Maid For You


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Blurb, Disclaimers, Warnings

A strange work schedule turns Nicole Braxton's fantasy into a reality, as she becomes the new live-in maid for actor John Davies, her celebrity crush. John believes that Nicole is the one when he hires her but neither expected that statement to turn into something more.


This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or otherwise, is unintentional and purely coincidental. All characters belong to me. I am not affiliated with any name brand companies mentioned nor do I make any monetary value with the writing of this story.

This story contains adult situations, adult language and sexual content. All characters in sexual situations are aged twenty-one and over. 

This is my first draft. I appreciate feedback to the fullest.

Cover designed by Christina Quinn (

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When things first happened, had I told anyone, they would’ve passed it off as fanfiction: it was that unbelievable! A lot of times, I refused to believe it, myself.

I was never an important person, maybe to my family but that was it. My life was mundane at best. The only exciting thing that ever happened to me was the decision to move to Persimmon Hills. I lucked up and found a job immediately after moving. Nothing glamorous: it was for a cleaning agency. They were very well known in the city, to the point where nearly everyone who wanted/needed top quality services used them.

How the agency worked was neat, in itself. If you were good, you were requested personally by numerous people. Solo workers of that quality had set schedules, as well as “commission” on top of hourly wages: whoever they worked for, paid them for their time as well. So, it was very beneficial for you to be a damn good worker. Because I was new, I did group jobs like cleaning out vacation homes before and after occupancy. I had no complaints because it was actually easy work: chores were divvied out, instead of one person cleaning an entire house.

Only time you were ever at headquarters was if there was an employee meeting, and of course when you’re going through your interviews and all that. The meetings happened maybe once a month and were hardly important for the most part but they were paid meetings: if they wanted to pay me to sleep, I had no problems with it!

It was the only reason why I was there and after the meeting, I decided to take a look at my physical schedule. It was also on their website but we usually knew ahead of time, especially the group jobs. It didn’t hurt to remind yourself though, and I made my way to the bulletin board.

What I saw across from my name puzzled the shit out of me but I was glad I decided to double check. The entire work week, I had solo jobs but it wasn’t the solo bit that got to me: the question mark in the slots where work hours usually were did. I needed an adult!

I scanned the area, to see if I could pinpoint any supervisor to discuss this with. I knew if I couldn’t find one, I could always try my luck at my own supervisor’s office but everyone was trying to head home. One woman caught my attention: I couldn’t remember her name to save my life but I was always good at faces. She had been with the company for quite some time and would know what my mess of a schedule meant.

When I stopped her, and showed the piece of paper, her eyes widened and beamed as she let out a small whistle. “How long you’ve been here?”

“A few months?”

“You lucky dog!”

“I don’t understand…”

“It’s not rare that someone who’s been here that long would get solo jobs. But, this– she gave me the paper back. “–This usually means you’re cleaning a celebrity’s house. I’ve only seen it a few times, though and never on my schedule!”

“Oh. So, why the question marks?”

“That’s the main giveaway it’s a celebrity’s home, or at the very least a large house. They don’t know how long it will take you to clean. So, depending on the size of the home, it’ll be tedious. But the pay?”

“Commission.” I couldn’t help but to nod at the thought.

“Congratulations, honey! I don’t know what you’ve done but you impressed ‘em enough to give you this assignment.”

I’d been at the agency for only six months. And in that small time, they felt I was ready enough for that big of an assignment? I had no idea what I done, either, to be rewarded like so. But, I wasn’t going to question it as I went on the website for more details. I put the address in my phone with a reminder and tried my damnedest not to think about it.

The morning of my solo job made me a nervous wreck. I was proud of myself that I refrained from looking the address up on Google beforehand: I wanted to be pleasantly surprised at who lived there. My mind wondered: would it actually be a celebrity… one that I knew? I still knew next to nothing about Persimmon Hills so I automatically assumed that if you were deemed a celebrity there, you were a sports one: the area was very well known for its professional sports teams, the only thing I knew for sure!

I parked in the driveway of the surprisingly moderate home before seven and downed the rest of my coffee. Unlike the group jobs, with solo, you had to meet your employer face-to-face. I refreshed my breath before getting out and continued to study the house. No celebrity lived here. Perhaps some high level corporate person who was either too lazy to clean or too busy to do so. I was more than likely to be greeted by their PA or spouse. A bit let down, I knocked on the door and waited. I suppose it was a good thing: I was no longer nervous about this job.

My hopes dashed through my veins: I wasn’t expecting to see who I saw when the door opened. I stopped myself from gawking at none other than John Davies but his small laugh told me I failed to cover it up.

“I suppose you weren’t expecting to see me, correct?” he’d been in America far too long: his British accent was faint. I laughed nervously along with him as I shook my head.

“I’m sorry but no. To protect clients, the agency only gives us the address and the hours.” I couldn’t help matching his smile as he let me in: it was that warm and inviting. Speaking of warm and inviting: I couldn’t help but look over the inside of his home. I wasn’t an art or decor expert but his home was indeed warm, inviting and modern. All I really knew was that things matched and said things looked expensive.

“Oh? Did n… huh.”

“Is there a problem?” as much as I liked looking around, I could tell by his tone there was.

“No one told you this was a live-in position?”

“I’m sorry, what now…?” I quickly turned from my visual tour and eyed him. John sighed but his dark brown eyes carried his amusement at my reaction.

“Damnit: I specifically asked for that.”

“Without even knowing who you hired? Wouldn’t it be better to have a trial run before making that big of a decision anyway, Mr. Da…”

“Oh, please don’t call me ‘mister’: that’s my father,” he gave me the most gorgeous smile I’d ever seen and I felt a burn at my cheeks as I tried not to melt. “I trust your agency to provide only the best. It’s what you’re known for. I’ve seen the reviews and you were recommended.”

“Me… personally?”

“No, the company overall.” he answered. Yeah, how pretentious of me. I was about to ask why he would want or need a live-in maid but then I remembered his schedule. John was still shooting scenes for that one popular series which was shot on location in New York and, in between time, would do some shows on Broadway.

The real question should’ve been why did he live in Persimmon Hills and not New York?

“Ah. Um… maybe I should call the agency to sort this thing out.” Not that I hated the live-in part but it was odd I knew nothing about that part!

“Only if you’d like. I’m curious: how long did they schedule you to be here?” it made me think back to the question marks. They finally made sense now… although the sensible thing would’ve been to just write that it was a live-in position.

“It didn’t say. I just assumed that it was just a really large house and that we would discuss the terms… now.”

“I see. I suppose that’s what we’re doing. If it makes you feel better, you don’t have to move in tonight but since you’re here, I don’t see the harm in you working right now.”

“Oh, that was definitely the plan: I wasn’t trying to skimp out of work!” it thrilled me that he laughed along with me.

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The agency goofed big time, I found out after calling them. I knew there were those with solo jobs but I had never heard of a live-in position… until then. They happened but I was supposed to have known in advance before being assigned. While they still wouldn’t say why I was picked instead of someone more experienced, we negotiated my wages to compensate for the misunderstanding (once someone takes on a live-in position, they’re taken off the agency’s payroll. I wouldn’t be).

John was truly understanding about the situation. He feared that I would say no and he would have to go through the process all over again: he told me that he’d waited for nearly two weeks before hearing they would send someone. He felt bad about me not knowing and paid the fee for breaking my lease and I was promptly moved in. I didn’t have much to begin with so the move was fairly quick and easy.

I suppose I should stop here and do a bit of background info. I was a fan of John’s after I saw that he was casted as my favorite fictional character on TV. The show itself was absolute shit but I steadily watched just to get a glimpse of his portrayal of the character. Which I had to admit was the best one out there!

He grew on me and I knew it was because he played the character very well. He wasn’t a bad-looking man but if I was being honest with myself, appearance-wise, he wasn’t my type. I wasn’t a huge fan of dark chocolate skin but he wore it well: meaning, I had zero problems with the color of his skin! He had other attributes that I eventually found irresistible. He looked as though he was in shape, was taller than I expected and did I mention his smile? It could warm up an Eskimo!

I may or may not had developed a crush on the man over the years…

The deal worked out well for the both of us, when I thought about it. I had free room and board, and all I had to do was keep the place clean, do laundry and cook. It was just him and his house wasn’t ginormous so it wasn’t hard at all. I learned what he liked to eat and cooked it. I was glad that he was just as particular about things as I was and thrilled that he loved the way I folded his clothes and how I arranged the dishes! I didn’t want to call it OCD, because saying it would mean that I was OCD as well. Regardless, things were working out just fine.

John’s schedule started out a bit hectic so most of the times, I found myself alone in the house or if he was there, I saw very little of him. Well, in person, anyway: I made sure not to miss an episode of the show and I also followed him on Twitter and Instagram religiously. It was another thing that I found so admirable about him: we shared the same political and personal opinions. It aided in the two of us talking more. I was a bit awkward the first time he tried to strike regular conversation with me but remembered about his take on a lot of things I had a high opinion on. Our conversations became easier as the time passed and we became somewhat actual friends.

Before I could blink, I had lived in Persimmon Hills for a little over a year and had been working as John’s maid for six months. It saddened him that he was my only true friend and he encouraged me to get out and have fun. Meet new people, he said. Because I did have associates within the cleaning agency, I took it as: “try to find a boyfriend” but it didn’t matter. I had always been socially awkward so the night ended not the way I expected or wanted it to. Many a night, I would come back home with a slight frown: if John was there, the two of us would talk about it throughout the night. I enjoyed those nights and I found it delightful he never had “company” around. It made me wonder if he was as single as myself.

I was washing the dishes after our small dinner, something I whipped up because it was my birthday. John hadn’t said a word about it and I was fine with that: you’d have to have known that it was my birthday in order for you to remember! But, he was beside me, drying and putting up the dishes.

I gave him a surprised look: it was the first time he’d ever helped me. “Oh… you don’t have to do all that.”

“It’s your birthday, love.” He shrugged and a bit of that lovely accent came out, making my toes curl a bit. “I was against you cooking today but I don’t know: you looked as though you didn’t want anyone to make a big deal about it so… I didn’t, against my instincts.”

I stopped washing and looked at him. “W-Wait… how’d you know?”

“For one, you don’t hide much online.”

“You looked me up…?”

“I had to. I was inviting a total stranger to live in my home: why wouldn’t I do some research on said person? I get that the agency is top-notch but I still felt more comfortable doing a background check, myself.” He explained. It made a hell of a lot of sense, really. I could’ve been some con artist, a shitty employee with the agency, waiting on my “big break” and robbed him blind.

“Oh…” I nodded and because I didn’t have much else to say, I went back to washing. John gave out a small and quick chuckle before abandoning his drying duties. I said nothing as he left the kitchen, leaving me to my thoughts. I wanted to smack myself: why didn’t I tell him thank you for acknowledging my birthday? Now, he probably thought I was some rude and cold bitch.

I panicked more as I thought about what he said. He did a background check on me. Not that I had anything to hide because he was right: I poured my heart and soul online. I had never been in too much trouble, at least none that would get me jailed or prevented me from getting any type of job. It was the fact that he probably knew I followed him on two social media sites and got a glimpse at how much of a fangirl I really was.

He probably thought I was a bit of a wacko…

My thoughts were interrupted by John clearing his throat behind me. I turned to see what was wrong… and I wanted to cry. That gorgeous smile was stretched across his face and he had a small cake in his hands. All I could do to keep from crying was gasp.

“Don’t be upset with me for going with my instincts. Now, is it too much for me to say that… you look nowhere near forty?” he smiled as I approached him. How could I be mad at him: he just made my millennia! I was suddenly glad that he took the time to do a check on me: he probably even got my favorite type of cake down right. I glanced at the white cake with purple lettering and flowers: he got my favorite color right!

I cleared my throat to make sure my voice didn’t waver. “You know what they say: black don’t crack.”

“So much truth in that! You age so beautifully, Nicole.” He always knew what to say or do to make my cheeks ache, regardless of if he knew they did or not! The achy feeling grew tenfold with the way he looked at me as he said it. John put the cake down on the table and lit the candles: there was only a “4” and a “0”, thank the gods!

“T-Thank you…” I remembered that he gave me a compliment and simply looked at him, not knowing what else to say or do… although the ideal thing was to just blow out the damn candles. But, nope: idiot mode was in full effect!

“Are you waiting on me to sing to you as well? I can’t promise it will sound pleasant.”

“Wait, w-what? No! I mean, if you wa… I just… um, thank you so much, John…” I was flabbergasted by his idea and he simply laughed as I blew out my two candles.

“You act as though no one celebrates your birthday.”

“Actually… no one does.”

“What? But… this is a huge milestone.”

“I think fifty is the big milestone one. And, well, only my family celebrates it but they’re not here so…”

“Any birthday in increments of ten is a milestone,” he nodded as he handed me a knife to cut my cake. As I did so, John went to his cabinets and fetched a couple of tumblers along with one of his favorite bottles of scotch (I knew this because it was one of the only ones I’d seen him drink). While I placed small slices of cake on plates, he poured small amounts of the alcohol and handed me a glass. I wrinkled my nose at it: I wasn’t a scotch person. Well, I lied: I never had scotch before so I didn’t know, honestly. “Oh. Maybe I should’ve asked if you liked scotch.” He, of course, noticed.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve never had it but it’s my birthday so I’ll at least taste it.”

“Atta girl! Cheers, then.” He lifted his glass and we toasted. I gathered my nerves and took a sip of the stuff and it burned something awful as soon as it hit my tongue. After that though, it surprisingly was smooth as it went down my throat. What was in the glass looked like a normal shot so I downed the rest of it, making a face because of the burn but licked my lips soon afterwards. My face became hot as I noticed the look he gave me when I did so: it was like he enjoyed watching me lick my lips. His eyes narrowed only for a second before they gleamed and they landed on my own eyes.


“A bit strong but I think I could sip on it… slowly.” I told the truth and he let out a laugh.

“As much as I want to lecture you on how to drink a good scotch… let’s find you something you’ll like.”

“I’ll drink to that… literally,” I didn’t mean for it to be a joke but John laughed and it made me happy. “Seriously, I’m not that big on drinking alcohol, anymore. I’ll have a glass of wine, though.”

“Only a glass? It’s your birthday.” He tried as he went to his wine rack. I gave out a chuckle but went to wash the tumbler out. I didn’t have to, I knew this but it gave me an excuse to peek at which wine he would choose. My eyes widened for a moment as he took out a bottle of sweet white that I couldn’t pronounce but really liked: he knew me too well…

“Sounds like you’re trying to get me drunk, sir…”

“Mmm… perhaps,” he surprised me so badly, I nearly dropped the glass! I jerked around to catch his expression and John laughed heartily. “Of course not! This is too easy…”

Although he said the intention wasn’t to get me drunk, we stayed up and drank! It didn’t go unnoticed that John made sure I had a full glass, regardless of my initial stance of having only one. I didn’t mind it, to be honest: we were having a good time, talking about random things. If I thought it was too much, I would’ve stopped him three glasses ago but I was too tipsy at the moment to blame anyone.

“John, can I ask you something?” I was glad I wasn’t at the point of slurring. A miracle, after I saw that the bottle was empty as he poured me another glass. I felt bad: he’d stuck to his scotch so that meant I cleared the bottle by myself.

“Anything.” He got up to throw the bottle away but I saw he grabbed another one, uncorking it.

“I never see you bring a girlfriend here. Why’s that?” I didn’t want to say that it bothered me but I was highly curious about the situation. When he sat, there was a surprised look on his face. “Oh. Um… boyfriend, then? I mean, whatever you’re into. I swear, I won’t judge.” The idea oddly put a tug on my heart. Why was it that I was okay with him having a girlfriend but a boyfriend? That meant there was no way in hell he’d ever be attracted to me.

Not that it mattered: it was a pipe dream for him to gain feelings for me. Nobodies didn’t get their fantasy fulfilled.

I didn’t know how to feel as he gave out a deep laugh. “I’m straight, to answer your last question first. And, there’s no girlfriend to bring here. Dating is kind of hard for me to do right now.”

“Oh, that’s right. Your schedule.”

“Exactly. But even if it wasn’t that: not too many women find me attractive.” He shrugged. I sucked my teeth and took a sip of wine, telling myself that it would be my last glass.

“Weird…” I let slip out. I didn’t notice the blunder until I saw the look he gave me. Oh… damn my loose lips when drinking! I bit them in embarrassment and tried to think of a cover up but my mind was stuck.

“Wait. Do you… you think I’m attractive?”

“I… um… well… yes…” now my brain wanted to make words come out my mouth and the alcohol made sure that it was the truth! I couldn’t look at him after my confession as I felt flushed from embarrassment. Had I been sober, there was no way I would’ve said anything!

“Really?” he was shocked and it was the only reason why our eyes met. A blush appeared on his cheeks and it warmed my entire being. I made John blush!


“What’s so attractive about me?”

“You… you really want me to answer that?”

“I asked…”

“Smart ass…” I thought I mumbled but it tickled him. Seeing him laugh relaxed me enough to be honest with his question. “Your smile, for starters. The way you carry yourself: you’re so confident in everything you do.”

“My smile? You like my smile?”

“I love your smile…” oh, what the fuck, mouth? I could feel the blush taking over my face and I set my glass down on the table: yep, no more of you, tonight!

“Thank you. No one’s ever said that about me. I think you’re gorgeous as well, and that puzzles me as to why youre the one dateless. On your birthday, even.”

“Don’t start. I tried but I told you I’m awkward.”

“You’re not awkward around me. Well, not anymore: thank God you grew out of that!” he smirked and I laughed.

“Shut up! You know it’s different with you.” I shrugged and grabbed my glass once more. Wait…

My tipsy mind backtracked to what he said beforehand. Holy fuck: he said I was gorgeous! We both just confessed we found each other attractive. In someone’s fanfiction, the next move would’ve been for our lips to “crash together in a heat of passion” or some shit. Instead, we sat and looked at one another. At least, I looked at him: John’s eyes moved slightly to my lips. The whole ordeal made me tingle as I did the same.

Would it hurt to have a small kiss? I was the birthday girl. All we had to do was scoot a tad bit closer and bam: lip-locking. I wasn’t the greatest of kissers but I knew that his lips would feel fantastic against mine. And because we were both full of alcohol, that kiss would lead to a heavy make out session to his or my bedroom (I personally preferred sex but knowing my brain, I would stop it before things got that far).

But, of course, nothing happened. As soon as I looked at his luscious lips, his eyes jumped back to mine and he scooted away from me: damnit! It was subtle but seeing that I was already naked with my legs wrapped around his waist in my mind, I noticed it. I cleared my throat and downed the rest of my wine.

“One more?”

“No more! I need to be able to walk to my room… and function in the morning.”

“Nonsense. You have a day off tomorrow.”

“Wait… I do?”

“Of course. Let’s just call this your birthday week. And dinner’s on me tomorrow night.”

“W-What? John…”

“No buts. It doesn’t feel right for you to work and not celebrate or relax for your birthday. We’ll even do a little shopping tomorrow, my treat as well.” He lifted his glass and finished his scotch. I blushed from head to toe and kept my mouth shut: he sounded as though he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

If that lovely man wanted to treat me for my birthday, who was I to argue?

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