'Hmm? Another?'
'Cognac.'
'Oh. Oh, well… '
'Of course you will. I've already poured one for you.' and so she had, stopping at the liquor cabinet again instead of going out for more mop-up equipment or whatever. She was coming back now, delivering the booze with one hand and trying to ease my mind with a gesture of the other. 'See how it's dried up? Just like I told you. No harm done.'
'Thanks. It was still pretty clumsy of me.'
Only because you're so tense, you poor dear. Best excuse in the world, all alone and lonesome. I feel kind of guilty myself, not taking care of you any better than-'
'Silly. You've been wonderful, Zona. You couldn't have done a better job, no matter what.'
'It's sweet of you to say so. But you’re still all tensed-up and I'd like to help. Maybe… uh, if I might suggest… '
'Hmm? I'll listen to any suggestion. Go ahead.'
'A massage? To help you relax, Miss Sue.
'Massage. Is that one of your specialties?'
'I-I'm good at it, if that's what you mean. Anyway, the mistress seems to think so. Says she likes my touch, you know? We’ve got a real massage-table upstairs, too, a portable in the closet-no trouble at all to set up. So how about it? A massage and then a hot bath afterward and I guarantee you won't have to count sheep to fall asleep tonight.'
'Well now. With a guarantee like that… '
'Okay? Miss Sue?'
'You've made me an offer I can't refuse. A massage. And then a nice long hot bath. Okay.'
'Good. I'll go up and get everything ready. You just sit and enjoy your drink and come upstairs when you're finished. Or whenever you feel like it. I'll be waiting.'
It was a comforting thought. Waiting for me, first a massage and then a leisurely soak in the tub. Waiting for me. Such service! Lizabeth might leave something to be desired as a hostess, but I sure couldn't disagree with her philosophy. It's great to be rich. Especially if being rich meant that kind of luxury a maid to wait on me hand and foot, catering to my every whim. And right then and there, on the spur of the moment, I decided to make that my lifetime goal. A maid. Number one priority. Oh sure, a big luxurious house would be fine, too-with mirrors over the bed, why not?-but without a personal maid to pamper the mistress, no house could ever be a real home for me, not any more. Not after tonight. A pretty maid, preferably-prettier than that creature upstairs!-one who could give a massage and still not look like a masseuse. Even if the massage was less than professional. Or even if she was just a beginner, a cute young girl with a minimum of muscle. Just as long as she did it with a maximum of devotion for her beautiful mistress…
Sue, you're drunk!
No, not yet, but I was sure trying. Or maybe I was developing a taste for upper-bracket cognac. Oh well, what the hell, wasn't this my night for self-indulgence? Tomorrow was the first day of the rest of my life, time to take stock and start carrying out my decision. Time to figure out how to get rich in a hurry. I had something else on tap for tonight, though. Upstairs. Waiting for me. More masseuse than maid now, almost a professional type, the kind who probably loved her work. Just as I had surmised! And wasn't it clever of me to have made that judgment beforehand, based on appearance alone?
Chapter 2
The walls and closet doors of the dressing room were mirrored from top to bottom. I had managed to shuck off my dress without much fumbling around for the zipper catch, but a slight dizziness accompanied every movement. The alcohol had indeed begun to take effect. Even the sight of my own half-clad body sent a strange shiver of excitement through me, surely a drunken reaction; good thing I had resisted the temptation down there to pour myself yet another drink. But even in the chaotic whirl of my mind a sense of reason had prevailed, warning me that I was only looking for trouble. Still and all, I had devoured that second one right to the last drop, greedily desperate for anything that might offer some respite from my looming problem.
It sure as hell loomed, too. My breath sounded ragged as I worked on the brassiere and watched my shiny red fingertips reflected in the glass. And then the bra was gone, exposing my ripe young tits to view, boldly provocative somehow, alluring even to myself. I cast an almost furtive glance toward the closed door, my hands already rising to squeeze those fleshy mounds and perhaps soothe that itchy feeling. It was silly to be so cautious, though, why worry about a woman who would soon see me naked anyway? I was only going to scratch a little, that was all. Bare-breasted in panties…
But scratching wasn't enough, as it turned out. An exquisitely familiar sensation came alive there; it seemed to intensify and pick up momentum as I flicked my thumbs over its apparent source, the two pointy peaks. I felt them throb, all swollen now, those suddenly overheated nipples, throbbing to the touch and issuing demands for more. As if the past week of deprivation had built up a reserve of barely dormant passion within me, a sensual hunger that lurked just beneath the surface and was already breaking through.
It was an effort to end the contact, accomplished only out of dire necessity, a rueful awareness that I'd better let my nipples alone and allow the stiffness to subside before climbing onto that massage-table. Even so, I couldn't finish undressing without at least a mild self-caress. The panties could wait. I flattened both palms upon the soft curvature of my belly, the tips of my fingers no more than grazing the waistband, the delicately shirred edge of that one final garment. My torso swayed, a slow undulation, all but involuntary, an exercise in subtle eroticism that caught my eye in the mirror and made me blushingly conscious of the lewd picture. I saw it on all sides now, my repetitious but gradually diminishing image, a soundless echo and re-echo in an infinity of mirrors; all those swaying, undulating hips! It looked like an X-rated ballet troupe in perfect precision, every dancer exactly alike.
I pushed the waistband down, watching the panties turn themselves inside out before they could pull free of my snug and somewhat sticky crotch. The cling was pretty persistent, a new and unexpected tactile enjoyment to go with the visual. But surrender was inevitable and at last I stood naked and unadorned, a revelation enhanced only by my own natural adornments. Of which there were plenty. Lustrously rich chestnut-brown hair, a tumbling mane, casual but never contrary, a kind of pseudo-wind-blown appearance, easy to manage. Brown eyes flecked with gold, large and wide-set, embellished by luxuriantly long and thick lashes. An impeccably molded mouth that needed only a touch of lipstick to bring out its beauty. Smoothly silken skin of a type that had never suffered from hickeys and such, not even in adolescence. And a body with all the curves in the right places, breasts, buttocks, thighs, calves-even my feet were well-formed and without any noticeable imperfections. Oh yes, I was proud of my beauty, justifiably so; after all, hadn't it been drummed into me ever since early childhood? Prettiest youngster in town-sweet little Sue Daventry-and that was the unchallenged consensus of opinion from way back, even among my peers. No other girl had ever been chosen to play Helen of Troy in the annual spring pageant for two successive years, an unheard-of honor. Although one I could have gladly done without. Little did they know…
'Coming soon, Miss Sue?' The maid's voice interrupted my train of thought. 'I'm all set up and ready for you.'
'Uh-huh. In a minute.'
It was now or never. I couldn't just stroll out there naked though, not this first time. Especially with my nipples still hot and sexy, even though the swelling had gone down some. I tossed a peignoir over my shoulders and wore it like a cape, ample coverage for the journey and easy to get rid of afterward. Which was exactly how Zona must have figured it, too, letting the thing slither off my back and billow away as soon as I got up on the table. I saw it out of the corner of my eye, shivering a little as a current of air cooled my fevered skin.
The thick pad was nice and comfortable, relaxing my body. I lay face-down upon the spotlessly clean sheet, snuggling my cheek into the small pillow, almost at ease. Almost but not quite. Not until I got used to the idea of showing my bare ass to a comparative stranger. Which might take some time. Then again, maybe not. I was already more tranquil, lulled by her gentle manner and apparently businesslike attitude.
