#Parody of fill me up buttercup full

The sensation of her hand holding my face made by breath come even harder. “What are you doing?!” I jumped up like a jack-in-the-box. I sat on the edge of the bed to catch my breath. I was panting when I finally brought the last box up to the room. Fairchild kept tapping her foot and admonishing me to hurry. No dilly-dallying!” I hustled the first box up the stairs. I started to stammer a response when she cut me off. “You're 30 minutes late.” Her tone was icy, and she was impatiently tapping the toe of one of her pumps as she held the door open. Fairchild opend the door and stared at me diapprovingly. I carried my things up to the front porch and rang the bell. I figured if things got out of hand, I could always leave.įour and a half hours later I arrived by taxi, my computer, books, papers and clothing packed in several boxes and couple of suitcases. When I thought of standing frozen in front of her, forced to stare directly into her eyes by the grip of her fingers firmly “chucking” me under my chin, I felt wobbly. What other demands would she make? I had a feeling that once I moved in things would only get worse. I examined the frilly apron she had given me. Fairchild was completely intimidating and obviously used to getting her way. While packing my things I started to have second thoughts about what I was getting into. Suddenly I felt myself nodding my head yes and saying “O.K.” The Landlady's red lips made an approving smile and her hand patted my cheek, her thumb pressed against my lips. What was I getting into? At the same time I felt my pen-s getting hard in my pants, which I didn't understand at all. Now, I expect you back here in four hours with your things. We have a lot of work to do here, and I don't like dilly-dallying dear. She immediately stopped in her tracks, turned and grasped my chin with her manicured thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look up into her eyes. I stammered that I needed some time to pack, and thought that moving in tommorow might make more sense. Get your things, I'd like you to get started this afternoon.” Even though I hadn't even said I wanted to take the room, she had already gripped my elbow again and was leading me down to the parlor, asking me when I would return with my things. Any questions?” She stood there with her hands on her hips, looking down at me. “You will wear this while performing your housekeeping chores in order to keep your clothing immaculate.

#Parody of fill me up buttercup full

Fairchild explained my housekeeping duties and handed me a bundle, which turned out to be a gauzy full white apron trimmed in red, with short puffy sleeves, a pleated skirt and wide ribbons which tied in back. We ended up in “my room” which contained what looked like a girl's bedroom set in white with gold accents, including a carved four-poster bed, frilly accents including pink floral curtains, and a large collection of antique dolls lining the shelves of one wall. The house was filled with beautiful furninture. “I will show you the entire house, starting with the kitchen.” She walked briskly in her pumps, her grip on my elbow was like iron, and I struggled to keep up with her pace. Then without warning she reached over and grasped my elbow and steered me into the house. She looked me up and down for a full minute while I stood awkwardly in the doorway. Jewelry gleamed on her hands, wrists and neck. She was wearing a stiff maroon silk brocade dress that hugged her body, accentuating her bust, sheer hose and classic black patent pumps with spike heels. She was also completely put together- her hair was perfectly coiffed in a stiff bouffant, her make-up was perfect, her nails manicured. She was built like a battleship, with a wide moon like face, an enormous bust, wide hips and large buttocks, and powerful looking legs. When I knocked, the door was answered by a huge severe looking woman. The house was a beautiful old Victorian on a quiet street. The ad looked perfect - room and board in a private residence in exchange for light housekeeping. My problem was money-my loans and grants were almost gone, and I wasn't eligible for a dorm now that classes were over. I just needed a place to plug in my computer and finish writing the thing. I was finishing up grad school, having completed all my course work and the research for my thesis.