‘No, I can answer now. Why the hell not? Go on then.’
In the course of that month, I often lay awake at night wondering how the appointment would play out. Although I knew that my role was to watch, I sometimes imagined myself contributing a little more actively. Sometimes I pictured myself bent over beside Sam while Shona dealt with us both, one stroke for him, one stroke for me. Or I was lying on the bed, and Sam was ordered to lick me to orgasm while Shona stood over him, whipping him with a belt. Or the other way around – me giving Sam head while Shona whipped me. Or I licked Shona out with dedicated devotion, while Sam … oh, who cared what Sam was doing? There were multiple variations, but Sam and I were both in the submissive position, and Shona ruled over us with a rod of iron.
I have to admit, these night-time fantasies sometimes made for awkwardness over morning coffee. I think Shona had an inkling that
I was developing quite a crush on her, but she was too delicate to mention it explicitly.
When the Saturday in question finally rolled around, I was fairly buzzing with excitement.
‘What should I wear?’ I asked Shona, as I opened my bank statement at the kitchen table.
‘Oh, anything,’ she said, shrugging. ‘You don’t have to dress up.’
‘Oh, don’t I?’
My face must have fallen, because she laughed.
‘Do you want to dress up?’
I laughed with her, trying to cover my self-conscious blushes.
‘It seems a bit rude not to,’ I suggested.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a French maid’s outfit some of my clients sometimes wear. I’ll put it out for you and you can try it on. Otherwise – just wear what you want. Wear nothing, if that grabs you. I really don’t mind, and neither will Sam.’
The maid’s outfit was made of cheap, scratchy nylon and was tarty as hell. Designed to be worn by cross-dressing men, it fell to mid-thigh on me, covering my modesty nicely, despite the stiff meringue of net petticoats beneath the skirt. With fishnets, suspenders and high heels, I looked flirty and mischievous, an effect I quite liked. I pouted to myself in the mirror and bent over, letting my bottom stick as far out as I could, seeing how low I had to go before a flash of stocking-top was visible. Not that far!
I bit my lip at myself and clasped my hands over my apron. I hadn’t put on any knickers.
I wondered if either of them would ever know, as I giggled maniacally at my own wildness.
I waited for Shona to finish with her penultimate client, then went into her room.
She was wiping down the surfaces with a spray gun and cloth, looking rather grumpy in a latex corset and supertight miniskirt. They matched her shiny elbow-length gloves and thigh-high boots.
When she looked up and saw me, her frown faded and she smiled broadly.
‘Well, look at you. Sex kitten or what?’
My mouth was a bit dry from the effect looking at her had had on me, so I couldn’t really reply.
‘I’ve got it planned,’ she said. ‘You’re my maid. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, but if you want to join in a little bit, that could be fun. Up to you, though.’
‘What sort of joining in?’ I asked, transfixed by her.
‘I don’t know … just answering a few questions. Coming over to look at him – maybe touch him, if that wouldn’t freak you out.’
‘I don’t think it would,’ I answered quickly. ‘Is it, like, you’re my mistress too, then?’
‘Do you want to obey my orders?’ she asked, dropping her voice and putting her head to one side.
I swallowed.
‘Vix?’ she prompted, with a sternness that made me want to swoon.
‘I … wouldn’t mind,’ I whispered.
She came over to me then, and placed one latex-covered finger beneath my chin, gazing at me with a rapt curiosity.