Chapter 8: Domesticity

Westinghouse Towers

New Pittsburgh, Mars

Saturday, October 3, 2150

“Where’s your wife?” Tasty Brown asked Paul Winston.

“She’s in the bedroom,” he replied, pointing a finger in the general direction. “Finding more crap to pack, I guess.”

Tasty and Walker Stevens had come over to help the Winston family move into their new apartment. The apartment was finally ready to move into, painted and with new carpet. They weren’t the only ones. Jill Hawker, their next-door neighbor, had shown up with her two boyfriends; she told Paul and Mary that they were the brawn, and she was the brains. They rolled their eyes and snorted loudly, but she calmed them down by cupping her breasts through her t-shirt and jiggling them. “I’m also part of the entertainment,” she said.

Tasty laughed and jiggled her tits in her t-shirt and said, “Good idea!”

Mary cupped her breasts and said, “Me, too.”

“What entertainment?” asked Randy, the Winston’s ten-year-old son.

“Never you mind, buster!” replied his mother. “Now, is all your stuff in boxes?”

“Uh ... yeah.”

“And maybe you need some supervision? Get back to your room and get everything in boxes!”

The others laughed at that and looked over at the apartment door, which was now open, with a freight cart coming in. Walker said, “I know all we need to know about operating one of these. I ran one when we landed here.”

Jill asked, “What do you mean?”

“Paul and Mary and the boys came here from EastHem on the same ship I did. After we landed, Paul got a job as a farmer and Mary got on at Whiting Memorial as an orthopedics nurse. I, on the other hand, got a job refurbing ghetto apartments, and I spent weeks taking freight carts of carpet and cabinets in and freight carts of garbage out.” He turned to Mary. “No matter how disgusting you think your sons’ junk is, it could never be worse than the stuff I used to haul around!”

That earned laughter from everybody in earshot. Then, once the freight cart was in the living room, the self-proclaimed expert took over. Walker said, “Let’s get the big stuff on first. Couch and armchairs and the rest of the living room stuff.” He supervised as the bulky furniture was put on the freight cart, along with hemp storage boxes filled with smaller stuff. Then he had Jill’s boyfriends take that out and he brought in a second cart. “Dining room table, chairs, and the beds next.”

Walker and Paul took the second freight cart up forty floors to the new apartment. They found the first cart empty and Jill entertaining her boyfriends in the master bedroom. “Let’s hope Mary and Tasty aren’t up to no good,” Paul said to Walker.

Walker snorted and said, “Hey guys, great work so far. We’ll take the first cart down. You guys empty the second one.” He looked at Paul and shook his head; it wasn’t clear the others were even paying attention.

The first cart was taken back down to the Winston’s original apartment, where it was loaded with more bedroom furniture and more boxes of stuff. Moving took several more trips. While personal clothing was minimal in a society that only wore shorts and tops, there was still a lot to move. Mary took the second trip upstairs as entertainment, and Tasty took the third. “God bless Mars!” whispered Walker after Mary took care of him and Paul.

Mary supervised where everything was placed. PJ and Randy sorted out their room; they were still sharing a room. The spare was designated as a guest room, though Paul and Mary were seriously considering hiring a house bitch to help them with their larger residence. Pizza was ordered from Grimaldi’s on the first floor, and Walker and Tasty sprang for a couple of large jugs of inexpensive EastHem Chianti. After dinner, the two boys organized their room and played vid games while the grownups loaded up a bong and had fun in the living room. At the end of the night, Jill took her boyfriends downstairs, and Tasty took Walker up to the roof park for an intimate evening.

Martian Employment Service Kiosk

Whiting Memorial Hospital, New Pittsburgh, Mars

Monday, October 19, 2150

Mary Winston went down to the MES kiosk in the lobby of Whiting Memorial during her lunch break. She had never done what she was about to do and wasn’t quite sure how it worked. The kiosk was a group of standalone terminals unattended by any humans. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do what she planned if somebody was there; she was supremely embarrassed!

Intellectually, she knew she shouldn’t be. While she had never hired a servant before, she knew servants weren’t unknown on Mars. She’d even met several. Medical professionals were well paid on Mars, and more than a few of her colleagues had live-in servants to cook and clean and otherwise take care of their apartments. They even had a job title - house bitch! Most were young women working their way through college, but she knew a pair of doctors who were rump rangers and had hired a young man to take care of their place. College on Mars was free, but room and board were not. Unless a student wanted to live in low-income housing and survive on the basic stipend, they needed to get a job on the side.

Mary stepped up to the first empty terminal and looked at the instruction screen. The instructions were to say her name and touch the derm pad. She looked around nervously, since it seemed that the entire planet could see her, but nobody seemed to care. She said, “Mary Winston,” and touched the lighted pad. The screen changed and showed two large blocks. One read, ‘Are you looking for work?’ and the second read, ‘Do you want to hire somebody?’ A smaller third block at the bottom allowed you to request a human. She touched the second block, and a new screen came up, asking her to type the type of position she was trying to fill. Rolling her eyes, she typed ‘house bitch’.

Mary was expecting to get a list of names, but a human popped on the screen next. He said, “Welcome to the Martian Employment Service. You’re looking to hire a house bitch?”

Mary turned bright red, and she stammered out, “Uh, yeah.”

“Very cool. The MES is happy to help. We have some great candidates for you to consider!” he told her.

“Okay.”

“Let’s figure a few things out first. Where is your apartment? We want to make sure it’s close to wherever the candidate goes to school.”

Mary answered, “We live in the New Pittsburgh Towers.”

“Oh, very nice! And are you looking for a male or female? Is this for a full-service position?”

“Uh, a woman ... You can actually request full service?”

The man smiled and said, “Technically, no. Nobody can require that of anybody, not on Mars, anyway. Still, like I just said, this is Mars, and these are young people who generally enjoy sex. The decision is up to them, though.”

“Well, yes, of course. We’re not like that.”

“Okay. So, who is we? Are you married? Straight? Is your partner a man or a woman? Any particular issues?” he asked.

Mary grew bug-eyed as she listened to the questions. She squeaked out, “Uh, it’s me and my husband. No particular problems or issues or interests. We’re pretty normal, I think.”

He smiled. “On Mars, that can be a big range! Do you lick clits?”

Mary’s blush turned bright scarlet. “Yes.”

“Any particular body types you like or dislike? Are there children in the family? Any particular health issues or stuff we need to worry about? What kinds of foods do you like to eat?”

Mary answered as best she could. Her embarrassment lessened when they were talking about cooking and cleaning and the boys.

“Okay, I think I have an idea on what you are looking for. Here’s what happens next. I come up with some candidates and we’ll contact them. If anybody’s interested - and I’m sure there will be - we’ll have them contact you. We have your personal info and your husband’s on file.”

Mary asked, “So how does this work?”

“Well, a typical interview might have the person visiting you, seeing how you live and where, maybe cooking a meal or two, and meeting the entire family. Then, later, if everything else has worked out, you and the candidate can... discuss any other possibilities,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Is there anything else the Martian Employment Service can help you with?”

“Uhhh ... I don’t think so.”

“Well, in a few years, when your sons are looking for a job, be sure to remember us.”

“Does the MES buy and sell teenagers, too?” Mary asked.

He just grinned and said, “Take care.”

The screen blanked and went back to the first display. Mary shook her head and went back to her floor. If she got lucky, she’d be able to grab something to eat on her next break.

Westinghouse Towers

New Pittsburgh, Mars

Thursday, October 22, 2150

“Exactly how does this work again?” asked Paul Winston.

“I have told you this five times already. She will be coming over this afternoon and cooking dinner. She’ll also look around the place and get an idea on how much work cleaning it will involve. After that, if anybody, her or us, has a problem we can just call it off. I was talking to Tasty and a few other people she knows. About half the time people just don’t mesh and they move down their list,” answered Mary.