Britney cleaning his house.

And so Britney found herself on Mr. Lash's weathered front porch the next day. Rather than being grateful she was furious. She had argued with her mother all night after he had left. She had argued that this was like slavery! He hadn't even given a time frame. Just that she was to be at his house seven days a week at noon, ready to work.

Lash's home was huge but in a horrible state of disrepair. The once white picket fence surrounding his barren yard was now a dingy grey, with every few pickets now askew. With a resentful sigh she seized the scarred brass knocker and announced her presence. She was prepared to flee if he didn't answer right away, but he did.

"Hello young thief", he sneered at her. "Come in, come in. You're late." He motioned to an ancient, dusty grandfather clock along the wall of the main room with his cane. As Britney stepped in she almost fainted. Waves of disorientation washed over her. She stumbled into Mr. Lash who held her steady with strength surprising from such an old man. He groped her tit, but she was too out of it to notice.

Britney looked around the room as she regained her equilibrium. It was huge, cavernous. The quality of light had changed as well, much more than could be blamed on the filthy windows. She struggled to the door and flung it open, Mr. Lash leering all the while. She stepped out onto the porch and just gaped. The sun and the moon were parallel with each other in the sky. The light was tinted blue, a sort of permanent twilight. The air beyond the porch flickered and wavered. It hurt Britney's eyes if she stared at it too hard.

She reached out a hand to the wavering air. It tingled unpleasantly upon contact and **** her hand back. She couldn't leave. She sensed Mr. Lash behind her.

"Come on girlie", he said, putting a gnarled hand on her shoulder. "Shift's not up yet."

"My mother's expecting me home tonight", she managed.

"And she won't be disappointed. But neither will I. Time moves differently here".

He led her back inside.