Lots 087 : I Worked As A Topless Maid For One Day…(PART 1)

Today's episode is sponsored by I Know What You Did Last Summer.

Get it now on Digital.

When five friends inadvertently cause a deadly car accident, they cover up their involvement and make a pact to keep it a secret rather than face the consequences.

A year later, their past comes back to haunt them, and they're forced to confront a horrifying truth.

Someone knows what they did last summer and is hell-bent on revenge.

As one by one, the friends are stalked by a killer.

They discover this happened before, so they turn to two survivors of the legendary Southport massacre of 1997 for help.

Starring Madeline Klein, Chase Sue Wonders, Jonah Hauer King, with Freddie Prince Jr., and Jennifer Love Hewitt.

I know what you did last summer is a perfect summer slasher, says Jordan Cruciolo of NPR.

Your summer is not over yet.

Don't miss a killer movie night at home.

H equals W.

Well, well,

back again, are you?

You always seem to arrive on nights like this, when the wind won't sit still, and the dust settles

wrong.

Come in, hang your coat, but don't get too comfortable.

This one,

she sticks to the skin.

Tonight's lot isn't old, but that doesn't make it safe.

Lot 087 is a t-shirt, sized medium, fitted.

The words, dirty dusters printed across the chest in a thick, playful font.

There's a faint shimmer across the collar.

Glitter, maybe, or residue from something stranger.

It was donated anonymously, folded once, sealed in a plain Ziploc bag.

Inside, a note, unsigned, that read only,

one day was enough.

No origin, no return address, just this shirt, and a story told in two parts.

We begin with a young woman and her friend.

A one-time job.

A strange house.

A man with too much money.

And a contract.

This is Lot 087.

And this is the beginning of a story called...

I worked as a topless maid for one day.

What I saw terrified me.

Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass on this beautiful plaque I had made above the front desk.

These are some of the members of the inner circle of the antiquarium.

We go by the Obsidian Covenant.

Recent initiates include Peter Irizari, Laura Sanders,

Bayina Edwards, Oda Saku,

Cecily Jones, Tynika Williams, Melissa Asaturi, Johnny Morty,

Daniel Dawson,

and

Jerry Geralds.

We are ever appreciative of your devotion to the Order.

Go to theObsidian Covenant.com to receive the sacrament.

Now,

where were we?

Oh, yes.

Welcome to the Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings

and Odd Goings On.

I worked as a topless maid for one day.

What I saw terrified me.

Okay, so I have good news and bad news.

If there is a more butthole-clenching phrase said at a struggling company during a sudden all-hands meeting, I don't know what it is.

Thing was, Chester didn't need to say a single syllable.

His slouched shoulders, pale

face, and hang dog expression told us the entire story.

The company was going under.

Was an app primarily focused on finding local farmers' markets something the world was clamoring for?

It could have been if Chester hadn't started tinkering.

Things went south when Chester insisted on including an AI tool in the app.

He said it would give us an edge on Farm Market Plus, our rival.

He kept repeating to us that this was the wave of the future.

In the nicest ways possible, we tried to tell him how stupid this idea was.

AI was still too new and unreliable.

The app would lose all value if the AI screwed up and told people they could buy pumpkins in July at a market that didn't exist.

He wouldn't budge.

Worse, the company we hired had a sub-par product.

Jailbreaking the AI was too easy.

Open-ended questions jumbled its brain.

Instead of telling us where local farmers' markets were located, it gave us instructions on how to build a bomb with carrot sticks of dynamite.

As we stared at his sullen face, we understood that the wave of the future broke on what a disaster beach.

Despite not needing to, Chester still went ahead and told us just how screwed we were.

It wasn't pretty.

His dumb mistakes had blown up the company.

Based on what he laid out, those mistakes fell squarely in the, oh Jesus, did I really just bone my friend's dad area of Mistakeland?

You can't come back from that.

For the record, I've never done that.

Not that there weren't a few.

And well, never mind.

I'm getting off track.

The point was, the company was done.

Kaput.

Our last paychecks would go out this week, and they'd be prorated for only the days we worked this month.

Translation, less money.

Wasn't sure if that was legal, but there wouldn't even be a company to sue as of 10 o'clock this morning.

While I maintained a cool girl aesthetic, I was chernobling inside.

I could already barely afford my crappy apartment now.

A small last paycheck and no job prospects were catastrophic.

As I packed up my cubicle, I grabbed anything that wasn't nailed down.

You can judge me, but have you seen the price of toilet paper recently?

I did what I always did in times of despair, or triumph, joy, confusion, etc.

I went to visit my best friend, Alice.

Ace, she hated her name, always had a sympathetic ear and gave historically terrible advice.

I love her, but she's more of a free spirit, finding inspiration everywhere, not dwelling too much on the future, living in the moment.

I'm...

well, I worked for a farmer's market app.

I put contact paper down on my shelves when I I move into a new apartment.

I drop a pin to Ace whenever I go on a first date.

Long story short, if Ace suggested it, I did the opposite.

That place sucked.

Chester was weird and he would have killed like 10 farmers to get a date with you.

If he kills all the farmers, what becomes of their markets?

I don't know, maybe he can go work for one selling artisanal soap or handmade turquoise jewelry.

Ooh, or like fedoras.

He struck me as a guy with like a lot of fedoras lying around.

I'm so screwed.

Doll, you just got fired.

You can say fucked.

Say with me.

Fuck.

I can't.

You know that.

Oh, is this that whole what if my dick grandma heard me say that thing again?

It's ingrained in me at this point.

What am I going to do?

My rent is due in a week.

I'll have enough to cover, but nothing left over.

Oh my god, I got it.

I know how you can make great money super quick.

No big commitments either.

Don't say only fans, I said, moving my head into my hands.

Though, would that be so bad?

God, no.

You've got the goods, but not the personality to be a big earner.

They're like bubbly, or if the guys are rich, a dumb attitude.

Plus, you take hard photos.

You miss the day when every girl learned how to pose for a picture.

Maybe you could be a dom.

Ace, focus.

This great money-making idea is

be a topless maid with me.

I didn't respond right away because I went into a fugue state.

The only sounds I heard were Ace chomping on French baked goods and my blood rushing to my cheeks.

I hadn't even removed my top yet and I was already blushing.

Grandma would be so angry.

Did you stroke out?

Topless mate?

I didn't tell you about it.

No.

When the heck did you start that?

Three weeks ago.

It's part of my rotation of quasi-sex work-related jobs.

I'm cleaning up.

Literally.

Ha ha.

But seriously,

it's the easiest money I've ever made.

Some dude pays you $200 to clean two of their rooms for two hours.

You don't even have to do a decent cleaning job either.

I don't.

I didn't even know this was a thing.

Who hires topless maids?

Single dads,

let's see, older guys, some creepers.

They just want to watch some young thing bounce around and sweep up.

I think it's trad wife shit or something.

I don't know.

And I don't care because these guys pony up a lot.

This can't be safe.

Nothing about it sounds safe.

Are you safe?

I am.

The company gives you a bracelet that calls the cops in case something bad happens.

Plus, this and a big burly guy to keep watch from the street.

Ours is Brendan.

He's a dork and sweet, but doesn't look it.

Still look.

I had doubts too, but it's on the up and up.

I work with this girl and bro, she pulls down 15k a month from this shit.

15k?

Seriously?

As a heart attack.

Plus the guy's tip?

Generously.

Do they ever expect uh

extras?

I mean, yeah, some do.

I just say no.

If they insist, threaten to hit the button on your bracelet.

If that doesn't work, we call in Brendan.

So far, no one has done anything but look and compliment.

You should do it.

You've got the body for it, and your apartment is always neat.

What do you have to lose?

Try it once with me this weekend.

I can get you hired on.

I'm pretty sure my boss wants to fuck me.

Ace, really?

Why?

He gives me the eyes.

But seriously, come on, just until you get on your feet with the real job.

I wanted to laugh and say, of course not.

I wanted to pretend I was above that line of work.

I wanted to believe another decent job was right around the corner.

I wanted to believe these things.

But I also didn't want to live in my car.

I always avoided Ace's advice, and for good reason.

She's even agreed with me on that train of thought.

But then I remembered where she was versus where I was.

She was surviving comfortably in one of the most expensive cities in the country.

I was wondering how I could arrange my belongings in my car to achieve good feng shui.

Screw it.

Let's do it.

Oh my god.

For real.

For real.

Okay, I'll set up a meeting with my boss today.

Wear something slutty, but not too slutty.

Think a cocktail slutty.

Cocktail slutty?

Oh my god.

Classy, but shows off all the goods in a way where, like, I don't know, if the waiter gave you the eyes, you'd fuck them in the walk-in freezer.

Cheese and rice, ace.

For the record, I've never done that either.

No, no, I haven't.

Wait, no.

Two days later, I met with Mitch, the boss at Dirty Dusters.

My interview consisted of him looking me over, nodding, and saying, Yeah,

you'll do well here.

I filled out the required paperwork.

Reviewed the safety procedures, and was given my uniform.

A t-shirt with a sexy maid silhouette and the the words, Dirty Dusters.

We reach all the hard spots in sparkly script.

Ace was thrilled and gave me the rundown.

Things to avoid, things to do.

It mostly boiled down to being friendly, doing some cleaning, and baring your chest.

Simple enough?

I was nervous, but Ace assured me that after five minutes, you forget you're topless.

Okay, it's like people people on reality shows a day in and you forget there are cameras everywhere she had a point but my brain focused on the thought that maybe some of these guys have cameras all over

i brought it up to ace she looked at me took a sip from her iced coffee and jostled it

well all our nudes will be leaked at some point mitch had booked a job for saturday evening right some geezer in an empty mansion wants some jiggles on his way out he paid up front double what we quoted.

Just wants to see Tadies one more time before he kicks the bucket.

I mean,

kind of romantic, right?

We got to the house near sunset.

It was in the foothills and, even then, off the beaten path.

The driveway was nearly a mile from the road and lined with beautiful blooming jacaranda.

Fallen purple flowers covered the entire driveway.

It smelled like a perfume factory.

You felt the house before you saw it.

The aura was so powerful that it poked through those tree branches and struck at your soul.

The pull of old money.

Wait.

Hold on a second.

Do you smell that?

Lemon cleaner.

And metal.

Again.

That smell's been surfacing all evening.

It's stronger near this case.

The light's flickering again, too.

Ignore it if you can.

These artifacts don't love being looked at.

Let me just re-secure the clasp.

This story's only halfway told.

When you're ready, we'll go back in.

Get closer to the music you love with MasterCard.

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Get tickets early to see some of your favorite artists, like Red Hot Chili Peppers, the Avet Brothers, and Shabuzi.

See all of what's coming now at priceless.com/slash music.

Singing along with the ones that you love, Priceless.

Today's episode is sponsored by I Know What You Did Last Summer.

Get it now on digital.

When five friends inadvertently cause a deadly car accident, they cover up their involvement and make a pact to keep it a secret rather than face the consequences.

A year later, their past comes back to haunt them, and they're forced to confront a horrifying truth.

Someone knows what they did last summer and is hell-bent on revenge.

As one by one, the friends are stalked by a killer.

They discover this happened before, so they turn to two survivors of the legendary Southport massacre of 1997 for help.

Starring Madeline Klein, Chase Sue Wonders, Jonah Howard King with Freddie Prince Jr., and Jennifer Love Hewitt.

I know what you did last summer is a perfect summer slasher, says Jordan Crucciolo of NPR.

Your summer is not over yet.

Don't miss a killer movie night at home.

Why, hello there.

You've reached the antiquarium.

If you wish to leave a message, please do so at the town and have a great day.

Hi, Mr.

Shopkeeper, sir.

This is Aaron, one of the applicants who applied for the part-time position.

I'm just calling because it's been a while since I had my interview and I really think I'd be a good fit for the job.

I have a lot of experience in customer service.

I've done a lot of checkouts and handling cursed items.

So if you can give me a call back ASAP, I'd really like to know if I got the job.

And if I don't hear back from you within like the next week or so, I did receive an offer for a cashier position at Oddities and Oregons that I'm probably going to accept.

But anyway, call me back.

I'd love to hear from you, and I hope you have a great day.

End of messages.

There we are.

The light's steady for now.

Whatever happened in that house, whatever was waiting,

it left a mark on her,

On the fabric.

Maybe even on us.

Let's keep going.

Shall we?

You felt the house before you saw it.

The aura was so powerful that it poked through those tree branches and struck at your soul.

The pull of old money.

I felt out of sorts.

I've been around well-off people before.

Been in houses that I'd kill to live in, but nothing moved me like this.

It was like being struck dumb by a painting in a museum.

You froze, taking in every detail and letting the emotions, vibes, and sensations wash over you.

Dramatic, I know, but the whole place was freaking wild.

Fuck, this is noist.

Way nicer than my place.

You live in a studio apartment.

Yeah, and a shitty one at that.

This, though, this is some Spanish downtown downtown Abbey shit.

Think he has manservants?

He probably has manservants.

I would have manservants.

If he did, I don't think he would have hired us.

That's true.

If you like dudes, this place will be wall-to-wall with balls 24-7.

Guys are easy that way.

The house took my breath away.

When you live on the bleeding edge of poverty, seeing anything this valuable is a grim reminder of where you're coming from and how far you are from your dreams.

A cruel hope.

I was staring at a hacienda-style colossus that didn't look constructed so much as it looked conjured from a magician.

Violently pretty red bougainvillea climbed the white stucco walls, looking like floral veins bleeding everywhere.

A yawning archway opened into an elegant, two-tiered courtyard stuffed full of green plants.

Above the archway, several balconies were adorned with wrought iron sides.

It looks like a face.

You see that?

The balconies are the eyes and the arch is the mouth.

You see it?

Does that mean we're getting swallowed?

Don't be gross, freak.

The clanking of another car came puttering up the drive.

Crammed behind the wheel of a mini cooper was our bodyguard, Brendan.

The minuscule car almost jumped off the ground as he exited.

Brendan looked the part.

Tall, bulky, bald, and covered in tattoos.

Who owns this place?

Willy Wonka?

Okay, Brendan.

This is my bestie and newest dirty duster, Beth.

Protect her at all costs.

Brendan nodded.

Ace blew him a kiss, and I gave him a weird half-wave.

He posted up in the courtyard and made himself noticeable to anyone.

He pulled out a vape and took an aggressive hit.

As he blew out a plume of smoke that made his head disappear, Ace knocked on the door.

I don't know who I expected to open the door.

If TV and movies had been true, a stuffy personal valet would have answered and given us a courtesy bow before whisking us into the house.

A real Mr.

Jeeves kind of moment.

That's not what we got.

Instead, a heavy wooden door unlatched from the inside and swung open.

There wasn't anyone standing there.

I looked at Ace and she nodded up.

The setting sun reflecting off a camera lens.

We were being watched.

I mean, that's what we're hired to do, but if there were cameras here, then there were cameras everywhere.

What the hell?

Ace walked inside and plucked a handwritten note off the wall.

I, meanwhile, tripped and fell to the ground as the door shut immediately behind me.

Ace laughed and pulled me up by the hand.

Wow, control yourself, girl.

Come on.

What does it say?

Uh,

ladies, thank you for agreeing to this work.

I understand it may seem silly or even perverted for a man of my age to use your services, but I assure you I am neither.

Okay.

Feel free to change in the nearby bedroom and follow the illuminated sconces

to the first room.

Sorry about the front door.

It slams closed.

Yeah, we know.

It doesn't say that.

I mean, he should have put this note on the front door.

I mean, come on.

Let's get ready.

We entered the closest bedroom and stripped down.

I looked over and Ace was slathering glitter across the top of her chest.

She offered it to me, and I took it.

In for a penny.

What the hell kind of freaky picture is this?

The painting was of a faceless man holding a lantern over an open grave.

Dozens of fingers from unseen unseen people inside the grave clutched against the dirt.

At least, I thought they were fingers.

They had nails, but one too many knuckles.

Fingers bent at impossible angles.

Even the faceless man's hands looked incomplete.

It was like the artist had only heard about fingers from myths and legends.

That's concerning, right?

Like, that's that.

That's concerning.

The janky way they painted those fingers, or the figure hiding in the background ace walked up to the painting and pointed at the section right above the lantern's hand in the dark see it if she hadn't pointed it out I never would have noticed but among the dark background was the faint blue outline of a man

hiding watching my inner alarms blared Maybe we should go This is odd.

Oh no, I've clitted the girls already.

Look, we have Brennan outside.

She snapped the emergency bracelet on her wrist.

And we have an eye in the sky.

We're gonna be okay.

This painting.

Okay, it's fucking strange.

I agree, but rich people can afford to buy weird, expensive art.

That doesn't mean we're in danger.

You think I'd stick around here if I thought I was in danger?

You're just jittery.

Not shocking.

This is something way, way outside your comfort zone.

It's natural, especially for someone like you.

Someone like me?

She put her hand on her hip and and cocked her head.

Do I really need to get into this?

You don't even swear, and you're about to show some random old guy your boobs.

I mean, I don't need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out where this energy is coming from.

Holmes.

With an L.

That's what I said.

Holmes, Holmes, Holmes, whatever.

She threw up her middle finger.

Couldn't blame her.

I even found that obnoxious.

I exhaled and recentered myself.

Ace was right.

I was nervous.

I was outside my comfort zone.

I am a tightly wound bundle of nerves.

We had cover.

We were fine.

Look, if you're feeling unsure, it's no problem if you want to split.

I can handle this solo.

If every room is this spotless, I'm gonna do more dancing than cleaning.

Besides, I think Brendan wouldn't mind the company.

He loves to talk about something called Warhammer.

I don't know.

No, no, I'm good.

I flattened out my maid tutu.

Just because a few odd things occurred doesn't mean they're related.

Causation does not equal correlation, right?

Ace blew a huge pink bubble and let it pop.

You need more glitter on your tips.

We followed the lit sconces down a long hallway.

They would ignite as we approached and extinguish as we passed.

It felt very theme park-ish.

Disney World by way of Edgar Allan Poe.

The light stopped at the first room.

Another note was waiting.

Ace grabbed it.

Okay.

I may enter the room at some point to retrieve some documents.

Please do not be alarmed by my presence.

I will leave you to your work.

Don't be alarmed by my presence?

Fancy way of saying, respect me, bitches.

I say it to people all the time.

I'm aware.

I've gone out drinking with you.

Remember when you threatened to beat up that guy at Checkpoint Charlie's?

Yeah, well, he's lucky his friends held him back.

I would have rocked his shit.

My Muay Thai classes aren't just for photos.

To be fair, you do take a lot of photos at Muay Thai.

Well, yeah, because I look hot as shit.

She opened the door.

And the smell of ancient books flooded out.

My smile was so wide it made my face hurt.

Every inch of wall space, from floor to ceiling, was filled with bookshelves.

The room was lit by dozens of blazing candles and a lit fireplace.

The books were leather-bound tomes with names I'd never heard of before.

Most were in a language I'd never seen.

Incredible.

Think he's read them all?

No.

An ever-growing to read pile is what prompts most people to buy shelves in the first place.

I pulled one down.

The title was written in what can best be described as an elegant chicken scratch.

I opened the book and breathed in the scent.

I felt my heart flutter.

For the first time since I took this job, I felt joy.

Interesting book you have chosen.

We both froze.

The voice came from somewhere in the room.

Ace and I scanned, but didn't see another person hiding in the shadows.

I looked to the ceiling, but but failed to find the tell-tale reflection of a camera lens.

Do you recognize the language of that book?

I looked down at the cover.

It looked foreign to this planet.

I traced the words with my finger and tried to sound them out.

The words tripped and fell out of my mouth.

I thought of the Voynich manuscript.

Was this another one of those?

I don't.

Uh, Janet, how about you?

Dirty dusters preferred that we use fake names with all clients.

Not an uncommon practice in the stripper or breastaurant spaces.

Ace was Janet today.

I was Cindy.

Neither name fit our personalities, but I think that was the point.

Nope, I'm just here to clean and jiggle.

So

please clean, Janet.

You have a natural ability for it.

I could tell Ace took offense to that, but she was on the job.

Tips mattered.

She smiled, did a mocking little jump that set her moving, and started dusting the nearest shelf.

We locked eyes, and I could see the red on her face.

Nobody liked being talked down to, let alone for a paycheck.

I gave her a subtle nod.

She winked back.

Conversations in facial tics.

We were experts at it.

Open the book.

It was at that moment that what felt off about this entire conversation clicked.

This voice wasn't that of an old man.

Tell me what you see.

Are you the client?

Oh, I work with the client.

He likes to watch, but rarely speaks.

Now, um,

open the book.

Tell me what you see.

I randomly opened to a page somewhere in the middle.

More elegant chicken scratch scratch filled the right side.

Even the punctuation was radically different from ours.

What really caught my eye was the artwork on the left side.

It was an etching of a box hovering above ten open holes in the ground.

Extending from the box were ten elongated arms, almost human-like, but there were two elbow joints.

Each disappeared into a corresponding hole.

Some arms were red, some yellow, and a few were green.

The style was like the piece we'd seen earlier.

Just unsettling.

I hated it.

Do you like the artwork?

The client created it.

Why?

Someone asked him to

who

his um

muse,

of course.

ESPMZZV

HCTPDM

LNV.

Thank you for your patronage.

Hope you enjoyed your new relic as much as I've enjoyed passing along its sordid history.

It does come with our usual warning, however.

Absolutely no refunds, no exchanges, and we won't be held liable for anything that may or may not occur while the object is in your possession.

If you've got an artifact with mysterious properties, perhaps it's accompanied by a history of bizarre and disturbing circumstances, maybe you'd be interested in dropping it and its story by the shop to share with other customers.

Please reach out to antiquariumshop at gmail.com.

A member of our team will be in touch.

Till next time, we'll be waiting for you whenever you close your eyes in the space between sleep and dream.

During regular business hours, of course, or by appointment, only for you,

our

best customer.

You have have a good night now.

The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings.

Lot 087.

I Worked as a Topless Maid for One Day.

Part 1.

Written by Sunhead Prime.

Starring Jessica McAvoy as Beth.

Melissa Medina as Alice.

Conan Freeman as Brendan.

Jared Rivet as Mitch.

Mike Crank as Chester.

Trevor Shand as the voice, featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer.

Engineering production and sound design by Trevor Shand.

Theme music by the Newton Brothers.

Additional music by Coag, Vivek Abishek, Clement Panchow, Nicholas Redding, and Conan Freeman.

The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is created and curated by Trevor and Lauren Shand.

Follow us on Instagram and Twitter at Antiquarium Pod.

Call the Antiquarium at 646-481-7197.

Hello and welcome to the world of Scare You to Sleep.

I'm your host, Shelby Novak, a show for those of us who need something a little stronger than counting sheep, who find horror to be a strangely relaxing escape.

Here you'll find a myriad of fright-filled tales, from fictional to true stories, to high strangeness to guided nightmares, where I take you on a journey through your own personal nightmare.

So come get lost in the terror with me.

Listen to Scare You to Sleep, wherever you listen to podcasts, sweet screams.