Chapter 1

My name is Donald Barker and I guess you can say I'm your average looking guy. At age 24 I was in OK shape, with broad linebacker shoulders and curly dark brown hair down to my shoulders. I used to work at the local supermarket to put myself through college, and they didn't allow beards so I had only a mustache then. I was a little heavier then and people said that I looked like Ron Jeremy. That was 50 pounds ago and now I have a full goatee.

After graduating college, I got work as a computer programmer. I wasn't paid the best, but I only went to City College and not a 4 year school. I just couldn't pay attention in class. Too boring! Now I rent a small 2 bedroom house with a small yard in a decent neighborhood (I don't have to worry about going for a walk at night). It stretches my budget, but it's worth it.

I have had a decent life so far except one thing: NGFL. Nice Guys Finish Last. I'm an easy going nice guy with lots of friends, but I am terminally single. Every girlfriend I have had broke up with me with one of the same lines, "I don't want to ruin our friendship" or "I only see you as a friend." My last girlfriend was 4 years ago. I know I just don't have the confidence I need with women, I guess I just fear rejection; and women see that as a sign of weakness. It drives me mad! Of course, no girlfriend means no sex, so the last 4 years have been spent with Palmila Handerson while surfing the net. Well, life goes on, and although depressingly single, so did I.

It was Friday after work, and I was at the supermarket picking up some groceries. It was the same grocery store I used to work at those couple of years ago. The main reason I still go there is Tammy. Tammy is a 20 year old blond cutie. She couldn't have been over 5 feet and has perky breasts no more than a small handful. Her figure just screams cheerleader. She has an infectious smile and was always nice to me when I worked there and she was a bagger. Now she is a checker and still cute. I just stop in to pick up the essentials and wait in her line.

"Hey Don, how's life treating you?" She asks me.

"Oh you know; the same old same old." I replied.

I wish I could just say 'Hey baby, let's go out', but just can't. I don't know why I can't. Is it just the fear of rejection? Why can't I just take the chance for once! But no, my lips are sealed to that avenue of talking. Instead the usual small talk follows and I head out to my car. On the way out I notice an old man in nice suit directly behind me in line with just a pack of gum. What was weird was the express lane was empty. Well, Tammy is really cute, I can't blame the guy.

I get out to my car, an '85 Honda Civic; OK looking, reliable, but sure not to get me laid. As I load my few groceries into the car the man with the pack of gum walks up and says "Mr. Barker?"

"Who are you?" is my witty reply.

"My name is Tom Reynolds, and I am about to grant you your dreams."

Needless to say I instantly believed him and signed over my life savings. Yea right! He could tell I didn't believe him, of course, not many would. Maybe it was the smirk I couldn't wipe off my face.

He pulls out a $100 bill and hands it to me saying "A parking lot is not the best place to talk. Is it worth $500 more to just listen to me for an hour?"

In with the bill is a card with an address here in town; the REALLY nice part of town. I think, 'what the hell, I could use the money and the laugh.' And tell him sure.

He then climbs into his car (a REALLY nice classic roadster) and leaves. Of course, I'm not stupid, and at the same time a little paranoid (I prefer cautious) so I call my friend and give him the address. "If I don't call you back in an hour and a half, calling you Betty, (his name is Mike) call 911." My ass covered, I head over to the address.

When I get there it's a gated home. Of course when I say home I mean REALLY BIG FUCKING MANSION. When I pull up to the gate I reach for the intercom but the gate starts opening before I can reach it. I guess I'm expected. When I get out at the front of the house, my jaw hits the floor. Standing at the front door is the most beautiful redhead I have ever seen, and she is wearing a French Maid costume. You know; the one in your most perverted dream. On a closer look she looked about 45, but gravity must have ignored those D sized tits. She was extremely fit and had long smooth legs that must have gone all the way to heaven. And her hair! Her hair was a flaming Irish red, the kind that can't come from a bottle, although I REALLY wanted to check. Now, usually I don't like older women. In fact, I tend to prefer them younger, sometimes too young if you get my drift. Now I'm not saying I enjoy looking at babies and little kids, but I'll take anything from teenager up.

I realized I must be staring so I picked my jaw off the roof of my car and finally remove the other leg (apparently I only got halfway out before acting stupid). I walked up and before I could introduce myself or drool and sputter something along those lines she speaks.

"Mr. Barker, the Master is expecting you in the library. Please follow me." And I could hear the capital in Master. Now another aside, I'm not really into the BDSM thing, as a matter of fact, the S&M part is a complete torn off for me, but a woman that dedicated to me? Well, let's just say my fantasies have strayed into that area.

As I was following her I couldn't help but thinking that I'd follow her anywhere. After a few minutes of admiring the work of an artist (not the paintings you dolt) I finally take in my surroundings. The home from the inside is very tastefully done. Everything has a taste of money and age to it but everything looks sturdy and usable. It isn't a house to look at; it's a home to live in. Down a long, Hey is that a real Van Gogh? Wow, real money. Anyway, down a long hallway, we finally get to the library.