She fell onto the sofa, sipping from her cup and flipping through the pages. It was dense reading, but she soon found herself engrossed with the history of The Sanctuary. She had to admit. It fascinated her. She’d felt the people who had lived there a century before peeking out of the walls as she walked by.
At the back of the prospectus, there were pictures of former interns, all smiling happily. Each had written a small bio and spoke eloquently about her time at the Sanctuary, her sorrow at leaving it but her excitement to go out into the world a better, more thoughtful woman with the caring masters as mentors for the rest of her life.
They didn’t seem very caring today, she mused. They intimidated her, every one of them. She knew there were more than the six she had seen. She couldn’t imagine what more would feel like, their eyes looking into her and seeing all her faults. She had to admit, it felt good as well.
She wondered when she would hear back from the Sanctuary and its Masters, but most of all, she hoped it would be positive.
*
“Why this house? Why not one of the more liberal ones like Oceana. They go whale watching.”
She was having breakfast with her roommate on the concourse. The morning sun was gentle, and a soft summer breeze was coming in off the water. At the table beside her, two slaves were lapping from water bowls while their owners enjoyed the waffles. She sighed with longing.
“You read the portfolio, the Sanctuary has been here for centuries, and they do lots of good work for the community.” She put a fork full of pancakes in her mouth. “Did you know they were the first house?” She chewed as she spoke, and Paul wiped her chin with his napkin.
“You won’t be able to do that at the Sanctuary.” Paul took a bite of his toast. “I agree with you. This could be a great opportunity for you, and you’re always doing good things for people. I just don’t want you to lose sight of what’s important to you. Don’t get caught up in corporate mumbo jumbo?”
“Lose sight of what? I have zero direction. If I knew what was important, I’d have something to lose sight of. I think they could help me with that. Their daily routine alone would get me more organized. It consists of hours of learning about all kinds of things, including the environment.”
Paul held up his hands. “Ok, I’m sold. This would be good for you. And they sound old-fashioned enough for you too.”
They were incredibly old-fashioned. There were pages and pages of rules. Interns must address all men as Master, they must be appropriately dressed in elegant feminine wear, even when working in private and retiring for the evening. They must dress for lunch and then again for dinner. They must stop what they are working on and kneel when a Master enters the room, speaking only when addressed. The interns may socialize after their assignments for the day have been completed to the master’s satisfaction and after their project time has been fulfilled. They may not gossip or speak unkindly and only in soft voices without any negative words. Goodness, it was like being taken back a century.
Paul hugged her. “I’m going to have to break in a new roommate. It’ll be hell.”
“What are you talking about? You’ll be interning at the Farm, learning to tie up poor boys and girls and whip them into shape.” She sipped her coffee and watched a couple of walk by, the woman on an elegant leash.
“Wouldn’t that be great? I might get to rig up a ponygirl this year.”
“I’ll still see you when I can.” She said. “ Listen to us, we don’t even know if I’ve got it yet.”
“You’re a shoo-in.”
When they got home, the mailman had been and in the letterbox was an envelope with gold Embossing. She picked it up with excitement and then shoved it into Paul’s hand. “You read it. I can’t. I’m too excited.”
“You’re hoping on this, aren’t you?”
She nodded, her hair falling over her face. She pushed it back impatiently.
Amelia,
You are requested at the Sanctuary for an in-depth interview to assess your suitableness for the position of slave intern. You are required to provide three references of good character and an essay by your hand detailing your desire to serve the Sanctuary, to be delivered to the Sanctuary’s letterbox by close of business today so that it may be assessed before your arrival. Your interview will commence promptly at 9:00 am Wednesday and will be completed by 1:00 pm. Be prompt and wear respectfully attired. Failure to fulfill the above criteria will see your immediate disqualification for the position.
Cordially,
Master Raphe.
“Holy Cow, are these guys serious?” He closed the door behind them when a knock and a giggle sounded. His internship at the Farm was accepted, delivered by a dancing cow who turned out to be two slave interns, one at the front and one at the back of the cow, and they both stayed for lunch.
Amelia was too busy to eat. She locked herself in her room and bunched up page after page until she felt she had the perfect essay. She ran out of her room, grabbing a coat and looking at the time. “Oh my stars, I’m late. I have to deliver this essay.”
“Slow down before you twist an ankle.”
“Paul, you have to lay out what I’ll wear.” She looked for one shoe and then the other, turning around in circles. “A dress.” She closed the door behind her but opened it again. “Oh, and gloves. Do I have gloves?”
He shooed her down the street.
It was a beautiful day, and she walked. She went over in her head possible interview questions. She didn’t want to be lost for words like she had been the day before. She walked up the hill, her mind racing over possibilities, hoping the essay she had put together was good enough. She had been far more eloquent in words than she had been face to face. She detailed her desire to contribute to the various charitable institutions the Sanctuary was involved in. The chance to concentrate on her nonexistent goals in such glorious historical surroundings was critical. Still, she didn’t underestimate the opportunity to be mentored by such esteemed gentlemen. She was proud of the word esteemed.
On the way, she passed several notices pinned to community boards reminding residents that an internship was compulsory between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one. To get their pledges in by the end of the week, or placement would be made for them.
She turned the corner and reached the Sanctuary gate and was once again taken in by its grace and beauty.
“Lovely, isn’t she.” The soft voice came from behind the gate. Amelia looked up to see a beautiful woman, perhaps only a few years older than herself, turning the handle of the iron gate and stepping out onto the sidewalk. “You must be Amelia.” She held her hand out. It was gloved in soft white leather. Heavens thought Amelia, gloves are a thing here. The woman’s dress was like many she owned or rather ones she owned but had no occasion to wear. Her hair was perfectly chiffon, her makeup flawless, and her smile warm. “I’m Rachel, one of the current interns at the Sanctuary. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Amelia shook her hand and blushed. “You have?”
“Why yes, and such charming things too. That’s your essay and portfolio, I hope. I’m so glad you decided to accept the invitation.”
“Yes, I’m supposed to put them in the letterbox.”
Rachel walked a few paces along the curb and pointed to the large brass box. “Just put it right in here. John will be out to collect it shortly.”
“Thank you. I hope they will be enough.”
Rach took her hand and squeezed. “I am sure they will be. You and the Sanctuary are a perfect match.” Her smile was warm. “Oh, here is my car. I must go.” She leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Amelia’s cheek. “Good luck tomorrow, enjoy yourself and try to relax. They aren’t as terrifying as they look.”
Amelia laughed nervously, watching Rachel get in a long black limousine, the door held open by a chauffeur whom she smiled at brightly and thanked.
Goodness, through Amelia. She was so beautiful and stylish. Why would they want me?
Amelia's Mind 
Leave a comment