A Maid's Career

During career counselling my councillor asked me what I liked doing and what I was good at. I promptly said housework. She immediately scorned the idea of a woman doing housework as a career. Women have long moved away from that sort of thing. Why didn't I consider a real career? Why, I wanted to know, should I spend long years studying for a career I didn't want and probably wouldn't like? I already knew how to do housework, was good at it, and enjoyed seeing a place neat and tidy after I'd finished.

The councillor thought my ideas were archaic and suggested that I ought to see the school psychologist. I needed to move with the times. I thought I was moving with the times. Have you seen how much a maid can earn per hour? Build up a regular clientele and you can make a mint. Houses always need to be cleaned and with all those modern women out working at their careers they didn't have time to do it. Enter me, smiling and willing to do their work and take their cash.

I had an Aunt who had already set up her own cleaning company and she hired me straight away. If I worked out she said I could buy into the company after a few years, taking it over when she retired. It was a case of leave school and start a lucrative job, as long as I was willing to put the effort in.

By the time I was twenty one I was making good money and had already entered into a partnership agreement with my Aunt. I had to take some bookkeeping and accountancy courses but my mathematics skills weren't too bad and all bookkeeping is is an attention to detail, which I'm quite good at. I had a string of regular customers who requested that I, specifically, do their housework, rather than one of the general maids our company hired out. That's generally how it works when we do a good job. People ask for the same person each time.

On the day that the incident happened I was working for one of my steadies. The place was home to an older man and his son, Brad and Jason. The old guy was neat enough but his son was a bit of a slob. Hopefully he'd grow out of it as he matured. The first time I cleaned for them I thought I'd lost any repeat business for myself when I flatly refused to clean the son's room.

"Anytime I come around to clean and I can't see the floor in your son's bedroom, I'm not cleaning it," I told the father. He just laughed and seemed to think this was quite reasonable. Jason let me know that he didn't think so, but he still made sure his floor was reasonably clean for future visits.

Anyway, there I was, vacuuming the front room and Jason came smarming into the room and the look on his face made me instantly suspicious.

"What do you want and the answer's going to be no?" I said.

"Don't be like that, Kylie," he grumbled. "I'm in a little bit of a jam and I need you to help me."

"Why me? You've got a perfectly good father. Speak to him."

"He'd laugh and say it was my own fault and that I'm an idiot. Besides, he can't help me in this instance. Only you can."

"Really?" My voice oozed disbelief and he winced.

"You know I turned eighteen a few days back?" he asked and I nodded. I'd even sent him a card.

"Yeah, well, I got a bit of cash from various people and I'd had a few drinks and the guys were ribbing me about various things."

He stopped and didn't seem to want to go on.

"And?" I said, making encouraging signs.

"They were kidding me about being a virgin. . ." he began and I put a hand.

"Don't go there," I told him flatly. "Don't even think of going there."

"No, no, nothing like what you're thinking, honest. It was just I was boasting a bit and they told me to put my money where my mouth is, so I did. I need to provide a photo of you with your panties around your ankles or I lose the money. No sex, I swear. You don't even have to show anything. Just slip your panties down to your ankles and that's it. I'll take one photo and be gone."

I smiled kindly at him.

"You're out of your ever-loving mind," I said softly. "Just tell your father and he'll kill the bet. If you were drunk it wasn't a fair bet. How the hell did you get raked into a bet like that?"

"They were drunk, too," Jason pointed out. "I was big-noting myself and mentioned you and how lovely you are. Real model material, I told them. It was a legitimate bet. I'll look like a fool if I back out now."

"Maybe, but you'll look like a fool with five hundred dollars rather than an idiot with zero dollars."

"Yes, but if you let me take a photo I'll be an idiot with one thousand dollars. I'll pay you. I'll give you twenty."

I laughed and he promptly upped his offer to fifty and then to a panicked one hundred. A hundred wasn't a bad deal. I wouldn't be flashing any flesh, just lowering my panties so he could take a shot. If he tried anything I could just hit him with the vacuum cleaner. All things taken into account, a hundred is a hundred.

"Alright. I'll do you a deal. One hundred, in advance, and I'll drop my panties and you can take one photo. If I find that photo on the web you will be dead. If you try to go the grope, you will be dead. Are we clear?"

He nodded his head so fast I thought he'd break his neck, then he whipped out his wallet and gave me the hundred.

I'm not a fool. He might be young but he was still male, so I backed up to put more room between us. Then I slipped down my panties, letting them drop to my ankles. His face was bright red and his eyes were ready to pop but he hastily took his photo.

"Are you there, Jason," called out his father, but the answer to that was a resounding no. As soon as Jason heard his father's voice he said something along the lines of, "Oh, shit!" and departed the room and house with great speed, while his father came through the other door to find me standing there with my panties around my ankles.

He was looking at me with some amusement and it was my turn to have a red face.

"This isn't what it looks like," I said quickly.

"Really?" he asked, strolling over to stand in front of me. "It looks as though you're standing there with your panties around your ankles."

Before I could protest or explain he lifted the front of my dress and tucked it into my belt, leaving me very much exposed.

"Ah, I have to say it looks very much like it is."

"Well, it's not," I said quickly. "I was just doing a favour for Jason."

"Nothing like that," I protested when his eyebrows rose. "Let me explain."

I very quickly gabbled out my explanation. Jason, birthday money, stupid bet, likely to lose the lot, a simple photo. I was sound more and more stupid as I talked and I knew it. It was that damned hundred dollars that did me in. What was worse Brad was standing right there and I was fully exposed to him. I saw his eyes dropping down a couple of times to check me out with this nasty little smirk on his face. And it was nasty smirk, not a sexy one at all. I was most horribly aware of what he was looking at and that he was a big solid man. Did I say old? Yeah, well old is relative, isn't it. He was probably pushing forty but he hadn't reached it.

"So you're saying Jason is an idiot, which I already knew, and that you helped him out of the kindness of your heart?"

"Um, out of the kindness of my heart and a hundred dollars for one photo," I admitted.

"That does make it more understandable. Ah, you do know that you look a little silly standing there like that? You could trip and fall. Allow me."

With that he crouched down. I, showing that idiocy is not limited to young men, assumed he was going to pull my panties up, going the grope while he did so. No such thing. He wasn't a horny teenager. He lifted my foot and whipped the panties off one leg, leaving them bunched over the opposite ankle. Then he slowly stood up, his hand trailing up my leg. The inside of my leg, damn it, running up past my knees and heading right for my groin. My eyes were getting wider and wider and I damn near screamed when his hand settled over my mound and started rubbing it.

"Aiding and abetting the delinquency of a minor," his voice rumbled. "I'm sure you can see that some sort of penalty is due."

"He's not a minor," I quickly pointed out. "Take your hand away."

"OK. Aiding and abetting the delinquency of an idiot," he said with a laugh. "The same penalty applies."

He was rubbing my pussy quite firmly and despite anything I might want to say about the situation my pussy was responding. Heat was pooling inside me, I could feel my labia swelling, reacting to his touch. I tried to push him away and found myself just opening and closing my hands against his chest.

After a moment or two of having my protests ignored I sensed something change. I looked down to see what he was doing and, oh my god, he'd unzipped and his cock was sticking way out there.

Now I wasn't going to panic. All I had to do was say "You can't do that, Brad. I don't want to. You will have to stop now." What I did do was somewhat different.

I panicked, then I gasped out, "You. I. You," and hoped he got the message. He got the message all right. The wrong message.

He eased closer to me and I could feel the heat of his cock pressing against my skin. I opened my mouth to say 'no' more decisively and he kissed me. And while he was kissing me his cock stopped poking around and found where it wanted to go.

I couldn't do anything about it. For some reason he had me kissing him back and his cock just came pushing firmly up into me. No hesitation, just BAM, and he was well and truly sliding home.

He lifted his mouth from mine and flicked open the buttons of my shirt, pushing my bra up out of his way. Then his mouth was on my breasts, his hands covered my bottom, and his cock was making hay while it could.

His cock was sliding in and out of me in fine style, his hands on my bottom helping me to push myself to meet him, whether I wanted to or not. He was really going to town on me. Quite frankly, if it hadn't been for his hands on my bottom holding me in place I'm quite sure I would have fallen over.

He was sucking on my breasts and teasing my nipples with little tantalizing bites but that, while quite nice, was as nothing to the excitement of his cock dealing out his penalty. He'd come charging in, exciting me all the way to the womb, withdrawing afterwards but leaving a bit of his heat inside me. Then it would be coming in again, bringing more excitement and more heat, and I can tell you right now that all that heat and excitement was building up.

I'd completely lost it by this time. Somehow or other my legs had managed to come up and circle Brad's waist without any help from me. At least, I don't remember doing that. I was now sandwiched between Brad and one of the walls with his hips working overtime to keep me occupied. I was going, "Ah, ah, ah," in time to his thrusting and he was pushing me relentlessly towards a climax.

Then finally I was climaxing and it was really something fantastic. Brad climaxed at the same time. Believe me, I could tell. I felt that I was awash with his seed. My legs slowly straightened and Brad withdrew, leaving me leaning against the wall, mainly because there was no way I could stand upright unaided. "You -- you -- you had no right to do that," I finally gasped out. "Why did you do that to me?"

"Two reasons," he said smiling. "First there was the little matter of a penalty for being silly where Jason was concerned. Didn't you realise he might have taken your assistance as an opportunity to jump you?"

"He wouldn't dare," I breathed. "I'd have flattened him and he knows it."

"Uh-huh. The other reason was that you asked me to."

"What? I did no such thing."

"Um, sorry, but you did. I distinctly heard you say, 'you, I want you'."

"You heard what you wanted to hear and you know it," I said, trying not to shriek. "I never said I want you. I was trying to tell you to stop."

"Oh. My bad. Next time I'll try to listen a bit better."

"Next time? What do you mean, next time? I'll never be coming here again."

"Oh. Well, that's unfortunate. Still, it's not an insurmountable problem. You are here right now so there's nothing to stop us from having our next time right now. Who knows, you may even change your mind about not coming here again."

Oh god. I was looking at him and his cock was moving from half-mast to fully tumescent.

I was going, "What? You can't. You just did." and Brad was calmly turning me around and having me bend over the end of the couch.

"Don't worry about it," he was saying softly. "You may find it takes me a little longer but that won't impact you. I'm quite sure you'll be able to keep up with me."

I was still protesting when I found him returning, his earlier exercise apparently not having slowed him down. Just how long, I wondered, is a little longer? I was about to find out.