LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

The recession did no one any favours, but it was particularly tough on young people, especially girls. My name is Caroline, and I had borrowed a small fortune to put myself through college, only to end up with a large debt and no prospect of a job commensurate with my qualifications. Having spent the two years since graduating flitting from one short-term minimum-wage job to another, I again found myself back on the dole. It was demoralising. Sometimes I felt so low that I wondered if there was any point even having a sociology degree!

On my way home from signing on (yet again) I stopped at the local newsagents, as I often did, to read the postcard adverts in the window. There were some great bargains to be had, if you only had the money, as people attempted to trade in their surplus possessions for a bit of cash. But, of more relevance to me, there was also an occasional job advert. On this occasion one particular advert captured my imagination. It simply said, 'Maid wanted for private residence. Full-time position', followed by a contact phone number. I did not think people actually had maids in this day and age, so I wondered if this was maybe some sort of euphemism used in the sex industry. I was intrigued, so after dithering for a day or two, I eventually decided to give the number a call, more out of curiosity than expectation, to see what would happen. If a man answered, I could always hang up.

The phone was answered by a Ms. Hardiman who confirmed that she was indeed looking for a maid. She explained that she lived alone in a large house in Westlands - an upmarket area of large detached Victorian houses in the inner suburbs, now mostly converted to offices for doctors, solicitors and other professionals, although a few remained in residential use. She said that she required a maid to look after the house and if I was interested I could call round for an interview. There seemed to be nothing to lose, so we fixed a time for the following morning.

The interview went very well. Ms. Hardiman seemed a pleasant enough lady in her mid-thirties. Having explained my background, she asked if I had any experience as a maid. I decided it was best to tell the truth (more or less) and confessed that I had no actual experience, but that I had looked after myself for five years since I had left home to go to university. I neglected to mention that my mother always complained that my bedsit resembled a tip each time she visited to deliver one of her unsolicited (but nonetheless welcome) food parcels. I did however mention that I had some experience as a chef. This had entailed little more than flipping burgers when it looked as if they might actually catch fire, but my position was technically known as 'Burger Chef' by the fast food chain that had employed me for three weeks the previous year, so strictly speaking I wasn't actually telling a lie.