**********ADULTS ONLY**********

Simone's Awakening
(C) by Erotin Thraller

Suddenly out on her own, Simone takes a job.

Codes:  exhib, voy, oral

Chapter 1 - Simone

Conflicting emotions violently stretched Simone's 
mind, pulling her thoughts in opposite directions.  
Fear nearly paralyzed her, as she realized she had no 
idea what to do.  It was not that this was an 
immediate crisis, but her life, as she had come to 
accept it, was over.  Completely concluded.  She was 
on her own, and her very survival was at stake.  Could 
she maintain the house by herself?  If she sold it, 
where would she live?  Where would she go?  Could she 
survive on her own?  At the other extreme, Simone felt 
tremendous relief.  The heaviest burden of her life 
had just been lifted.  She was free.  At last.  
Finally.  Auntie Lucia was dead. 

Her death was not unexpected.  After all, she had 
hounded Simone with threats of her impending demise 
for the past eight years, ever since Simone was ten 
years old.  That's when Simone's parents had been 
killed in that awful automobile accident and she had 
come to live with her only living relative, her 
father's sister, the aged Lucia.

Life with Auntie was comfortable enough.  Most of her 
needs were met, but Auntie Lucia was a cranky, bitter, 
complaining semi-invalid.  Perhaps the old lady was a 
hypochondriac, or maybe she simply made a career out 
of milking her complaints.  Either way, she demanded 
so much time and attention from Simone that the girl 
had little opportunity to develop friendships or have 
any social life.  Simone was required to keep the 
house neat and the meals cooked, along with running 
personal errands for Auntie, who behaved according to 
whatever whim overtook her, all the while spending her 
days upstairs in the bedroom, propped up on pillows in 
her massive four-poster bed.  Simone was certain 
Auntie spent most of her waking time dreaming up 
projects for her to do, simply to keep her too busy to 
become involved with other people.  Simone had no life 
of her own.

During the school year, Simone's days were especially 
difficult, for she had to prepare breakfast and lunch 
for her aunt before leaving for school.  When she 
arrived home in the afternoon, she had the house to 
clean, the evening meal to prepare, as well as her 
homework to study and prepare.  Many mornings she went 
off to school with less than four hours of sleep.

Even so, while her life was not what she wished, there 
had been security in Auntie's home.  Security and 
safety.  Now, however, with Lucia dead, Simone's fears 
for her future seemed overwhelming.  

It had all happened so fast.  Only one week 
previously, Simone was thrilled and excited as she 
graduated from high school.  It was a great 
accomplishment.  Considering her home life, or lack of 
it, the mere fact that she could graduate at all was a 
wonder.  She tried to explain that to her aunt, but 
nothing in Simone's life seemed important to the 
matronly ogre.  Lucia was too caught up in her own 
needs and desires even to consider that Simone might 
also have needs.  Or perhaps the old woman was so 
wrapped up in herself that she simply didn't care 
about anyone else, even her niece on whom she was 
completely dependent.  

The result was that Simone celebrated her academic 
achievement by herself, with no hope for any further 
schooling.  It was the end of the line for her 
education.  She knew her aunt would never allow her to 
leave, to go away to college.  The future looked 
dismal.  Hope was dim.  Then, just like that, Lucia 
died.  It was a beneficent gift with extremely 
frustrating implications for Simone.

The evening after the funeral, Simone suddenly 
realized she had time to do whatever she desired.  
Anything at all.  There was no homework.  No one 
upstairs demanding attention.  No duties assigned for 
the evening.  Even so, she refused to be rushed.  She 
knew eventually she would need money.  So her first 
decision was that she needed a job.  

The next day she went to the library and used one of 
the public computers to log on to the internet, 
thinking she might find job listings for her area.  It 
took only a few minutes, however, for her to realize 
that her employment options were as few as her chances 
of going to college.  She had graduated from high 
school, but not with grades which would attract the 
attention of any college's admission office.  Neither 
had she acquired any marketable skills to qualify her 
for a job.  She knew students who had jobs at the fast 
food restaurants, but the idea of working so closely 
with the public frightened her.  So much of her life 
had been spent in isolation that she was ill-equipped 
to work with other people.  Her social skills were 
rudimentary at best.

As she read down through the list of Google's search 
results, she came upon several blogs written my people 
who were dissatisfied with their employment situation 
or were likewise looking for work.  She started to 
post a comment on one of the pages, then decided 
instead to start her own blog.  Not quite sure what to 
say or why she was even doing it, Simone recorded her 
frustrations.  She typed her need for a job and 
uploaded it, calling herself "Lady So Lonely."


Chapter 2 -  Helmut

"Since when do I have to ask your permission to move?" 
Charles asked bitterly.

"Ever since you were born into this family.  That's 
how long.  And you are still my son," Helmut growled 
back.  He dropped his head in a modified pout, "Oh, go 
ahead.  Go off and earn your blasted money.  Go earn 
your million dollars and enjoy your life.  Forget 
about me.  I can take care of myself without your 
help."

"It doesn't have to be that way, Dad," Charles tried 
to explain.  "You can come with me to Phoenix, and 
before you know it you'll have lots of friends."

"Like fun I would.  People who live in nursing homes 
don't have friends.  They have cell mates."

"It's not a nursing home, Dad."  Again, Charles tried 
to explain.  "It's a retirement center."

"Semantics," scoffed Helmut.  "Call it what you will, 
it is just a holding pen for people condemned by their 
age and health.  It's a place to keep them out of the 
way until when they die.  Then their kids can take 
their money and go have fun."

"Dad, please don't be so bitter."

"Would you stay here, if I asked you to?  Would you 
turn down that job, if I said to?"

"Of course, not.  I've already made the commitment.  
My wife and I are taking the children and moving next 
week.  We want you to come with us."

"Well," Helmut growled, pulling the lap robe up around 
his waist.  "I'm not going.  I'll hire a housekeeper.  
I intend to stay right here."

"But..."

"Enough.  My mind is made up.  Apparently yours is 
too.  Write to me when you get settled."  Helmut 
paused a moment, then almost smiled, "Or better yet, 
send me one of those blasted emails.  Save the money 
you spend on stamps, and you can become a millionaire.  
We can stay in touch with email.  You gave me that 
confounded computer, so I may as well use it."

After Charles left, Helmut rolled his wheelchair 
across the room and threw the deadbolt on the door.  
With his son gone, no one else would need to get in, 
and that fact sent a sudden chill down his spine.  He 
pulled his lap robe up higher.  Though he would never 
have admitted it, he felt more vulnerable and afraid 
than ever before in his life.

Wheeling himself backward away from the door, he 
stared at it in a sense of amazement.  Beyond that 
door was the rest of the world, but there it stood, 
solid and firmly locked, barring his way, confining 
him within the walls of his own personal prison.  It 
was not that he was paralyzed.  He could stand.  He 
could move from his chair to the bed or the commode.  
The pain in his legs, however, kept him from doing 
much more than that.  Certainly he would never 
consider actually walking around the house.  Nor could 
he climb the stairs to the rest of the house.  

Furthermore, he had forbidden any modifications to be 
made in his home, so there was no ramp to either 
outside door.  His wheelchair had to be lifted over 
the steps for his rare visits to the medical clinic.  
Fortunately, he was quite healthy, other than the pain 
in his legs, the remnant of the accident ten years 
ago, just after he turned sixty years old.

These ten years had not been kind to Helmut.  Or maybe 
it would be better said that he had not been kind to 
them.  Or to anyone else, for that matter.  Even his 
doctor described him as a crotchety old man who 
brought most of his misery on himself.  Indeed, Helmut 
was still quite bitter at being robbed of his legs at 
the time of his life when he felt most competent.  His 
legs were not all he had lost in that accident.  It 
had also taken away his wife.  With her death, life 
lost any touch of loveliness he had known.  Bitterness 
hung over him all the time, like a nasty black cloud.  
And now his son was also being taken from him.  Worse.  
His son was leaving him, deliberately going away, all 
the way across the country!

Helmut's sudden chill became an almost uncontrollable 
terror, as he realized that now there was no one 
coming to fix his evening meal.  There were a few 
things in the refrigerator, leftovers with which he 
could survive a day for two.  After that?  He 
shuddered.  The house seemed suddenly quite empty, 
even more desolate than before.  That's when his eyes 
fell on the computer.  

It had been Charles' gift to him last Christmas.  
Since then he had used it a couple of times.  Charles 
had coached him on using the email software, and on 
his own Helmut had experimented with the search 
engine, amazed at all the information available.  
Mostly, he was unimpressed with technology, including 
this computer, but now, suddenly, he seemed drawn to 
it, as if it was his only link to the world beyond his 
locked door.  If he could not go out into the world, 
maybe the computer could bring some of it inside to 
him.  His grimace was the nearest he had come to a 
smile in several days, ever since his son had 
announced he was moving to Phoenix.

Why would he leave, Helmut wondered.  It would be nice 
to have him and his family live here with him.  After 
all, his home here at 97210 Libido Lane was perfectly 
comfortable.  Granted, it was one of the first houses 
built on the street, back before someone gave it that 
ridiculous name.  He and his wife had been perfectly 
comfortable here for the past several years, but now...?

Ignoring the flashing email icon, he waited for the 
Google logo, then typed "Lonely Old Man."  Within 
moments, the screen filled with a long list of 
websites using one or more of these words.  The chill 
left his body, and a sense of accomplishment took 
hold.  Helmut browsed through the various listings 
provided by Google, and one after another he found 
that he was not the only person in the world who felt 
isolated and confined.  Many of these people, he 
found, considered themselves lonely even though they 
were quite capable of getting around and doing 
whatever they desired.  There was even an entry by a 
whining young girl, just out of high school, who 
apparently thought her life was over, just because her 
aunt had died.  It was signed, Lady So Lonely.

Not sure how the computer worked, but willing to 
experiment, Helmut clicked the cursor over the comment 
box and then typed in the message which would change 
both their lives.  



Chapter 3 - Interview

Simone was more than nervous as she approached the 
door.  Her panic was extreme.  This would be her first 
meeting with the man who might hire her for her very 
first paying job.

After his comment appeared on her blog, they had 
exchanged emails.  In fact, they had corresponded 
several times that very afternoon and again the first 
thing the next morning.  In Simone's mind, "Lonely Old 
Man" seemed as desperate as she felt.  Both of them 
had reached the end of their comfort zones and were 
either seeking a change or having one forced on them.  

Realizing she had virtually no marketable skills for 
the job market, Simone quickly got over her hesitancy 
of taking on the care of another elderly person.  
Perhaps, she thought, since he's not a relative and 
he's actually paying for my services, I can deal with 
it better than I ever did with Auntie Lucia.  On the 
other hand, she reasoned, she could be stepping into 
an extremely dangerous situation, going alone to a 
strange man's house.  No one knew where she was.  No 
one might ever know.  What if...?  She tried to quell 
the fear of those possibilities and evict them from 
her mind.

The man had told her he was confined to a wheelchair, 
that he was in his early seventies, that he needed 
someone to do housework, then cook and serve two meals 
a day.  She could do that.  She had in fact being 
doing exactly that for the past eight years.  Knowing 
that experience talks, her confidence was boosted. 

When his email had asked personal questions about her, 
she concentrated her answers mostly on her experience.  
She had been frustrated when he requested she describe 
herself.  What did her looks have to do with any work 
she would do.  Little did she know the changes that 
were transpiring within Helmut's mind.  The computer 
had opened a window, albeit a flickering window, 
revealing a world which he had almost forgotten.  And 
there were many things he never knew existed.  Even 
so, there were so many things he could still do.  And 
much he could enjoy.  So why not try?  He would 
control his crabbiness.  He would go out of his way to 
be pleasant.  He would learn to appreciate the variety 
of life available through other people.  Most of all, 
he decided, he wanted more than a housekeeper.  He 
wanted to enjoy the presence of a pretty girl.  

So he was pleased when, at his request, she emailed 
her description:  Five foot four, long black hair with 
a nice wave, and a pleasant smile.  Simone had felt a 
little guilty when she wrote that, but at least she 
hoped her smile was pleasant.  Bragging on herself 
made her feel quite awkward.  Simone was not ashamed 
of her appearance, but she neither was she confident 
in saying she was pretty.  No one had ever said that 
to her.  But neither had anyone ever talked with her 
about her feelings or her interests.  Not her 
teachers.  Or the school counselors.  Least of all her 
Auntie.

As she reached for the doorbell, she did not know that 
inside was a man who was feeling equally insecure.  He 
was just as unsure of himself as was Simone.  Both 
were equally determined, however, thinking this was a 
tremendous opportunity, not only for personal survival 
but also potential pleasure.  Simone pressed the 
doorbell.

Helmut smiled.  She was right on time, he thought, as 
he wheeled across the room.  When he opened the door, 
he was almost overwhelmed.  It hit him like a slap in 
the face:  She's beautiful!  He was stunned by the 
luscious young lady standing nervously on his doorstep 
smiled nervously down at him.  Her face was fantastic.  
She stood straight.  The contour of her blouse gave 
evidence of a nice figure.  Her legs were lovely, 
which he could readily see, since her skirt stopped 
somewhat short of her knees.  What a magnificent 
creature, he exclaimed silently to himself.  

As he wheeled backward to make room for Simone to 
enter, he shuddered with excitement at the thought her 
coming into his home day after day, week after week.  
Whatever it takes to employ her, he decided, I'll do 
it.  I'll pay whatever she asks.  I want her.  I need 
her here with me.  

Simone smiled and closed the door behind her.  He 
appeared pleasant enough.  Glancing around, she saw no 
sign of anything unusual.  As they began to talk, she 
relaxed.  While she knew she was not an experienced 
judge of people, this old man seemed to be exactly as 
he had described himself in his emails.  As they 
talked, his questions all dealt with her ability to 
cook, care for the home, and her availability to work 
every day.  Finally, they got around to the salary.  

"How about a trial period, perhaps six weeks?" he 
asked.  "At the end of that time, if either of us 
feels this is not working out, we can make changes.  
Or we can quit, no questions asked."  Simone nodded.  
"During the trial time," Helmut continued, "would you 
work for three hundred a week?"  Before she could 
respond, he added, "That includes your meals.  Since 
you'll be cooking them, you might as well eat them."  
He chuckled and even mustered a smile.

Simone also smiled, realizing that the pay he offered 
was only slightly above minimum wage.  She wondered if 
she should ask for more.

"That's just for the trial period," Helmut added, 
desperate not to lose her, but not wanting to spend 
any more than necessary.  "If this arrangement works 
out, I'm sure there will be regular raises."  Then, in 
desperation, he added, "Perhaps I can even provide a 
bonus now and then, for extra work or other duties."  
Again he smiled, suddenly realizing that it felt good 
to smile, because she returned his smile and agreed to 
his offer. 

It was the beginning of an arrangement which would 
prove quite interesting to them both.



Chapter 4 - Week One

Helmut explained that he had very specific 
instructions for how various tasks were to be done, 
but he also promised that he would provide generous 
bonuses when she followed instructions and did her 
work well.  That pleased Simone, and she was quietly 
overjoyed when he requested that she begin work 
immediately.  

In order for her to understand exactly what he wanted, 
he suggested that he give her a week to learn the 
details of each of the tasks he had in mind.  Week 
number one, he said, involved the meals.  Most of all 
he enjoyed food, and nearly every other duty would 
revolve around their meal schedule.

"Go ahead," he invited.  "Go into the kitchen and see 
what's there.  I think there's enough food for a 
couple of days, and after that I'll provide you with a 
grocery money and you can do the shopping on your way 
to work.  Wednesday through Monday, I'll want you to 
come early and fix breakfast.  Call the main meal 
whatever you desire, lunch or dinner, but I'd like to 
have it served at 2:30 each afternoon.  I'll make 
occasional suggestions, if I have a craving for 
something special, but otherwise you plan the menu."

What a change, she thought.  Auntie Lucia had 
controlled every detail and made every decision.  Even 
though Simone did the shopping, she had been doing it 
according to Auntie's specific instructions, even to 
the point of going to several grocery stores to obtain 
exactly the items on the shopping list.

Helmut did not even come into the kitchen with her, 
but later she found him patiently waiting at the 
dining room table when she carried in the casserole 
and salads she had prepared.  The kitchen was indeed 
only sparsely supplied, so it had taken some creative 
nudging of the recipe to prepare the meal.   
Nervously, she waited for his reaction, almost fearing 
that it might be like her aunt's vindictive criticism.  

"Come and sit at the table with me," he invited.  "I 
don't want to treat you like hired help.  That would 
get really awkward.  If we get along, as I hope we 
will, I can think of you as family."

"Yes, Mr....."  Suddenly Simone was at a loss for words.  
She still did not know what to call her new employer.  
Should she use his first name?  Was that appropriate?

"Call me Sam," Helmut urged.  Since this is a new 
beginning, he thought, why not a fresh start with a 
new name?  I never did like Helmut anyway.  He smiled, 
"Just call me Sam."  And then he proceeded to 
compliment her several times on the meal, savoring 
each bite as if it were the best food he had ever 
eaten. 

Simone was overjoyed.  And her joy increased when he 
gave her a crisp hundred dollar bill.

"Since tomorrow is Tuesday, here's money for the 
grocery store.  Get what you need for the next week's 
meals.  Have fun.  If your cooking today is a good 
example of what you can do, then I can hardly wait to 
see what meals will be like when you buy what you 
really need."

After washing the dishes, she spent the rest of the 
day doing an inventory of the kitchen and making a 
list of necessary basic supplies.  Then she planned 
menus for the week ahead, Tuesday through the 
following Monday.  Never before had she been in 
complete control of a kitchen, and for a few moments 
she felt intimidated by the responsibility.  Then came 
a surge of freedom and the thrill of it all.  Later 
she said goodbye to "Sam" and left feeling this was 
the best day of her life.  She had a job.  A good job, 
or at least it appeared to be.  And she was working 
for a very nice man.  Her own personal loneliness 
bothered her far less that evening, and she decided 
the two of them could be very good for each other.  
She even took care in planning what she would wear the 
following day, so that she would look good to him and 
he would be pleased with her, not only for her work 
but also for her appearance.  

The next morning she spent an extraordinarily long 
time in front of the mirror, working hard to get her 
hair and makeup just right.  In the end, she was 
pleased with how she looked, more than she could ever 
remember.  When she arrived, Sam immediately 
complimented her, commenting on what a rare beauty she 
was and how pleased he was to have her work for him 
because she made his home so very attractive. 

The week went well.  Sam was obviously thrilled with 
her meals, and on Monday he gave her the first check 
for $300.  After that, he said, "Here's the hundred 
dollars for this week's groceries."  Then, handing her 
an additional $50 bill, he said, "Here.  Get something 
new for yourself.  Maybe you would like some new 
clothes."  

Simone could hardly wait to go shopping.  Tomorrow 
morning she would get groceries.  But tonight she 
would hit the mall, shopping  for something special.  
She settled on a bright blue blouse.  It's neckline 
seemed terribly daring, but that seemed to be the 
style.  Even the blouse the sales clerk was wearing 
plunged deep into her cleavage.  Simone decided she 
would risk the exposure and then eventually agreed 
when the clerk urged her to buy a contrasting skirt 
which seemed dangerously short.  But it flared about 
her hips as she walked, and that felt good.  She 
wasn't sure what Sam might say, but it made her feel 
good about herself.  

Later, back at her home (it felt strange to think of 
it now as "her home," rather than Auntie's place) she 
tried on the outfit she had just purchased.  The 
blouse fit perfectly.  The skirt, however, was 
something else.  At the store, it had been fun, but 
that was before she sat down.  There was absolutely no 
way she could sit without revealing ...well, it is a bit 
much, she thought.   She tried holding her legs 
together, but that was terribly uncomfortable.  She 
crossed her legs, but that hiked up the skirt until 
her thighs were completely exposed.  She considered 
returning it, but the next morning, with a pique of 
daring, she put on both the blouse and skirt and left 
for the grocery store before she could change her 
mind.  Week number two was beginning. 



Chapter 5 - Week Two

"Oh, but you look nice today," Sam greeted her as she 
came in with the first load of groceries.  "Your new 
clothes are quite attractive.  In fact," he added, 
"You're a very pretty lady."

Simone was flabbergasted.  Sam was the first person 
ever to tell her she was pretty, much less call her a 
lady.  Having Sam combine the two compliments was 
almost overwhelming to Simone.  She blushed profusely 
and struggled for something to say, finally simply 
settling on simply saying, "Thank you."

"And you, my dear, are most welcome."  With that, he 
wheeled back into the dining room, where he waited for 
his breakfast.  Simone stored the groceries in the 
pantry and refrigerator, then prepared a western 
omelet, along with toast and jelly.  Handling the 
brevity of her new skirt was a new challenge.  She was 
glad she could hide her legs under the table when she 
sat down across from Sam to eat.  He continued to brag 
about her cooking and expressed pleasure at the 
variety she had created in the menus each day.

After they finished eating, Sam said, "Today begins 
our second week, so let's add a few more 
instructions."

"I'm ready," Simone agreed, so thankful for his 
compliments that she was quite ready to please.

Sam continued, "Let's have you do some cleaning this 
week.  I'd like you to start with the hall carpet 
upstairs.  I know, I don't go up there, but if that 
area gets very dusty then it all drifts down here and 
that bothers my sleep at night.  I'd like you to begin 
by vacuuming the upstairs.  After that, please do the 
stairway and finish up with the living room carpet."

It sounded overly simple to Simone, nothing she hadn't 
already done dozens of time for her aunt.  She 
retrieved the heavy old canister vacuum cleaner from 
the closet and lugged it upstairs where she began 
cleaning.  The carpet, she realized, was really not 
dirty, just dusty, and the vacuum quickly corrected 
that problem.  She was halfway down the stairway when 
she realized Sam had wheeled himself in position at 
the bottom of the steps and was looking up at her.  
His smile revealed his pleasure at what he was seeing.  
Had she known what her duties would be that day, she 
certainly would not have worn that skirt.  It was so 
short!

Her first impulse was to turn around, but she realized 
she could not vacuum the step below where she stood.   
There was no way she could properly vacuum the stairs 
without bending over, which almost completely revealed 
her bottom to Sam who was seated below.  After a 
moment's hesitation, she decided he had already seen 
all there was to see.  Besides, she thought, my 
panties cover everything important, and these are my 
very best briefs.  So she continued cleaning the 
remainder of the stairway.

When she was finished, she raised up and then looked 
down at him.  He was still smiling.  "You are indeed a 
very beautiful lady.  Everything I see about you is 
lovely, and I'm certain the rest of you is just as 
nice."  With that, he produced another fifty dollar 
bill.  "Please take this," he continued, "as a token 
of my appreciation for the beauty you have brought 
into my home and into my life."

Simone's thought at first she should refuse the money.  
It bothered her to think Sam might actually be paying 
her for the privilege of looking up her skirt.  That 
was not what this job was all about.  On the other 
hand, when she realized what he was doing, she had 
deliberately made the choice of allowing him to 
continue to look.  So, if he wanted to give her a 
bonus..., well, that was up to him.  She took the money 
and thanked him.  Then she went on with her cleaning. 

That night, as she considered the events of the day, 
she knew what she had to do.  Sam had changed his name 
as a symbol that he was becoming a different person.  
She really couldn't imagine what he had been like 
before she knew him, but she liked the person he was 
now.  For herself, she did not like the person she had 
been while Auntie was alive, but she liked the 
possibilities of what life could be like if she made 
some changes in herself.  So she used the extra fifty 
dollars to buy another skimpy little skirt and another 
revealing blouse.  Then she went to the lingerie 
department where she selected a lace bra.  Then she 
considered the wide variety of panties on display.  
Finally she dared herself, and accepted her dare by 
purchasing three pair of thongs.  She had not even 
tried on a pair previously, but she had seen them on 
girls at school and knew what they were like.  If Sam 
wanted to look up her skirt, then she would give him 
something more to see.  Maybe the view would be worth 
another fifty dollars.  Who knows, may more!

While Simone was at the mall, Sam was browsing the 
internet.  He made a couple of purchases on line, 
items to be shipped FedEx to his home.  He said 
nothing to Simone about doing this.

Throughout the remainder of the week, Simone wore 
different combinations of her new outfits.  Sometimes 
she wore her new blouse with the plunging neckline, 
and when she brought Sam his meals she bent over so he 
could see her lace bra.  That was actually the only 
opportunity which presented itself for her to flash 
him.  There were no other times, such as she had that 
day on the stairs.  Even so, there were days she wore 
a peasant blouse quite low on her shoulders with 
nothing under it.  Sam made no response.  Even so, 
regardless of which blouse or skirt she chose, she 
wore her new thongs instead of regular panties.  

Even so, Sam continued to compliment her and was so 
pleasant with her that it was nice simply to be near 
him.  He seemed to take her sexiness for granted, and 
she became somewhat more relaxed with her body and how 
to use it to obtain his compliments.

On Saturday Sam informed her that the cleaning duties 
also included laundry.  He took her into his bedroom.  
It was her first time to be in there, and it caused 
her to realize how limited Sam's life really was.  
There was a bed, a chest of drawers, and a tiny 
closet.  Built into one corner of the room was a small 
bathroom.  It contained a walk-in tub and shower 
spray.  How tragic, she thought, that he spent all his 
time in only these few rooms - his bedroom, the living 
room, or the dining room.  Only occasionally did he 
enter the kitchen.  And there was no way he could 
manage the stairs to use any of the rooms on the 
second floor.  They were closed off, and all she had 
seen up there was the bathroom at the end of the hall.

Simone stripped the linens from his bed, collected the 
towels from the bath, and emptied the clothes hamper.  
She took these items to the washing machine in the 
kitchen, and there she added the towels and proceeded 
with the laundry.  It was simple, routine duty, but 
the process helped her understand Sam somewhat better 
and to appreciate his problems.  He was, she decided, 
doing amazing well, considering his handicaps.

Several times he invited her simply to sit and talk.  
She became increasingly more comfortable with him, 
often forgetting how short her skirt was and how much 
leg she revealed as they conversed.  Sam looked, but 
said nothing about her exposure.  There was no further 
bonus that week.  She was curious about the packages 
which were delivered one day, but Sam took them to his 
room without explanation.  Thus ended her second week.



Chapter 6 --  Week Three

Tuesday was grocery day.  Deciding she might as well 
be comfortable for this errand, she pulled on a pair 
of tight jeans and topped it off with the peasant 
blouse she had bought earlier.  Since there had been 
no bonus for the way she had flaunted herself the 
previous week, she decided not to be so flagrantly 
sexy this week.  Don't push it, she thought.  Let him 
give a bonus if he wants, she decided, but I'm not 
going to make a fool of myself by seeking one.

After shopping and putting away the groceries in the 
kitchen, she prepared their Tuesday brunch.  As they 
were eating, Sam began the new week's instruction.  

"Well, we have two weeks behind us.  I think all is 
going quite well.  I hope you agree."  Then, without 
waiting for her to comment, he continued, "Today we 
begin week number three."

"So what new duties are added this week?" Simone 
asked.

"Oh, a couple of things," he smiled.  "First, I want 
you to go upstairs and look around.  Open the doors 
and check out the rooms up there.  Then come back and 
tell me what you find."

Simone did the dishes, then climbed the stairs.  The 
first room she entered was the master bedroom, 
obviously the one the couple had used prior to the 
accident.  A faint musty smell pervaded the room, 
since it had been closed off from the rest of the 
house, but it was quite clean and neatly arranged.  
Inside the second room, Simone was totally stunned.  A 
table in the center of the room was stacked high with 
photo equipment, cameras and other items she did not 
recognize.  The walls were covered with photos, some 
framed but most were simply tacked up.  Most were 
black and white prints, landscapes and still life.  

On one wall all the photos were of one lady, a young 
woman.  Simone assumed they were photos of Sam's wife.  
There were many photos, pictures involving daily 
duties about the home, vacation scenes, and close-up 
poses.  On another wall, the photos were all nudes.  
At first she shied away from them, but she kept coming 
back to examine them more closely.  The lady was 
beautiful.  All of her!  And the person who had taken 
the photos had obviously loved her very much.  It 
showed in her eyes.  It showed in the way she was 
posed.  Many of the photos were quite explicit 
sexually, but there was nothing pornographic about 
them.  They were a photographic essay of love, and 
when Simone finally left the room, she closed the door 
with a sense of awe at how very much Sam had lost in 
the accident.  She wiped a tear from her eye and 
started down the steps.

Halfway down the stairway she heard Sam say, "Smile!"  
She jumped, and a moment later there was a flash.  

"Sam!  What are you doing?" she asked.

"Well, what did you find up there?"

"Oh, they're beautiful," she exclaimed.  "If you took 
all those pictures, you must have loved her very 
much."

"We...," he paused.  "We had a very good relationship."

"That is so obvious in the pictures," Simone agreed.

"Would you like to bring any of them down here?" Sam 
asked.

She thought for a moment, then said, "No, I think it 
would only make you sad.  You said that you want to 
move ahead into a new life, so I think you should just 
leave them where they are."

"You're right," Sam smiled.  "That's what I thought, 
but I wanted your opinion."

"Why would it matter what I thought?" Simone asked.  
"This is your house.  You can decorate it however you 
please.  Why should I have any say in it?"

"Because, my dear," he hesitated as if not sure of 
himself, then blurted out, "because I want you to pose 
for me."  He held up his camera.  This came last week.  
It's one of these new digital things.  I'm not sure 
how I'll get along with it, but since I can't use my 
developing equipment upstairs, this will have to do.  
Come and see."  He motioned for her to come stand 
behind him.  On the back of the camera was a small 
screen, and on it was the picture he had just taken of 
Simone descending the stairs.  

"I look sad," she observed.

"I know, and I don't like that.  I want everything 
happy around here.  You're so pretty that you make 
this a happy place, but I'm glad you realized how much 
I miss my wife.  I loved her very much.  She was a 
beautiful woman.  I like beauty.  And I have missed my 
photography very much.  Please tell me you'll pose for 
me, or at least not complain if I take an occasional 
picture of you."

"Well," she said, "Maybe a few.  Sometimes."  Then, 
remembering the nudes on the wall upstairs, she added, 
"but I don't know what you really have in mind."

"Let's just consider it part of the job, Simone.  If 
the photos are good, there'll be a big bonus in it for 
you."  He smiled encouragingly.  "Now, why don't you 
just get on with your work?  Don't mind me if I just 
putter around a bit.  It'll take awhile for me to 
learn to use this new camera."

She worked.  He puttered.  Occasionally there would be 
a flash, sometimes in the other room, sometimes nearby 
and Simone would realize he had just taken a picture 
of her.  A few times he called her to come and see the 
picture.  Most of the times he simply smiled and 
wheeled away.  That's how the week passed.  She 
continued wearing jeans with a variety of blouses.  
When Monday came, there was a bonus of ten dollars 
with her check.  Not much, she thought, but at least 
it hadn't cost her anything.  Nor had she been in any 
way embarrassed.  



Chapter 6 - Week Four

On Tuesday, soon after Simone finished stowing the 
groceries in the pantry, Sam called her into the 
living room.

"I've noticed," he began, "that lately you seem to 
have run out of clothing to wear here at work.  When I 
gave you the extra money a couple of weeks ago, I 
hoped that would help.  Since it apparently was not 
enough, I decided maybe I should do something more for 
you."

Simone smiled, uncertain of where he was headed.

"There's a box on my bed," he informed her.  "I want 
you to get it and take it to the upstairs bedroom.  In 
the box is a uniform, a maid's uniform.  Starting 
today, you may wear whatever you wish on your own time 
and while you're shopping, but once you arrive here I 
want you to go upstairs right away and put on your 
uniform.  Please wear it all the while you're here.  
That will save you some money, since I'll provide your 
work clothes."  He paused a moment, then added, "And 
don't worry.  Everything you need is there.  You won't 
need to wear any of your own things.  Please wear only 
what's in the box."  He smiled broadly, then said, 
"Now run along and get dressed.  I'm anxious to see 
what you think," he paused, then added, "and how you 
look."

Simone was shocked when she opened the box.  She had 
heard of French Maid Costumes, but she had never seen 
one before.  There was a little black dress, a tiny 
white apron, a matching bit of white lace to serve as 
a cap, and long white stockings which she guessed 
might be about thigh length.  Cute, she thought.  He 
actually wants me to wear an outfit like this?  She 
held up the dress to inspect it.  That's when she 
began to understand.

The dress sported a spaghetti-straps and a plunging 
neckline, which descended ever so deep that... well, if 
she thought her blouse was risqué, then this one took 
the prize.  At first glance,  Simone thought the 
neckline was open all the way to her navel.  The skirt 
was little more than a ruffle, maybe ten or twelve 
inches long and so full that the folds caused it to 
flare far out.  

Continuing to dig into the box, Simone searched for 
the rest of the uniform, but she found nothing more.  
Where is the underwear?  There was none.  Sam had said 
everything she needed was in the box.  Did he think 
she would wear this skimpy outfit with nothing under 
it? Not even any panties?

She put everything back in the box, disgusted that Sam 
would even think of her parading around in such a 
revealing get-up.  She started for the door, planning 
to go back downstairs and tell him what he could do 
with his uniform, but then she remembered how she had 
dressed during all of the previous week.  She had worn 
short skirts and thongs every bit as risqué as this 
dress, and she had actually selected them, purchased 
them, and worn them, all at her own decision.  And 
this dress, she decided, really did not show much more 
than she had already flaunted before Sam.  

Well, she thought, I'll try it on and see how it 
looks.  She peeled off her blouse and bra and pulled 
the maid's dress over her head.  Her breasts filled 
out the top quite nicely, although the exposed 
cleavage was far more daring than anything she had 
ever worn.  She observed herself in the mirror and 
right out loud said, "Not bad."   She did indeed look 
good in the dress.  Feeling a bit more encouraged by 
what she saw, she slipped out of her jeans and stood 
again before the mirror.  The skirt scarcely covered 
her essentials.  

When she tied the tiny apron around her waist, she was 
somewhat relieved at how it tamed the flare of the 
skirt.  Turning to inspect herself before the large 
mirror, she decided it might not be so bad, except 
that she still had on her panties, and they showed 
beneath the short skirt.  She hesitated for several 
moments, then stripped them off and once more looked 
in the mirror.  If she stood up straight, then nothing 
showed that Sam had not already seen, except for the 
cleavage, and she had revealed almost that much the 
previous week when she wore her boat neck blouse and 
leaned over to serve Sam's dinner.  Well, if that's 
what he wants to see, she thought, I'll give him an 
eyeful.

Having made her decision, she pulled on the hose.  
They came half-way up her thighs, as she had expected.  
Then she adjusted the lace cap, and took another look 
at herself in the mirror.  Turning around slowly, she 
realized her bottom was almost revealed beneath the 
short skirt.  Only now there were no panties to 
conceal it. In fact, if she leaned over even a bit, 
the crease of her buttocks came into view.  Once again 
she hesitated, then she thought about her thongs.  She 
was exposing very little more than they had covered.  
Remembering Sam's bonus, she shrugged and headed for 
the door.

As she descended the stairs, there was a flash.  This 
time she rather expected it, and she looked up at Sam 
and smiled.  Another flash.  I wonder, she thought as 
she paused on the steps, if he will dedicate a wall to 
pictures of me.

"Well, come on down, and let's see how you look."  Sam 
had frequently wanted her to look at other pictures he 
had taken of her.  She wasn't sure if that meant he 
was proud of his photography skill, or if he was 
insecure in it, or if he simply wanted her to be part 
of the whole experience.  Simone descended the 
remaining two steps and looked over his shoulder.

"This is the second picture," he explained.  

It was not a full-length pose.  She had been too near 
the camera.  Simone's eyes went immediately to her 
bust.  Much of it was showing in the photo, since the 
blouse was open almost to her navel.  Her cleavage was 
clearly visible, as was the inside curve of both her 
breasts.  Mixed emotions fogged her mind.  One part of 
her said she should be ashamed for showing herself so 
brazenly and especially allowing herself to be 
photographed so revealingly, while another part of her 
mind was proud of how she looked.  

"And this is the first shot," Sam continued, changing 
the camera screen.

Simone stared in amazement.  She had been farther up 
the stairs, and she appeared to be all legs.  They 
were nice legs, she had to admit.  But, because Sam 
had been so far below her, the photo had been shot 
right up her skirt.  She stared at the shadow beneath 
the tiny apron.  Was it merely a shadow?  Or was it 
her pubic hair?  How much, she wondered, had Sam 
actually seen?

"Not bad," he said, "but that is only a candid snap.  
It lacks real composition.  We'll do a lot better when 
we decide it's time for you actually to pose for me."

Simone realized then that he had never asked her to 
pose.  He had simply snapped candid shots while she 
went about her regular duties.  Remembering the photos 
on the wall upstairs, she wondered what it would be 
like actually to pose for a photo.  Could she allow 
him take pictures of her like that?  Would she?  
Should she?

"I'm not sure," she told Sam hesitantly, "that I'm 
going to be comfortable having you take pictures of me 
without any warning.  It's frustrating enough to be 
dressed like this without having that camera flashing 
all the time."

"You're probably right.  My wife used to complain 
about that too.  So we reached a compromise.  I 
promised not to take pictures of her without warning 
her, and she agreed to pose occasionally, any way I 
asked."  He smiled at Simone, "Do you think you could 
agree to that?"

"I think so," she smiled.  "At least during our trial 
period."

"All right," Sam continued, "I believe you have duties 
to tend to, and now that you have your work uniform 
maybe we should get on with the day."  He laughed 
lightly.  "What I'm getting at is that I'm hungry.  
Isn't it almost meal time?"

As she fixed their brunch, she found herself laughing 
at how ridiculous the tiny apron really was.  It sure 
didn't protect much, nor did it cover up very much.  
When she leaned over to retrieve a pan from the lower 
cupboard, she realized how very short her skirt 
actually was.  Bent over that way, her bare bottom was 
completely exposed.  Quickly she looked around, half 
expected Sam to be there with his camera, but 
thankfully saw that he was in the other room.  Then 
she remembered that he had promised not to take any 
more pictures without warning her.

"This will take some getting used to," she told Sam 
later as she set his plate on the table in front of 
him.  When she leaned over, the open neck of her dress 
gaped open so far that it felt like both her breasts 
were playing peek-a-boo.  She laughed as she 
remembered a girl at school whose blouse had opened 
accidentally and she had said, "Peek-a-Boob!"

Sam was smiling broadly, "You'll never know how 
pleased I am that you're here with me like this."  
Simone blushed as he added, "You are so beautiful that 
it's a shame to hide yourself.  I like looking at you, 
because you bring such a tremendous amount of joy to 
my miserable existence.  So, please, don't begrudge me 
my pleasure.  And forgive me if I stare at you.  It's 
only because you are so pretty.  Now, please come and 
sit down.  Let's eat."

That was the first time Simone had sat down while 
wearing her new uniform.  It was an unnerving 
experience, because the skirt was too short to tuck 
under so she could sit on it.  Her bare bottom made 
full contact with the chair.  She flinched, modestly 
happy that her legs were hidden beneath the table.  
Sam seemed not to notice, but it took some time before 
she was able to concentrate on eating her meal.  Maybe 
in the future, she thought, I should bring a napkin to 
sit on.

After they had eaten, Simone carried the vacuum 
upstairs, where she cleaned the bedroom she would be 
using as a changing room.  Sam remained in his room 
throughout the afternoon, coming out only for their 
evening meal.  After they ate, she changed into her 
street clothes and left for home.  It had been a 
strange day.

The next morning, she carried the ironing board and a 
can of spray starch up the changing room.  There she 
pressed the wrinkles from the dress, adding starch to 
the ruffled skirt and the collar to give it more body.  
Then she stripped off her own clothing and dressed in 
her working costume, her uniform, as Sam called it.  
Immediately she wished she had not been so generous 
with the starch, for the stiffness of the skirt caused 
it to stand out quite far, making it even shorter than 
before.  Now what do I do, she asked herself.  I'm 
totally exposed!

Just then Sam called up the stairs, "Is it breakfast 
time yet?"  

Well, she thought, either I give up this job, even 
though I have no hopes of finding another, or I go 
down and let him look at me.  Maybe even probably 
photograph me.  How embarrassing!  Of course, then he 
might give me a bonus, and... Oh, for heaven's sake, why 
am I even questioning what I'm going to do?  

"I'm coming, Sam," she called down to him.  As she 
turned to leave, she caught a glimpse of herself in 
the mirror.  Her pubic hair was clearly visible 
beneath the short skirt.  Then she remembered the 
apron.  She put it on and tied it low enough on her 
hips that her pubic curls were no longer exposed.  
Then, in an act of  sheer desperation, she headed 
downstairs not daring to look at her backside in the 
mirror.

"Ah, my dear, you do look lovely this morning," Sam 
smiled.  "You bring such a beautiful touch of elegance 
to my home that I miss you something terrible while 
you're gone.  Perhaps some day we ought speak about 
the possibility of your simply moving in.  You could 
have the upstairs all to yourself."

Strangely enough, Simone had already considered that 
idea.  It would certainly save the money having her 
own home would cost.  "Maybe after our six-week trial 
we can talk about that," she told Sam, doing her best 
to smile.  Then she turned and headed for the kitchen.

Sam called out to her, "What a lovely view you're 
giving me this morning.  Simone, I think I'm falling 
totally in love with you!"

As the day progressed, Simone slowly became accustomed 
to her exposure.  Even though Sam watched her closely, 
she eventually was able to ignore him and go on about 
her duties.

The next few days went equally as well.  She even 
managed to feel fairly comfortable with her almost 
total exposure while vacuuming the stairs.  Sam 
discreetly left her alone.  Apparently, she decided, 
he was giving her space to become accustomed to his 
requests.  And there were no more flashes from his 
camera.

Sunday came, and Sam was waiting for her when she 
arrived.  "I have a request," he told her. 

"And what's that?" she asked as she headed up the 
stairs to change.

"I would like to make Sunday our photo day.  After 
breakfast, once the dishes are done, I'd like you to 
freshen up and spend a few minutes posing for my 
camera."  He paused a moment while she considered what 
he had said.  Then he added, "We'll do this each week, 
and that way you'll know how to plan."

"All right," she agreed.  And with that she retreated 
upstairs.

While she changed, a thousand thoughts ran through her 
mind.  Did he want to photograph her as she was 
dressed, or was he going to expect her to strip naked, 
like those photos on the wall in the next room. 

Nothing was mentioned of any pictures during the meal.  
After she had washed the dishes, she was still 
uncertain of what Sam had in mind.  Hesitantly she 
asked, "All right.  What do you want me to do?" 

"Curtsey."  That's all he said.  

"You mean?"  Nervously she touched her fingers to each 
side of her skirt.  "Like this?'

"That's right," he said, "curtsey.  Now put one foot 
in front of the other and bend your knee while you 
push your other foot far back behind you."  Simone did 
as she was instructed, remembering how her auntie had 
once tried to teach her this lady-like gesture.  
"Now," Sam continued, "gently lift you skirt and lean 
toward me."

As Simone obeyed him, her curtsey seemed much less 
lady-like.  She did not have look to know that by 
lifting her skirt she was exposing her entire pubic 
bush to Sam's view.  And that of the camera.  Even so, 
she did as she was told.

"Smile," Sam urged.  She did.  The camera flashed 
several times.  She lost track of how many.  "Hold the 
pose," he instructed as she wheeled around to her 
side.  The camera flashed again.

"Thank you, my dear.  That was lovely.  You can relax 
now.  And thank you ever so much."

Monday evening, as she was starting upstairs to 
change, Sam called her to him.  From beneath his lap 
robe, he produced her pay envelope.  "Now run along.  
I'll see you tomorrow after you've done the shopping."

Later, back at her home, Simone opened the envelope.  
Along with her usual paycheck, she found a hundred 
dollar bill.  An extra hundred dollars!  She laughed 
out loud.  He gave me a hundred dollars just for 
looking at my bottom, and he didn't even try to touch 
me.  Feeling giddy with excitement, she stripped off 
her clothing and spent the rest of the evening totally 
naked.  She didn't bother with her nightshirt when she 
went to bed later that night.  



Chapter 7 - Week Five

When she woke the next morning, she was startled to 
realize she was naked, but then she remembered her 
bonus and how Sam asked her to pose.  Suddenly it all 
seemed worthwhile.  She was beginning to enjoy the new 
Simone.  Somehow, she felt as if she were awakening 
from a long sleep, a very long sleep.  Even though she 
had grocery shopping to do, Simone's mind kept racing 
ahead to the time she would climb the steps and put on 
the skimpy maid's uniform.  With that in mind, she 
ignored her usual clothing.  Instead, she abandoned 
her underwear and simply pulled on her jeans and a 
sweatshirt.  Why put on, she thought, what I'll just 
have to take off as soon as I get to work?

In the grocery store, she felt strangely daring.  When 
the man stocking the shelves looked at her and smiled, 
she wondered if he could tell that she was naked under 
her clothes.  Then she laughed.  Of course, she was 
always naked under her clothing.  It was just that 
today there were simply fewer clothes to be naked 
under.

Sam greeted her warmly when she brought in the 
groceries.  She stowed the things she had purchased 
and immediately started upstairs, but Sam called to 
her.

"You worn that uniform for an entire week.  Don't you 
think it ought to be laundered?"

Simone had wondered about that, but she had not said 
anything about it.  However, before she could comment, 
Sam continued.

"Here," he smiled.  "I ordered a second uniform so 
you'll have something to wear while you launder the 
other one."  He handed her the box and started to 
wheel away.  "Oh, I printed a couple of those photos.  
I'll show them to you when we eat brunch."

Simone was already hungry, so she hurried up the steps 
and immediately stripped off her sweatshirt and jeans.  
Only after she was naked did she open the box, since 
she assumed it would be exactly like the first maid's 
dress.  She pulled on the white hose, stepped into her 
high heels, and with scarcely a glance at the dress, 
she shook out the folds and pulled it over her head.  
Then she almost screamed.  

Instead, she stared at herself in the mirror.  The 
skirt was much the same.  So were the hose and the 
lace cap.  The neckline of the dress, however, was 
something else.  For all practical purposes, it was 
non-existent.  Perhaps it could have been called a 
scoop neckline, except for how far down it scooped.  
While the previous dress had a deep neckline, plunging 
far down between her breasts.  This one might have 
been called a boat-neck blouse, except it dipped low 
all the way across the bodice.  In fact, the ruffle 
was actually beneath her breasts, lifting them 
slightly, enhancing them, but leaving them totally 
exposed.

Simone tugged at the material, thinking she had put it 
on wrong, but there was no way to arrange it any 
differently.  Staring at herself in the mirror, she 
finally determined that the dress was purposely 
designed to reveal her breasts.  She felt naked.  
Used.  Abused.  This dress exposed her bottom, as had 
the previous one, only now her breasts were also on 
display.  She was shocked.  Frustrated.  Angry.  But 
she also had to admit that she had beautiful breasts.  
Maybe they deserved to be seen.  And appreciated.  Sam 
regularly went out of his way to express his 
appreciation for her beauty.  And her willingness to 
show off her assets for him.  Almost daily, she felt 
the surprise of his compliments.  It was all so 
different from anything she had experienced before.  
In spite of all her hard work, Auntie had never shown 
her any appreciation, much less complimented her on 
her appearance.  Sam made her feel beautiful.  Even 
more, Sam allowed her to feel beautiful.  Standing 
before the mirror, she had to admit to herself that 
the dress certainly highlighted her figure.  
Especially with her breasts fully exposed, she was 
quite attractive.  It was a good feeling.  And she was 
surprised that she felt that good about herself.

Suddenly, she felt manipulated.  That devious, dirty 
old man, she exclaimed to herself.  He planned all 
along to get me naked.  Once again, Simone considered 
leaving, just quitting her job.  This time Sam had 
gone too far.  She started to pull the dress over her 
head, but then she remembered that extra hundred 
dollars he had given her.  In fact, she remembered 
that he had already given her twelve hundred dollars 
in regular salary, plus another two hundred ten 
dollars in outright gifts and bonuses.  On top of 
that, as she well remembered, Sam had been 
consistently warm and kind to her.  Certainly not like 
her Auntie had been. 

Her mind kept comparing the contrast between her life 
now and her previous existence with Auntie.  She had a 
life now, but what she had while Aunty was alive was 
certainly not a life.  And then there was her naked 
celebration the previous night.  What about that?  Did 
she really enjoy nudity?  Privately, yes.  But public 
nakedness?  Maybe.  Then why had she come to work 
without wearing underwear?  What had she really 
expected, anyway?  Did she want Sam to see her body?  
Naked?

Reality began to mold her mind.  In the next few 
minutes she resolved her frustrations.  Defiantly she 
arranged the tiny apron, fluffed the ruffles of her 
skirt, considered her features once more in the 
mirror, and turned slowly to view the rest of her 
image.  Cupping her bare breasts in her hands, she 
dared herself to smile.  Then, with a determined sense 
of satisfaction, she squared her shoulders and headed 
for the door.  As she descended the stairs, her bare 
breasts bounced playfully.  No longer did she have to 
force a smile to her lips.  Instead, she admitted to 
herself that she was very thoroughly enjoying herself.

"Lovely, lovely, lovely," Sam called up to her.  "My 
dear, you are wonderful.  I don't know how I ever 
survived before you came."

Simone thought perhaps there would be a camera flash, 
but there was none, only the glow of Sam's smile.  His 
eyes took in every part of her, and for a moment she 
simply stood at the bottom of the stairs allowing him 
to look.  She had expected to feel embarrassed at her 
near nudity.  Never before had she ever allowed any 
man to she her breasts, but Sam was so obviously 
approving and appreciative that she found herself 
relaxing.  After a few moments, she realized she was 
actually pleased at revealing herself for him.  In a 
way she couldn't understand, she found it was fun to 
show her body.  She really was enjoying herself.  All 
this was a surprising new feeling, a part of her that 
she had never recognized previously.  Life was 
awakening within her.

"Now," Sam after several moments of silence, "come on 
over to the table, and let me show you the pictures I 
took yesterday."

"But what about our brunch?" Simone asked.

"Oh, the food can wait.  Your beauty is much more 
important," he smiled.  "At least it is to me."  Then 
he spread three prints on the table.  The first was a 
side view with her bare leg extended far back behind 
her as she leaned forward.  Her round bottom was 
revealed in full color.  The rest of her was quite 
modestly portrayed in the picture.  The second and 
third photos were of the same pose but from the front.  
Because she was leaning forward, her most prominent 
feature was her face.  The main difference between the 
two was her facial expression.  In one photo her eyes 
were open wide in nervous fear, while in the other she 
had a broad smile.  In both photos, her legs were 
fully exposed, as was her thatch of pubic hair.  

Ignoring how much of her body was exposed, she said, 
"I like this one," pointing to the one of her smiling.

"That's my favorite, also," Sam agreed.  "You may keep 
it, if you like.  I will print another."  He pushed 
the print toward her.  As she picked it up, he smiled 
and said, "Now, what do you say we get on with our 
brunch?" 

As she cooked an omelet, she suddenly realized that 
she had to be careful not to let the grease pop on her 
bare skin.  She laughed.  Here she was with her 
breasts totally bare, worrying about her cooking 
skills.  And in a few minutes she would be sitting 
across the table from an elderly man who would spend 
most of his meal time staring at her breasts.  No need 
to try peering down her blouse, because she was 
wearing none.  Her breasts were bare.  Open.  Totally 
revealed.  She had indeed become a new person.  If 
only Auntie could see her now!

By the end of the day, Simone had grown somewhat 
accustomed to the bounce and sway of her unfettered 
breasts.  Previously, when she had occasionally gone 
without a bra, her outer clothing had provided some 
measure of control.  With them totally exposed, 
however, there was nothing to keep them from bouncing 
and swaying with her every move.  Having her breasts 
continually in motion had a sensual effect on her, and 
she made frequent trips to the bathroom to wipe away 
the juices she secreted.  Even then, her pubic hair 
remained wet and matted, which was frustrating.  She 
would have to deal with that, she decided, although 
she was not quite sure how.

By the end of the day, she realized that her concern 
about the lack of support for her breasts had proved 
to be wrong.  As she pulled on her jeans and 
sweatshirt and prepared to leave, she noted there was 
no discomfort.  In fact, she felt somewhat over-
dressed as she bade Sam goodbye and departed.

That evening, she did something she had never before 
even dreamed of doing.  She clipped her pubic hair.  
After first using the scissors, she soon realize that 
was not adequate.  It was more than a bit frightening, 
at first, to run a razor across her delicate lips, but 
eventually she caught the hang of it.  Eventually she 
obtained the effect she desired, leaving a long thatch 
of dark hair but trimming away the sides and down 
under.  Mostly, she tried to clear away the hair which 
had become so messy throughout the day.  When she was 
finished, she posed before her mirror and decided the 
effect was quite nice.  Most of all, she was glad she 
had not shaved it all off, as she had heard some girls 
did.  The neatly-trimmed hair, she decided, added a 
much- needed touch of color to her otherwise pearly-
white body.

Sunday morning, while they were seated at the table 
eating breakfast, Sam pulled out his camera.  Simone 
knew that Sunday was photo day, but she had not 
expected Sam to started so early, so when she saw the 
camera she was momentarily startled.

"Just lean forward and smile," he instructed.  

This was the first time Simone had faced the camera 
with naked breasts.  Even though she had worked all 
week with them completely bare, she was momentarily 
taken aback at the thought of having her intimate 
image recorded.  Nevertheless, she leaned forward as 
Sam instructed.  The digital camera beeped, but there 
was no flash.  

"Natural lighting is much kinder to naked flesh," Sam 
smiled.  "And I want to be as kind to you as 
possible."  He took two more shots, then continued 
eating.  After they were finished with the meal, he 
asked, "Before you do the dishes, could you come with 
me to the living room?  I'd like a couple of shots of 
you in there."

Simone nodded her willingness and a few moments later 
she was seated on the couch.  It was so much lower 
than the dining room chairs that when she sat her 
skirt hiked up much higher than usual.  Sam instructed 
her to turn partly sideways, providing a profile of 
her legs and breasts.  Then he had her turn facing him 
directly.  "Now, arch your back a little," he 
instructed.  She did, thrusting out her breasts.  Then 
she waited until his camera beeped.  

"Now you can relax," Sam smiled.  "Lean back."  She 
did.  "Reach your hands out to each side."  She did.  
"Relax your legs," he told her.  "Spread them apart 
some."  For a second she hesitated, then did as he 
requested.  Her skirt was so short that she knew he 
could seek her entire pubic region.  This time the 
camera flashed.  So much for hiding in the shadows, 
she thought, wondering if Sam had noticed how she had 
trimmed her pubic bush.

She hoped he would show her the pictures, but during 
the remainder of the day they were never mentioned.  
She was hesitant to ask.  So she continued to work, 
still with her breasts bare and her bottom often in 
view.  Even though, throughout all the previous week, 
realizing she was working almost completely naked, she 
had often paused to consider how ridiculous her entire 
arrangement actually was.  Perhaps it was even wrong.  
However, she rationalized, no one was there to see her 
except Sam, and he was confined to his wheelchair, so 
what did it hurt?  Besides, he was so appreciative 
that he made her feel good.  These feelings were 
confirmed on Monday when Sam handed her the pay 
envelope with the usual three hundred dollar salary 
check.  Included were two additional hundred dollar 
bills.  Smiling, he said, "That's a hundred each for 
your lovely twins."

Simone couldn't keep from laughing.  "All right, Sam," 
she told him.  "If you're willing to pay two hundred 
dollars a week to look at my boobs, then be my guest."


Chapter 8 - Week Six

Tuesday was once again shopping day.  When Simone 
arrived with the groceries, Sam was waiting in the 
kitchen for her, smiling warmly.  And he continued to 
wait until she had brought in all the bags.  Then, as 
she paused to catch her breath, he began to speak.

"Well, today we begin the final week of our six-week 
trial.  How about a progress report?  Are you 
satisfied with your situation so far?"

"Well," Simone said, somewhat taken aback by his 
question, she stalled for the right words.  
"There are some parts of our arrangement which have 
been, how should I say, frustrating.  No, maybe I 
should say they've been quite revealing.  But all in 
all I think it has gone quite well."

"Do you think you're going to want to remain with me 
beyond these six weeks?"  Then he quickly added, "You 
don't have to commit yourself right now.  I'm just 
curious if you're okay with working here."

"I think so," she smiled.  "I've handled it so far, so 
I think I'm all right."

"Good," Sam exclaimed.  "I really hope you will remain 
with me a long, long time."

"Me, too, Sam.  Now, is that all?"

"Yes, that's all."

Simone started to go upstairs, then turned and ask, 
"Perhaps I should ask which dress you prefer I wear 
this week.  They are both clean, so I could wear 
either one."

Sam paused awhile, looking at her intently, then 
answered carefully, "If you really don't mind, and if 
you think  - as you said - that you can handle it, 
then I have a special request for this sixth and final 
week of the test period."

"And that is...?" she asked.

"Please, if you will," he began, "I need to remind you 
that this is a test."

"I understand," Simone replied, wondering what he 
meant.

He continued, "Would you be willing, please, simply to 
wear...," he paused a moment before adding, "...just the 
apron?"  

"You mean," she asked hesitantly, not certain she 
heard him correctly, "you want me to work this week 
without the dress?  You mean, like, wearing only the 
apron?"

"If that is acceptable."  He paused, then said, 
"Please say you will.  I'll make it worth your while."  

He was so winsome that Simone found herself unable to 
refuse.  Even though his request was totally 
inappropriate, she agreed, then nervously climbed the 
stairs to her changing room.  Perhaps I should call it 
my undressing room, she thought, as with each step, 
she pondered the fact that for all practical purposes 
she was going to be working naked for an entire week.  
Could she really handle it?  Should she?  Slowly, she 
stripped off all her clothing.  She picked up the 
white hose and started to put them on.  Then she 
remembered Sam had said to wear only the apron, so she 
tossed the hose aside and stepped into her shoes.  
Then she tied the tiny white apron around her naked 
hips.  Posing before the mirror, she realized that she 
was really not exposing very much more than the 
previous week.  She had worked with her breasts bare, 
and her bottom had frequently been exposed.  Still 
considering herself in the mirror, she questioned why 
she had so readily agreed to Sam's request.  Had that 
tiny dress actually been nothing more than a symbol, 
kind of a security blanket?  She was even more 
surprised at how comfortable she felt wearing only the 
tiny apron.  In fact, the apron hardly covered 
anything.  Made of lace, the material was virtually 
transparent.  Sam would be able to see right through 
it.  The dark hair of her bush glistened behind the 
lacy material.  What's more, there were times her 
newly-shaved lips peeked from beneath the lace. 

"That stinker!" she said aloud.  Sam had indeed been 
devious, teaching her ever so slowly to be comfortable 
with displaying her naked body for him.  If there had 
been other people present, she knew she could never 
have done it.  But this had been private, an 
experience exclusively between herself and Sam.  And 
he had promised her another bonus, perhaps a truly 
hefty one this week.

With that in mind, she smiled and headed downstairs.  
This time, as she descended the stairway, she was 
indeed wearing only the tiny apron and a big, bright 
smile.  Yes, she could handle it.  She would enjoy it.  
All week.

Once again, Sam was sitting at the bottom of the 
stairs waiting for her.  She had not really understood 
how very anxious he was, how truly excited he was at 
the thought of having her around him all week dressed 
in nothing except her tiny hostess apron.  When she 
appeared at the top of the stairs, he felt stirrings 
within his loins which he had missed during the past 
ten years.  If only she knew, he thought, bunching his 
lap robe up around him.  If only she knew.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked, expecting him to 
comment as he usually did.

"Can you curtsey?" he asked.

She bent her knee and automatically reached for her 
skirt, but finding none she simply held her arms out 
to her side.  Her breasts bounced freely.  Not only 
were they bare, but they were unrestricted by the lace 
neckline of the dress she had worn the past week.  In 
fact, now she didn't even have her curly bush of pubic 
hair to hide her from total exposure.  Oh, well, she 
thought, at least I have the apron.  It provides a bit 
of modesty.  Not much, she realized, but a bit.

"Perfect!" Sam exclaimed, applauding excitedly.  "By 
the time Sunday comes, you'll be a lot more 
comfortable dressed like you are.  Sunday is our photo 
day, and I can hardly wait.  For now, though, let's 
have something to eat."  With that, he rolled back to 
allow her to pass him on her way to the kitchen.  As 
she walked past him, he applauded again.  "Oh, I love 
the view from the rear almost as much as when you're 
facing me.  Simone, you are a wonderful, lovely lady!"

She couldn't help but smile.  It was amazing, she 
thought, how his continual compliments eased her 
embarrassment and encouraged her to exhibit herself 
freely before him.  And, she decided, she was actually 
beginning to believe she was going to enjoy this 
week's photo session.

Sam spent little time in his room that day.  Mostly he 
wheeled himself around the living room and dining room 
or sat in the doorway into the kitchen, simply 
watching Simone.

"Don't you get tired of just looking at me?" she asked 
once.

"Never, my dear.  I shall never be fully satisfied 
while feasting my eyes on your lovely features."  He 
smiled broadly.  "Oh, if I were only younger, what a 
life we could have together.  As it is, however,  I 
shall try to content myself with looking.  And I hope 
I can make it possible for you to enjoy being 
watched."

Simone was impressed.  His answers made complete 
sense.  What's more, she had to admit, before the day 
was done, she had enjoyed every bit of the attention 
he had bestowed upon her.  After she had dressed to go 
home that evening, she felt somehow rather average, 
nothing special, but just like every other person she 
met.  She could hardly wait to get home, and 
immediately upon arriving, even before going into her 
bedroom, she stripped off her clothing.  The feeling 
of nudity was glorious, she decided as she stretched 
out on the big overstuffed divan.  Wouldn't Auntie 
have a fit if she could see me now, she laughed.  When 
she turned on the television, nothing appealed to her.  
Even the actresses seemed commonplace, mostly because 
they wore clothing.  Eventually that evening, for the 
first time since she was a little girl, she began to 
explore her body, and by the time she was ready for 
sleep she had brought herself to orgasm twice.  
Afterward, sleep came easily, and she dreamed of being 
naked in a community were none of the people wore 
clothes.

Sam was waiting for her the next morning and seemed 
quite anxious for her to get changed, or more exactly 
to get undressed.  All day she felt the same glow of 
freedom that she had felt the previous night.  By 
evening, as she was getting ready to leave, she put 
the apron in her purse and took it home with her.  The 
next morning, Thursday, as she dressed to leave her 
home, she simply tied her apron around her naked hips, 
put on her coat, and headed for Sam's place.  

Once again he was waiting for her when she came in the 
door.  When he greeted her, she said a cheery "Good 
morning!"  Then throwing open her coat, she said, 
"It's a really 'Good Morning'!"

"Oh, my dear, you are totally lovely.  And beautiful.  
You'll be the death of me yet!  Oh, I do so enjoy 
having you here with me."  

Simone took her coat upstairs, making sure she bounced 
her bottom effectively as she mounted the steps, just 
in case Sam was watching.  Throughout the day, she did 
extra cleaning.  She vacuumed the stairs, noting that 
Sam wheeled up close to watch as she backed down the 
steps as she cleaned them.  She put herself on full 
exhibit, spreading her legs wide so he could see it 
everything.  Friday and Saturday were much the same.  
She climbed up on a chair to dust around the light 
fixtures.  She washed the kitchen floor on her hands 
and knees.  She scrubbed Sam's personal bathroom.  He 
followed her like a lost little puppy, adoring her 
with his eyes, and with his every compliment she 
responded with ever increasingly risqué exhibitions.  
She had fun, and it was obvious that Sam did too.

Then it was Sunday.  Photo day.  Simone showered and 
took special care in fixing her hair.  She shaved her 
legs and then, on an impulse, she trimmed away the few 
stray hairs around her pubic bush that had begun to 
grow.  Then she put on the highest heel shoes she 
owned, added a bit of perfume, tied on her apron, 
pulled on her coat and headed for work.

Sam was seated at the table when she arrived.  "Good 
morning, lovely," he greeted her.

Simone turned her back and removed her coat.  When she 
turned to face Sam, wearing only her apron, she 
laughed as Sam actually blushed.

Sam sat silently transfixed.  Simone simply stood and 
let him look.  She felt good about herself, and she 
enjoyed his attention.

"Unless you're terribly hungry," he finally spoke, "I 
would like to take our pictures right away."

"Sounds good to me," she agreed, hanging her coat over 
the stairway railing.

During the next hour, Sam photographed her from every 
angle in every pose they could arrange.  She 
thoroughly enjoyed herself as she posed, and Sam was 
in photographer's heaven.  The shots became 
increasingly erotic, until finally Simone began to 
wonder if he would like her to pose without the apron.  

"This apron really isn't hiding much," she suggested.  
"Would you like me to remove it?'

His smile was the only answer she needed.  It gave 
Simone confidence, and she boldly untied the apron 
strings.  A moment later, she stood before him wearing 
only her heels and her smile.

"That...," he spoke softly, "is so very nice.  You are 
absolutely, completely perfect."  He coughed lightly, 
as if he were having trouble breathing.  

Simone couldn't help but notice the effect she was 
having on him, and that in turn lifted her spirits to 
a previously unknown level of sexual stimulation.  
This was unfamiliar territory for her, almost like she 
had felt the night she came to orgasm on her bed.  
Only here she was actually feeling these sensations 
while standing naked before a man.

Sam busied himself with his camera, changing and 
adjusting it.  His breathing was rough, and when he 
tried to focus for another shot, Simone noticed that 
Sam was having difficulty keeping his lap robe in 
place.  Once it almost slipped off, and she thought 
she caught a glimpse of skin.  A few moments later, as 
he wheeled past her toward into the living room, she 
accidentally stepped on the corner of the blanket.  It 
fell off.  Totally exposed was his very stiff 
erection.

"Why, you naughty little man," she exclaimed, 
laughing.  "You take pictures of me, and all the while 
you're diddling herself under your blanket!"

Sam wilted in embarrassment.  "I'm sorry.  So sorry.  
I don't mean any harm.  It's just that you're so 
beautiful."  

"Don't worry about it," Simone laughed.  "If I were in 
your place, I'm sure I would do more than that.  
Besides, you've been so good to me that I feel I owe 
you something in return."

He reached for the blanket to cover himself, but 
Simone kicked it away.

"All this time, for six weeks now, you've looked at me 
and eventually convinced me to strip naked for you, 
and all this while you've never even touched me.  Now, 
look what you're doing to yourself."

He grinned sheepishly.  

Without a word, Simone knelt in front of the 
wheelchair and gently lifted Sam's rapidly shrinking 
erection with her fingers.  

"Simone!  What are you doing?" he asked.

"Fulfilling your fantasy," she smiled up at him.  "And 
mine.  Perhaps after I'm done with what I'm about to 
do, you can reciprocate.  If not, at least I will have 
partially repaid you for your generous bonus."

With that she lowered her head and began to lick with 
her tongue.  It was a first for her, but she was 
thrilled when her efforts caused his erection to 
spring into full bloom.  Slowly she slipped him into 
her mouth, continuing to tease with her tongue.  This 
was her first taste of male semen, and it drove her to 
a greater desire to please him.  She began to work him 
in and out of her mouth.  Bobbing her head seemed to 
gain the greater reaction from him, so she did it with 
increasing speed.

Years of sexual inactivity melted away, as Sam 
thrilled with the joy of this intimate contact.  His 
loins swelled with excitement, and he knew he could 
not hold out for long.  He wanted this to go on 
forever.  Oh, she was good.  Not only beautiful, but 
her mouth was wonderful.  It was great to be inside 
her.  He loved her so much!  He wised she would take 
him deeper inside her mouth.  Unconsciously, he placed 
his hands on her head and pulled her down.  She gagged 
for a moment as his erection slipped deep into her 
throat.  Oh, that felt so good, he thought as he 
strained against her, pushing her head farther down as 
he gave himself completely into the joyous convulsions 
of ejaculation.  Again and again, harder and harder, 
he pushed himself deeper into her throat.  She tried 
to speak, to ask for release so she could breathe, but 
the vibrations of her larynx brought Sam even greater 
stimulation.

The pain was like none he had ever felt before.  It 
started just below his sternum and raced both ways 
across his ribs.  He sucked in his breath, not 
realizing how hard he was pushing on Simone's head.  
For a moment he questioned which was stronger, the joy 
of her mouth or the pain in his chest.  Each magnified 
the other.  He gasped for breath.  So did Simone, and 
her struggle intensified Sam's satisfaction.  The pain 
continued.  It exploded inside his chest.  That's when 
his heart gave out.  He never realized that Simone was 
choking on his semen.  Nor that her breathing had 
ceased, as had his.  In the ultimate expression of 
their mutual appreciation, both of their heads slumped 
forward.  All was quiet.  And still.

Fini

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Simone's Awakening