Within the quiet walls of a magnificent manor house, hidden behind heavy curtains and antique doors, served a young maid whose grace and skill lit up the rooms of the house. With her skillful hands and tireless work, she kept everything shining and in order – but it was her cheeky, playful manner that lent a special lightness to the austere atmosphere of the house. The master of the house had long since noticed her charisma. His eyes often rested on her for longer than was appropriate for a man of his standing, and the unspoken tension between them was omnipresent in the quiet moments of the house.
One evening, as the wind whistled through the old windows and the open fire made the high walls flicker, he called her to him. She entered the room, her mischievous smile on her lips as always, and waited for his word. But he did not speak. His gaze, usually scrutinizing, was on her, while he only indicated what he wanted with a wave of his hand. She understood immediately. This game had long been familiar, but this evening it felt more intense, almost unstoppable.
Slowly, she slid her hands over the ribbons of her simple dress, untied them with deliberate composure and let the heavy fabric fall to the floor in a gentle whisper. The warm light of the fire played around her naked skin and made the delicate contours of her body glow. She stood still for a moment, her posture erect, her shoulders proud, while her gaze roamed him in invitation.
The landlord leaned back, a faint smile on his lips, his breathing heavy and barely audible. With a satisfied expression, he reached for his wallet, but she sensed that this evening was not just about pocket money. With a cheeky grin, she dropped onto the wide bed at the back of the room. She stretched out with relish, almost like a cat, and looked at him challengingly. “Do you like what you see, sir?” she finally asked, her voice soft and full of mischief.
The tension in the room was almost palpable. After a while, she rose with a graceful movement, grabbed a silk scarf from the mistress’s wardrobe and playfully wrapped it around her naked body. With the grace of a dancer, she walked into the salon, where she sat down on a fine velvet armchair. Her hands reached for a cigarette from the elegant box on the side table, which she lit carefully. She slowly blew the smoke into the room and fixed him with a teasing look. “I wonder how much longer I’ll be your maid, sir?” she asked, a hint of provocation in her voice.
Her movements became slower, her steps almost silent, as she stepped towards him again. She stood so close to him that her body heat enveloped him. She leaned down towards him, blew the smoke from her cigarette into his face and gently slid her hand over his shoulder. “Perhaps you would like to answer that,” she whispered softly, her voice little more than a tickle against his ear.
But she did not pause. She smoothly took his hand and guided it to her body …..
