The Maid I
1439 Words
Daphne
I had been the maid in this house for over a year.
When Chris hired me to be the live-in maid for his sprawling estate, he did it with the kindest smile I’d ever seen.
He was a titan of a man: broad-shouldered, with skin that looked like polished marble and a jawline that could cut glass. He was rich, successful, and deeply in love with his wife, Claire.
He wanted a maid because Claire was a "career woman," a high-flying executive whose ambitions he supported with every fiber of his being.
But as the months passed, I realized that Claire didn't deserve his support. She didn't even deserve his name.
From the shadows of the hallways, I saw the rot in their marriage. I heard Chris, this powerful, magnificent man begging her for a shred of affection. "Just the tip, Claire. Please, it's been months," I'd hear him whisper through their bedroom door, only to be met with a cold, "I have a meeting at six, Chris. Get off me."
But the worst part? Claire wasn't tired. She was just busy with everyone except her husband.
I’d seen her come home in the middle of the work day, thinking I was out grocerying, with men who weren't fit to so much as shine Chris's shoes.
I’d heard her getting screwed stupid against the very kitchen counters I scrubbed, while Chris was at his office working to provide the life she was currently desecrating.
I hated her for it. And I wanted him. I’d wanted him since the moment he shook my hand on my first day.
Tonight, the house was silent. Claire was "out of town for a conference"which I knew meant she was in a penthouse downtown with a junior associate. Chris was on his way home, and I was done being the quiet girl who watched him get hurt.
I went into Claire ’s walk-in closet. It was filled with designer clothes she barely wore and expensive lingerie Chris had bought for her in a desperate attempt to spark some fire. She’d never even touched the red lace set.
I stripped off my boring, grey maid uniform. I let my hair down from its usual tight, professional bun, the dark curls falling over my shoulders. I stepped into the red lace thong and the matching push-up bra. I slipped into a pair of her highest black stilettos, the heels making my legs look miles long.
When I heard the gravel crunching in the driveway, my heart began to gallop. I poured a glass of dark red wine, sat on the velvet sofa in the main living room, and waited.
The front door opened. Chris walked in, looking exhausted as usual. His tie was loosened, his briefcase hanging heavily from his hand. He looked sour, his eyes downcast, until he rounded the corner and saw me.
He froze. "Daphne?" he breathed, his eyes wide and bewildered. He looked around the room as if expecting a hidden camera or his wife to jump out. He kept a safe distance, his face a mask of confusion. "What... what are you doing? Why are you wearing Claire ’s clothes?"
I took a slow, seductive sip of the wine, letting a drop escape and roll down my chin. "I'm just making myself at home, Chris," I purred, using his first name for the first time. "Just like you told me to do when you hired me. Remember?"
I noticed his eyes stray. He tried to be a gentleman, he really did, but he was a man who had been starving in a desert for months. His gaze lingered on the way the lace struggled to hold my breasts, and I smiled, slowly spreading my legs just enough for him to see the thin red string of the thong.
He gasped, a sharp intake of breath, before he violently averted his eyes, turning his head away.
"Daphne, stop this," he rasped, his voice thick. "I don't know what’s come over you, but you need to go upstairs and change. Right now."
I stood up, the wine glass still in my hand. I walked toward him, the clicking of my heels echoing on the marble floor. I circled him, my hand reaching out to caress the broad expanse of his back. I could feel the tension in his muscles; he was vibrating like a live wire.
"What's come over me is you, Chris," I whispered, leaning in until my breath hit his ear. "I'm tired of seeing you walk in here looking like the world is on your shoulders. I’m just trying to help."
I reached around and took his briefcase and his jacket from his limp hands, dropping them carelessly onto the floor.
"You're making a mistake," he said, though he didn't move away. He shook his head, his jaw locked tight. "You’re going to regret this in the morning."
"I think I'll be happy I made a mistake for once in my life," I replied. I stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at me. "Chris, look at me. I know. I know you haven't been touched in months. I know you've been begging for crumbs while she's out giving the whole loaf to strangers."
His eyes snapped to mine, a flash of pain and anger crossing his face. "Don't talk about my wife."
"Why not? She’s been having her fun," I challenged, my voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "She’s out there right now, Chris. Why can't you have a little payback? Think of it as a 'thank you' for hiring me. A bonus."
I saw the hunger in his eyes as his vision strayed again to my lips, then down to my chest, his chest heaving under his dress shirt. He tried to turn away again, but I was faster. I grabbed his tie, wrapping it around my hand and pulling his face down to mine.
I licked his cheek, a slow, wet trail of heat. Chris closed his eyes, a long, shaky exhale escaping his lips.
"I know you want this," I whispered against his skin. "I know you want it even more than I do. And I promise... no one will ever know. Not even her. Especially not her."
He opened his eyes. He wasn't trying to walk away anymore. He looked at me with a mix of desperation and pure, unadulterated lust.
I took a mouthful of the wine, but I didn't swallow. I moved my face inches from his. I pressed my lips to his, and as he instinctively opened his mouth, I let the cool, sweet liquid flow from my mouth into his. His tongue darted out, meeting mine, tasting the wine and me all at once. He swallowed it, his hands coming up to hover near my waist, shaking.
I did it again. I took another sip and shared it with him, my hand still tight on his tie, pulling him into my space.
Then, I tilted the glass, pouring a slow stream of wine over his cheekbone. It rolled down his face, a dark red trail. I darted my tongue out, licking it off his skin, following the path all the way to his lips. I sucked on his lower lip, my teeth grazing the sensitive flesh.
"Mmm... hnggh..." Chris released a low, guttural groan, his head falling back for a second.
I didn't stop. I followed the wine trail down his neck, my tongue swirling over his pulse point, licking every last drop of the vintage red from his skin. His breaths were uneven, jagged gasps that filled the quiet room.
I suddenly released his tie and stepped back, a small, knowing smirk on my face. "I understand if you don't want it, sir," I said, my voice mock-professional. "I'm just a maid, after all. I'll go back to my room."
I turned to walk away, my hips swaying as I headed for the stairs.
I didn't even get three steps.
His massive hand shot out, grabbing the back of my neck with a dominant force that made me gasp. He whirled me around, slamming my back against his hard chest. His other hand went straight to my ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh under the red lace.
"You don't get to start a fire like that and then just walk away, Daphne," he hissed into my ear, his voice a dark, terrifying rumble of pure need.
He slammed his lips onto mine, and the world dissolved into the scent of wine and the feeling of a man who was finally taking what was his.
- Writer
