by Pea Jung
As I crawl towards him, I remember to lift my head.
Without a doubt, he can see more than I would ever let a stranger see. But more than that I dread turning around and presenting him with my ass in this string.
He hums quietly “Kitten, you make me purr,” I reach for the pillow.
“Do you think you can’t pull it off behind your back?” he asks.
I hold the pillow behind my back. While kneeling very close to him. He seems to enjoy it as I stretch my breasts against him. I cannot prevent my nipples from becoming erect under his horny gaze. To make matters worse, he holds the crop under my breasts so that the fabric is tight.
I don’t succeed in stripping the case from the pillow, and I become more hectic.
“Alright! Do it as you can,” he allows gently and slowly draws the crop across under my breasts.
Now I can easily strip away the cover. “Where should I put the laundry?” I ask.
“Put them next to the fresh linen on the floor. But one piece after another.”
That was clear!
“Hey Kitty, bad mood today?” he asks me suddenly and I react “No, Sir!”.
“Well, then go ahead!”
I crawl away from him to the mountain of clean linen and slowly lean over the edge of the bed to replace the old pillow cover with a fresh one.
“Stop!” he shouts suddenly strict and I freeze. “What is that?”
“What?” I ask a little annoyed because I’m in a totally embarrassing position where my butt is standing almost naked before him at eye level.
He laughs briefly but sounds rather despairing. “What is that sticking out from the string?” he asks stunned.
Oh no! I had forgotten the panty liner. Of course, it has slipped. “Nothing, Sir,” I whisper ashamed as I notice him approaching.
I bite my lower lip nervously.
“Kitten, I’m not blind.” His voice sounds threatening. “This is a panty liner!”
“Fuck, yes!” it bursts out of me. “I mean… Yes, Sir!”
He drops onto the bed and after a loud sigh, he begins to laugh so loud and so heartily, I can only laugh with him. I right myself and explode with laughter, until he suddenly falls silent. “Go into the bathroom and remove the damn thing!” he orders darkly.
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper and make my way out of the room.
I run to the bathroom as quickly as the silver boots will let me. A look in the mirror confirms my suspicion, that I turned deep red. I look hot and really excited! My lips are blood red, my eyes, which really do slightly resemble a cat’s, look downright inviting. It’s clear that the sense and purpose of this activity is not to make my employer laugh, but somehow it has loosened up the situation for me. He has noticed, though, that I am somewhat tense today, but he does not seem to know the reason. Maybe I should tell him that I don’t feel comfortable in this string?
“Where are you, Kitten?” he calls.
I remove the panty liner and put the string into position. Then I go back into the bedroom, where he has again relaxed against the headboard of the bed. The amusement that sparkles in his eyes annoys me a little, and therefore I intend to drive him out of his laughter.
Provocatively slowly, I climb up onto the bed and remind myself to collect the clean pillowcase from the ground, stretching my back against him as I do so. He draws a surprised breath, which I really like. I keep working and throw him the freshly covered pillow. He catches it and puts it behind him on the wall, to lean his head on. After I have – of course very slowly – removed the fitted sheets, I ask: “How should I do the cover?”
He considers briefly. “Standing – but on the bed.”
Of course!
I stand up swaying and unbutton the cover.
“Kitten, you should stand before me!” he whispers to me and beckons me over.
“I can not stand on the bed wearing shoes,” I complain.
“Then take them off, but take your time with it!”
I move to his side of the bed and put a foot right next to him on the bedside table.
“You have already understood what I like,” he hums quietly.
It’s difficult to ignore the lustful look with which he looks between my legs. Slowly, I open the boot and pull it off of my foot. Then I change leg and he has a better viewing angle. I really have to force myself to take the shoe off slowly.
“Come!” I hear him say hoarsely when I’m done.
While he relaxes on the fresh pillow, I stand with my legs spread directly over him and try to pull off the cover, without losing my balance. When I finally manage it, I take a step backward, let myself move lasciviously to all fours and bend over after a fresh cover. He has become so awfully quiet, I become tense again. Nevertheless, I manage to put the bed cover on standing in front of him.
I give myself a very long time for the sheet. I crawl around on all fours on top of the mattress and attach the sheet very carefully. I’m saving the corner, closest to him until the very end. He makes no move to retreat away from me, and I have to watch like hell not to touch him.
His breath is accelerating as he looks down my top. For the first time, I’m sure he won’t do anything to me. He only wants to watch. However, I can’t help it and I take a quick look at his crotch, which of course he immediately notices. Completely out of breath, I finish the first side of the bed.
Then I make a place for him so that he can sit and watch, which he does, and get to work on the second side – again in slow motion. This time I change the fitted sheet, then the pillows and finally the cover, at which I once more back myself up before him.
I shake so violently that I lose my balance. His hands reflexively shoot out to catch me. I am so terrified at this that I jerk away from him in fright. I let out a horrified scream and fall on the mattress. Immediately I crawl backward away from him and promptly slide onto the floor. Hastily, I squint to see what he is doing on the bed.
Without taking his eyes off me, he lets his arms drop. While my breath still comes and goes intermittently, he just stares at me. I do not dare to move.
Suddenly, he gets up and leaves the room, while he says: “finish the bed! Then come into the living room!”
“Yes, Sir,” I reply and wait until he’s gone. I have almost finished with the bed anyway, so I don’t particularly hurry.
With the boots in hand, I traipse into the living room. It is actually after 8 o’clock again, which is why I have the secret hope that he might let me go.
“Should I put the boots back on?” I ask, and thus tear him from his thoughts.
He looks at me in surprise and clears his throat. “No, but I want you to vacuum the living room. The vacuum cleaner is in the kitchen behind the door.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Once I have plugged the vacuum cleaner in next to the living room door, I ask: “Any instructions?”
“You know what I like Kitty. Surprise me!”
Swallowing hard I turn my back to him and bend over to turn on the vacuum cleaner. Then I get to work, where I concentrate more on my lascivious movements rather than on the fact that I am vacuuming a perfectly clean carpet. I crawl into every corner and when I work standing up, I always ensure that I can put a leg up somewhere. Finally, I approach the couch on which he is sitting, and start to vacuum under it on all fours. At the very end, I crawl right in front of him under the coffee table, until he suddenly pushes the button of the vacuum cleaner and whispers: “That’s enough for today, Kitten.”
Surprised I turn my head and try to read what his eyes reveal through the glass table top. “Have I done something wrong?” I ask.
But he just hisses: “come out from there immediately!”
“But…”
“Now!” he roars so loud that I jump and bang my head on the
glass plate.
As quickly as I can, I crawl out from under the table and stand up.
“Get dressed and get out of here!” he orders, still much too loud.
I run into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. The fabric of the Angel costume slips through my fingers several times. I’m shaking all over.
What’s wrong with him?
Quietly, I sneak out of the bathroom to the cloak room and search for my jacket with flying hands.
“Don’t you want your tip?” he calls and I turn around.
His voice sounds calmer. Slowly I go back into the living room and he points to the arm chair. I sit with heart pounding and wait to hear what he has to say. A 100 euro note is lying on the coffee table.
“It is unforgivable that I yelled at you. I’m sorry. I am also sorry that I almost touched you on the bed earlier,” he says quietly.
I try to smile.
“Why are you afraid of me?” he asks suddenly.
“I don’t know who you are and whether I can trust you.” And besides that, I’m not exactly sure I know why I’m actually here. I must be completely mad.
“Why come here then?”
I shrug my shoulders. “It seemed like I could make money here with little effort.”
“Don’t you mind me staring at you?”
“Actually, yes. I’ve not felt particularly comfortable. I don’t like thongs, I wouldn’t wear one in private either” I try to explain.
“I understand. Then I’ll refrain from picking one next time,” he says, and as my eyes widen startled, he adds smiling: “Of course, you’ll get something else, with more fabric.”
Relieved I slump back in my seat.
“What was with the panty liner?” he asks strictly.
“I didn’t want the pants…”
“… to get wet?” he adds smugly and I would bet he’s grinning beneath his mask.
“Yes,” I confess softly.
“You come here so I can look between your legs as you’re cleaning, and you want to take away my view of your wet panties by wearing a panty liner?”
“Must we talk about it?” I ask embarrassed.
“Ms. Wagner, that is exactly what I want to see. If you get wet under my eyes, I enjoy the show even more. You need not be ashamed of it! I’ve seen many pairs of wet underpants.”
“I can imagine that” I softly mumble.
“What?” he asks loudly.
“Nothing,” I return, I am sure he understood me.
“Do you shave regularly?” he asks suddenly and now a loud “Excuse me?” escapes my lips.
I’m sure that he is grinning.
“Are you making fun of me?” I ask outraged.
“Not in the slightest. I just think you could use a professional depilation,” he replies amused. The way he places his hand on his face shows me that he very much is making fun of me.
A very bad word is sitting on the tip of my tongue, fortunately, it does not come out of my mouth. But he sees my outrage. Yet he makes no move to take the mischief out of his gaze.
“That’s it!” I hiss and get up quickly. “Keep your money!”
“If you leave now, you can forget your monthly salary,” he reminds me seriously.
“I said, keep your money! You have to realize that you can’t buy everything.” His remark has hurt me. Of course I shave, even in the pubic area, at least far enough that I don’t have any peeping pubic hair at the swimming pool.
“Please sit down! I’m afraid I must apologize again. I didn’t want to upset you,” he now speaks so gently, that I am hesitant to leave the room.
Reluctantly I finally drop back into the chair.
“I will still make a waxing appointment for you,” he says.
I have had it!
I jump up and run out to the hallway, leaving the 100 euro note on the table. Hastily, I slip into my shoes and hasten to reach the stairwell. Will he follow me with his stupid mask?
Chapter 7
The next morning, I’m still asleep when the phone rings. “Josefine Wagner.”
“Were you still sleeping?” he asks quietly and kindly.
“What do you want?” My voice doesn’t sound quite as angry as it should.
“I want you to come back on Thursday.”
“Why not just find some other woman, one who doesn’t mind running around in front of you half-naked. And perhaps you should add in the advertisement that you prefer shaved women.”
He actually has the insolence to giggle quietly! “Stop laughing or I’ll hang up!” I growl and sit up.
“Mrs. Wagner. You are 31 years old. I didn’t think that you would be so sensitive when it comes to your sexuality.”
“I’m not sensitive. It just makes a difference to me, whether you are looking at my butt as I pick up shards under the table in the restaurant, or I have to shake it in front of you half-naked.”
“That’s why I want you,” he says quickly. “Because it’s not natural for you. That’s why I hoped you would try it once shaved.”
Panting. I let myself fall onto my back.
“Are you lying in bed?” he asks urgently.
“Yes, I was working late.”
“I know.”
“If you know everything about me, then you also know, why I won’t go for a wax.” I sink deeply into my pillow.
“I know that you have been single for a long time and I’m still trying to figure out why. You obviously have no physical flaws, so you either have a quirk, I know nothing about, or you have a crush on your boss.”
“Jörg? Yes, exactly, of course!” I laugh. “Jörg is married and has two young children.”
“That was no obstacle for you,” I hear him say and my laughter dies down.
“You know?” I mutter and swallow.
“Of course.”
It’s a really well-kept secret that I slept with Jörg. It was when his wife was pregnant with their second child and he had already poured his heart out to me on several occasions because she was behaving disinterested in him. One night it just happened. All the guests were already gone, Jörg had turned out the lights in the dining room and asked me if I would stay and drink a beer with him. I agreed and he put on his favorite CD. After a while, we ended up singing together at the counter. The mood suddenly turned passionate, and even today neither of us can say what exactly happened. Jörg stormed to the men’s room, to get a few condoms from a machine, all of which we used. The next day it wasn’t just the effects of the alcohol that were sobering. Jörg asserted that he loved his wife and didn’t want to lose her. I like his wife a lot. She is a warm, happy person. I’ve never told anyone about that night.
“I admit that it was difficult to find out.”
“But not impossible,” I breathe quietly. Because I would like it a thousand times better, if he had found out about the thing with my packed lunch. Suddenly I feel dog tired and have to yawn.
“Did you not sleep well?” he asks me, almost tenderly.
“No, I was thinking for a long time yesterday evening.”
“About what?”
“About you.”
“Interesting! And what was the outcome?”
I smile because I realize that he likes how the conversation in developing. “You are a mystery. I wonder all the time what you look like. And I’ve decided that it is by far not enough for me to only see the eyes of my counterpart, even though you have really pretty eyes.”
He says nothing, so I continue: “I wonder what color hair you have and whether it is rather long or short. What does your nose look like? What color is your skin? Are you good looking? Is your mouth narrow or do you have full lips? How does your mouth move when you laugh? Is your chin wide or narrow? Do y
ou have a full beard? In my imagination, you have a three-day beard. Do you have all your teeth?”
But he doesn’t let himself be lured into the open. “You really do think too much. No wonder you’re tired.”
“How old are you?” I ask.
“38” he replies shortly. “That’s all that I will tell you about me. I can fulfill your fantasy of a three-day beard, even if wouldn’t see much of it.”
I guffaw.
“Actually, I have a lot to do here. You stop me from working, you know that?” he grumbles, but he sounds friendly.
“You called me, remember?”
“The idea of you lying in your bed didn’t exactly motivate me to concentrate on work.”
“I’m only wearing my nightgown and nothing else,” I say naughtily, and hear his breathing speed up. “Should I come over to clean?”
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me. I have an important appointment, I actually have to go welcome my guests.”
I can not resist. “I’m sorry!” I say in a lascivious tone. “I’m so turned on!” It’s amazing how easy it is for me to play with his horniness on the telephone!
“I’ll see you on Thursday?” he asks, and I know that he wants to change the topic. What a pity!
But I generously let him off the hook. “I’m already looking forward to the costume. And don’t forget: you promised me some more fabric.”
“I’m wondering, how you got me to do that,” he sighs in resignation.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“Please think about it!”
“About what?”
“The wax,” I hear and can literally see his lewd grin. Then he suddenly says: “I have to go now. Goodbye.”
I haven’t even caught my breath before he disappears from the line.
Chapter 8
All day at work I keep thinking about this 38-year-old man who has imposed himself into my life, all because I had to sweep up broken glass from under a table.
People, look out, just in case something similar happens to you! Leave the pieces, or get the vacuum cleaner! And above all: don’t bend over! Especially not if you’re wearing a skirt.