*************** ADULTS ONLY ***************
The Lovable Ladies of Libido Lane
(C) by Erotin Thraller
*********************************************

Chapter 07 - Simone's Awakening

Scene 1, Simone

Conflicting emotions violently stretched her mind.  Simone felt 
pulled in opposite directions.  Nearly paralyzed with fear, she 
realized she had no idea what to do.  It was not that she had an 
immediate crisis, but her life - as she had come to accept it - 
was over.  Now 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.  Suddenly she was free.  
Finally.  At last.  Auntie Lucia was dead. 

Of course, 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 known relative, 
her father's sister, the aged Lucia.

Life with Auntie was comfortable enough.  Most of her needs were 
met, since Auntie Lucia was a dominating, efficient organizer.  
She was also a cranky, bitter, complaining semi-invalid, a 
condition which she utilized for her personal advantage.  The 
result was that she demanded so much time and attention that 
Simone was left with little time and few opportunities to develop 
friendships or have a meaningful social life.  Lucia required her 
to keep the house neat and the meals cooked, along with running 
personal errands.  Auntie Lucia behaved according to whatever 
whim overtook her, all the while spending her days in the 
upstairs bedroom, propped up on pillows in her massive four-
poster bed.  Simone was certain Auntie spent most of her time 
dreaming up projects for her to do, simply to keep her too busy 
to become involved with other people.  Or to have a 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 after school she had 
the house to clean, the evening meal to prepare, as well as her 
homework to study and prepare.  Many days 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 a 
sense of 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 at graduating from high school.  
Considering her home life, or lack of it, the mere fact that she 
could graduate 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 personal needs 
and desires even to consider that Simone might also have needs.  
Or else she was so caught up in herself that she simply didn't 
care about anyone else, not even her dependent niece.  So Simone 
celebrated her academic achievement by herself, with no hope for 
any further schooling.  Her aunt would certainly never allow her 
to leave and go away to college, much less provide the money for 
such an education.  Simone's future looked dismal.  Her hope was 
dim.  Then, just like that, with no further warning, Lucia died.  
It was a beneficent gift with contradictory f implications which 
truly frustrated Simone.

The evening after the funeral, Simone suddenly realized she had 
time to do whatever she desired.  Anything at all.  And she was 
totally free to make that choice.  Her first decision was that 
she would not be rushed.  And she would need money.  So her 
second decision was that she needed a job.  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 
adequate to attract the attention of any college's admissions 
office.  Neither had she acquired any special skills which 
qualified 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.  Nearly all of her life had been spent 
in such isolation that she felt 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."

Scene 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 yourself a 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 into exile by their age and 
health.  It's a place to keep old people out of mischief until 
they die so you young folks can take our money and go have fun."

"Please, Dad, 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, and I'll stay right 
here."

"But..."

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

On that sour note, 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 entryway, he stared at 
the door with 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 
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.  Furthermore, he had forbidden any modifications to be 
made in his home, so there was no ramp.  His wheelchair had to be 
lifted over the steps to make his rare visits to the medical 
clinic.  Fortunately however, he was quite healthy, other than 
the pain in his legs, which was 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 his 
wife away from him.  With her death, life lost any bit 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.

Helmut's sudden chill became an almost uncontrollable terror, as 
he realized no one would be coming now 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 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 Helmut had experimented on his own with 
the search engine, amazed at all the information available.  
Mostly, he was unimpressed with any technology, including the 
computer, but now, suddenly, he seemed drawn to it, as if it was 
his only link to that world outside beyond his locked door.  If 
he could not go out into the world, maybe the computer could 
bring some of it inside to him.

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, felt 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 words which would change both their lives.  

Scene 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 had reached the end of their comfort zones and were seeking 
a change.  Realizing that she had virtually no marketable skills 
for getting a job in a typical business field, Simone forced 
herself to get over her hesitancy of taking on the care of 
another elderly person.  That was one job for which she was 
uniquely qualified.  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.  What if...?  She tried to quell the fear 
and put those possibilities out of her mind.

He 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 about her, she concentrated 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 - although sometimes a flickering window - revealing a 
world which he had almost forgotten.  And many things he never 
knew even existed.  There were so many things he could still do.  
Indeed, there was much he could enjoy.  So why not try?  He 
determined to learn to control his crabbiness.  He would go out 
of his way to be pleasant.  He would learn to appreciate the 
variety and excitement available through other people.  Most of 
all, he decided, he wanted far more than a housekeeper or a cook.  
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.  She 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 
then neither had anyone ever talked with her about her feelings 
or her interests, much less any goals for her life.  Not her 
teachers.  Not even the school counselors.  Least of all her 
Auntie.

She stood for several moments on the doorstep, verifying she had 
the correct address.  Libido Lane seemed such a strange name for 
a street, so much that she even looked up the word in the 
dictionary.  The definition left her somewhat puzzled and 
especially amused.  Now, here she was at the first house on the 
left, as the man had said, and the number on the house read 
97210.

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, to 
think of their meeting as 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 cautiously 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.  It was easy to bring himself to smile up at her.

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 this 
girl, 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 experienced as a 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 - say, 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 this 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.

Scene 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 for following instructions and for doing 
the 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 explained, 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 budget so 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 always done it according to Auntie's specific 
instructions, even to the point of going to several grocery 
stores to obtain the exact items on the shopping list at the 
price Auntie required.

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 had been 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 will get really awkward.  If 
we get along, as I hope we will, I'll 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 names?  I never did like 
Helmut anyway.  He smiled, "Just call me Sam."  After that, 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 
quite 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.  More than just what Sam 
might think, Simone felt good about herself that she looked good. 

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 appeared, 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 she received her the first salary 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.  Buy something new for yourself.  You could use some new 
clothes."  

Simone could hardly wait to go shopping.  Tomorrow morning she 
would get groceries.  But tonight she would hit the mall, looking 
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 even 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 she left the mall feeling very 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 put on the outfit 
she had just purchased.  The blouse fit perfectly.  The skirt, 
however, was something else.  Trying it on at the store 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, standing naked in 
front of the mirror, she decided she really did have nice legs.  
She remembered somewhere hearing a girl say, "If you got it, 
flaunt it!"  So, 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. 

Scene 5, Week Two

"Oh, but you look nice today," Sam greeted her as she came in 
with the first load of groceries.  "Your new clothing is quite 
attractive.  In fact," he added, "You are indeed 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.  For Sam to 
combine the two compliments was overwhelming to Simone.  She 
blushed profusely and struggled for something nice 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 
the table 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.  Of course, 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 down here with the living room 
carpet."

It sounded overly simple to Simone, certainly nothing she had not 
already done dozens of times 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.

Her first impulse was to turn around and work facing him, but she 
realized she could not vacuum the step below where she stood.   
And 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 way down 
the stairs.

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 from under his lap robe.  "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 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, she said to herself.  On the other hand, when she realized 
what he was doing, she remembered having deliberately chosen to 
allow him looking privileges.  That had been her decision.  So, 
if he wanted to give her a bonus..., well, that was up to him.  She 
took the money and thanked him warmly.  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 had never liked 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, and she 
considered the wide variety of panties on display.  Finally she 
dared herself, then accepted her dare and purchased 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 more than 
fifty dollars, she thought.  Who knows!

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.  She also forced herself to accept the shortness 
of her new skirts.  They really are not much different, she told 
herself, than wearing shorts.  It's just that now and then he 
sees my panties.  Her new attitude led her to experiment.  One 
day she wore her peasant blouse quite low on her shoulders with 
nothing under it.  Sam made no response, but she recognized his 
smile.  The next day she accepted another dare from herself and 
put away her regular panties, deciding that regardless of which 
blouse or skirt she chose, she would always wear her new thongs.  

Sam continued to compliment her and was so pleasant with her that 
she found it felt really nice simply to be near him.  He seemed 
to take her sexiness for granted, and she became somewhat more 
relaxed with her body as she learned 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 see 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 all closed off, and she had 
never been in any of the rooms up there except for 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 the 
collected items to the washing machine adjacent to the kitchen, 
and there added the towels, then proceeded with the laundry.  It 
was a 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 to sit and talk.  She became 
increasingly more comfortable with him, often forgetting 
completely 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 that week, but 
Sam took them to his room without explanation.  Thus ended her 
second week.

Scene 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 me a 
bonus if he wants, but I'm not going to make a fool of myself 
trying to tease one out of him.

After shopping and putting the groceries in the kitchen pantry, 
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 at the foot of the bed 
was stacked high with photo equipment, cameras and other items 
she did not recognize.  The walls were covered with photos, a few 
were framed but most were boarded and plain.  Many were black and 
white prints - landscapes and still life - but on one wall all 
the photos were of one lady, a young woman.  Simone assumed they 
were photos of Sam's wife.  There were so many photos, pictures 
involving daily duties about the home, vacation scenes, and 
close-up poses.  On another wall, the photos were of the same 
lady.  All of them were nudes.  At first she shied away, but she 
felt drawn 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 those new digital 
things.  I'm not sure how I'll get along with it, but since I 
can't get to 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, and she was a beautiful woman.  I like beauty.  And I have 
missed my photography so 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 as she 
remembered 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, topping them off 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.  

Scene 7, 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, not sure quite 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 guest room.  In the box is a 
uniform.  It' 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."  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 clothing.  
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 a 
French Maid Costume, but she had never seen one.  One of the 
girls at school claimed she wore one to a Halloween costume 
party, but she must have really been daring, Simone decided, if 
she wore one like this one in the box.  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? ...to cook in?  ...and to clean in?  She 
held up the dress to inspect it.  That's when she began to 
understand.

The dress had a plunging neckline.  Actually, it descended so 
deep that... well, she had thought her peasant blouse was risqué, 
but this one almost indecent.  At first glance, Simone was 
certain the neckline would be open all the way down to her navel.  
The skirt was little more than a ruffle, maybe ten or twelve 
inches long and so full that the folds made it flare far out all 
around.  

She dug deeper into the box and found a pair of heels, also 
black.  Wonder how he knew my size? she wondered as she searched 
the box for the rest of the uniform.  There was nothing more.  
Where is the underwear?  There was none.  She remembered well 
that Sam had said everything she needed was in the box.  Does he 
think I will 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 that she would parade 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 of her own volition.  And this dress, she decided, really 
does not show very much more than she had already flaunted before 
Sam.  And my thongs don't really cover up very much of me.  She 
blushed, thinking of how much of herself she had already revealed 
to Sam.  No wonder he thought she would be willing to wear a 
dress like this.

Well, she thought, I'll try it on and see how it looks.  She 
peeled off her blouse and bra, then 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.  For a moment she hesitated, then stripped off her 
thong and studied herself again 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 at least that much 
the previous week when she wore her boat neck blouse and leaned 
over Sam to serve his 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 thought.  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 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 close to the 
camera.  Simone's eyes went immediately to her bust.  Much of it 
was showing in the photo, since the blouse was indeed 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, as he pressed a 
button to change 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 was 
proud to admit.  But, because Sam had been so far below her, the 
photo had been taken right up her skirt.  She stared at the 
shadow beneath the tiny apron.  Was it merely a shadow?  Or was 
it 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 let him take pictures of her like that?  Would she?  
Should she?  Is that what he would ask of her?

"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 
expecting Sam to be there with his camera, but thankfully she saw 
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 seemed 
that 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 cried, "Peek-a-boob!"

Sam was smiling broadly, "You'll never know how pleased I am to 
have you 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 since putting on her new 
uniform.  It was an unnerving experience.  The skirt was too 
short to tuck under so she could sit on it.  That meant 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.

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, 
and she was anxious to get home.

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 - 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 without 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 cost of maintaining her own home.  
"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!"

In reply, she swayed her hips saucily and smiled as she heard him 
chuckle behind her.  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 get 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 
Sunday, 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.  She still had not come to terms with what to do if he 
asked her to pose nude.

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.  We're 
done.  I 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 because I allowed him to look 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.  

Scene 8, Week Five

When she woke the next morning, she was startled to realize she 
was naked, but then she remembered how Sam asked her to pose ...and 
she remembered her bonus.  Suddenly it all seemed worthwhile.  
She was beginning to enjoy being the new Simone.  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 pulled on only her jeans 
and a sweatshirt.  Why, she thought, should I put on what I'll 
just take off as soon as I get to work?

In the grocery store, she felt strangely daring.  When the young 
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 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've worn that other 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 first 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 expected it to 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 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 dipped low all the way across the 
bodice so that the ruffle came 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 full display.  She was shocked.  
But she also had to admit that she had beautiful breasts.  And 
the dress accented them perfectly.  Maybe they deserved to be 
seen.  And appreciated.  Sam certainly went out of his way to 
express his admiration 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.  No, he allowed 
her to feel beautiful, and she had to admit to herself that the 
dress certainly highlighted her figure.  Now, with her breasts 
fully exposed, she was extremely attractive.  It was a good 
feeling.

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 quitting her job and leaving.  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.  She kept 
coming back to the contrast between her life now and her previous 
existence with Auntie.  And then there was her naked celebration 
the previous night.  What about that?  Was she really beginning 
to enjoy nudity?  Public nakedness?  And why had she come to work 
without wearing any underwear?  What did she really expect, 
anyway?  

Reality began to take hold of her mind, and in the next few 
minutes she completely resolved her frustrations.  Defiantly she 
arranged the tiny apron, fluffed the ruffles of her skirt, 
considered her features in the mirror as she cupped her bare 
breasts as she dared herself to smile.  She pinched her nipples 
until they were firm.  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.  She was, 
she admitted to herself, 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, but Sam was so obviously 
approving and appreciative that she couldn't help but relax.  
After a few moments, she began to realize she was actually 
pleased at revealing herself for him.  Somehow, in a way she 
couldn't understand, she found it was fun to show her body.  No, 
more than fun.  It was personally rewarding to reveal herself to 
him.  She really was enjoying herself.  This was a surprising new 
feeling for Simone, an emotion she had never experienced 
previously.  

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

"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 her exposure, 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 can print another."  He pushed the picture 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 best 
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.  Not trying to peer down 
her blouse, because she was not wearing one.  Her breasts were 
bare.  Open.  Totally revealed.  And she was enjoying the 
feeling.  She had indeed become a new person.

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.  Their continual movement had a sensual effect on her, 
and made frequent trips to the bathroom to wipe away the secreted 
juices.  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.  Using scissors at first, 
she soon realize that was not adequate.  It was more than a bit 
frightening, at first, to run a razor around 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 been 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 all of it 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 a bit."  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 with her breasts bare and her 
bottom often in view.  Throughout the entire week, she had often 
considered how she was working almost completely naked.  And she 
had often thought how ridiculous it was, perhaps actually wrong, 
but she rationalized that no one was there to see her except Sam, 
and he was confined to his wheelchair, so what did it matter?  
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."

Scene 9, 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 certain aspects of our arrangement which have been, 
how should I say, frustrating.  No, maybe I should say they have 
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, "...today, 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, I'm to wear 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.  
She knew his request was totally inappropriate, but even so she 
agreed.  Then she 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 for an entire week 
completely naked.  Could she really handle it?  Should she?  
Slowly, she stripped off her clothing.  All of it.  She drew on 
the long white hose, stepped into her shoes, then 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.  Then, as she considered 
herself in the mirror, she questioned why she had so readily 
agreed to Sam's request.  Had that dress had been nothing more 
than a symbol, something like a security blanket?  She was even 
more surprised at how comfortable she felt wearing only the tiny 
apron.  Obviously, the apron hardly covered anything.  Made of 
lace, it was virtually transparent.  Sam would be able to see 
right through it.  The dark hair of her bush glistened through 
the lacy material.  What's more, there were times her newly-
shaved lips peeked from between her legs. 

"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 was 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 wearing only the tiny 
apron and a big, bright smile.  Yes, she could handle it.  And 
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 such a wonderful, lovely, beautiful 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 especially 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 watching 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.  Once she 
was dressed to go home that evening, she felt somehow 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.  She wondered 
what it would be like to live in such a place.

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 was Thursday, and as she dressed to leave for work, 
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 
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 cleaned Sam's personal 
bathroom.  He followed her like a lost little puppy, 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 Lady," 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 stockings and heels.

"That...," he spoke softly, "is so very nice."  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.  An old man, true, but still 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 been looking at me.  it 
took six weeks, but you have finally convinced me to strip naked 
for you.  All this time you have never once 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, extended her tongue, and began to 
lick.  It was all new for her, a  first, 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.  It 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 
experience to continue 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 wanted to be deeper inside 
her.  Unconsciously, he reached out, 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, giving 
himself completely into the joyous convulsions of ejaculation.  
Again and again, harder and harder, he pushed deep 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 pleasure.  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.

~~~~~
Continued in Chapter 08

Note to the Readers:  If any of these ladies remind you of a
lady you know - your wife, girl friend, or a pic in your private
collection - I would like to see the picture!  I will not publish it,
but it will help greatly as I describe the ladies in future stories.

Send them as an email attachment to: erotinthraller@gmail.com





  
Chapter 07 - Simone's Awakening