It was her tits that I noticed first, I am sorry to say. I was a married man, happy and comfortable in my life. I loved my wife, I loved our life and I had no intention of ruining any of that. That all changed when Lia walked through my door.
*****
It was my wife's idea to hire a housekeeper. I had grown up poor, so the idea would never have occurred to me. Helen, my partner for seventeen years, however, had come from money. She had had a housekeeper growing up and thought that it was time that the two of us gave it a go.
"I'm not sure," I said. "Seems like a lot of money to pay someone for something we can do ourselves."
"Johnny," my wife said, "that's the point. We *don't* do it ourselves. We are both so busy that the house gets neglected. We live in a mess and then we have to make these huge efforts to clean up. We resent it, we fight about it, and I'm sick of it."
She had a point. Things had been tense around that time, with many squabbles and outright fights between us. Often they stemmed from disagreements about whose responsibility was what little chore around the house.
We had both gotten very busy. Helen had been working her way up the corporate ladder of a major clothing retailer for years and now had a very high paying, very stressful job. She worked long hours and travelled for her job quite a bit.
I, on the other hand, worked for myself. I bought and sold luxury cars. I had a steady group of rich customers who would pay me to hunt down specific cars for them. The other side of my business was going to auctions and bidding on nice cars that I thought I would be able to flip for a profit.
I had fallen into the work years ago and before long was making very good money at it. It was always feast or famine, some months nothing coming in, other months I would make tens to hundreds of thousands of dollars. I liked the work, I liked the freedom, I liked the risks and high stakes, and of course it meant I always had a hot car to drive around.
This all meant, however, that between us we had little spare time to take care of our house. So she had a point. Originally I thought that she wanted someone to come a couple of times a week and that was fine by me, but it turned out she wanted someone live-in.
"We have the money," Helen argued. "And we have the space. She can stay in the spare room in the basement. This place needs more than an occasional visit. It's too big for that."
Helen was correct there as well. As time went on and our financial situation improved we had upgraded our homes. From our first apartment to a small condo, to a simple townhouse to the place we lived now, a large, five bedroom home in an established old neighborhood of the city.
We had never had children. Helen had wanted to focus on her career and I had never been bothered about it, so the house was far too big for us. Some evenings, when Helen would work late, I would wander through our tastefully decorated but empty rooms, wondering why we had all this space.
While we discussed I looked at my wife and a thought occurred to me. Maybe, with the pressure of having to take care of the house being removed, we could reconnect. Helen was still beautiful at 39 years old. Her dark hair had a few grey ones, and there was a slight crinkle around her eyes but other than that she was still very attractive to me. She kept herself in shape, and her breasts were always on the smaller side, preventing the worst of gravity's pull. Her face was oval with an olive complexion, and her green eyes were as piercing as always.
I had also kept myself in shape. I was 42 and it took more work to upkeep myself than it once had, but I did my best. We had a small gym in the house and I enjoyed running when I could make the time. I was five foot eleven, with broad shoulders and while not ripped, I had a decent body. My blond hair was cut in a trimmed barber cut, though my beard had begun to show some white hairs.
Helen claimed to also be attracted to me but, by that time, we had stopped having sex as much. My libido had never slowed and in fact it almost felt as if it had increased but hers had diminished greatly. I was lucky if I could get her to fuck me once every two weeks. And when we did she never seemed into it.
I had confronted her about it and she had admitted that her sex drive was barely there anymore. She felt bad about it but it seemed like nothing we did could increase it. I had all but given up, relying on porn, fantasies and daily masturbation sessions.
Thinking that it might help in that regard, I agreed to the situation. Helen's arguments made sense, and I definitely did not want to take on the cleaning, so we reached out to a friend who connected us with someone they said could be trusted into our house. She was apparently the younger sister of their own house keeper, who was, by their accounts, amazing.
We negotiated a salary (I felt like we were offering too little for someone to take on the role but I was told it was the running rate) and arranged for her to move in the next week.
*****
I was at the kitchen island, drinking a cup of coffee, scrolling through my phone, answering client emails when The new housekeeper arrived. It was a Sunday so Helen was home, which was nice, but I knew that before too long she would be ducking into her office to work.
She was, however, making herself available to introduce herself and show the new hire what would be expected of her. My wife was making sandwiches for the both of us when our doorbell rang.
"Oh," Helen said, smiling. "She's here!" She checked her watch and smiled to herself. "And she's on time. That's a good sign. I'll let her in."
She hurried down the hall, out of my sight, to our door to answer. I could just hear out a brief conversation but could not make out the words.
I was distracted anyway because I had just received an email I had been waiting for, a list of all the cars going up at the next auction, and was scanning it to note the ones that would be worth bidding on.
"Johnny," my wife said, getting my attention from the phone. "Meet the new housekeeper."
I glanced up and my eyes went wide.
