But my plans were scuppered when she came into the kitchen as the kettle was boiling. I couldn’t look at her, but she came and stood right next to me, leaning back on the work surface with her hands gripping the edge.
‘I shouldn’t have gone off at you like that,’ she said.
I was able to look at her then. She sounded genuinely apologetic.
‘I’m really sorry too,’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t have been earwigging.’
‘No, it’s OK,’ she said. She looked down, biting her lip, then met my eye. ‘Actually, it’s more than OK.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The thing is, Sam … that’s my client … it turned out he was actually … how can I put this? After the initial shock wore off, he was really excited by the idea that someone had been watching us.’
‘Not watching, listening, really,’ I corrected automatically, but a little flare of illicit interest shot through my lower belly.
‘And he was wondering if … I mean, he’d pay double, and you wouldn’t have to do anything, just be in the room …’
‘Oh, my God, you mean he wants me to watch properly?’
‘Of course, say no if the idea repulses you, but it’d be an easy couple of hundred quid for you.’
‘Two hundred pounds? Just for hanging around in your bedroom for an hour?’
‘Yes. You don’t have to make up your mind now. It’ll be a month or so before I see him again – he needs a bit of time to save up the cash.’ She winked at me, and I grinned back.
‘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.
‘Really? That’s very interesting,’ she said. Her other hand was reaching towards me when the intercom buzzed.
‘Shit. Sam,’ she said. ‘OK, you go and sit on the dressing-table stool over there. If you really want, you can do a bit of cleaning with the spray gun, but I won’t insist on it. Relax, Vix, and enjoy it. I know I’m going to.’
I sank on to the velvet-covered stool, still shaking with the loaded possibilities of our conversation. I’d more or less confessed my sub crush, and she’d indicated that it didn’t surprise or repel her.
Shona had left joss sticks burning to cover the smell of baby wipes and multi-surface cleaner. The combination of fragrances was heady, a bit sickly, but also exciting.
When Shona came back into the room, I got my first good look at Sam. He was a city-boy type, in an off-duty rugby shirt. Short trim dark hair, well groomed, gym-fit, much of a Threadneedle Street muchness, except for his arrestingly large puppy-brown eyes with sweeping eyelashes.
‘This is my maid, Vix,’ said Shona, indicating me off-handedly. ‘Take no notice of her, she’s just finishing up some cleaning.’
I took my cue and set to work with the spray gun, although everything was pretty much cleaned already. Bending over the dressing table, I watched in the vanity mirror as they made the necessary financial transaction and Shona tucked the roll of elastic-banded banknotes into her knicker drawer.
‘Goodness me, Vix, do you know how much you’re showing us?’ said Shona. I straightened like an arrow, guiltily hot. I’d forgotten about that. ‘She’s almost as shameless a little slut as you, Sammy boy. Why aren’t you on your knees yet? Are you waiting for something?’
Sam dropped down immediately and applied his lips to Shona’s shiny toes. I watched, creeping back into a corner, as he licked and lapped at the lacquered surface, moaning with pleasure when Shona pushed her boot tip between his lips, gagging him.
‘Good clean job,’ she said.