I knew that he had a bit of a ‘drinking problem' which meant that my (now) bastard ex-husband regularly stayed out of view in the background, doing the books and making sure that the beer lines etcetera were clean and working, but it turned out that he had developed a ‘gambling habit' too and hadn't been paying the bills or rent for months.
Thankfully they gave me a couple of hours to gather my worldly belongings and three suitcases of clothes that filled the back of the car, then we made for my parents' home, who had readily agreed to take us in.
I was angry, heartbroken and confused as to why at 35 my life was being turned upside down and I was back to where I'd started ... my parents back bedroom.
He mysteriously turned up late at night a week later, full of apologies and cheap whisky. I wasn't very sympathetic, telling him it was all over, and it was ... especially after my Dad and brother kicked him all over the street for his troubles.
That was seven years ago, and I've now moved house six times, eventually settling in a town a few miles from my parents, living in a two bedroom flat and working in the office of a small bedding manufacturer as an admin assistant... until a year ago when it was announced that it was closing.
I was devastated again, mostly because my daughter was finally settled in school and doing well.
As the weeks flew by and I didn't have a job to replace it with, and my redundancy money was running out, I reluctantly visited the offices of the housing company that I rented my flat from to see if there was any help that they could offer. I poured my heart out, telling the attractive and immaculately dressed, female office manager that I'd applied for tens of jobs and ‘would do anything' ... but needed to keep the flat at all costs.
"Anything? Do you mean that?" she asked, and I gasped, "Yes." To confirm. "Well," she paused, "we are about to advertise for a cleaner ... for the office here, some of the serviced houses and flats as well as offices we rent out and become vacant.... How would that suit you?" She looked sympathetic and embarrassed at the same time.
"God yes!" I gulped, "seriously ... yes ... anything to keep the wolf from the door." She smiled and said she'd have to speak to the ‘boss', Mr Baker before fully committing. She then spoke on the phone before going into an office along a short corridor.
I sat nervously fighting back tears for what seemed an hour but was more likely a couple of minutes. "Fiona.... Fiona!" she called out, holding the office door open, "can he have a little chat now?"
I had to force myself not to skip along the corridor. It shouldn't have been a surprise, but the office was expensively decorated and very swish, and the man behind the desk looked about 50 and rakishly handsome with swept back greying hair.
"Fiona?" he smiled and offered me a seat, "Charlotte says you are looking for a job?" I nodded. "You already rent your flat from us too?" I agreed again. There was something about the way he ‘looked' at me which was a bit unnerving but thrilling at the same time.
When Charlotte arrived back with coffees, he asked me about my ‘life' and jobs I'd done... commiserating with my recent problems.
"I think she's already told you that we have a vacancy for a cleaner ... are you sure ... that it's not ... beneath you?"
"No ... no ... not at all." I gasped, trying not to panic.
Mr Baker studied me as he sipped his coffee, his beguiling smile making me tremble slightly.
"Well," he slowly considered, "how about we give it a trial for a month ... see how you like it, but be aware I set very high standards and a quick swish with a duster simply doesn't do ... or there are consequences." At that he held his hand out to shake mine and grinned at me.
Charlotte explained the hours and salary (which was more than my current job!) plus the surprise package of a small van for getting about, plus after my trial my rent would be halved. she then explained that there was uniform that I'd be expected to wear, but she would arrange that before I started.
"Not a French Maid's uniform I hope?" I joked. She furled her lips, "not quite ... unless you want to." Then smiled at me making me uneasy slightly.
After a couple of calls giving me my instructions and taking my sizes for uniform, I called into the office on the Friday to collect it.
Charlotte gave me my files and the van keys; explaining everything I'd need would be inside then handed over a package with three uniforms in.
"Do you want to try one on now?" She asked with a mischievous smile. "I think you should."
Realising that it was a good idea I went into the toilets where I stripped off then unpacked the first uniform. It wasn't too bad, nylon with blue and white trim and the company name on the chest pocket, a button-up front fastening, not too short although still a couple of inches above the knee and comfortably flattering I thought ... especially around my 34c boobs and fulsome bum. While not too tight, it felt better with the top two buttons undone, which thankfully didn't expose too much flesh ... but I convinced myself that wouldn't be a problem in an empty house.
As I was checking myself out in the mirror the door opened, and Mr Baker walked in.
"Oh!" he announced and cheekily smiled, "that was close ... sorry about that, it's a problem with having to share the loo." He made no attempt to leave, just smiling and looking at me up and down.
"Well, don't you look the part ... and if you don't mind me saying, damn sexy too." Then chuckled as I blushed, "the last two cleaners didn't look as good as you; but they were older and a lot fatter ... let's just hope you can do magic with a hoover and feather duster too." Still in my uniform I gathered my clothing and quickly left him to do what he was about to do.
Charlotte complimented me on my uniform too and laughed out loud when I said Mr Baker had caught me in the toilets.
"Not sitting on the pot with the door open I hope!" she sniggered and grinned. She handed over the van keys then wished me luck. It felt strange walking down the High Street in the uniform as it was a bit shorter than anything I'd worn for years, but I got a couple of sideways glances from men which again made me blush but feel incredibly flattered and feminine for the first time since that fateful morning.
My daughter and I had a great weekend plotting what we were going to spend my newfound riches on; and on the Sunday we took the van for a ride to the coast for fish and chips and ice cream.
I was ten minutes early for my first ‘service' appointment on Monday; a flat on the other side of town that had been empty for a week. This like several on my area had been a month long let and there was very little to do; but I still dusted and polished as if my life depended on it ... which it kind of did.
There were 5 more ‘service cleans' to do, two of which I had keys for and in the others the occupants were working from home. In one of these, the teenage son, a student I presumed, was home and I felt his eyes following me around, especially at one stage when the vacuum cord got stuck and I had to bend over to free it, making the back of my uniform ride up my legs. I didn't think for a second he'd been able to see my knickers, but the grin on his face told another story.
The day and the next flew by and I felt that I had an aptitude for this job, and apart from my encounter with the student, all had gone as well as expected ... I hoped.
On Wednesday I was working in the office all morning, starting in the reception then the two meeting rooms and finally Mr Baker's office.
The plan had been for him to be out at lunch, but he wasn't, so I had to nervously and quietly work around him. In between calls he asked how I was enjoying the job and seemed pleased that I was and wondered if I'd encountered any problems? Without thinking I mentioned the young student ‘looking up my uniform' ... he grinned "A man after my own heart, if you don't mend me saying ... especially as you have such sexy legs."
I blushed and carried on dusting and polishing; aware his eyes were always on me. A couple of instances occurred when I needed to bend over but resisted, squatting instead, which elicited a whispered "Oooh ... very nice." Which actually made me smile and my heart thump.
As I finished, I stood admiring my work and looking to see if I'd missed anything, I hadn't. "Hmmm, Fiona." Mr Baker grimaced, "just one small thing ... the black tights?" then screwed his face up, "not a good look ... perhaps something in grey or preferably a nice light tan in future."
"Oh sorry ... I didn't realise ... I'm sorry, I'll buy some on the way home." I was mortified and Charlotte noticed my manner, asking what was wrong. I told her and she apologised telling me that he ‘liked things done right and that was a detail she should have mentioned." Thursday was fine, two empty offices that had new occupants coming on Monday and only two homes that needed ‘services'; both of which offered me coffee. I was wearing some new tan tights that felt really nice, instead of the thick black ones of the previous day.
My tights were still in good order on Friday, so I wore them again to clean the office in the afternoon.
It went in the same order as Wednesday ending with me cleaning Mr Baker's office last. Strangely I felt nervous and excited at the prospect of being in the room with him, hoping he'd notice my new tights.
He barely acknowledged me for twenty minutes or so as he seemed incredibly busy with e-mails or something, making me feel disappointed for some reason.
I'd even woke up at 3am thinking about him, hoping he'd notice me ... this now seems odd, but after the palaver with my ex-husband and all the fall out over the next few years, men and especially sex had been the last thing on my mind; even masturbation had been off the agenda, leaving me celibate.
There was a knock on the door and Charlotte popped her head in. "I'm going now ... I'll lock up on the way out ... have a good weekend ... you too Fiona."
"Oh." He eventually looked over as I started vacuuming the carpet. "Sorry about that ... busy, busy, busy .... Fridays ... you know." His smile lit up the room and made my heart skip a beat.
"I'm not making too much noise, am I?" I nervously asked. "Not at all." He smiled again. "Take your time." He then sat back in his swivel chair, rolling a pen between his fingers. "I see you've taken my advice and are wearing some nicer tights today ... they are tights, aren't they?"
I was baffled for a moment and mumbled "yes they are." Only then realising he'd thought they might be stockings! "I'm not averse to you wearing stockings by the way." He smirked making me blush, "but whatever you're comfortable in." I meekly nodded and carried on, feeling his eyes burning into me. "Don't miss the books on the top shelf." He voiced firmly, "they're valuable ... so be careful."
They were quite high up, "is there something I can stand on?" I asked. He simply shook his head ... I'd have to stretch.
Shyly I looked at him, then the books ... it dawned on me he wanted to see up my uniform. I was shocked, but this was only my first week and I desperately needed the job, so complied, standing on tiptoes feeling the material slowly rise up my legs and thighs.
I can't lie; it was very exciting ... but a bit humiliating too.
"Yes ... that's it ... more." I heard him mutter and I humbly conformed until I was sure my knickers would be on show. Not concentrating as I was trying to balance, I stumbled knocking some books onto the floor.
"What have you done? What have you done!" he repeated as he jumped out of his chair and ran to pick up the books, examining each one carefully.
"I'm so sorry." I gasped as tears welled up in my eyes.
"You stupid .... Stupid...." He growled unable to finish his sentence. "I told you there would be consequences if you damaged anything."
"I'm sorry ... don't sack me .... I need the job... don't sack me .... I'll do anything!"
With hindsight I'd fallen right into his trap. "You stupid fucking woman!" he repeated angrily pulling me by the arm and when I stumbled, he grabbed the hair on the back of my head and dragged me to his desk. Roughly pushing me against it. "Get over there ... bend over ... bend over!" He sounded like he was in a rage as he pressed my chest onto the wood.
With one hand pressing down on the small of my back he thwacked my arse with the other making me yelp.
"I told you there would be consequences if you weren't careful ... this is what you get!" followed by two or three more hard slaps across my arse ... each one making me yelp out loud.
The shock took away the pain at first ... but when he tugged my nylon house coat up over my hips his hand landed against my nylon encased arse with venom ... and each cheek suddenly became enflamed, and I began crying and squealing.
"Grow up ... and stop that whining! You've done wrong and need to be punished."
I tried, only to begin sniffling like a child while thinking how much I needed the job and the money.
"The more you fucking whine and cry the more I'll spank you .... You need to learn a lesson."
His hand came down time and time again, the sound of the ‘crack' as powerful as the actual strike when his flat hand landed on my wobbling arse.
"I'll stop!" I pleaded, "I'm sorry ... very sorry ... sir!" I whined, desperately trying and eventually controlling my tears.
He stopped, but the beating must have lasted or 4 minutes and my arse was on fire as I stood up. When I went to adjust my uniform, he called out, "No, no ... no ... stay just like that... I need to see my work."
I was trembling as I stood with my uniform around my waist and I felt his hands on my waist, then his fingers inside my tights, slowly sliding them over my buttocks and down to my knees, revealing my bright red arse cheeks.
"Nice." He mumbled, then gently stroked them making me wince. "Good ... they look beautiful."
It certainly hurt when he touched my fiery skin but there was also something strangely exciting too.
"Get dressed." He suddenly and curtly told me, "I hope you've learned your lesson." His breathing unexpectedly heavier and laboured.
I turned to look over my shoulder and saw him masturbating! Even for a woman my age and sexual experience this was a first. I'd wanked some boys in my teenage years, but never saw anyone, especially a grown man openly tugging on a cock.
Out of nowhere he pushed my chest down onto the desk. "Oh yes!!! Fuck me ... fuck me ... do it hard ... FUCK ME!" I screamed ... I'd never been the most vocal during sex and don't think I'd ever uttered the F-word out loud; so this remained inside my head. I did as instructed ... then felt him rubbing his dick against my red-hot cheeks. "Yes ... yes... yes." He panted as he began wanking again ... his knobhead occasionally pushing into my flesh then pressing against it as he wanked feverishly ... gasping and groaning at the same time.
"Ugh ... ugh ... yes... yes.... Oh fuck YES!" Mr Baker wheezed, then I felt something wet and warm splash against an arse cheek then him pressing his dick against the other before smearing his goo across both; all the time sighing and panting for breath.
Eventually he gave a little cackle and stepped back.
"You can pull your knickers up now." He wheezed.
As I straightened up I turned my head over my shoulders to see him grinning lasciviously in my direction as he tucked his cock away. "Can I clean up please?" I queried, with my knickers and tights still around my knees.
He simply smirked and shook his head, directing me with his hand to pull my underwear up.
"Bastard!" I thought as I did as commanded, closing my eyes and pursing my lips as I felt his cold wet cum smudge across my buttocks as I adjusted my knickers, pulling them tight for comfort then adjusting my tights similarly.
"That's all for today." Mr Baker beamed, "See you on Monday?" Rubbing my sore buttocks and feeling the dampness seeping through I meekly nodded.
"By the way, you've got the job." He winked and I replied, "Thank you."
When I got in the van I didn't know whether to laugh or cry as I wriggled as my arse was still sore and I had to try and find a dry patch and ... but couldn't so drove home in a most uncomfortable fashion.
My daughter was already in the flat when I arrived and barely batted an eyelid when I told her I'd have a shower before making tea.
My arse cheeks were still tingling as the warm shower water hit them and thankfully the soapy bubbles felt soothing as I washing his gunk off. After I'd dried myself, I turned to look at my bum and actually smiled when I saw the pink marks that still remained. While I dressed into some casual clothing I considered what had just happened and played it off against him telling me I'd got the job. It was a moral dilemma ... I lied to myself. I couldn't believe it but I'd actually enjoyed getting my arse spanked and him pulling my tights and knickers down, seeing my most private parts... and craving him to fuck me roughly over his desk.
My daughter was thrilled when I told her I'd got the job three weeks early! So much for it being a moral dilemma.
The weekend flew by, shopping and hanging out until I went to bed on Sunday night and I could barely get to sleep reliving Friday afternoon in my head.
TBC
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