Houseboy for Hire Pt. 01

He especially enjoyed the times when he would tidy up her study while she was working there. She would always be so engrossed in her computer activities that she would hardly notice him, and he would take advantage of that by gazing at her for longer periods of time. He was particularly drawn to the delightful way that she would dangle her sandal from the front of her foot as she typed away on her keyboard. He soon realized that despite the paucity of their verbal interaction, he was beginning to be quite taken by her.

Indeed, his Monday afternoon sessions there rapidly became the highlight of his week, even far more so than the intimate time he spent with his regulars several times a week. He began to fantasize, often while he was there and even more when he wasn't, that she might ask for and avail herself of this extra 'services' as well. He wondered to himself of course whether she had a boyfriend, or even a special girlfriend, but he never saw or heard any evidence of either, so his own hopes in this regard continued to grow. It wasn't something he could comfortably suggest however. It had to come from her, as it always had from all of the others, only in this case he would want it as much as she. All he could think to do was to make himself as dependable and indispensable as possible, and have it be readily apparent that he was available in any way that she might want and desire.

It was shortly after he had been working for her for more than three months that Rhianne surprised him as he was about to leave one afternoon by asking if she might have a word with him.

"Sure, Ma'am." he readily replied.

Once again she led him into the living room and sat down on the end of the couch, as he perched himself on the edge of the hassock. He waited.

"Rory," she finally began, "I'm not usually one to say things like this, but I hope you know how much I appreciate the wonderful job you do for me here, putting and keeping this place in order."

He was used to frequently receiving compliments about his good work, but never before had one given him such a thrill.

"You've helped make my house into a home, a place I actually now enjoy living in." she continued, but then paused, before, "But I've also come to realize that I need much more."

His heart leapt. Could his ever growing fantasies actually be coming real? Could she finally be wanting to use him for more 'personal' activities, as had been playing out in his mind almost constantly?

"What is it that you might want, Ma'am?" he asked almost shyly, with his ever boyish charm.

She looked at him expectantly, with a small smile, before proceeding.

"I think I'll need at least three afternoons a week, say Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Monday can continue to be for general housecleaning, Wednesday for outside grounds maintenance which the place really needs, and Friday can be devoted to the laundry. I think we would then have things fully in control."

Rory stiffened, stunned. Outside maintenance? He was no landscaper. Laundry? Hadn't they been clear that he didn't do laundry. And he never worked more than one session a week for any client, although that might be much more enticing in this case. Still, laundry!?!? He hated laundry!!

"Well Rory ..." she prodded.

He had to buy some time to think.

"I ... I ... I've got a full schedule of clients every week." he stammered out in reply.

She sighed.

"I was afraid of that." She frowned. " I was really hoping that you'd be able to accommodate me, you do such good work that I wanted to offer it to you first. But I do have some people that have become available for those three days, who can handle all of my required services, and I don't want to lose the opportunity to get them."

"NO." he blurted out almost involuntarily. "Give me some time, Ma'am, please." he continued in a rush. "Maybe I can work something out."

She waited a beat.

"Okay Rory. But I really have to know now. Today. These people are probably in great demand."

"A couple of minutes then. Let me make some calls."

She nodded pleasantly. "You can use my study."

Rory got up and took out his cell phone as he made his way to her office. His Wednesday afternoon clients were the Whites, and he had never particularly cared for Mrs. White, as she never seemed to have anything nice to say about anything or anybody. He might have dropped them as clients long ago except for his deeply held tenet that one never burned bridges under almost any circumstances. Still, in this case, it really would only be a one time occurrence, he reasoned. He called her and told her that an opportunity had come about that he couldn't pass up, and that he wouldn't be able to work for them anymore. As he expected, Mrs. White was less than happy, calling him unprofessional and irresponsible for leaving them in the lurch so suddenly like this. Although that severely wounded his professional pride, at least Wednesday afternoon was taken care of.

His Friday afternoon clients, the Thompsons, were much more problematic. Mrs. Thompson was one of his 'regulars', and the one he enjoyed playing with the most as she, a devotee of the Kama Sutra, could be quite inventive in her intimate activities. He certainly didn't want to give that up entirely. He got her on the phone, explained the situation about the professional opportunity that he had to pursue, and offered to come in on Saturdays for her.

"But Rory, my husband is home on Saturdays." she answered. "I don't see how that could work."

His heart sank. "I'm sorry Mrs. T, but it's the best I can do. I just have to take this position." he responded forlornly.

There was a long silence on the other end, before, "Well, I guess I can encourage him to play golf more often. It'll have to be Saturday afternoons though. We sleep late on weekends."

"Thanks Mrs. T, you're the greatest. I owe you."

"Yes you do, and I'm going to make sure that you pay up appropriately whenever we're able to now."

"You can count on it." he replied roguishly as he hung up. Now both afternoons were open, and he made his way back to the living room to inform the waiting Rhianne.

"Excellent." she responded as he told her, and she flashed him a most dazzling smile, which practically melted his soul. "I was really hoping that you'd be able to work it all out." She stood up and handed him his check for the day. "On Wednesday you can mow the lawn and trim the hedges. They're long overdue for that. I believe that the laundry can wait just a little bit longer until you get to it on Friday." She gave him another big smile. "I'll see you then." she concluded in dismissal as she left the room.

Rory was in a daze as he drove home that evening. Just what all had he gotten himself into. Landscaping. And Laundry. It was unbelievable. On the plus side though, he would be there with her that much more often, have that many more opportunities to ingratiate himself with her. So far she had shown no inclination to interact with him in any other way than as the hired help, and he was beginning to realize just how much he wanted her to do so. To see him in a wholly different and more personal way.

He returned on Wednesday afternoon and made his way into the small shed at the edge of the property where he had never before ventured. There, thankfully, he found that she had a power lawnmower, old enough that it probably had been left over from the previous owner and sold to her with the property. He was not so lucky with the hedge clippers, which were of the manual variety. Both were in dire need of cleaning and maintenance, but that would have to wait for another Wednesday, as the grass was markedly overgrown, and the many bushes all appeared wild and unkempt. He spent the entire afternoon mowing and trimming, then raking and collecting all the cuttings which he then deposited deep inside the woods. He didn't finish until well after six.

Friday was his first laundry day, and he found not only the two overflowing as usual laundry hampers, but two other full laundry bags leaning outside them, along with three plastic laundry baskets filled with dirty linens and towels. He knew that he was never going to like or enjoy doing this particular job, but he vowed to himself to approach it with his usual professional efficiency and zeal. After carrying it all down to the laundry room in the basement, he began first by sorting the colors from the whites, and the delicates from the wash and wear. He then began an assembly line process with one group going into the washer, then into the dryer when done while the next load went into the washer, and then folding and putting away the first load as it came out of the dryer. He continued this sequence throughout the entire afternoon, saving all the clothes that needed to be ironed to do the end. Once again he didn't finish until over an hour past his usual leaving time.

On those first two days Rory hardly saw his employer, but over the next several weeks that began to slowly change. She began to sometimes engage him in at least short conversations when their paths might cross, and she also began to grace him with more frequent smiles, some of the dazzling variety which would almost always buckle his knees. He also had the opportunity to observe her more often, which he tried to do as discreetly as possible, although she would occasionally catch him doing so, producing from her a different type of smile. He grew to love the way that she would idly twist strands of her hair around her finger as she read from her computer screen, or would unconsciously chew on the eraser end of her pencil before jotting down some notes. And, of course, how her sandal would dangle and bob from the edge of her foot as she keyboarded on her computer.

This all served to heighten the yearning tension that was building within him more and more, day by day, which he tried to salve and dissipate with his ongoing trysts with his regulars. He found himself enjoying those less and less however, unless while doing so he could imagine himself doing it with her. When successful in that regard, his partners at the time could only assume that his increased energy and ardor must certainly be due to them. But it couldn't go on like this. In some way, any way, he felt that he had to induce Rhianne to respond to his desire. If not ... well ... he didn't know what.

Just as he was approaching the six month mark in her employ, as he was finishing up with that weeks's laundry one Friday afternoon, Rhianne indicated that she wanted to speak to him. After seating herself on her usual spot on the sofa, and he on the edge of the hassock, she began this time without any delay.

"Rory, let me start again by saying how extraordinary and exemplary I continue to find all of your efforts here to be."

The same thrill as before coursed through him.

"I really enjoy working for you, Ma'am."

An accepting smile.

"I'm very glad to hear that."

Her face now became serious.

"But I think that even you would have to admit that you're extremely expensive, and at three times a week it's causing a bit of a financial drain."

Now he felt a jab of concern.

"And so I thought that we might find another way to compensate you for your services."

Rory's heart began to hammer. Could this be it? His dreams with her finally coming to pass? With all of the others it had always been an extra service he supplied when asked, for no additional charge except for the frequently offered bonuses or tips. But for her ... for this ... he would happily consider a significant reduction in his regular rates.

"What is it that you're suggesting Ma'am?" he put forth cautiously

She gave him a very discerning smile.

"I believe that I read people very well Rory. It's a very important part of what I do for a living. And I think I have truly come to understand you, the real you, and what you really want and need."

Oh please let that be true, he pleaded within.

"I've seen your hints and unraveled your clues, and have come to the firm conclusion that instead of giving you a check like this every week," she said, holding it up for him to see, "I propose a very different recompense for your services." She now offered him a most inviting smile, "Every Friday, when you're done with your work for the week, I will reward you with a gift of myself by allowing you to ..." She paused once more, as he held his breath,

"... kiss my foot."

Rory felt as if all of that breath had been driven out of him. Was this a joke? She couldn't be serious, could she? There was no possible way.

Her voice became stern

"But you must understand Rory that this offer is non negotiable. If you do not feel that it would be payment enough for your efforts here, then I will give you your check for this week and we will part ways amicably. For good."

A surge of panic shot through him. This was all beyond the pale. How could she even believe. Almost of their own volition his eyes strayed to her crossed leg and then down to her foot, where her pump dangled from her toes so enchantingly.

"Well Rory, what do you say?"

Unable to force his eyes away, his mind struggled furiously to find a way to phrase his refusal. But his mouth, directed entirely from somewhere else deep within him, as if without any conscious control, uttered forth one barely audible word.

"Feet." he whispered.

"What was that, I couldn't quite hear." she responded.

Still seemingly independent of his brain, his voice grew stronger, though still ragged and hoarse.

"Feet." he repeated. "I be allowed to kiss both of your feet."

She laughed, a delighted and delightful, completely uninhibited laugh, which sounded to him as if it came from heaven itself. He jerked his eyes upward to be greeted by one of her dazzling smiles.

"I said that there would be no negotiations, but I do think that we can accommodate that. Okay then Rory, are we in agreement?" she asked pleasantly. "That as full compensation and reward for all of your work and weekly service here, on Fridays when you're done you will be allowed the honor and privilege of kissing BOTH of my feet."

This time he could only nod.

"Fabulous. I'm so pleased that we were able to work this out. I didn't want to lose you. And to celebrate I feel that we should start right away by ripping up this check, don't you think?"

Again, only a nod.

With a triumphant smile she lifted up the check and tore it in two. As she did so he felt as if a long held facade to his inner self and core was being ripped open as well, and that he was now exposed and laid bare before her.

Rhianne uncrossed her leg and let her dangling pump fall to the floor. She then extended her foot forward, pointing it directly at his very being. As if drawn by a magnet Rory rose off the hassock, took two unsteady steps, and fell to his knees before her.

He gazed down at her still pointed foot. Its perfectly pedicured and painted toenails and smooth slim beauty captivated and commanded him onward, and he knew without any doubt at that moment that he was exactly where he belonged. He reached down and cupped her heel in one hand and cushioned her sole with his other, and slowly leaned down to bring his lips delicately to the top of her foot.

It was so soft. And its scent, a hint of her lavender foot creme with a touch of leather left behind by her pump, all mixed with that of her own moisture, was totally intoxicating. He let his lips linger as long as he dared, finally lowering her first foot to the floor, and then took up her second, bringing his face down to worship that one as well.

This time he did not have the strength to end the communion, and it was Rhianne who finally broke the contact, gently pulling her foot down to the floor. She then slipped both of her feet back into her pumps and stood up in front and above him.

"I'll see you Monday afternoon ... houseboy."

With that she walked away.

Rory, unmoving and still bowed forward, his knees as if rooted to the ground, his eyes continuing to stare at the spot on the floor where her feet had just been, remained behind.

Utterly enthralled.