“No easy way to say this, but this is my notice.” I was sitting in my boss's office. As bosses go he was someone I liked. We got along personally and shared a lot of tastes

“For any particular reason?” He asked. Looking surprised, I had been doing well here and I had to admit this was kind of out of the blue.

“I got the sort of opportunity that only happens once in a lifetime.” I responded.

”Did they offer you that pair of Asian twins you mentioned?”

“Sadly no, but they did give a 100K upfront, and a house.”

“Jesus, I hate to say this but let the door hit you on the way out, no way I can match that.” He chuckled. “I know you’re going to be packing and such but I need you to train your replacement.”

“Done deal.” He offered his hand and with that I began to cut ties with one of the best jobs I’d ever had.

As I went to my desk and began planning packing and training I offered my 1000th prayer that I wasn’t making some sort of horrible error in judgment.

Which is how three weeks later I watched as the last box of my personal belongings was loaded onto a truck. Two movers one, an athletically built man, and the other a woman bulging muscles that I envied. They were from a company that GCE co owned.

And with that having sold my car, I hopped a lyft to the airport and back to gate 2 where the plane was waiting for me. I had brought a carry-on bag and my man purse. Fifteen minutes later we were wheels up and I was sipping a single malt, wondering what the future held for me.

The car dropped me off at my house a few hours later. I had ordered some stuff ahead. The items in my apartment would not even come close to filling the rooms of the new place with furniture etc. So I expected my house to look like a cardboard graveyard.

Instead I walked in and found all the furniture and stuff unpacked and set up. More or less where I would have liked it. I was puzzling over all of this when there was a knock at the door.

Two middle aged gentlemen were standing there smiling as they held out a bottle of red wine. “Hi I’m Gary, this is my husband Roger, we live next door and wanted to beat everyone to the race of saying hello.”

They were both dressed in nice slightly above office casual clothes. Khaki pants and button down shirts. Gary had a tan sport coat on, Roger’s was a darker grey.

“Come on in.” I said holding the door wider. “You got my attention when you showed up with a bottle.”

I led them both to the kitchen. Where I realized I was a bit short on cutlery, and glasses. Or was I? I had a feeling.

I opened a cabinet and saw that a few glasses were still there, not stemmed wine ones, but they’d hold fluid. I pulled them out and then opened a drawer. A few household implements were there. Including a corkscrew. “Gentleman, I have too much respect for the bottle you brought to try and open it.” I said and held out the corkscrew. Roger took it with a chuckle.

“Not a wine man?” He asked.

“Not usually, Irish family I grew up on Guinness and Bushmills, but I’m also not one to look down at a welcoming cup.” Roger pulled the cork as I said that and poured three glasses.

“Welcome to the village, may you have the time of your life.” Roger said and we all clinked glasses. “So if you don’t mind me inquiring, what do you do? Artistically?” Roger asked.

“I’m primarily a writer, and I do photography and video, and on some days I fancy myself a musician.”

“Oh what instruments?” Gary asked.

“Guitar, bass, drums, some keyboard.” I answered and took a sip, the wine had a complex set of flavors running through it and the texture was to my taste, perfect. I tipped my glass to both of them. “You two have excellent taste.”

“Thank you for saying so, I guess you being a musician would explain all the guys we saw here yesterday.” Gary said?

“Guys?”

“Yeah some tech looking people brought in some boxes, they must have been doing some installation.”

I shook my head. “Do you guys wanna follow me to the basement?” I had ordered some music gear but hadn't expected it to be here yet. They followed and I walked down.

Sure enough there was the gear I had ordered set in stands. Two guitar amplifiers, several guitars, a few synths I had always dreamed of owning and an electronic drum set.

I put my back to the wall. Well at least they would let me wire it, but again there wasn’t much I would do to change the physical setup.

“When it comes to their creatives, the people who run the village don’t mess around.” Roger said as I idly picked up a les Paul and strummed a few idle chords. “They tend to want you being you as quickly as possible.”

I turned to Roger. “Don’t get me wrong, but I’m curious as to what that means.”

The people who run the village believe in letting creatives have as few impediments in their way to doing the things that they have to do.”

“Have to do? Sounds ominous.” I replied and took a deeper sip.

“Don’t worry.” Gary said. “No one is going to jump you over page and image counts, what my non writing loving man means is that they tend to pick people to come here who need to create. Not a hobby or a dream of how cool it would be to create but a palpable need to create.”

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“And they make sure that it takes you as little time as possible to find your creative routine and do what you do.” Roger said.

“So what do you do?” I asked.

“I’m a sculptor.” Roger said.

“Wow, that’s something i've never even considered trying, can I watch you work sometime?”

“Of course. And Gary is a writer. He likes to work on historical fiction and such.”

“I’m currently working on a book based around German mythology.”

“I can already tell we’re gonna be having a few conversations.” I said as the door bell rang again.

I left the two gentlemen downstairs and answered the door. Dana and Matthew were there. Dana had a 12 pack of bottles, Matthew held a bottle of single malt.

“It’s so good to see you!” Dana said and gave me the sort of hug that makes breathing hard, but in a good way.

“Please come in.”

It had been a long evening, But in the best way. I spent a lot of time talking about art, writing, music, and the world with everyone. And washed down quite a bit of the fluids my new friends had brought. Gary decided to order food and we kept it going till we were all pretty much exhausted.

I had no idea what time I went to bed, but I’ll be honest, I was moving slow when I got up. I slipped on a pair of cargo shorts and a t-shirt and made my way around the place. Sadly there were no leftovers from last night.

I was contemplating what to do about breakfast when the doorbell rang. To my utter lack of shock Madeline was there. She had a bag that had grease stains on the bottom. “Are those breakfast sandwiches?” I asked as I let her in. Today she was rocking a simple and light sundress. The view helped wake me a little more.

“Why yes they are.” She answered and walked to the kitchen pulling out one for me and one for her.

“Your timing is amazing.” I said and tore into mine.

“I figured Roger and Gary would stop by to say hello, they're kind of the neighborhood welcome wagon.” She said. “And they almost always bring wine.”

“Good to know I’ll have to find a good bottle to share with them.” I said and kept on eating. After wolfing down another bite I continued. “So aside from saving me from hunger, what brings you here?”

“I wanted to make sure the items you ordered got here and were to your satisfaction.”

“Very much so, I was going to spend the morning wiring the studio up.” I answered.

“Before you do that can I borrow you for a bit?”

“For what?” I finished the last of my sandwich with a flourish,

“It’s something we’ve noticed about solo creatives. You often lose track of time and fail to do things like eat and take care of yourselves.” She said,

“Tell me you’re not about to sell me Amway.” I replied.

That got a genuine laugh from Madeline. “No but it is a pretty good lead in for a pitch I’ll admit. No, instead I wanted to see if you wanted to go to the labor exchange and see about getting a servant.”

“A what?” Okay she got me flat footed had to admit.

She paused and spoke very slowly. “A servant, a person who will keep track of this very nice home and ensure that you do things like eat and hydrate.”

“You make me sound like some sort of pie in the sky obsessive.”

“According to your ex-wife, that’s not far from the mark.” Madeline said. “Yes we asked around about you.”

“And what do I pay a . servant? I’ve not had one before.”

“You let GCE worry about it, call it a perk.”

“I’m not going to escape this notion am I?” I asked as Madeline stood.

“Not likely, I’m very persuasive.” She said, “Come along and see who might be someone you can spend some time in the house with. Call it humoring me.”

“Right, let me get my shoes.”

We walked about half a mile to a building that looked like it had ben a school built in the 70’s. “General administration and maintenance, if there’s some sort of issue with your house or whatever, feel free to come here. They’ll sort it out.” Madeline said.

We walked in and made our way down a long corridor. We took a left and walked into a old gymnasium. There were cubicles and kiosks spread around it. “Welcome to the labor exchange, people come here to see about collaborating or perhaps work on some new skills or whatever, and of course we have some folks who are looking for more involved work.”

“So what do I do? Yell out, I'm looking for a servant?”

“Not exactly, follow me.” Madeline replied and walked me down a row of kiosks. Behind one of them was an attractive older woman. Blonde with pretty features. It was pretty clear she spent a lot of time at the local gym. “Hi Carol, Michael here is in the market for a house servant.”

Carol smiled warmly at me, and somewhere deep inside I felt a rising tide of energy bordering on arousal. “A pleasure to meet you.” She extended her hand. I took it and felt that level of energy in me rise some more. I felt myself blushing.

“And you, so what is the process for this?”

“Simple I have a few people who are looking to be part of a house, I’ll introduce you.” She smiled and held my hand then walked me back behind a curtain.

I idly expected to see the curtain open to an artist's impression of a Turkish Harem. Instead there were a number of attractive women dressed in casual clothes. There was no way I could help myself. My eyes wandered over all of them with a life of their own.

“There’s a table over there. I’ll send each one and we’ll see who feels right to you.”

I managed to somehow pass on the obvious joke, and reminded myself that I was looking for someone to help keep my house together.

Each one Carol sent in seemed somehow prettier than the rest. Like bite the back of your hand pretty. Part of me wondered if they had escaped some super villains island of super models. Seriously, it was like that. Part of me felt like a Hollywood casting agent.

It wasn’t till the fourth one walked in that I felt like the situation was clicking. Call me odd but the supermodel aspiration of beauty is not my thing. It all feels a bit generic, call me the sort who remembers Francis Bacon saying there is no beauty that has no strangeness to it.

The woman who came through was dark haired with a pleasant face, maybe an over large nose, and eyes with mismatched colors. The sort of body that reminded me of the old cigarette ad. “So round, so firm, so fully packed.”

“Please dear God let this woman have a brain.” I thought.

She offered hand as I stood. “Hi I’m Rosie.” She said as I gripped her hand. Her voice had a sort of lilt to it and there was an energy to her smile that I was immediately attracted to.

“Hi Rosie, I'm Mike.” I replied and took a seat. “So if you don’t mind me asking why would you want to be an artist's servant?”

“I used to be a nanny years ago, then moved on to be head of staff at the home of a finance guru. The work was enjoyable, but it didn't feel like a good fit for me. Listening to people prattle on about money and the drive to succeed, all the cut throat stuff, didn’t appeal to me.” She paused. “So when Carol offered me a chance to come here I figured it was a good chance to try doing what I liked with a class of person I would probably enjoy spending that time with.”

“And if I’m the sort who gets all weird and crazy when hes creating?”

“Weird and crazy I can live with, imagine picking up after 15 bankers who were on a coke binge all night. As long as it's not violent, weird and crazy. Hopefully that’s not you.”

“Nah I set aside my violent crazy years ago, now I’m more about letting my crazy shine in what I do.”

“And what do you do?” She asked.

We talked for about an hour which was about 50 minutes longer than any of the other servants had lasted.

“Well Rosie, if you're in the mood to try out working for me the movers are arriving at my house tomorrow morning.”

She smiled prettily. “I’ll be there with bells on.”

We parted ways and as I walked out I saw Madeline and Carol talking, Madeline saw me and broke off the conversation. As she came to me she looked Roise over. “An interesting choice, an aesthetic one, or a practical one?”

“A bit of both, there's no doubt she's pretty, but she was the first of the bunch I really enjoyed talking to.” I answered.

“A good way to decide on someone to let into your home.” She answered.

We walked out of the administration building and back toward my house. “I have some people to talk to, enjoy wiring your studio.”

I walked through the front door of what was now my home, and took a deep breath. I had no idea of what I was getting into, but there was no going back now.