So either they would go back to handjobs while sitting up vertical, or she would lie down and get screwed, and that was that.
On the whole, Dolly thought she would prefer to get fucked. In fact, if Duke's dick had still been hard, she might have even suggested that they fuck right then. But he had already tucked the tool away.
Well, she would see him next week, on her day off. If everything went as she supposed, she thought that she would lose her cherry then.
But that was a week away, and a cherry is a tiny thing, easy to misplace.
CHAPTER THREE
But if a cherry is an insignificant thing amidst the elegant trappings of a mansion, easy to lose in the winding corridors and high vaulted rooms, it is also a rare thing and hard to find.
When Claire Wintergreen looked at the fresh faced young maid, she knew right away that the girl was a virgin-or very close to one. Claire smiled and licked her lips.
"I hope I'm suitable, Ma'am," Dolly said, nervously.
"I'm sure you will Work out just famously, dear," Claire told her. "And I hope you will enjoy working here.
"Oh, I'm certain I will."
Claire showed Dolly her quarters. Dolly was impressed. The maid's room was almost as large and much more elegantly appointed than her apartment in town.
"You may have visitors, if you care to," Claire said.
"Oh. I don't.."
"You must have… admirers?" "Gee. I have a boyfriend."
"Ahhh?"
"But he's a lout."
"Oh. Well, as long as he keeps to the servants' quarters. But never mind. Now I'm anxious to see how you look in uniform.
Claire showed Dolly where the uniforms were kept. Dolly expected the woman to leave, but Claire waited right there. Well, it didn't make any difference, Dolly thought, although she thought it strange that a rich woman would remain in the room while a common maid changed into uniform.
Dolly took her blouse off.
As usual, she wore no bra. Claire stared at her heavy, round tits, and Dolly was embarrassed.
Probably rich people always wear bras, she thought; she probably thinks I'm too poor to buy one.
She removed her skirt. As she bent to step out of it, her plump titties hung down like ripe fruit, ready to be plucked-succulent, fleshy fruit, ready to be eaten.
Dolly wore only her panties, and Claire's eyes were devouring the girl's nubile, curvaceous young body.
Dolly started to down the uniform.
"Oh, please… wear the French silk underwear," Claire said.
Dolly figured the rich woman didn't want common cotton panties worn in her presence. She slipped them off. Claire's eyes glowed as she looked at the young girl's bushy twat. Her long nailed fingers clenched, as if they wanted to touch something.
Dolly put the black silk panties on.
"Lovely," Claire said.
The panties were transparent, the black material serving only to shade her flesh, not conceal it.
"Gee, they're so smooth," Dolly said. She had never worn silk panties before.
"Are they?" Claire said.
Stepping closer, she stroked the silk where it was molded like a second skin to Dolly's pert ass.
"Oh, yes.. smooth," the woman said. Dolly thought: Golly! If she wasn't a married woman with a daughter, I'd think she was a dyke or something! But that couldn't be, not a married woman.
Dolly put the black bra on. It was cut low so that it did not cover the nipples at all, merely held her breasts up higher and deepened the cleavage.
"You're splendidly sexy," Claire said.
Her fingertips stroked down the upper slopes of Dolly's big tits, brushing the nipples. Dolly blushed, ashamed that her nipples had stiffened. The rich were, a lot more familiar than she'd thought they would be.
In confusion, she started sorting out the uniform, the lace blouse and short black skirt and the little lace cap. There were stockings and a garter belt, too-she had to put them on first. She felt very nervous and Claire wasn't helping by standing so close and looking so excited… looking, in fact, exactly the way a lesbian would have looked.
Dolly put the garter belt on and, sitting on the edge of the bed, began to draw the silk stockings up her shapely thighs. She had to raise her leg to do this, and she knew that her mistress was looking at her cunt. It was visible through the sheer panties, like the negative of a cunt. To her horror, Dolly realized that the crotchband of the panties was damp.
She sure hoped that Mrs. Wintergreen didn't notice that!
Claire was saying something about stockings being so much more sexy than pantyhose, but Dolly didn't pay much attention; she was trying to get dressed as quickly as she could. It wasn't unpleasant to have a woman stare at her body, especially a beautiful, wealthy woman like Mrs. Wintergreen, but it made her nervous. She was fumbling with the fastenings of the suspenders. This was partly because she was so nervous and partly because-a child of her age-she had never before worn anything but sexless pantyhose which, Claire was saying, make a woman's crotch look like the crotch of a latex doll.
"Let me help you, dear," Claire said.
"Oh, I can."
But the elegant woman had gracefully knelt beside the bed; she began to fix the suspenders to the tops of the stockings, her hands moving on Dolly's naked thighs.
She leaned closer, as if to see what she was doing. Her head was between Dolly's knees. Dolly just knew that her mistress would notice how damp the crotch of the panties had become. And she'd only had them on for a few seconds. She didn't understand, herself, why her cunt should be dripping. It wasn't as if there were an attractive man in the room.
But Claire, if she noticed, did not embarrass the maid by mentioning the creamy state of her crotch. Her hands seemed to be moving higher than necessary to attach the stockings.
Then the door opened.
"Oh! I guess I'm interrupting something, huh?" said Amanda, the daughter of the house-although she sure didn't look it, Dolly thought, in her scruffy jeans and tee shirt.
Claire shot her daughter an annoyed glance.
"Sorry, Mom. I didn't think you'd be getting down to so soon," Amanda said, with the hint of a saucy grin.
"I'm simply helping Dolly dress."
"Oh. Sure."
Dolly didn't understand the undercurrents that she felt in the conversational exchange. She couldn't figure them out to save her life; she just sat there, feeling confused and helpless.
"What was it, Amanda?" Claire said. Her hands were still on Dolly's thighs but not moving now, as if she couldn't fasten the garterbelt and talk at the same time-or wanted privacy to concentrate on what she was doing.
"I wondered if I could borrow your dildo, Morn."
Dolly gasped. No, she couldn't have heard that right.
"What's wrong with yours?" Claire asked.
"The batteries are dead."
Claire made a clicking, chastising sound with her tongue. She said "You're simply fucking yourself too much with that thing, dear; altogether too much."
"Aw, Mom… I only do it two or three times a day. It's just that I linger over it."
"Well, you can use mine for now. It's in the dresser drawer in the master bedroom. Mind, you wash it before you put it back."
"I always lick it clean," Amanda said.
She went out, giggling.
Dolly was stricken. She gaped at Claire, her mouth open and her eyes glazed.
Claire said, "Yes?" Then she said, "Oh, don't be shocked by our style of speech, dear Dolly. The truly wealthy have no inhibitions about such things.
"But.. your daughter… I mean.."
"Most girls have a dildo or vibrator in this liberal, enlightened age," Claire explained.
"Gee, I don't," mumbled Dolly.
"The thing is, common people keep it a secret, while the aristocracy admits to it. It's quite simple."