Help Wanted!Multiple Positions Available – Companion Bed Warmer |
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Duties include:
Job Type: Full time, permanent Classification: Entry level Previous Experience: None required |
Essential Skills:
Remuneration:
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Julie gazed at the ad thoughtfully. She’d been kicked out – again – and didn’t want to face the social workers at the shelter – again – for their pity or their judgement. Her parents just didn’t understand that she was an adult now. She didn’t need a curfew; she didn’t need to be treated like a child, like she couldn’t take care of herself. She was a woman grown – all of 19 – and she didn’t need her parents to be curbing everything she did. They always said she should get a job, and if it came with room and board as well so she could get out from under their controlling influence? So much the better.
She emailed the given contact, stressing her immediate availability and willingness for work. She expected to have to wait, but she’d barely made her tea in the internet café before she was sent an address and told to ask for a Mr. Richards. She excitedly packed her things and hot footed across town, to the 15th floor of an upmarket office building towering over the Docklands area.
The receptionist was absolutely stunning – while it was perfectly acceptable office wear, the sizing and cut were surely to ensure her curves were eminently prominent. The coloured lights of the reception area, though muted, emphasised her somehow; she was at the centre of a kaleidoscope of colours, winking faintly. A strange choice of reception décor, to her mind, but it seemed to work somehow.
Julie approached her nervously, feeling decidedly out of place. “Hi there, umm, I have an appointment with a… Mr. Richards?” The receptionist gave her biggest smile; it completely lit up her face. “Of course! They’ve got an applicant in there at the moment, but shouldn’t be too much longer. Just take a seat and Ms Honeysuckle will call you when they’re ready for you!” Ms Honeysuckle? That’s a new one, Julie thought. Before she sat, Julie noticed a laminated copy of the ad on the bench. “Could I borrow that for a second as well?” The receptionist flashed her that smile again and pushed it across the desk to her.
Julie murmured her thanks and sat on the proffered seat. Now she was here she had no idea what she’d say in an interview, what could she actually offer? She hadn’t even thought about what she was wearing - blue jeans and a green T-shirt. Interview wear it was not! It was all she had now, but couldn’t help the sudden panic that this was all for nought. She gazed around the room in desperation, and the slow pulsing of those lights helped to calm her down, just relax a little bit. She tried to focus on rereading the ad, trying to quiet herself and hold herself together.
A companion bed warmer? That wasn’t something they ever mentioned as a career path at school, but there were no required skills – other than the usual working as a team, and even she could talk to that – so what was it they were looking for? Bodily warmth? She wondered how they test for that, and giggled to herself as the image of cuddling up to the interviewers flashed through her mind. Who knows?
Julie had always been told at school to have questions for the interviewers; show that you’ve been paying attention and are engaged in the opportunity. Looking at the ad, there was plenty to ask about. What is the generous package for remuneration? What constitutes full time, if this seems like a lot of night work? How could they get away with inner fulfilment as part of the remuneration? But mostly, what are they looking for in a candidate?
The door to her left opened, and an exceptionally cute young woman walked out, wearing an outfit that could only be described as “best presenting her assets.” Oh, Julie thought sadly – I guess that’s what they’re looking for. She was about to change her mind on the whole thing when out walked someone that could only be Ms. Honeysuckle.
She was striking – lithe, tall, fine-featured. Glossy jet black hair in a ponytail that stretched all the way to her behind. She held confidence about her like a cloak, and Julie was absolutely struck with terror – I’m going to need to do an interview with her? I’m not going to be able to think! The other girl swiftly departed, and Ms. Honeysuckle turned to take in Julie. Her emerald eyes were piercing and seemed to tear away all mental barriers; Julie felt naked and alone under her gaze.
“Come – Mr. Richards will see you now.”
Julie followed her into the interview room, vaguely noticing the coloured lights were present in here as well but seemed to be somewhat more intense, and sat on the chair in front of the desk. She was so taken in by Ms. Honeysuckle’s presence she completely neglected to notice Mr. Richards – a man not possessed of the same physical gifts. However, his demeanour, once Julie could tear her eyes away from Ms. Honeysuckle – put hers to shame. He stood, commanding the room completely despite his relatively short stature. Julie was captivated, and slowly her terror dwindled as she shook his, an almost electric feeling at his touch.
“Good morning Miss Denton. Thank you for being punctual, you’d be surprised at how easy it is to dismiss a candidate based on nothing more than tardiness. You’ve read the ad in its entirety? Do you have any questions about the duties therein?”
He gazed at her intently, lights winking at her from behind him, and Julie shook her head slowly. “Excellent. Please describe to me why you believe you would make an ideal candidate for this position?” He held her gaze, and she almost completely lost the ability to speak.
“Um, well, I … er… am good working in teams, it was always my favourite way of doing, um, assignments? At school? Ah, and, um….” She trailed off, wilting completely beneath the intensity of that gaze. Mr. Richards chuckled warmly. “Right, well at least you have no issues with authority. Tell me honestly – why are you so nervous?”
Julie looked down, unable to meet his gaze any longer. “I saw the other... um …candidate? leave. And Ms. Honeysuckle is, well, um, you know, the receptionist too, and I’m just not, um, well…” She broke off at Ms. Honeysuckle’s laughter from beside her. “Oh, sweet thing, you’re going to be just perfect, I can tell already.” She smiled down at Julie. “There is no requirement here for looks, body type, anything like that. As long as you bring an open mind, and are willing, you’ll do just fine.”
Her reassuring words sent a wave of calm across Julie, who finally felt the tension lift. She smiled cautiously at Ms Honeysuckle, but directed her words to Mr Richards. “My parents are absolute tyrants, and they’ve kicked me out of home - again. I don’t know where I’ll stay tonight, and I saw your ad this morning, and if I could get this job then it would mean a lot of security, and hopefully independence, for me.”
Mr Richards and Ms Honeysuckle exchanged a glance. “You can certainly say that again. You seem like an ideal candidate, so let’s move this along quickly. Are you on any medication? Any known medical issues, allergies, anything to report? No? Then let’s run you through the aptitude test, though I do think you’d be ideal from what we’ve seen, and then move forward, shall we?”
Ms Honeysuckle stepped forward with a tablet in a frame, and connected it to the desk in front of Julie. “You’re just going to run through a few standard interview questions, nothing of concern, just answer them as best you can.” They both then got up and retreated to chairs behind where Julie was sitting.
The first question popped up on the screen. “The fribbled breg will snicker best with an: ” What sort of question is that? Julie thought, panicked – I’ve never heard of a…. The screen flashed, somehow both reflecting and being the inverse of the lights in the room, and Julie blinked in surprise. And suddenly she knew the answer. It’s an Ignu, of course.
How? How did she know that? Julie would have sworn up and down she had never heard of this before, and the question was nonsensical. Julie looked closely at the other answers, and yet she was still completely sure it was correct. She selected A: Ignu, got the green tick she expected, and the next question appeared.
“What probable causes are indicated when tristl doss occurs in a compots?” What sort of interview questions were these? This is gibberish! And suddenly – the screen flickered again. And she knew the answer. With the same certainty as the previous question, without any way of knowing why it was correct. Confused, she selected the right answer again, and went to the next question.
Each time, Julie read a question that made no sense. And then suddenly she knew the answer. Without thinking, reasoning, anything – it was right there for her. Even when the last question was completely blank, she knew the right blank to select was D, even though she had no other information.
As she completed the test, Mr Richards and Ms Honeysuckle approached and were full of warm praise for how well she did. “Good girl! Not many can get a handful of those, let alone all eight of them! I knew you’d be perfect!” Julie smiled a confused smile. “I don’t know what happened – the answers were just there for me. “
Mr Richards smiled broadly, a knowing, superior smile. “That’s alright – that’s how that test is supposed to work. And you did excellently! Let’s discuss next steps – we would like you to do a trial shift one night within the next week. Given you’re worried about where to stay tonight, we’ll see what we can do to get you on trial tonight. Honeysuckle?” Ms. Honeysuckle rose quietly and left the room. “Excellent. Assuming the trial goes well – and given your success in the aptitude test, there’s little reason to think it won’t, so let’s work under that assumption, shall we?”
Julie nodded eagerly. “Excellent. After the trial, it is expected you’d relocate to the house immediately – which again shouldn’t be an issue in your case. Do you have many belongings you require that are still in your parents’ house? Keeping in mind of course that uniform will be provided, so clothing would not be an issue for you. Think more like valuables – computer, tablet, and such? Passport? Things of that ilk?”
“No, I never had a passport, and only used the family computer. I probably have a birth certificate somewhere, but I haven’t had need to use it, so I don’t know where it would be. If you tell me clothes won’t be an issue, then I wouldn’t say I need to go back there.” Mr Richards nodded thoughtfully. “Excellent, Excellent. This could be an easier transition than we thought.”
Ms Honeysuckle strode back into the room. “All set – we’ve moved Candidate #4 to Thursday instead. Are we done with the rest?” Mr Richards nodded and stood. “Almost – but we can cover those through the trial tonight.” Ms Honeysuckle gestured through the door Julie. “Julie dear, Iris will take you directly to the house now. We’ll join you shortly, we have one more interview to conduct.”
Julie nodded and went to walk through the door. Just before it closed behind her, she thought she heard a murmured “Absolutely perfect” – and for some reason the words had a warming glow throughout her body, and she nearly bounced her way to the receptionist’s desk.
Iris was already packed up and flashed her that sunny smile. “So you’re going straight into a trial? How exciting for you! It must be a real relief to give up the search for a home! I’m Iris! It’ll be exciting to work with you! Are you ready? Let’s go!” Effervescent to a fault apparently, thought Julie, as she followed her to the car – a very swish Bentley. They hopped in and began to navigate their way out of the car park.
“So how long have you worked for Mr Richards?” asked Julie. “Oh, I’ve been with Sir for the longest time! Since before Madam was around – I gave him some small service, and in appreciation, he’s kept me in use since then.”
Julie frowned – “In use? That’s a strange way to say employed.”
Iris tittered prettily. “Oh dear, slip of the tongue! But you’ll need to get used to that – a lot of tongues slipping around here if you know what I mean!”
Julie didn’t, but ceased with the small talk. They sat in companionable silence as they wound their way to the affluent south east suburbs, into a very well appointed house that, while not technically not a manse, was everything but. A gated property with high fences, but the house was immaculate – small columns at the front, white render across the front, the pristine lawn was perfectly green, the garage into which they drove held three other cars, and while she wasn’t a car person, they felt expensive.
Iris ushered her into the house, and Julie found herself gawking at the opulence – wooden floorboards, plush runners, gilded finishes, porcelain vases on worked tables; lovely moulding on all of the doors. It reminded Julie of the house from the Sound of Music; spacious and open and grand, completely lacking in any clutter whatsoever.
She was directed down a corridor into a very well appointed bedroom which had a currently unmade four poster bed with decorative netting, made from a deep red wood that felt incredibly solid to her touch.
“Jarrah.” Iris’s voice came from behind her. “Nothing but the best for Sir, he wouldn’t accept anything less. ‘A man of simple tastes. He’s always satisfied with the best.’ Sir’s favourite Oscar Wilde quote. So you know how special you must be to have been selected by him.”
Julie turned and smiled at her. “You know, I do believe that I did know that, somehow. Which is altogether a little strange.”
“Oh honey, not strange at all! It’s how we all feel. Now, into the shower with you and by the time you’re done, Sir and Madam will be home, and they’ll get you started with your trial!”
Iris tottered off, and Julie pushed through the en suite into the shower. It was richly appointed, but had a strange tiling pattern – perhaps an octopus? A whirlpool? She couldn’t tell – that spiralled out from a spot just under where the spout in the shower. The pattern was predominantly ocean colours - blues and greens, with some deep purple - though there were spots of white, pink, and red smattered throughout. Julie thought it odd, it didn’t really fit in with the décor in the rest of the house, but she couldn’t deny it was striking. As she looked at it, she was reminded somewhat of the lights in the interview room, although for some reason she couldn’t remember what they looked like in the end.
She undressed, thinking to herself that whatever business Mr Richards was in, it must be very lucrative. She stepped into the shower to turn on the water, and glanced at the very centre of the pattern –
Sir’s voice was speaking. “Very good, now you’re all set after your shower and conditioning, we’ll see how you go with some of the basic skills.”
Julie blinked, glanced around in momentary surprise. Sir was looking at her, betraying great patience. “Julie? I don’t like to repeat myself. Please ensure you’re paying attention when being instructed.”
He turned and walked out of the room. Madam gave her a tight lipped smile. “He’s always like this with a new girl, don’t worry – he’ll warm to you.” Madam broadened her smile expectantly. Julie looked at her blankly, unsure what she’d missed.
“Warm to you? You’ve accepted a job as a bed warmer?” Julie continued to stare blankly, before trying to blink away the cobwebs from the edges of her mind. Madam tsked impatiently.
“No? Well, I’m sure we can make sense of humour a part of your vocational training. OK, so we’re going to do a soft evaluation of your skills to see any areas where we might need to provide some additional training during your time here, and then we’ll test your bed warming skills.”
Julie nodded – that made sense. “Linens for the bed are in the drawers underneath. Make the bed using the cotton sheets for tonight. Once you are done, ring the bell on the side table and we will then test care instructions for various fabrics. Good luck.” And Madam walked out the door.
Julie hadn’t given much thought to what the job actually entailed since she left the office this afternoon – making her bed at home was never something she did with regularity, preferring the less restrictive method of never tucking in the sheets. She pulled out the sheets labelled as cotton and began to make the bed as best she could.
It didn’t seem to matter how well she tried to level the sides of the sheet, it never seemed to be exact, and she knew with a certainty if it wasn’t exact it would be noticed. Eventually she just gave up; Madam had said it was an evaluation, and additional training could be provided. The patterns on the sheets were also in a vague spiral pattern; she had some difficulty when looking directly at it. The duvet was excruciating to get inside the cover, the soft pillowcases were difficult to pull on over the thick pillows, they kept catching; overall it was a far more difficult experience than Julie would have believed making a bed was possible to be.
She rang the bell as instructed, and Madam re-entered the room. Julie started to feel a touch cold as Madam did a quick walk around the bed, but her eyes kept flicking back to Julie for some reason. Like she was checking her out, almost? That wouldn’t make sense. “Sloppy edges, sloppy corners. The duvet isn’t centred within the cover. Pillows are adequate and plumped; I’ll give you that. Well, some notes for the training you’ll receive at least.” Julie nodded along; flushing slightly with pride at having plump pillows even as she shivered.
“Very well – cleaning. What are the differences in process to washing silk sheets vs satin?” Julie stared at Madam blankly. “I don’t know, Madam. I’m sorry – I’ve never touched silk or satin; knowing their cleaning is beyond me.”
“Hmm. Perhaps then we should just put a line through that whole section, and just start your training of her from the ground up. I suspect it might be easier this way.”
She scribbled some notes into the clipboard she had before putting it down on the table. “Very well – now Sir will retire in about 30 minutes. He has no preference on which side of the bed to sleep; that is, he will use both sides. Make sure the bed is warm for him when he arrives.” Madam then turned and walked out.
Julie carefully peeled back the covers and slipped into the bed, feeling the soft cotton against her skin. Wait, against her skin? Suddenly she realised she wasn’t wearing clothes; she had not a stitch on. There was a momentary flash of panic – why wouldn’t she have known that? Or remember taking off her clothes? – before it subsided in a cold burst of logic. This is what a bed warmer does – clothes would just warm me; I’m meant to be providing the warmth.
She relaxed into the certainty of it, and lay as spread as she could be in the bed to ensure as much surface area was covered by her warmth. Dimly she wondered the best way to ensure the entire surface was warm before Sir arrived, but she found her thoughts hard to trace, hard to follow. She felt herself restlessly turning, trying to reach everywhere at once. Eventually she fell into a rhythm, her head lying flat on the bed next to the headboard, and her body rolling around to cover as much of the bed as possible.
After an eternity and also no time at all, Sir entered the bedroom. He made no attempt to talk with Julie, and she waited patiently for him to enter the bed. She knew this was a make or break moment for her; would he find it sufficiently warm?
He finished undressing and slipped into the bed, getting as much of him as close to Julie as possible. She shivered ever so slightly as Sir put an arm across her, his elbow resting across her belly. They stayed in silence for a second, before he clambered over her and made himself comfortable, nestling in against her other side. “Not evenly warm, but I’m not shivering, that’s a good sign. Sufficiently promising start for a trial shift.”
Julie glowed; she was doing well! As Sir lay his head down on her pillows she cradled him in her arms. He shifted, turning his head, and she tried to move with him to be in the perfect position for him to sleep, to provide whatever comfort she could. Eventually they settled being half turned in towards each other, her arms wrapped around him; his clutching her tight against him.
They lay in a comfortable restfulness for some time before Sir shifted and placed his hand on her cheek. Julie jumped slightly at the cold, and Sir made a disapproving noise. “They are cold aren’t they? What are you going to do about that?”
Julie made to roll over so she could take Sir’s hand in hers, but Sir’s arms firmly held her in place. “No no, I’m comfortable here. No moving.”
Julie panicked for a second – how am I meant to warm them if I can’t move? That is a completely ridiculous expectation… Then almost without thinking, she took Sir’s extended fingers into her mouth, and began gently sucking on them. Just the tips at first, but encouraged by Sir’s faint grunting that sounded like approval, took as much of him as she could, running her tongue over them for maximum warmth. She started alternating the fingers to ensure they were all kept warm, bobbing her head back and forth slowly.
“Mmmmm…” Sir mumbled into her chest. “Other hand now. And more of my extremities need warming while we’re at it too.” He levered himself up and on top of her, sliding fingers from his other hand into her mouth, and then to her great surprise, his member in her sheath.
She let out a startled squeak, somewhat muffled by the fingers in her mouth, and tried to ask what was going on that was never discussed! But she couldn’t get the words out – some part of her suppressed it, stopped her from feeling the outrage she felt she should have?
“All parts of me deserve to be warm, don’t they?” Sir asked her gently, breathily. “This is what a companion bed warmer does. Make sure all of me is warm.”
And that part of her suppressing the outrage beat out its agreement to his words, so strongly Julie lost herself completely to it. She ran both of her hands down Sir’s back, gripping his buttocks firmly, rubbing her legs up and down his, sucking against his fingers as evenly as possible. She held him close to her, and they shifted around again until they fell into a comfortable position, and relaxed into a comfortably warm half doze.
During strenuous activity, your muscles generate a tremendous amount of heat. The thought appeared from nowhere; something must have she learned in PE, Julie thought? Where else would have come from.
But she could already feel her body gyrating underneath Sir. In a flash of insight Julie realised with Sir on top, his back must have been losing some body heat, so she very carefully rolled them both over, moving as much as she was able without allowing anything to jostle free and be without her crucial warmth. Arching her back, and pressing her chest against him; rubbing herself up and down, sucking as hard as could on his fingers, imparting her precious warmth across as much of his body as she could.
And it was working too; she could feel Sir starting to sweat on top of her, and his breathing had increased somewhat as well. He was so hot he needed to remove his fingers from her mouth, although grabbing her behind with both hands seemed counter intuitive. Maybe his palms had gotten cold? His grip was exceptionally tight and Julie started to push back into it, to make sure they were getting enough warmth as well.
After a very short amount of time Julie realised she was getting excited by all this warming, and immediately felt a flush of embarrassment. Getting turned on at work, especially to the level she felt she was currently experiencing, seemed like a good way to get fired with her boss in the room! She could feel a slickness down her legs; each gyration of her hips was not only making it easier for Sir’s member to be so much warmer, but that she was also leaving it more and more wet. But the alternative was leaving Sir to not be warm? And that seemed unthinkable.
But he didn’t seem to mind how turned on Julie was getting – while he was being moved about by her movements, he seemed quite content to lay underneath her as she moved on top of him, and was smiling in what Julie thought was an appreciative fashion. The heat between her legs would certainly be doing a good enough job at keeping his abdomen warm, her feet were on his, her chest moving about… was there anything was missing?
His ears... Feeling a bit silly for not having thought of it herself – wait, but if it wasn’t me, and Sir didn’t say anything? – Julie started desperately kissing Sir’s ears on each upthrust trying to ensure they get as much warmth as possible. And his nose… to forestall each subsequent thought, Julie started kissing all over his face and neck, as much as she could in between thrusts. Thrusts? No, they’re heat generating gyrations, this is just a job…
Sir’s grip hardened, and he started meeting Julie’s movements with his own. She heard herself moaning in response, doing her best to still maintain her warming. Soon she gave that away completely as she felt Sir’s movements become erratic and desperate. Was the heat down there not enough for him? Did he feel like he had to provide his own? Was he not satisfied?
Shortly Julie felt a burst of heat, and the force of it nearly blacked her out – and Sir too, as she realised when she collected herself enough to realise. He was panting heavily, and his motions had completely stopped. Just like hers, on both counts. Julie just couldn’t bring herself to do more than lay there, arms around Sir, imparting her warmth passively for the moment.
“Advanced warming techniques seem to be acceptable – although it seemed to take some time to progress through various stages, all completed without issue. You seemed to enjoy it? Anything I missed from over here?”
Madam’s voice cut through the cloudy haze Julie was feeling, and she squeaked in surprise. How long had she been there? Not that it matters, you’re at work, and she’s your superior. Julie turned to face her, ensuring she left as much of her body in contact with Sirs at all times.
Julie could feel Sir pulsing a little still inside her as he responded. “Absolutely. The time doesn’t bother me at all, given it’s a training shift. Nothing awkward, and all done with enthusiasm and professionalism. Couldn’t ask for better in a new recruit.”
Madam regarded Julie encouragingly, with a nod and a smile. “Just as I thought. There’s just the quick tidy test to do and then that will be it for your trial shift.”
Sir shifted and Julie realised he was trying to get up, so she wriggled off him. She felt some wetness drip out as she rolled away, but he put on a rather warm looking robe and stood beside Madam. “Now, as I’m sure you’re now aware, after some time the bed can become more than a touch damp. Short of getting new linen or washing the existing ones, for which we’ve already established a requirement for additional training, what can you do to make the bed as comfortable as possible to sleep in?”
Julie sat up and moved the covers to the side, revealing a particularly damp spot in the middle of the bed. She looked around for something with which to wipe it up, and immediately felt foolish – the emphasis on lack of clutter through the house meant no tissues on the bed side tables, and somehow she knew with that odd certainty leaving the bed now would be failing this test.
There was a golden moment when Julie realised what was expected, and immediately felt a flush of pride at coming to that realisation herself. Wait, who else would have done the realising, if not her? She shook her head, then slowly lowered it to the wet spot and gently started licking up the wet spot.
The slightly salty, musky concoction was not as unpleasant as Julie thought it may have been. There was no escaping what she’d just licked up, and a part of her felt ridiculous – she’d tried that on a single occasion while experimenting through high school, and it was disgusting. And while it still didn’t taste great now, it felt too right to be something she shouldn’t have kept doing. What was wrong with her?
When she’d licked up as much as would come off the sheets, she looked up to Sir and Madam nodding approvingly. “The aptitude test never lies, an excellent trial shift overall. I think we’re prepared to offer you a substantive, permanent position here off the back of it; you’ll be our newest hot property.”
Madame eyed Julie expectantly once again, and sighed heavily when all Julie could muster was a tired puzzlement.
“Well, I guess you’ll only understand the other half of that tomorrow anyway. But really, hot for a bed warmer? That should be obvious. Well, lack of appreciation of fine jokes notwithstanding, we’d be most pleased to have you join us here, unless Sir has any objections?”
“No objections, she’d make a fine addition to the staff. And you know my thoughts on the sense of humour.”
Madam tsked at that. “Just because you don’t have one either doesn’t preclude my need for at least one person in this house that can appreciate my wit. Well Julie, what do you say?”
Julie looked between Sir and Madam and realised there was no way she could say no. “Yes please, Sir, Madam. I would love to be part of the staff here. I do have a question first which I do know probably should have been asked in the interview, but I couldn’t think of anything in there, somehow. So if I may?”
Both Sir and Madam quirked a very small smile when she mentioned not being able to think, but Madam gestured for Julie to go on. “Well, under remuneration in the ad, there was mention of a generous package. What does that entail?”
Madam smiled broadly at that, while Sir sighed ever so slightly. “My dear, I’m going to give you a hint, and if you don’t get it then, that’s completely on you.”
Madam walked behind Sir and removed his robe, and Julie was presented with her generous remuneration package staring her in the face. Which was also apparently eager for her to get started. “I’m in.”
Madam nodded approvingly, and pushed Sir towards the bed, while she started disrobing herself. “Excellent, we’re both extremely pleased to have you on board. Now, let’s see how you do with twice the coverage to keep warm, shall we?”