“Okay, what will you want me to do?” Emma asked,

“Oh, everything, Emma, I’m a complete slob. I will pay you well though. What days will you be coming to clean?” “Well, let me think,” I shifted my head to the side and a length of curly hair broke free from its confines and trailed down over my cheek. I brushed it away under Mr Holloway’s intense stare. “I think Mondays and Wednesdays will be best for me, late afternoon or early evening.”

“Right, well then on Wednesday’s I will pay you. Will eighty pounds cover it?”

I am sure the shock registered on my face, “That will more than cover it Mr Holloway,” I replied, “but you know you don’t have to pay me all that money. I only get six pound an hour for working here.”

He laughed. “And that is why I want you, Emma. You’re an honest. I will pay you what I have said, you deserve it and I will work you hard. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a slob.”

“Well thank you, Mr Holloway, that’s terribly kind of you.” I was at loss for words really, eighty pounds would almost double my weekly salary. I was in shock.

“I’ll have to go now, Emma, you have all you need now, right?” He passed me the keys and paper and squeezed my hand before he let go. “Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, the words popping out like a hoarse cough as I tried to cover the arousal I felt coursing through my veins and heating my face. He waved as he walked through the door and I dropped heavily into the chair behind me. In that moment I felt like Cinderella being told she could go to the ball.

He was right, he was a slob but a rich slob and that somehow made it better. All his furniture and fittings were of the highest quality and the view from his living room window was breath taking. The first week I cleaned for him I thoroughly deserved my wages, I won’t go into details but his cluttered desk had not prepared me for the mess I found in his kitchen the first day I cleaned for him. But as time went on I did less and less for my eighty pounds pay and had more time to wander around his home.

I rarely saw him. We mostly conversed via notes left on the coffee table. He might ask me to put things in the drier or to leave a certain pile of papers exactly as they were and I would leave him receipts for dusters and disinfectant. I’d think about leaving lust letters for him, writing down all my secret desires for him but that was merely a fantasy.

I would occasionally lie on his bed and just drink in his scent, imagining him there with me. I would always feel so guilty afterwards though and would clean at double pace as penance thereafter. Mr Holloway became the number one fantasy in my life. Each night I would think of him as I brought myself to orgasm. It became the only way I could drift off to sleep. I was obsessed with him and I felt a little disgusted at myself for that. I was his cleaner, he trusted me and I was far, far, far too old for him. The fantasy would never come to anything and yet when I went out for occasional nights on the town with my girlfriends I wouldn’t look twice at the men around me. I didn’t want them. Only one man would do. “

I pick up the red lacy bra and smile. It called to me as I was shopping for an everyday, comfortable kind of bra. I was necessity shopping, and I really didn’t have the time or money to entertain frivolity. However, the deep scarlet lace and the vibrant orange and yellow flames embroidered onto it seemed to pull me in. When I saw the cute knickers to match, I was a goner. I tried them on, hoping they’d be uncomfortable, praying they’d be too tight—but no; they fit snugly, and they looked good.

I’m not a loud lingerie buyer, but as I stood behind that thick blue curtain of the dressing room staring into the mirror, I decided I had to have this soft, lacy sexiness. In fact, I wanted to stride into the store proper and show everyone how sexy I looked in it. Thank God, I did resist the temptation.

I wish I’d resisted the temptation to buy them too, because I’m not sure my husband will understand my expensive urge. Hence, the plan.

I wriggle into the red lace panties, the flames licking up the V of my crotch and heating me. Adding the bra that sets my breasts on fire, I notice my hardened nipples as they swish against the luxurious fabric. I spot myself with my favourite perfume and let my hair down from the tight clip I typically use to hold it in place. The curls tumble onto my shoulders and add another swirl of sensuality to my look.