I'm slowly building up a web design business. There're a million customers out there, just looking for someone like me to come and help them to latch onto the internet. Sometimes I suspect that there are also a million web design companies trying to leach my customers away.
The nice thing about my sort of business is that you can work from home. For the start-up phrase, anyway. Once I'm established and need extra help is the time to worry about a proper office. Being in the office all the time means that I'm freely available.
Mind you, I'm working long hours, but I'm also starting to make some decent money. The trouble was that when it is a choice between work that is interesting and makes me money or housework that is boring, which do you think wins? After one Sunday afternoon of frantically running around trying to clean up my sty, I yielded to necessity.
Next day I hired a maid service to come in one day a week.
Later that week the maid turned up for the first day on the job. One look at her and I knew I should have hired a maid a long time ago. She was young and pretty. About twenty, creamy complexion, red hair, green eyes. To add to the delectable picture was a high firm breast with some nice cleavage and a short dress with a lovely pair of long shapely legs on display.
My first thought was to wonder why the woman wasn't a model or something. I explained what I wanted and she got right down to work while I got on with mine.
After a while I heard Kelly, that was her name, humming in the hall. Having just finished one job, and not needing to start the next immediately, I wandered out to see how she was getting on.
In my hallway I have a chair and a whatnot. The chair was there because I didn't know where else to put it, and it would remain there. It has proved useful on occasions. The whatnot (who thinks up these wacky names for bits of furniture) had a series of odds and end on it. That is what it's for, after all.
Kelly was bending over, cleaning off the bottom shelf of the whatnot. Bending, not crouching, which had resulted in her short dress riding high up her bottom. Really high, giving me a lovely view of a pretty tush lightly covered in lace trimmed panties. Her legs were slightly parted so I also had an excellent view of a certain mound, also lightly cover in pink panties.
Talk about your case of instant lust. There was no way known I could refrain from stroking that bottom. I mean, if you don't try, you don't get anywhere. I had an instant response.
Not the one I wanted, but a response. Kelly was standing and facing me in an instant, red of face and vocal of tongue.
How dare I? She was the maid and that was it. End of story. She didn't have to put up with assaults upon her person. Never touch her again. She'd report me to the company and I'd be banned.
I got the gist of what she was saying. Thank you, but no thank you, to any sexual exploits. I humbly apologised, assuring her it was a moment's aberration and would never happen again. I then retreated to my office.
Kelly finished off her work and departed and I continued with mine.
The following week Kelly returned but this time, while that enticing cleavage was still there, she was wearing jeans. Tight jeans that made me want to rip them off her, but at least they weren't a short skirt that would flash panties at me.
The visit was concluded peacefully. She worked, I worked, and she departed, unmolested.
The third week Kelly was back to wearing a short skirt. Actually, she was wearing one of the shortest skirts I'd ever seen. I could almost swear I could see the edge of her panties when she walked. I carefully didn't look.
Then the humming in the hallway started. And it seemed to keep going longer than I would have expected. I gave up and wandered out to see what Kelly was doing.
At the risk of repeating what I've previously said, Kelly was bending over, cleaning off the bottom shelf of the whatnot. Bending, not crouching, which had resulted in her very short dress practically vanishing. I had a view of a pretty tush, untouched by anything so onerous as panties.
Kelly had chosen to wear a thong, a miniscule thong that left her bottom on full display. As for her vulva, that was on full display as well, apart from a remarkably narrow piece of material that managed to cover her slit. She must have glued it in to place to keep it there.
Lust arose, as was to be expected, but so did anger. Kelly was deliberately flaunting herself, wanting to see what would happen. She'd probably spent ten minutes dusting the whatnot, waiting for me to appear.
