why in the world don’t you take advantage of your extra day off rather than staying cooped up in your room? You need to get out more.” Siri and Meri were having one of their now less frequent lunches.
“My job is demanding. I’m out so much running all over the city for Monsieur Nurmi. Sundays, well, Sundays I like to rest and read. I don’t read enough.”
Siri frowned. “We used to have so much fun walking around Paris on Sundays, watching people and dreaming of our futures. Remember?”
“I can’t live in the past or impossible futures, Siri.”
“Who said anything about living in the past or impossible futures?” Siri sat back in her chair, as if to get a better look at the person she considered her best friend.
Meri gave her a quick smile. “Oh, don’t pay any attention to me. Monsieur Nurmi told me I didn’t have to work for him during evenings and Sundays, but his demands never decreased. They increased. I’m tired of working for a miserable man who needs to control everything and everyone around him because he’s lost control of the lower half of his body.”
“I wish you had a job you enjoyed, but from what I hear at the Embassy, even France is beginning to feel the effects of the Crash.”
“Really? I was waiting for you to tell me about another perfect job.” Meri scanned the menu. Her voice flat.
Siri looked up from her menu, her eyes wide. “Meri, what do you mean? Are you teasing me? I can’t tell.”
Meri’s eyes met her friend.
True, Siri found me jobs in Paris, but each ended up with lecherous employers. Is Siri to blame or is this just the nature of work for Finnish women in Paris?
“I’m just teasing, Siri. I’m happy to be working anywhere. A job in the fashion district is still my dream, though. I’m keeping my skills up by making my own garments, and I used to make doll clothes for Elina and mend her dresses. Tuula didn’t want me to make any clothes for her or Elina. She refused to accept charity.”
“I’m sure you’re the best seamstress in all of Paris, Meri. You can make clothes for me anytime…and I’ll pay you! I always keep my eyes and ears open at the Embassy for any job that might suit you.”
The waiter came to their table and they ordered lunch.
Antoinette, on the other hand, guessed the cause of Meri’s change in mood. She had seen many personal assistants, as well as other staff, come and go. This familiar pattern plagued the Nurmi household.
One evening after dinner Antoinette caught Meri before she scurried up to her suite. “Wait, Meri! I miss our after-hours chats. You’re always in such a rush to be by yourself these days.” The woman held onto Meri’s hand.
Meri looked at her hand in Antoinette’s and then into her face. “I always go to my room after I eat.”
I can’t talk about my “lessons” with anyone—especially someone in this household. If Monsieur Nurmi finds out, he’ll fire me.
“Not since Monsieur Nurmi changed your work schedule.” Antoinette had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and a lilt to her voice. Meri remembered her brothers and sisters talking this sing-song way when they used to tease her. The image of a deadly blade swinging casually in the air came into her mind again…
“Stop, Antoinette! Leave me alone.”
“I’m sorry, Meri.” Her brows furrowed. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wondered if you wanted to talk about…anything?” She held her grip on Meri’s hand.
“Anything? Anything?” With each word, Meri’s voice increased a pitch. “I have nothing I need to discuss with you, except perhaps why you insist on holding my hand.”
“Meri, I’m your friend.”
“Antoinette, we work for the same dreadful man. That doesn’t make us friends.”
Antoinette dropped Meri’s hand and turned away. “You’re a harsh woman, Meri Vaarsara. I’m your friend and you’re pushing me away.” She paused and lowered her voice. “And I know why.”
Meri, on her way out of the kitchen, stopped. So did her breath. “What do you think you know?” Meri’s heart pounded.
If she knows, my job is in jeopardy. If she’s angry with me, she’ll tell Monsieur Nurmi. Oh, what have I done?
Meri felt dizzy.
“I know Monsieur Nurmi likes to have private sessions with his personal assistants if he fancies them. I know he fancies you.”
“He does not! He treats me like everyone else.”
“I see him gawk at you as you walk away. He did that with other assistants, too.”
“So?”
“He treats most of us like ghosts. We can’t look at him. He never looks at us. You’re special. He’s asking you to do ‘special’ things for him, isn’t that right, Meri?”
She had a choice: continue this pointless denial only to be a whore
and
a liar, or admit the truth this woman already knew and hope she could keep a secret. Her job rested in the maid’s hands either way.
Everyone has power over me in this house.
“It’s true and he’s been teaching me his ‘lessons’ for several months.” Meri sunk into a chair and rested her chin in her cupped hands, elbows on the table. “He’ll fire me if he thinks anyone knows. If you say anything, I’ll be gone.”
Antoinette nodded. “I’ve been working for him a long time so I know his habits. I’ve also known about the two of you since it began and I kept quiet. You have nothing to worry about with me.”
Meri breathed out a sigh. Tears filled her gray eyes, making them shimmer like puddles under a street lamp at midnight.
“You need an ally—a confidante. No one should go through this alone. Friends or not, we’re both women and we need to stick together.” Antoinette patted her back.
Meri wiped her tears away and eked out, “Antoinette. I’m a private person and this isn’t easy.”
“Of course not. The others didn’t last as long as you have. Either they told someone who gossiped and Monsieur Nurmi fired them or they quit. I can’t believe you’re so strong.”
“Strong? Perhaps. Desperate,
oui
. I need this job until I can find another one.”
“How are you handling his demands?”
“Antoinette, don’t ask me to talk about him.”
“I know what he does.”
Meri looked at her. The maid’s face and posture resembled a little girl aching to tell a secret.
How does she know?
Meri wondered but decided she would rather not know.
Antoinette frowned, the child having to hold onto her secret. “I can tell you how he ended up in a wheelchair. Maybe knowing will make you feel better.”
Meri didn’t like to gossip. She believed secrets were kept for a reason.
Monsieur Nurmi will never tell me, and I spend too many hours staring at him in his wheelchair wondering the very thing Antoinette is willing to tell me.
“Maybe it will help if I know.”
Antoinette had rehearsed the story and she told it in exquisite, excruciating detail. His French wife came from a wealthy family. Early in their marriage, trouble began brewing over his love of drinking and gambling. He spent more nights with other drunken men playing cards than with his new bride. One night she went out to find him. Unfortunately for them, she did. Drunk, he became angry and hit her. A fight ensued. Someone had a firearm and shot several times into the brawling crowd. She was fatally wounded, taking three weeks to die an agonizing death. A bullet lodged in his back, rendering him paralyzed from the waist down. He inherited all of her money and the estate in which he lives.
“He blames himself for her death. To this day, he bans alcohol from the house.”
“I noticed, especially because Finns love their alcohol. How do you know all of this?”
“The book he often has on his lap is his journal. I read it once when he was out. He writes about that night as ‘the night life as he knew it crashed around his feet like broken glass.’ Dramatic, eh? He writes about his guilt all the time.”
Both women put their hands over their mouths—both of them now naughty girls sharing precious indiscretions.