“Yeah, you know… The fantasy of it. Roleplay.”
No, I definitely don’t get it. “Why would someone want to fuck the maid?”
Determined to make me understand, Andrea walks away to fetch the microfiber cloth she discarded and returns. Her body language changes—it’s more languorous, more calculated, as she swipes the desk again. After a few back and forths, she knocks a glass paperweight, which rolls to the edge of the desk and falls to the floor, breaking.
“Oh, no…” she lets out with a hand over her mouth. Her acting is unconvincing, but I’m curious to see where this leads. “I’m so sorry, sir, I broke your thing. Please don’t let my boss know, or else he’ll fire me.”
This wasn’t mine, but some cheap accessory that came with this place. I’m intrigued as she walks around the desk, then, after making sure there’s no glass there, she kneels before me. “I’ll do anything you want, sir. Please forgive me.”
She gives her face a pleading expression, but I know her too well not to notice the amusement that twinkles in her eyes. Then she brings her hands to my thighs, caressing them up and down before she repeats, “Anything you want, sir.”
I don’t answer, so she lets go of my thighs to open four buttons down her dress, revealing she isn’t wearing a bra.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” I say, not fooled by this abrupt change of mood.
“Not get fired because I broke your precious paperweight?”
“Distract me from the matter at hand.”
“Mh… Is it working?” she tries.
“Not entirely. I’m not agreeing to your plan quite yet, but if I were to, it would have to unfold in a single day, Andrea.”
“Just one day?! That’s not enough, and we both know it. A week.”
“Two days.”
“Five.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
My gaze hardens, unwavering. “Three.”
“Ugh, okay, three days! Now, can we go back to the other matter at hand?”
I frown, unsure of what she’s talking about. Her stance changes, and she goes from stubborn to sheepish. “I need this job to help my ill mother, sir,” she pretends. “Please let me repay you for breaking your valuable glass thing.”
She’s relentless. And as much as I hate to admit it, her little show is starting to work on me. “Is this why people are into maids? The power imbalance?”
My question breaks her out of character again, and she seems almost annoyed that I’m not playing my part. “I suppose,” she answers. “Don’t you find it a little hot? The idea that I’m so far below you and at your mercy?”
I don’t have to think about it long to say, “Not really, no. I like that we’re equals. You being my employee was a problem for me, actually.”
She pinches her lips, seemingly dissatisfied with my answer. “I don’t know how I fell so in love with the most boring man in the world.”
Bothered by my lack of compliance, she grabs my knees to help herself up. I don’t let her, though, pressing on her shoulder with a firm hand. No one, especially not her, gets to call me boring and not get proved wrong.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I demand.
“To change into normal clothes.”
“No, you’re not. Do you realize how important that paperweight was to me? And you destroyed it with your clumsiness.”
Excitement and arousal fire up behind her surprised eyes. Immediately, she reprises her role. “Sir, I’ll do anything to make up for it.”
“Like what?”
