The late morning sun poured through the kitchen windows as Amber busied herself preparing breakfast for her household. Cleome and her new boyfriend Jimmy had already eaten. They were sitting in the breakfast nook lingering over coffee. Amber could hear Cleome’s feminine laughter tinkling through the air.
The attractive young maid had no complaints about her life. None at all. She hummed quietly to herself as she put together eggs and toast and fruit and orange juice. Her employer, Felicia de Winter, would be down soon.
Sure enough, Amber was just spicing up the orange juice when she heard a new voice in the sunroom. She arranged the breakfast things on a tray, added a single rose from a vase on the counter, and carried the tray out to where Mrs. de Winter was waiting.
She stepped into the glass-walled breakfast nook, blinking in the bright morning sunshine. Jimmy was seated at the table, finishing his morning coffee, while Cleome, Mrs. de Winter’s 18-year-old daughter, made an erotic spectacle of herself beside him. She was sort of half-sitting in her chair with both arms around Jimmy’s neck and one leg thrown across his lap, kissing and murmuring and blowing in his ear. Jimmy endured it quietly, like the owner of an affectionate puppy.
Felicia de Winter was posing in the doorway with one leg bent fetchingly. “Good morning, everybody,” she sang. Amber noticed the almost sultry way she looked at her daughter’s boyfriend.
Felicia was a strikingly beautiful woman. After almost twenty years of marriage she could still make grown men goggle like horny teenagers. Felicia had been acting a lot like a horny teenager herself lately, which accounted for her arriving for breakfast this late. She had spent the early morning in bed, enthusiastically and quite successfully making her husband late for work.
Amber knew all this, of course, because she had peeked through the keyhole of the bedroom door. It hardly mattered when Mr. de Winter got to work, since he owned the company. Amber figured he was probably just going to boink one of those little sugar-tarts wiggling around his office anyway. His wife might just as well get to him first.
“Mornin’ Mom,” Cleome chirped, without looking up. She was dressed for the summer in a neon-bright, one-piece bathing suit over shiny nylons, topped off with trendy, multicolored sneakers. The outfit was clearly intended for showing off, not for swimming. Her long auburn hair fell loose over her shoulders. She planted little kisses on Jimmy’s neck.
Amber regarded the mother and daughter fondly. Cleome had clearly taken after her mother’s side. She had the same rich, brown hair, the same dark, expressive eyes, the same fully endowed figure. In fact, with Cleome’s curvaceous maturity and Felicia’s youthful looks they were often mistaken for sisters.
Amber noted with approval that Felicia was wearing the things she had laid out for her while her employer was in the shower. She was nude beneath a short satin robe. Her long legs were decked out in blue, mesh stockings, carefully selected to match the mauve dressing gown. The stockings came up to midthigh. Each was topped with an elaborate garter of frilly blue lace. Amber had selected royal blue slides with an open toe and rather extreme platform heels. She wondered if Felicia had any trouble walking down the stairs.
The outfit was blatantly suggestive, if not a little gaudy, but Felicia trusted Amber’s taste. Although she had not yet eaten breakfast, the rich socialite was already wearing jewellry and make-up, applied with the precision of an artist. The maid knew that Mrs. de Winter always liked to look her best, especially when her daughter’s boyfriend was around. Amber liked the earrings. She made a mental note to borrow them sometime.
Cleome’s boyfriend pushed the young girl away gently. “Good morning, Mrs. de Winter,” he said politely. “You do look splendid this morning. Won’t you join us for breakfast?” His eyes lingered on the slopes of her ample breasts.
Felicia smiled at him. “Why certainly,” she agreed, slipping into a seat across the table from him. She casually pulled her robe open a little further.
Once, when she had had too much to drink, Felicia confessed to Amber that she had been barely Cleome’s age when her daughter was conceived in the backseat of her future husband’s BMW. It had been an episode of simple and unrestrained teenage lust. Felicia had that effect on men.
The pregnancy really had been an accident. It did have the desired effect, though, of convincing her rich, wavering boyfriend to marry her. Of course, once she found out she was pregnant anyway, she let him boink her so much he didn’t have time to think about it.
Cleome had inherited all of her mother’s beauty, with interest. Her parents had hoped that she would also inherit some of her father’s intelligence, just for balance. It didn’t work out that way. In the end, they decided to send Cleome off to Felicia’s old alma mater, Mrs. Lovebright’s School for Girls. Lovebright’s had a reputation as a respectable school for upper class girls who were not destined to become rocket scientists. If Cleome couldn’t follow in her father’s footsteps and become a successful businessman, maybe she could follow in her mother’s footsteps and marry one.
Amber remembered how uncertain Felicia and her husband, Jonathan, had been when Cleome first let it slip in one of her letters that she had a new boyfriend. She had been dating for quite some time with Reg, the scion of another rich family in the area. Why had she suddenly broken that off in favour of a working-class nobody? A scholarship student, no less. To people in Felicia’s circle, being on a scholarship just meant you couldn’t afford the tuition.
As time went by it became obvious that Cleome was quite smitten with her Jimmy, as far as anybody could tell from her increasingly disjointed letters home. They worried briefly that their daughter might be on drugs. Maybe it all had to do with the many changes going on at Mrs. Lovebright’s. There had been a great deal of staff turnover, so Cleome said, and the school wasn’t just for girls anymore. Even the name had been changed, to Lovebright Academy. Amber learned all this from routinely reading Cleome’s letters. Mr. de Winter kept them in the top righthand drawer of the desk in his study.
Then came the day at the end of semester when Cleome’s red sportscar careered into the driveway. Cleome was in the passenger seat, hanging onto the boy driving like she was attached to him. Felicia and her husband were not amused at their only daughter taking up with a boy with obvious working class roots. They were even less enthused about Cleome’s invitation to let Jimmy stay with them, “for a few weeks.”
He certainly had grown on them though.
Amber’s high heels clicked on polished hardwood as the young housekeeper brought Felicia her breakfast. She placed the elaborate repast on the glass-topped table. She winked at Jimmy.
“Will there be anything else, ma’am?” she said.
Felicia sipped orange juice from a tall glass. “Oh, no dear, this is fine. You run along now.” Amber smiled at Jimmy again, then turned and strode back to the kitchen. Her high-heeled pumps telegraphed the sway of her rump beneath the tiny skirt of her uniform.
Amber knew that Jimmy was watching her leave the room. She smiled smugly. She could hardly blame the boy for staring. She knew she had spectacular legs, and the little uniform she was wearing displayed every inch of them. Amber’s scanty outfits strained the definition of “uniform” a bit, since she wore a different one every day.
Amber still shuddered when she recollected how poorly Felicia and her husband had treated her when she first arrived. They had practically used her like a slave. They had taken ruthless advantage of her inexperience and precarious situation to pay her a starvation wage while insisting on impossible standards of performance.
Jimmy had been instrumental in helping Felicia and Jonathon see the error of their ways. Since then, the rich couple had done their utmost to make amends. They had started paying Amber a decent wage—though Amber was pretty sure Felicia had no idea just how much Jonathan was paying her—and they made an effort to treat the girl kindly. No more scolding. Shorter work hours. Days off.
Nowadays, Amber’s workday was briefer than the hemlines on her uniforms. She spent more time lying around the pool sunbathing than actually doing housework. Felicia never gave her a hard time anymore. If the house got too messy, the rich housewife just cleaned it herself.
Amber hovered where she could see the breakfast table for a few moments, making sure that Felicia drained her orange juice. That was important. She contemplated going back to offer her a refill.
“Jimmy’s gonna take me to the mall this morning,” Cleome said. “And like, maybe some of the gang are going to come around this afternoon to use the pool. Is that all right?” Her bathing suit was mostly hot pink and had no shoulder straps.
“That’s fine, dear,” replied Felicia. She dug into her breakfast. Amber knew by now that “some of the gang” meant at least a half dozen boys and their multiple girlfriends having a boisterous time all afternoon. Felicia would be expected to provide drinks and snacks. She didn’t seem to mind.
One of the side-effects of the youthful attitude Felicia had developed that summer was a growing fondness for young men. She took great pleasure in the looks of surprise and admiration that appeared when Cleome’s friends discovered what her mom really looked like. There were young people coming and going steadily around the de Winter household this summer, which gave Felicia lots of opportunities to show off. Sometimes Amber helped her choose her outfits.
“I’m going to go get changed,” Cleome announced, rising from the table. She paused to give Jimmy a long, searingly hot kiss before bouncing cheerfully out of the room. Sunlight glinted off her shimmering nylons. The moment she was gone, Felicia got up from the table and moved around to where Cleome had been sitting. She hooked one leg over Jimmy’s knee. Her shortie satin robe threatened to reveal all.
“Feel like a game of tennis this afternoon, darling?” she asked casually. She plucked a strawberry off her plate and slowly slipped it into her mouth.
Jimmy stroked her leg above the fancy mesh stockings. “Tennis sounds good”, he said politely. “Maybe you can give me a lesson.”
“Mmmm, definitely. That would be...oh, niiiice.” Felicia’s voice quavered as her daughter’s boyfriend boldly stroked her bare thigh. “I’ll model my new tennis skirt for you,” she said.
Felicia owned a closet-full of tennis outfits. She wore them more as a fashion statement than as athletic apparel. She had modelled pretty well all of them for Jimmy. Often horizontally.
“There’s something to look forward to,” said Jimmy, slipping his hand a little higher. Felicia squirmed. “But maybe you should go get dressed now.”
“Oh, but I’m sooo hot this morning,” the curvaceous brunnette pouted. She guided his hand toward her pussy. “Just a little quick one, OK?” Then, after a moment: “Oh, yessss darling, just like that.”
Amber licked her lips as she secretly watched Jimmy’s fingers work their magic. She wondered how Felicia could still be so amorous after the workout she had given her husband that morning. She felt her own pussy tingling.
Felicia’s affection for Jimmy was a recent change. Six weeks earlier, when Felicia coolly greeted her daughter’s boyfriend at the door, she barely bothered to hide her condescending disapproval. It hadn’t taken long after Jimmy moved in though, for both Felicia and her husband to decide that there was a great deal more to this polite, ordinary-looking young man than met the eye. Despite his initial misgivings, Jonathan found himself liking him more and more. Felicia was not so easily won over.
Now, as Jimmy’s thrusting fingers danced in her snatch, Felicia was being won over indeed. She leaned her head on his shoulder, panting into his ear as he stroked rapidly in and out, pausing every now and again to deftly tickle her clitoris. Her satin robe slipped open. In less than a minute she stiffened; then she shuddered and shook through a quiet little orgasm.
“Maybe you should go get dressed now, Mrs. de Winter,” Jimmy said, when the panting housewife had calmed down a little. He casually wiped his fingers on a napkin.
“Hmmmm? Oh, sure honey,” Felicia agreed, smiling. Her gold earrings glittered. She gently extracted herself from her daughter’s boyfriend. She got to her feet, a little unsteadily, then turned back to give him a good-bye kiss at least as long and sizzling as the one from Cleome. “Don’t forget tennis later,” she cooed. She tottered away, her stride slow and sexy in her high-heeled platform slides.
In the kitchen, Amber poured another glass of orange juice. She added a little something to spice it up, then hurried out to meet Mrs. de Winter at the bottom of the wide staircase. “I thought you might like some more orange juice, ma’am,” the maid said, proffering the tall glass on a silver tray.
“Why thank you, Amber,” Felicia replied, taking the glass. “That’s very thoughtful.” She took a long sip. “Delicious, as usual. Come on upstairs and help me decide what to wear.”
Glass in hand, Amber made her way upstairs to the master bedroom to help her employer get changed. Felicia kept one hand on the bannister to steady herself.
Amber held her robe for her as Felicia stood by the door of her walk-in closet, contemplating the possibilities. Her regular wardrobe had been mostly pushed toward the back. She was more interested in the new clothes, the ones she had bought this summer. The ones Jimmy liked. Her tennis look, she called it.
At length she settled on a two-piece outfit, a tight, white crop-top edged with blue and a simple white skirt short enough to flash her bum on every step. Instead of ordinary cotton athletic shorts, she decided on high-cut, white bikini panties. Felicia loved to show off when she was out in public.
She had an equally large collection of athletic shoes. Most of the shoes were gaudy, trendy things with super-thick platform soles like all the Spice Girl wannabe’s were wearing. They were far from practical for tennis, but that hardly mattered. It was the look that counted.
Amber helped her choose a pair of electric-blue, canvas high-tops with thick rubber soles, combined with long, white slouch socks. She admired herself in the mirror. “This should turn a few heads downtown, don’t you think?” she asked.
“Yes ma’am,” Amber said. “It’s very attractive. But finish your drink before you go.” She handed Felicia the glass and watched while she emptied it.
Felicia had a few errands to run that morning, mostly concerning her latest redecorating project. Amber could see she was looking forward to shuffling around the shops downtown in her hot tennis outfit. She picked up a purse and a tennis racket, a top quality, carbon fibre piece that she carried with her when she went out. It let the gawkers know that she was a serious tennis player. Just stopping by on her way to the courts. Never mind that she was wearing wildly impractical shoes, make-up and expensive jewelry. Usually she wore nylons instead of socks.
It was the look that counted.
Evidently satisfied that she looked her best, the rich housewife bounced downstairs in her fancy shoes, the curves of her tan-dark ass cheeks flashing with every step. Amber followed at a more sedate pace.
“Well, I’ll be out for a while,” Felicia said, “Should be back before lunch. Take it easy while I’m gone, OK?” She waltzed out the door to her yellow convertible.
Amber settled into a big chair in the livingroom and picked up one of Felicia’s fashion magazines. She watched her employer’s car disappear down the curved driveway. She kicked off her shoes. There was housework to be done, but that could wait till later. With Mr. de Winter at work and his wife out shopping, she had the house to herself until Jimmy and Cleome got back.
Amber had no complaints about her life. She yawned and flipped a page in her magazine. She owed it all to Jimmy.
Amber had arrived in the de Winter household less than two years earlier, an escapee from an eastern European country whose economy had collapsed like an old wharf when the termite-ridden pillars of the communist government had finally buckled. She snuck into the country illegally, without papers or qualifications. Penniless, she took the only job she could find, as a maid and housekeeper for a rich couple and their daughter.
The job had been pure hell. The de Winters made it clear that she was there on their sufferance alone. She would work six and a half days a week; she would be on call at all times. She would make the meals, do the laundry, buy the groceries and keep the house spotless. They would pay her whatever they felt like, which wasn’t very much. Did Amber have any complaints? Well then, perhaps the immigration authorities would be informed of her presence.
Amber wasn’t even her real name. Mr. de Winter said her given name was too hard to pronounce, so he decreed she would be called Amber, a name he happened to like. She had to write letters home; she couldn’t afford to use the telephone. She was pretty, and that helped a little. Certainly Mrs. de Winter was quick to put her in a long, drab uniform when she saw the way her husband looked at her.
Everything changed the day Cleome arrived home from school with Jimmy, her new boyfriend. Amber liked him instantly. He was polite and unassuming, not at all like the self-important jock Cleome had been dating. He treated Amber like a real person, rather than a piece of automated furniture.
There was something about Jimmy that reminded Amber of a word in her native tongue. Her grandmother had used it once, in hushed tones, to describe a special ability some people were supposed to have. Her mother dismissed it as nonsense. The word had no good English translation; the closest would be “good vibes”.
Jimmy radiated good vibes. Amber could almost sense them whenever he was around. However awful her day had been, she could feel her grey mood lifting like a morning fog as soon as Jimmy walked into the room. No wonder Cleome was so besotted with him.
Conversation with Jimmy tended to go off in unexpected directions. Sometimes Amber found herself thinking the oddest things when she was with Jimmy. Thoughts and ideas would flit through her head that had nothing at all to do with the conversation. Sometimes the ideas were unexpected, even strange, but once they arrived, they just wouldn’t leave. Eventually she learned to accept whatever popped into her head.
Amber found herself opening up to Jimmy like she hadn’t done with anyone since she left home. He was patient and understanding, a good listener. She poured out her troubles to him once, after a particularly trying day. She had failed to iron Mr. de Winter’s shirts properly; he had scolded her fiercely, and threatened again to have her deported if she didn’t shape up.
“I don’t think I can stand this much longer,” Amber cried into Jimmy’s shoulder. They were in the kitchen, where Amber had been washing dishes, sobbing. He had his arms around her. “But I don’t want to get sent back. Not back to father’s potato farm, and that dreary little village. Jimmy, I want to stay here so bad.”
Jimmy pushed her away a little, so he could look her in the eye. “Amber, please, listen to me. Things will work out. Trust me. You have to believe in yourself. You are an attractive, warm, passionate young woman, and nothing the de Winters do can take those things away from you. Now listen, I’ll have a word with Mr. de Winter; I don’t think he means to be as hard as he sounds.”
She smiled unevenly. “You’ll do that for me?”
“Of course. Now in the meantime, try to keep your spirits up, OK?”
As she returned to her housework, Amber decided to take Jimmy’s advice. She was an attractive, warm, sexy woman. She wouldn’t let them get to her. She would hold her head high. She would buy a push-up bra.
Amber was relieved that Jimmy had promised to intervene on her behalf. He was very close with Mr. de Winter. Why, within days of Jimmy’s arrival, the older man had hired him, three mornings a week, to help out down at his business. He was good at it, despite his youth. Since his arrival, office morale had soared. So, apparently, had hemlines.
A few days later Mr. de Winter called Amber into his study. She had burned supper. She entered timidly; Mr. de Winter was sitting behind his big old desk, where he always sat to give her lectures. “Sit down please, Amber,” he said.
She sat. He studied her, pulling off his wire-rimmed reading glasses. He looked thoughtful for a long moment.
Then an amazing thing happened.
He apologized. In a voice heavy with remorse, he apologized profusely and at length. He apologized for the abuse, for the overwork, for the threats, for everything. He seemed absolutely sincere.
Amber stared at him, wordless. Mr. de Winter got up slowly. He was still wearing his suit from work. He came around the desk to where she was sitting. “Forgive me?” he said.
Amber was too overwhelmed to reply. “Please forgive me, Amber. I have treated you so abysmally. I have no excuse.” He dropped to his knees in front of her. “If you’ll stay, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” He took her hands in both of his. “Effective today, I’m doubling your salary. Will that start to make things a little better?”
Amber was bewildered. Mr. de Winter had flipped his wig. “D-double?” she stuttered.
“Absolutely. As of today. No, wait, we’ll make it retroactive to your last payday. But please say you’ll stay with us.”
“I’ll stay,” said Amber.
Her boss’s face was suffused with gratitude. “Thank you, Amber,” he cried, kissing her hands. “Thank you so much. We’d be lost without you.”
A few minutes later, Amber stepped out of the study, a check for twice her usual stipend in one hand. That was still considerably less than what other domestics got, but it was a great improvement from before.
She had noticed something else too. When Mr. de Winter had risen from his chair, there was no mistaking the thrusting hard-on tenting his pants. The man was hot for her. She smiled, smoothing down the front of her uniform. The new uplift brassiere did display her assets to best advantage.
Jimmy had been right. She was a sexy, shapely, sensous woman. It was time she stopped hiding her light under a bushel. She was a competent seamstress. That evening, she shortened up the hemlines on all her uniforms.
Mr. de Winter noticed Amber’s legs right away. Mrs. de Winter, on the other hand, scowled when she saw Amber’s new look. She did not approve of the touches of make-up she had started wearing, highlighting her dramatic dark eyes. Jimmy complimented her though, and that made her feel a lot better. A dose of his good vibes always did wonders for her.
When she shortened her hemlines a second time, to a couple of inches above the knee, it was too much. Mrs. de Winter raked her over the coals. She proclaimed that she would not tolerate that kind of disobedience from a servant. Maybe Amber shouldn’t have worn the new heels. “My husband and I will talk about this, when he gets home from work,” Mrs. de Winter finished icily. “We will decide whether to continue your position.”
The de Winters did discuss Amber’s situation that evening. It got rather loud at times. Mr. de Winter apparently did not see the uniform thing with the same graveness as his wife. Mr. de Winter also discussed things at length with Jimmy. His wife thought that was very strange. Eventually Mr. de Winter called Amber into his office again.
The stern disciplinarian did not scold her as she had expected. “You have to understand, Amber,” he said reasonably, “my wife is rather conservative, maybe even a little old fashioned. And she’s going through a bit of a rough patch right now.” Amber nodded. Mrs. de Winter seemed to be having trouble accepting her daughter’s new boyfriend. She found Cleome’s mad devotion and her husband’s easy comaraderie with Jimmy hard to fathom.
“I feel I should apologize for Felicia,” Mr. de Winter went on. “She has been rather hard on you. We both have been. I, I’m sorry if we have caused you any grief. You are a valuable member of this household, Amber, and I want you to understand how much we truly appreciate you staying with us.”
Amber noticed how his eyes kept flicking down to her legs as he spoke. “Would you like me to go back to my old uniforms, sir?” she asked politely, crossing her knees.
As she had hoped, the movement drew Mr. de Winter’s attention. “N-no, I, uh, don’t think that will be necessary,” her employer replied, now openly scanning her sleek nylons. “We want you to be... comfortable. We have treated you reprehensibly. I think you deserve a further salary increase.”
Amber had no idea what “reprehensibly” meant, but she liked the direction the conversation was going. “A raise?” she said. “Again?”
“Why not. You deserve it, Amber. You have done so much for us. Let’s make it 30—no, 40 per cent. And please, take tomorrow off.”
He shifted restlessly in his chair. Amber knew without looking that he was hard as an iron rod. “Thank you so much, sir,” she said, leaning forward to thrust out her chest a little.
Amber spent her day off shopping. It was Jimmy’s suggestion, actually. She bought some new uniforms. They were shorter, and more flattering to her figure.
Mrs. de Winter strongly disapproved. She gave her maid a tongue-lashing that almost left whip marks. In due time Amber found herself in front of Mr. de Winter again. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her figure. He apologized, again. He raised her salary, again. Impulsively, he decided to give her a bonus too. He wrote out the check right then and there. Amber peered over his shoulder so she could admire his tumescence. Afterward, she had to go back to her room and relieve herself with her fingers.
Over the next few weeks events fell into a cycle. As her self-confidence increased and with Jimmy’s active encouragement, Amber’s uniforms continued to grow shorter on the bottom, tighter on the top, and sexier all over. Mrs. de Winter’s anger and frustation continued to mount. Her husband kept raising Amber’s salary.
He couldn’t seem to help himself. No matter how provocative Amber’s outfits became, no matter how shrilly his wife complained, Mr. de Winter could only stare hungrily and offer her lavish bonuses.
Amber couldn’t resist teasing him a little bit, just because it was so easy. She took to flirting with him around the house, bending over a little more than necessary to serve his drinks, stopping to adjust a garter (she had started wearing stockings instead of pantyhose) when she knew he would be watching. It was especially fun to turn him on when his wife was around, when he had to fight to hide his arousal.
When he called her into his study she crossed her knees and turned sideways in the deep leather chair. She knew instinctively that her long legs were her best feature. He would give her a token lecture about “attire inappropriate to her station”. She knew he didn’t mean it; he couldn’t keep his eyes off her thighs.
One afternoon when Cleome and her mother were out somewhere, Amber found herself sharing a drink with Jimmy. She felt good: a few glasses of Mr. de Winter’s private stock and those good vibes she always felt around Jimmy had her in a fine, mellow mood. They were sitting in the kitchen, talking about nothing in particular. Jimmy told her a joke and she laughed easily. She had her legs crossed, with one shoe dangling off her toes.
She found herself thinking about Mr. de Winter, and his perpetual boners. It was a great turn-on having a man respond to her like that. The thought occurred to her that she should suck him off sometime.
She shook her head. What a preposterous idea! She had had too much to drink. She tried to concentrate on what Jimmy was saying. It made sense though, since she was sort of responsible for Mr. de Winter’s condition, that she should be the one to relieve it. After all, she was a maid, wasn’t she? Didn’t a good maid take care of all her employer’s needs? It was expected of her. Besides, the idea was so sexy!
“Would you like a little more wine?” Jimmy asked, holding out the bottle. “Want to try the red?”
The neck of the wine bottle looked like a cock, Amber noted absently. “Yes, thank you. A bit of head would be nice.”
She shifted in her chair. There was every good reason why she should be the one to take Mr. de Winter’s cock in her mouth. She could see it in her mind’s eye, her lips red and round, slurping up and down on his rod, teasing, pleasing and finally releasing him to come down her throat like fine wine. She sipped her drink.
She tried to get back into the conversation, but the image of her on her knees, looking her boss in the eyes while she drew him off was irresistible. She had to do it. She was his maid. It was her job to satisfy him.
Amber gulped down her wine, all the while thinking about giving Mr. de Winter a blow job. She looked at Jimmy, her eyes unfocused. He had a cock. Just like Mr. de Winter. She was a maid. She had to satisfy him. She was breathing hard.
“Jimmy,” she said softly. She got to her feet, staggering as one shoe fell off. “Please, may I—I mean, I’ve got to... practice!” She fell heavily to her knees and lunged for his zipper.
Jimmy was laughing. “Whoops!” he said, standing up to make it easier for her. “I guess I overdid it a bit there, didn’t I? Well, go ahead, help yourself.”
Amber had no idea what he was talking about and she didn’t care. She fumbled with his belt until she got his pants open, then eased his pants and shorts down his legs. She cried out in anticipation when his young shaft came into view. It was still soft, but swelling rapidly. Instantly she took him into her mouth. She swallowed as much as she could, until the tip threatened to gag her. Then she began to slide it in and out, in and out, slowly and sensously, like a child savouring a lollypop. Her panties were wet.
“Ah, that is nice,” Jimmy said, leaning his head back. “Amber my dear, I think you are going to make one very fine domestic.”
Two days later, when Amber decided to wear fishnet stockings and patent black ankle boots with her lacy new uniform, Mr. de Winter finally told her enough was enough. He even looked stern for a minute or two.
He was already hard. He didn’t know how to react when his miniskirted maid wiggled up to him, kissed him on the lips, then dropped to her knees to free his straining shaft. He groaned helplessly as Amber sucked him in, applying the techniques she had learned in her practice sessions with Jimmy. He raised her salary again before he even climaxed.
Mrs. de Winter was more of a problem. She remained as cold as the breeze off an iceberg. She critisized Amber at every turn, all the more so when Mr. de Winter began to mellow. Mrs. de Winter made it clear that just because her husband had taken it into his head to retain a saucy, disobedient tart as his housekeeper was no reason for Amber to expect any leniency from her. She gave her one week to shape up or be reported to the authorities.
Shaken, Amber went to find Jimmy. Maybe he could help. He listened thoughtfully while Amber described her latest run-in with Mrs. de Winter.
“Yes, I see,” he said at last. “Felicia is a tough one; the toughest I’ve seen. It’s funny, you never know when you’ll run into resistance like that. It doesn’t seem to bear any relation to intelligence.” He seemed to be talking as much to himself as to her.
“Pardon?” said Amber. “I don’t understand.” They were in the kitchen, Amber’s sanctuary during the day. He was sitting in a big wooden chair with Amber in his lap.
Jimmy said, “Listen, Amber, there is still time to persuade Mrs. de Winter to be more reasonable. But I’m going to need your help. Can you do something for me?” He stroked one silk-encased thigh gently.
“Of course,” she said at once. She would do anything for Jimmy.
“Great. Listen carefully. Here’s what I need you to do.” He explained the situation in a few sentences.
“Are you sure?” the pretty maid worried, when he had finished. “She’ll notice! I’ll be sacked for sure!”
“Not if we do it right. Trust me, Amber, this is the only way.”
Amber trusted him. The very next morning, following Jimmy’s instructions, Amber added a few drops of vodka to Mrs. de Winter’s orange juice.
She added a bit more to her morning coffee, and another dash when her employer asked for a second cup. For the rest of the day, everything Felicia drank, from the tea with lunch, to the fruit juice after her tennis game, was lightly spiked. Despite Amber’s fear, Mrs. de Winter didn’t notice, although her tennis game was off a little.
It helped considerably that Mrs. de Winter liked a glass or two of wine in the afternoon. Her tipsiness could be blamed on that. From that day forward, Amber made sure that Mrs. de Winter had a good dose of booze each day.
At the same time, Jimmy began to go out of his way to spend time with his hostess. Sometime in the afternoon, when Amber had ensured that Felicia had a few slow ones under her belt, Jimmy would drop by and engage the sensous beauty in polite conversation. Amber never saw him do anything else. She knew what Jimmy’s good vibes could do.
There was no denying the change in Mrs. de Winter. In a matter of days she began to mellow perceptably. It was like all the coolness and hauteur was being drained out of her. She scolded Amber less and less. By the time a week had gone by she had forgotten entirely her threat to have her sent home. She smiled indulgently at Amber’s sexy little uniforms.
Maybe she had something else on her mind. Certainly she was becoming much more demonstrative in her affection for her husband. They seemed to be having a lot of early nights, and then late mornings too. More than once, Amber had listened outside the closed door to Mr. de Winter’s study to hear the giggles and whispers from inside.
Perhaps that was why it no longer bothered Mrs. de Winter that Jimmy and Cleome were obviously “doing it” every night, at least, right in her house. Felicia and her husband could hear Cleome’s cries from down the hallway. At least they could until Amber and Jimmy began their conspiracy; after that Felicia’s own enthusiasm tended to drown her out.
Felicia de Winter started to speak more kindly to Amber, especially after the maid, following Jimmy’s program, began to increase the dosage of booze she was getting. Jimmy was spending a lot of time with her. Amber could tell by Mrs. de Winter’s flirty, sexy body language that her employer was finally coming to like Jimmy too.
They played tennis together some days. Jimmy had clearly never played the game before, but Felicia was happy to give him lessons. Amber usually provided drinks at courtside, just to even the scores a little.
One evening when they were alone in the house Amber stepped down into the leather-furnished rec-room to offer Mrs. de Winter a refill on her nightcap. She found Felicia and Jimmy having exuberant sex on the carpeted floor. She didn’t want to interrupt them, so she stepped away quietly. Well, she was going to, but the performance below caught her imagination and she ended up masturbating on the stairs. She bit her lip when she came. Mrs. de Winter shouted out loud.
Amber saw them at it again a few days later; she was pretty certain by then that Jimmy was giving it to Mrs. de Winter regularly. She could tell by the goofy, satieted smile on her employer’s face and the permanently contented mood she was in. Amber wondered if she wore the same smile, given how much fun she was having with both Jimmy and Mr. de Winter. Cleome seemed oblivious to everything.
Amber heard the familiar chime of the doorbell, and put aside her magazine. She got to her feet and checked her appearance before answering the door. A maid must always look neat and prim. Today she wore a black silk uniform with a dangerously low-cut top and a very short, flouncy skirt underlain by three lace petticoats. The apron on the uniform was shaped like a red, lace-edged heart. She wore a cute bonnet and armlets, all in black silk that matched the uniform. She made her way carefully to the door in her patent spike heels.
“Yes?” Amber said formally, opening the door. “Oh, good morning, Mr. Pritchard.” She recognized the young man standing there. He was one of Cleome’s rich friends. The pretty, young thing beside him was new to her.
“Hi, Amber,” the boy said cheerfully. His eyes swept admiringly up and down her figure. “This is Janine. Mandy’s sister.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
Amber acknowledged the girl with a smile and a nod. Janine glowered back. The girl looked angry and sullen. Amber got the definite impression that she was not here willingly.
Her companion went on, “I was wondering, is Jimmy around this morning? I need to talk to him about some things.” His eyes had finally settled at about the level of Amber’s half-covered breasts.
“Mr. King has taken Miss de Winter out shopping this morning,” Amber replied, “but they should be back soon. Would you like to come in? You can wait by the pool if you like.” She kept her back straight, thrusting her chest out.
“Yeah, sure, that would be great.” The boy walked into the house as if he lived there, dragging his companion by one hand. Amber lead them through the spacious house to the landscaped pool that occupied a large part of the back yard. She pretended to ignore the whispered conversation going on behind her. In fact she was listening intently.
Evidently Janine had been dating Pritchard for a while, unaware that he was also going out with, and quite possibly to bed with, her older sister. Understandably, she was upset. Amber smiled. That was why the boy wanted to see Jimmy.
Jimmy had a magic touch when it came to patching up lover’s quarrels. He was a better matchmaker than Cupid. His friends from school would approach him discretely whenever they had girl troubles. On several occasions, Amber saw sizable sums of money change hands. Then Jimmy would find the girlfriend and lead her off, usually to the piano room, for a long, intimate talk.
The outcome was always positive. A few minutes or a few hours later the girl would emerge, looking flushed and happy. Sometimes they even seemed a little dazed. They would run off to find their boyfriends, the little spat they had been so angry about completely forgotten. The disagreements with their boyfriends that led to the quarrel, whether it was his preference that she never wear pants, or her unwillingness to give him head at a moment’s notice, or her misunderstanding about his attentions to a few other girls, where all completely forgotten as well. Jimmy’s good vibes could make a girl feel so good about herself.
Jimmy and Cleome arrived home a little later. Jimmy was driving Cleome’s little sportscar, with the buxom brunette so close beside him it must have made steering a challenge. Her latest purchases of hot, trendy clothing were piled in the back seat. Amber directed Jimmy toward the boy with girlfriend troubles, then helped Cleome carry her boxes and bags upstairs.
On her return she caught a glimpse of Jimmy leading a still sullen Janine into the piano room. Amber was relieved. It had taken a fair bit of persuasion, not to mention a couple of calming drinks, to get the girl to stay until Jimmy returned.
It was well after lunch before Mrs. de Winter got back. Evidently she had run into a friend downtown, and decided to stay for lunch. A very wet lunch. She arrived home looking flushed and excited, as she always did after showing off downtown in her scanty tennis outfits. Amber brought her a drink to calm her, which was gratefully accepted.
“Where’s Jimmy?” Felicia asked, sipping her highball.
“Mr. King is out by the pool, ma’am, with the others.”
“Oh! We have guests,” Felicia gushed, automatically primping with her free hand. “Why didn’t you say so. Well, I certainly should go join them for a while, shouldn’t I. Maybe go for a swim. I’ll just go freshen up a little.” Still carrying her drink, she wiggled off up the broad staircase in her little skirt and gaudy platform shoes.
About the time that Mrs. de Winter finally began to warm to Amber, she also started acting much more friendly toward the legions of young men and women who were constantly dropping by the house. They were all friends of Cleome and Jimmy, mostly from the Academy. The boys were confident, outgoing, casually arrogant rich kids; the girls were light-hearted, beautiful, sexy, and, Amber noticed, fawningly devoted to their boyfriends. Many of the boys held the devotion of two or even three girls at once. As the summer went on, the de Winter household was gradually transformed into a nearly permanent pool party.
At first, Mrs. de Winter regarded the visitors as an annoying intrusion. More than once she insisted that Cleome send everybody home so they could have a little peace and quiet. She didn’t like the casual swagger of the young men, or the openly appreciative way they scanned her body. The giggly, girlish, guileless adoration that the young women displayed for these same young men perplexed her. Amber figured the shapely socialite would have been even more upset if she had any inkling of what went on when her back was turned, when clutching couples disappeared behind the bushes, or in the guest bedrooms, or in the change-house, or virtually anywhere offering a hint of privacy.
Once Jimmy began his booze-lubricated program, however, Felicia’s attitude changed, suddenly and profoundly. She became all smiles and good nature. She started acting the part of hostess to the daily visitors, greeting them at the door, inviting them to make themselves at home, making sure they had food, or towels or anything else they wanted.
She began helping out in the kitchen too, maintaining a steady flow of snacks and drinks for everybody. The parties tended to keep Amber pretty busy. Mrs. de Winter was increasingly concerned that her young housekeeper not work too hard.
For her part, Amber noticed how the company of Cleome’s friends, probably augmented by regular heels-up sessions with Jimmy, were having a surprisingly rejuvinating effect on the well-built housewife. Felicia began to act like a much younger woman. She started hanging around when the young men dropped by, listening to the conversations, and then joining in. She giggled at the boys’ foolish jokes. She flirted girlishly, and accepted clumsy compliments about her youthful good looks.
She began to borrow Cleome’s clothes.
Felicia and her daughter were approximately the same size, though Cleome’s things did tend to fit a little snug on her. Cleome didn’t seem to own anything that wasn’t tight, or short, or revealing. That was fine by Felicia. She was feeling in the mood for a young, sexy look. You’re only as old as you feel, she told Amber one day. Jimmy was making her feel about 19 years old.
Eventually Felicia decided she needed to develop a new wardrobe of her own. She went out shopping a few times, tagging along with Jimmy and Cleome down at the mall. Cleome knew all the ultra-trendy, upscale shops where the rich kids shopped. Mother and daughter had a great time trying on different outfits and comparing purchases. Once, Felicia confessed, while Cleome was busy trying on minidresses, she slipped away and gave Jimmy a quick hand job in a changing room. Amber’s drinkies had her feeling particularly spritely that day.
Felicia’s youthful attitude did not go unremarked. Jonathan frowned when he came home from work to find his wife lounging about in a spaghetti-strapped tank top and ass-hugging mini with a slit up one leg, coupled with multicolored platform sandals. He wondered out loud what had happened to her traditional sense of fashion. His wife mollified him, as she did so often and so effectively these days, by dragging him off to bed and screwing his brains out.
By mid-afternoon the party was in full swing. Amber was reclining on a padded deck chair by the pool, enjoying the laughter and frolic going on all around her. She had her sunglasses on. Someone had brought a boom-box. Guys and girls were dancing to the loud music, while others splashed and played in the enormous pool. Amber sipped her drink and felt the warm sun on her skin. She had changed into a black, leather-look bikini, complemented by a wide sun-hat and cork-soled, platform sandals. She crossed her ankles lazily and admired her painted toenails.
Shortly after Felicia had come down from her room, dressed now in a red bra top and tight red shorts, she had insisted that Amber take some time off to relax. “You’ve been working all morning, dear,” Mrs. de Winter said, “take it easy for a while. Go catch some sun. Here, let me get those snacks.” So while Amber went off to change out of her uniform, her rich employer took the trays of food and drinks and wiggled off to flirt with all the boys.
Actually, flirting didn’t exactly cover it. Amber looked over to where Mrs. de Winter was still ambling about, looking very good in her spandex shorts and red high-heels, bending over gracefully to offer a tray of snacks, and her generous chest, to every boy she met. She smiled indulgently as the young men ogled her svelte curves. She giggled when one of them stroked her bum as he went by. She only pretended to be upset when mischievous boys repeatedly pulled down the straps on her skimpy bra top.
So caught up was she in her own amusement, Mrs. de Winter seemed not to notice everything going on around her. A number of couples were quite openly making out on the grass, while many others were getting high on it. One pair had been in the change room for a long time. In the pool, an attractive, chesty young woman was trying to retrieve the top of her bathing suit from two rather drunk boys, who were tossing it back and forth over her head. The girl was unwilling to leave the deep end of the pool. All three of them seemed to be having a great time.
The girl Janine that Jimmy had spoken to earlier was lying on a broad chaise lounge, contentedly petting and necking with her boyfriend. Her sister was doing the same thing from the other side. Janine had abandoned her jeans and T-shirt in favor of some sort of zebra-print, one-piece lounger that fit like a second skin stretched over her torso. She had borrowed it from Cleome. Like every other woman around the pool, she was wearing flashy, sexy high heels.
Jimmy himself had disappeared, as he often did in the afternoon. Amber smiled. That usually meant he was upstairs balling with Cleome. His girlfriend tended to be rather loud when she got going.
Over the laughter and loud music, Amber barely heard the doorbell. Eventually she put her champaign glass down and got to her feet. Walking artfully in her six-inch platform heels, she made her way to the front door, pausing to slip on a tiny, lace-edged apron. Technically, she was still on duty.
The woman waiting at the door was a little younger than Felicia, and almost as pretty. She was dressed in a white lycra outfit, half-top and stretch shorts, evidently designed to advertise her deep tan and lean figure. She had immaculate white sneakers on her feet, without socks, a white headband around her forehead, and a tennis racket over her shoulder. “Hi Amber,” the woman said brightly. “Do you suppose Felicia’s up for a game of tennis?”
Amber knew Emma well. She was the trophy wife of a prominent local lawyer. She was also the chair of the ladies’ auxillary for the local art gallery, a charitable group that raised a lot of money for new acquisitions. Amber remembered only too well the friction that had developed in the auxillary once Felicia finally began to feel the full effects of Jimmy’s good vibes.
Felicia’s rich friends had certainly looked at her funny when her demeanor changed from haughty sophistication to carefree giddiness in the space of a week. They became even more concerned when Felicia began modifying her impeccably tasteful wardrobe, showing up at the regular coffee-and-cookies meetings in foxy new miniskirts or tight-fitting PVC pants. The storm broke when Felicia hosted the weekly meeting of the auxillary at her home. She had been out shopping with Cleome the day before and, perhaps inspired by a steady supply of Amber’s zesty drinks, she decided to wear one of the new outfits she had bought. Amber helped her buckle up her crimson platform sandals.
Felicia thought the tube-top and shorts outfit was great for summer weather. She liked the way it showed off her tan. And other things. The other members of the committee, however, turned their noses up in disdain. It didn’t help that Felicia was the only one who didn’t disapprove of a new painting at the gallery which the other women thought was much too provocative. Conversation was civil when Amber came in to serve tea, but she easily overheard the exchange that burst out the moment she was out of the room.
It was Emma, apparently, who said what was on everyone’s mind. “All right, Felicia, who’s the man?”
Amber heard Mrs. de Winter reply: “I beg your pardon?”
“Come on, girl, don’t try to fool us. You’ve got a man on the side, haven’t you. You’re getting a little nookie behind Jonathan’s back. Why else would you be prancing around with that big idiot grin on your face all the time.”
“No, wait—” Felicia protested.
“Like’s ‘em young, does he?” Emma pressed on. “Gracious, just look at you; you’re dolled up like a 16-year-old trying to sneak into a club. I never saw such a display.”
“Jonathan has been a good husband,” another voice chimed in. “You should be ashamed of yourself!”
There were clucks of disapproval from the other women in the room.
“Hold on, now wait a minute everybody,” Felicia protested again. “There’s nothing like that at all. I’m just having a little fun this summer. This is just... comfortable.” Amber could almost see Felicia pulling up her clingy tube top. She leaned her head against the kitchen door to hear better.
The other women were clearly not convinced. “I should have thought that you of all people would show a little more judgement,” Emma’s voice rejoined. “A woman of your social standing has responsibilities, not just to her family but to the community at large. I can’t help wondering how much weight we should give your opinion on art when your own taste is clearly”—a pause—“questionable.”
Again there were murmurs of approbium from the other women in the room. Amber came back in to refill the cookie tray. Felicia was sipping her tea, looking hurt.
Tearful, Mrs. de Winter ran off to find Jimmy as soon as the last of her guests was out the door. A half hour later Amber found an excuse to walk by the master bedroom. There were high-pitched cries coming from the room, and the bedsprings were creaking. Jimmy certainly must have consoled her.
An hour after that, Felicia came bouncing down the stairs like a child on Christmas morning. She had remarkably recovered from her humiliation at the hands of the ladies auxillary. She explained to Amber that while she was “discussing” things with Jimmy, a marvellous idea had just popped into her head: tennis skirts!
It was the perfect solution, Felicia enthused. Whatever silly restrictions fashion and her friends imposed on street clothes, on the tennis courts a girl could bounce around in just about anything. And if she “happened” to stop by a restaurant or a store on her way to the tennis courts....
Felicia was an avid tennis player to begin with. She had always worn a T-shirt and shorts on the courts. The very next morning she went out to an upscale sports store and bought half a dozen short-short tennis dresses. She wore one on the way home. She confided in Amber about the delightful attention she drew as she tripped down the street in her white running shoes, her athletic, well-tanned legs turning heads as she went by. She had deliberately chosen a dress a little on the small side.
The same day, after her morning shopping expedition, Felicia invited the auxillary members back, to make amends for the previous day. She greeted them in another new tennis dress, a bright, tight little number with a rainbow of stripes across the busom. She had her tennis racquet with her.
The meeting was edgy at first. Then Jimmy walked in unexpectedly and asked to join them. The women, of course, had no interest in some working-class kid. They projected their disdain as formal politeness. Jimmy’s natural charm worked its magic though, and soon the women’s frosty attitude toward Jimmy and Felicia began to thaw. A while later they were all talking and laughing like old friends.
In fact, they were having such a good time that nobody seemed to want to leave. Eventually, somebody suggested a few drops of sherry would make a nice diversion from tea, and Amber was kept busy pouring drinks for the rest of the afternoon. More sherry bottles got opened; the laughter got louder; the conversation got sillier.
Eventually, Jonathon de Winter arrived home to find the entire Ladies Auxillary sprawled around his livingroom, falling down drunk. Even Amber was feeling a little tipsy, from the inebriated women insisting “you have one too, dear” a little too often. The only person there who wasn’t smashed was Jimmy. Jimmy never drank.
Mr. de Winter offered to drive everybody home. His wife, who had plastered herself to him the moment he walked through the door, clearly had other plans. So Jimmy volunteered instead. As Felicia dragged her astonished husband toward the bedroom, Amber helped Jimmy escort the other stumbling young women to Mr. de Winter’s BMW.
It took some time to get them all loaded in. There was plenty of room in the car, but all four women wanted to get in the front seat with Jimmy. They got it sorted out eventually and Jimmy scooted off to take them home. Amber remembered seeing somebody’s high-heeled foot sticking out a rear window. By the time Amber got back in the house, Felicia and the bedsprings were already groaning. Amber found her employer’s panties outside the door.
Jimmy was gone a very long time. He seemed unusually tired when he returned.
The next day Emma showed up again, wearing a bright red exercise outfit that didn’t cover much more than it had to, and challenged Felicia to a game of tennis. They had been playing regularly ever since.
The Ladies Auxillary still met regularly at the de Winter residence, though they didn’t spend much time discussing art. The other members generally just acceded to whatever ideas Felicia suggested. They were more interested these days in emptying a good bottle or two and having a good time. The snobbish young wives on the auxillary had taken to arriving by taxi because they were invariably too drunk to drive home. Several meetings were devoted to modelling the latest boudoir fashions.
Amber drew Mrs. de Winter aside to let her know her friend had arrived. Felicia had abandoned her snack tray and was now sitting with the other girls, all half her age, listening to one of the boys boast about football. There was commotion behind the bushes as Amber went by, and a soft voice cried, “Oh yes, right there!”
Felicia excused herself, let the boy talk her into a friendly kiss good-bye (which he immediately turned into much more), then sauntered off to change yet again. Amber mixed up a big pitcher of fruit punch for the tennis players, with lots of ice and rum, and then returned to sunbathing by the pool. She refilled her champaign glass. She briefly considered refilling the snack tray too, but it was too much bother. The kids all knew where the kitchen was.
Relaxing with her drink, watching the sunlight glint off her sandals, Amber maintained a cat-like awareness of what was going on around her. She liked to sit and watch the world from behind her opaque sunglasses. Amber drew her share of attention from the rowdy boys around the pool, of course, but she mostly kept them at bay. She preferred more mature men: like Jimmy; like Mr. de Winter; and once, the father of one of the girls who had dropped by to take his daughter home, but that had been a spur of the moment thing.
By the time that Amber’s shrinking uniforms had become barely legal and Mr. de Winter was paying her close to four times the typical domestic’s salary, Amber finally realized that she loved her job. The realization came to her quite suddenly one afternoon, while she was fucking with Jimmy. Amber had been wearing her silk, French Maid’s uniform with the black fishnet stockings. She had her spike-heels over Jimmy’s shoulders, enjoying a long, thorough screwing on the diningroom table when she should have been fixing dinner.
In a moment of epiphany, the full dimensions of her position became clear: she wasn’t just a housekeeper, a simple charwoman hired to clean the house and make the meals; she was a Maid—an icon of comfort and service, the embodiment of every man’s dream of decadant contentment, as sensuous and seductive as the skimpy uniform she was wearing. All this came to her in a moment of blinding clarity just before Jimmy’s exertions brought her to another overwhelming orgasm.
In the days that followed, Amber completed her graduation into the ideal housemaid. She abandoned practicality altogether, and chose her uniforms entirely to suit her mood and fulfill men’s fantasies; sometimes all flounce and frills, other times smooth and silky, still other times black boots and tight leather. Every morning she carefully applied her lipstick and make-up, aiming for that perfect balance between innocence and allure that a Maid must always display. She began playing up the natural sway of her walk, placing one foot precisely in front of the other as she minced about in her leg-shaping high heels. She quit trying to speak like the others, and reverted to her naturally exotic European accent.
Of course, a Maid must always ensure her master is satisfied in every way. Amber had become quite expert at seducing Jonathan de Winter, and nowadays he hardly tried to resist. Usually, she brought him a drink in his study in the evening, then gave him a long, slow blow job while he relaxed.
She also made sure he got enough nookie to keep him happy, although between the newly awakened appetite of his wife and the well-endowed office girls Jimmy had convinced him to hire, this wasn’t really a problem. Sometimes she took him on his desk or on the floor of the study. There had also been impromptu sessions on the livingroom sofa, atop the grand piano, in the den and out by the pool. In fact, the only place that Amber never screwed her boss was in a bedroom.
In between time, she fetched his slippers and rubbed his feet, made him rich, exquisite meals that defeated his diets, and sat in his lap, her long, perfect legs always on display, and fed him strawberries dipped in brandy. She kept her boss so satisfied and distracted that he hardly noticed that she seldom did any housework.
With her improved attitude from Jimmy’s good vibes, Felicia seemed hardly to notice either that her shapely young maid was dressing like a Vegas floorshow and practically rubbing her chest in her husband’s face while she served dinner. Amber took care of Felicia too, as a good Maid should. She apportioned her daily booze carefully, keeping her just relaxed enough to be receptive to Jimmy’s good vibes, without letting her get completely sloshed. Well, most days anyway.
Amber supported Mrs. de Winter’s evolving taste in clothing, no matter how garish or shameless it became, encouraged her in her exercise program, and gave her long, indulgent backrubs after her bath. For her part, Felicia was increasingly permissive about the liberties Amber took during those backrubs. She didn’t seem to mind either that Amber was helping herself to Felicia’s jewellry.
Relaxing with her drink, Amber watched the two women playing tennis. They were both laughing and stumbling and missing every shot. The pitcher of fruit juice was already half empty. Besides, both Felicia and Emma were more interested in showing off for the boys by the pool than they were in perfecting their forehand. Felicia had changed into a silvery white tennis dress and thigh-high stockings with vertical stripes in a dozen different colours. She bent over a lot, flashing her high-cut lace panties.
Amber watched them covertly, keeping tabs on her household like a good Maid should. It was this same sense of responsibility that led her to eavesdrop on conversations, sift through the mail, and peek through keyholes whenever something was happening in a bedroom. Of course, she reported anything interesting to Jimmy.
A while later Jimmy returned with Cleome on his arm. From the relaxed smile on the face of the fabulously built teen, Amber knew she was right about where they had been. Cleome was wearing a burgundy, see-through top of some elaborate weave coupled with fuschia short-shorts and floral-patterned, platform sandals. Despite the plethora of scantily clad babes around the pool, Cleome held the attention of every boy there the moment she walked in.
There was an incident on the tennis court. Felicia, skipping wildly to the net to catch a drop shot, missed her footing and stumbled into the net. She ended up folded over it, with her head a few inches off the ground, her legs flailing uselessly and her delectable ass high in the air. She got no help from Emma, who was laughing so hard she fell over herself. She just lay there on the ground, giggling.
Several of the boys at the pool immediately rushed to Felicia’s aid. It took them a surprisingly long while to get her standing upright again, even though they all helped by holding her by any projection they could find. When they got her sorted out, Felicia failed to notice that one of the helpful boys now had her panties.
She thanked the boys by giving them each a big kiss. One of her rainbow-hued stockings had fallen down around her knee. When she finally, regretfully, separated herself from the last of the young men, she and Emma sat on the sideline and finished the fruit punch. Then they headed off, arm in arm, laughing and wobbling drunkenly, to take a shower together.
Amber looked at her watch. It was time to get back into her uniform. Mr. de Winter would be home soon.
Amber returned to her spacious room and contemplated which of her many uniforms to change into. After watching all those horny youngsters get it on all afternoon, she was in the mood for a little humping herself. She wanted something that would ensure Mr. de Winter was in a pliable mood.
At length she chose a sparkly, see-through outfit that was closer to a negligee than a real uniform. She coupled it with shimmering, stay-up stockings and low-heeled sandals. She touched up her make-up, and slipped on a diamond necklace and matching earrings that technically belonged to Felicia. Admiring herself in the mirror, she turned one leg this way and that. The sexy stockings glinted and coruscated in the overhead light. Her black lace underthings were clearly visible beneath the semi-transparent silk of her uniform. This should do the job.
Mr. de Winter hadn’t raised Amber’s salary in a little while. That was OK with her. She was angling for a new car. She was pretty sure he would come through soon enough.
One reason Mr. de Winter could afford to write Amber’s ever-swelling paycheques was that business was going so well. Mr. de Winter owned a small import-export company that he had inherited from his father. It had always made a respectable profit. This summer, however, sales had shot through the roof. Orders were coming in so fast Mr. de Winter had to bring on more staff just to handle the influx.
Jimmy’s position at the office was rather ill-defined; he acted as a kind of morale officer, and helped Mr. de Winter with hiring decisions. Perhaps that was why Mr. de Winter had dismissed his efficient and long-serving assistant and replaced her with two curvaceous young cuties who seemed incapable of finding clothing that covered their knees or their navels. Jimmy also sat in on sales meetings, not participating, but as a student eager to learn. Nevertheless, Amber suspected that Jimmy’s good vibes were one reason the buyers were suddenly snapping up Mr. de Winter’s products like they were stakes in a gold rush.
The mostly female staff at the de Winter office had generally ignored Jimmy when he first started. Within a couple of weeks they were holding daily lotteries to see who got to take him to lunch. Some time later, casual Fridays were overridden by miniskirt Mondays, which gradually extended to include the rest of the week.
When she felt ready for her boss’s arrival, Amber did a final check of the household. Most of the partiers had wandered off home, though a few lazy couples still lingered by the pool. Felicia and Emma had somehow migrated from the shower to the hot tub, where they were snuggled in happily on either side of Jimmy. Both Jimmy’s hands were invisible under the foaming water. The women were sighing and cooing contentedly.
Both of the rich wives were pretty much bare, although Felicia seemed to have worn bright pink stockings and white platform shoes into the tub. Amber made a mental note to reduce her alcohol intake a little.
There was a very attractive young lady asleep in one of the guest bedrooms, wearing only a pefect tan and a smile. Her bikini and heels were scattered around the room. Amber covered her with a blanket. The maid found the young man Pritchard on the carpet in the den, trying gamely to satisfy both Janine and her sister Mandy. He wasn’t doing a very good job of it. The girls were all over him in a tangle of shapely arms and legs, kissing each other as often as their shared boyfriend.
Finally, Amber located Cleome in the pool room. Jimmy’s gorgeous girlfriend was efficiently hustling two very stoned young men out of everything they had. While Amber watched, the seductive teen sank a perfect double bank shot. One of the men groaned and began to pull off his shirt.
Amber giggled quietly. Cleome could send the fools home in their underwear if she wanted to. She might not be very bright in other ways, but Cleome was a devilishly good pool player. Besides, who could concentrate on the game when the stunning brunette was standing across the table, her upthrusting breasts outlined by her thin, stretch bodyshirt, her red lips downturned into a kiss-begging mou, while her eyes bored into her victim, misty-eyed with promise and desire. Over the months of their relationship, Cleome had benefitted from Jimmy’s good vibes every bit as much as Amber had.
Amber returned to her kitchen and prepared a martini for Mr. de Winter. The hot-blooded housekeeper hurried to the front door when she heard the sound of his BMW pulling into the drive. Under the circumstances, she decided it would be wise to keep him in his study for a little while. She carefully checked her hair in the mirror by the door.
The door opened and Jonathan de Winter stood there, briefcase in hand. He was a round-faced man, more or less handsome despite the receding hairline and slight paunch. He started to say something, but the sight of Amber standing before him in her semi-transparent “uniform” drowned the thought before it came out.
“Good evening, Sir,” Amber purred, shuffling toward him. Silk glistened and fluttered. She handed him his drink.
Her boss was still staring. “A-Amber, for heaven’s sake,” he began, “I don’t think—”
“You’ve had a long day, Sir,” the dark-eyed beauty interrupted, urging the glass toward his lips. “Why don’t we go into the library and relax for a while before dinner?” She took his briefcase with one hand; she laid the other gently on his arm and began steering him toward the oak doors of the study.
“But, but,” he protested lamely, “What about, uhm, where’s Felicia?” He was staring helplessly at Amber’s barely covered curves.
“Mrs. de Winter will be along shortly,” the mesmerizing maid replied, snuggling up close beside him. “Plenty of time to finish your drink. Did you have a hard day?” Mr. de Winter’s boner was already tenting the front of his trousers.
“Oh, god,” he groaned. He took a deep swallow of the martini. “Amber, please, I—”
“Tut, tut.” She closed his lips with two fingers. “No more talk. You need to relax, Sir. Come and sit down and let me take care of you.”
Her lust-dazed boss gave up protesting. As she led him unresistingly toward the privacy of his study, Amber felt her sexy black panties moisten in anticipation. She would wait until Mr. de Winter had a couple of stiff drinks down his throat, and his stiff dink down hers. Then, in between licks and strokes, she would quietly broach the subject of a new car. She would suck him long and slow and maddeningly, until nothing mattered but the sweet sensations in his cock and he could deny her nothing. Sooner or later, he would capitulate.
Yes, Amber decided, she had no complaints about her life.
None at all.
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