Hiring a French Maid

Freezing rain glistened in the streetlights as it bounced off the ashphalt, Janie shivered in her thin red jacket, she tightened the zipper hiding the lacy black brassiere beneath.

“How you doin” he asked.

“Quiet, Leroy very quiet,” she replied.

“Best give a discount doll, and it’s Mister Jones” her pimp ordered.

Her feet hurt, huge holes were worn in her black stockings and her shoes while stylish were worn out, nails protruding through to pain her feet. Her suspenders did little to keep her crotch warm, and she wished Leroy allowed her to wear knickers on these cold nights.

The Landlord glared at her through the lounge bar window, she had long been barred from all the local pubs but their entry lobbies provided at least some warmth.

She trudged sadly away, her once golden hair hanging lifeless, she looked at her reflection in the shop window, it blurred but she knew her breasts were holding her back, barely a C cup she needed the surgery which Leroy promised if she was ever to get a decent clientele and get herself off the street.

She heard a car slowing and it slid to a halt at the kerb beside her, she glanced at the driver a middle aged guy, he looked harmless, she opened the door.

“Hey what’s your game” he spluttered startled.

“Don’t you want, me er business” she asked awkwardly.

“No!” he exclaimed firmly.

“Then why did you stop? she asked in increasing exasperation.

“Parking space, I’m going to the shop. sorry.”

She walked slowly away looking,

“What’s wrong, charging too much?” Leroy asked.

“Oh, No, Mister Jones, he was going shopping,” she replied “Never mind, here is a regular, should be good for a Tenner,” she explained.

He stood with Military bearing, his worn flannel trousers, and jacket under a long mackintosh over coat.

“Hello Mister Dawsholm, do you want the usual, sir?”

“Yes please my dear, I do so love the way you swallow”

“That’s ten pounds then sir,” and Leroy took the proffered Tenner.

The low brick walls of the Victorian back alley stretched away from the side road where they stood but their usual spot was a few yards down where a domestic garage was recessed back a few feet, she looked for somewhere to kneel but the rain had saturated everything so as the damp mud froze her knees she knelt to her task undoing his buttons and extracting his member.

It dozed on the warmth of his unwashed underpants, droplets of piss still evident from earlier, it responded sluggishly.

“I had a native lass measure it on National Service and it were nigh on eight inches.”

She tugged, cajoled, breathed on it, tickled it, used every trick she knew short of licking it, and finally the member stretched to maybe three inches and she was able to clamp he jaw round it, it stiffened and then to her intense relief, the turgid grey ooze flowed straight down her throat.

“By Gum you certainly know buttons to press” he admired her work.

She thought happy thoughts about euthanasia and sawn off shotguns.

“Same time Thursday, when I get me Pension all right lass?” he suggested.

She nodded fervently hoping he would get run over or have a heart attack, before Thursday.

Leroy was at hand,

“That Merc’s still there, try that punter again,” he ordered

“I want to go home and get warm,” she replied hopefully

“No you get back there and change his mind,” Leroy ordered.

She wandered back to the car again.

The owner flicked the key fob button lights flashed the doors opened and she slid into the front seat before he realised she was there.

“Ten pounds, a blow job for ten pounds,” she offered.

“No,” he repeated, “No thank you!”

“Full for Ten pounds then, please, I got to earn something”

“You just want to get warm,” he challenged.

“Its freezing,” she complained .

“Ok shall we say twenty quid, anything I want for an hour.”

“Right, yes you’re on,” she agreed.

The car cruised away down the peeling Victorian street, the journey a few hundred yards, The destination a detached Villa, neglected, peeling paint on the mock Elizabethan wood framing on the gable end, lawn grass like a field, weeds in the gravel drive, tatty curtains.

He strode to the porch, opening the door and turning off the alarm.

“Twenty quid and anything goes,” he queried.

“Within limits,” she agreed.

“No you said anything,” he pointed out.

“What do you want, straight, I don’t usually do anal?” she asked.

“Get undressed and put this maids uniform on first,” he requested as he reached into a cupboard and handed her a plain brown box marked ‘Maid’ then without another word he simply walked off.

“Don’t you want to watch me change?” she called after him.

“No.” he replied.

It was a kinky maids outfit, black dress with white apron, stockings and suspenders, several bras fell from the box, different sizes but all half cup and as she undressed and struggled into the costume she found it was far too small, the top gaped open several inches and the hemline plainly showed her knickers.

He gave her a few moments to change and then returned, “The pants don’t match take them off,” he ordered.

She knew better than to argue with a punter so she obediently undid her suspenders an slid the panties to the floor.

“That’s better,” he said admiringly, “Now the sink is full so perhaps you could start there,” he suggested.

“Hey I’m not a maid.” she insisted.

“Oh yes you are, I’m paying you for this role play, now there are rubber gloves in the drawer.” he insisted.

“You are seriously weird,” she replied.

“Put your clothes under the sink,” he ordered.

She opened the door and moved her scanty belongings as instructed.

“Put the plates in the sink, come on,” he urged.

She started cleaning, they did not wash plates at Leroy’s, they did not use plates, just paper plates plastic cups, she usually slept in the kitchen, while the two girls lived and worked from the two big bedrooms and Leroy had the small rooms, sometimes he had eight girls and occasionally he let her sleep with him, nice and warm, but the stench from his constant farts and tobacco breath was a turn off.