Copyright December 2007
The alarm went off. Hudson opened an eye, 07:02. He lay for a few moments, trying to decide if it had been real or a dream. He swung his feet to the floor. One foot landed on something. He bent over and picked up a plastic bottle, black, rather phallic in shape. The label read, ‘Silicone Slik’ and described the contents as personal lubricant. He grinned; he’d certainly been personally lubricated.
So it hadn’t been a dream. He slipped his hand inside his boxers; his cock was slick - Silicone Slik no doubt. He put the bottle on his bedside table; perhaps the owner would retrieve it. He would like to know who she was, which she was.
He served Sir Oliver and Madam their breakfast as usual. Sir Oliver ate quickly and, after giving Madam a peck on the cheek, he left for work.
“Hudson.”
“Yes, Madam.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“That’s wonderful news, Madam.”
“Isn’t it?” she said, “I thought you should know.”
Hudson was surprised, very surprised but he did his best to disguise the fact. One of Sir Oliver’s shy little sperm had made the journey then. He wondered if this was the moment to tell Madam about his long ago vasectomy.
“I shall miss trying to help, Madam,” he said very sincerely.
“Oh, Hudson, I hope you’ll continue with that service.” She sounded very definite. “My sister was desperately horny, all through her pregnancy. If I’m the same way …” She left the sentence unfinished but her face shone with happy anticipation.
“In that case, Madam, I shall try to be of help.” Any thoughts of mentioning his vasectomy fled from his mind. Hudson didn’t want to stop doing it with Madam.
“Would you like me hornier, Hudson?”
“Madam is all a man could ask, just as she is.” His cock was stirring, his Silicone Slik cock.
“My breasts will get bigger you know, my nipples will get more sensitive,” she shivered slightly, not with cold, “My sister says she was like a mink in heat the whole time.”Hudson’s erection was gaining strength, painful in his pants. He shifted uncomfortably.
“I’m teasing you aren’t I, Hudson?” She reached out and raked her nails slowly down the fly of his pants. He gasped as she did it. “That lovely cock of yours seems to work so very well.”
“Yes, Madam, thank you, Madam.”
Hudson met Marie in the hall. They exchanged good mornings. Again he wondered who had visited him the night before.
She started up the stairs. Hudson stood at the foot; hand on the banister, watching her climb. She had good legs and the short skirt made the most of them. The skirt was too short; somebody should admonish her about it. Hudson wasn’t about to admonish anyone. With every step she took he saw further up the backs of those thighs, her stocking tops appeared. She stopped a couple of steps short of the top and Hudson could all but see her ass.
She turned and looked down at him, she’d known he’d still be there, watching. Marie sat down on the top step. An odd pose, her feet were apart, knees together, she looked little-girlish somehow. The back of her skirt hung down the step and the backs of her thighs gleamed white. “Could I have a word with you?” She spoke softly and managed, with a move of her head, to ask him to come up and join her.
Hudson started up, wondering what she wanted. As he ascended she slowly parted her knees, wider and wider as he advanced. Damn it, he could see up her skirt! Her legs kept opening. ‘Dear Heavens!’ She was naked under the skirt; he could see almost everything. Hudson gulped, almost audibly, and stopped.
He swallowed and asked, “What is it Marie?” His eyes found hers and she smiled. He knew that she knew from whence his eyes had come. His cock was still half hard from its Madam-induced rigidity and now it was quickly firming again. His eyes wanted to look back down. He had a flashback to the hand on his cock the night before.
“It’s about you and,” she paused, “you and her, you two, at it, all the time.” There was some anger in her words.
Everything about Marie was different. Hudson was continually being caught wrong-footed by her. She was so very good at her job and yet; and yet, here she was, displaying herself and talking of things that were no business of hers.
“Marie! Aren’t you forgetting yourself?” he blustered. His eyes flicked once again to between her splayed legs. He saw her eyes catch his downward glance.
“Jack, oh Jack, I never forget myself.” She slowly closed her legs. Hudson was relieved and disappointed.
Then the lovely legs opened again, she was too shadowed for him to see properly, but he imagined her vagina peeling open too.
Struggling to regain his dignity Hudson said, “Marie, I’m just the butler here, as was my father and his father before that and …”
She cut him short. “Jack, I know. I know you two are lovers. That’s fine. I just wish she didn’t take up all your free time. It’s a lonely little room up there…“
Hudson took a quick deep breath, about to interrupt, but she ploughed on, “Sir Oliver fancies me, he’s made that plain enough but I certainly don’t fancy him,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “We’re all stuck in this big house, miles from anywhere; I’m lonely Jack.”
They both heard the chair scrape back in the breakfast room. Marie’s legs closed, Hudson imagined the soft thighs slapping sweetly together, he turned and started downstairs.
Behind him Marie asked softly, “Can we talk again, later?”
“I think we should,” he said, trying to get the authority back into his voice.
The view up her skirt was still vivid in his mind. Life was so full of surprises. What the hell was he going to do? He smiled … he knew very well what he was going to do, the how was the problem.
Phoebe emerged from the breakfast room. She smiled at him. “I must tell Sir Oliver. Poor man he’ll be so pleased. How can I feel so happy and so guilty?”
“Concentrate on happy, Madam. We enjoyed ourselves and really, no harm has been done.”
"Don’t speak in the past tense, Hudson. I could use some of that right now.” She looked down meaningfully at his groin.
Hudson slowly climbed the two flights to his room. Last night, an unknown hand had stroked him to climax.This morning two women had said they needed his services. It sounded wonderful. But he wondered about these two strong willed personalities. He couldn’t imagine either of them sharing him with the other.
His cock was like an iron bar and stair climbing made it move in his pants. He seemed to grow more arousedwith each step. Yet he’d been drained only the night before. His mind flashed back to the first time Madam had allowed him to enter her. She’d been bent over the back of a sofa. He’d like to do it that way again.
He wondered what long-legged Marie would feel like, impaled on his cock.
But he had to think about his job, his future. He’d not find a better situation, he knew. He smiled wryly - and not with a fringe benefit like Madam. She was a delightful fringe benefit indeed.
He opened the door. The lubricant was gone. So, it was Marie who’d visited him. Madam had had no opportunity to take the bottle.
He sat on his bed, deep in thought. Sir Oliver would be on the train now, London bound. Really, it was just the three of them alone in the house. Cook never strayed from her kitchen and the two cleaning ladies from the village weren’t scheduled for Tuesdays.
Both Madam and Marie had expressed their needs that morning, in no uncertain terms. Marie was already jealous of Madam and Madam would certainly not share him. A crisis was coming and he had no idea how to handle it.
But elsewhere in the house, the problem was about to resolve itself.
Phoebe decided to run herself a bath and plan her day. Oliver was away at work and she fancied a little bit of Hudson. Perhaps she should send Marie to the village on some errand.
She lowered herself into the warm, perfumed water and lay carefully back.
‘Pregnant, I’m pregnant,’ she thought. She ran a hand over her stomach and up over the softness of a breast. Her palm slid over the nipple, dragging it, puling it; a delicious tremor rippled down to her pussy. ‘If only Hudson were here, I would have him scrub my back.’
The door opened and she looked up in happy anticipation.
“Would you like me to scrub your back?” asked Marie.
“In future, knock, Marie!” said Phoebe, more angry because it wasn’t Hudson than she was at Marie’s insolence. But of course, Hudson would have knocked first.
Marie didn’t answer but crossed to the bathtub and knelt down.
“You have lovely breasts, do you know that?” She stared at Phoebe’s bosom.
Phoebe resisted the urge to put her hands over her breasts. She was flattered by the attractive maid’s admiration.
“Pretty, pretty nipples.” Marie reached out and ran her fingertip across Phoebe’s right nipple.
Phoebe squealed and slapped the hand away. Water went all over the front of Marie’s dress.
Poor Phoebe, her anger was mixed with the need to say sorry for soaking Marie. That and the jolt in her pussy when the fingertip had brushed her nipple, left her devoid of her usual poise.
They stared at each other for long seconds. Phoebe’s lips were parted, her angry words unsaid. Marie’s lips were smiling. “They are pretty,” she said softly and reached out again, this time with finger and thumb and squeezed the nipple.
“Stop!” Phoebe said but she squirmed in the water. She wanted to be angry, wanted to send Marie packing. But her body had been wanting Hudson so badly, that it was betraying her, responding to this perverted woman’s touch.
The finger and thumb squeezed harder. Phoebe’s mouth opened and her eyes stared into Marie’s.
“Pretty, pretty, pretty nipples,” the maid whispered. She pinched with each ‘Pretty.’
When Marie released her, Phoebe almost cried out. Anger had turned full circle to wanting.
“Sit up now, and I’ll scrub your back.” She reached for loofah and soap. Phoebe obediently sat up and put her arms round her knees.
It was heavenly; it was forever since anyone had scrubbed her back. She closed her eyes, very aware of her breasts jostling in the water. She seemed to still feel the near pain of her nipple being squeezed. The soaping, the gentle scrubbing went on and on. Soon Phoebe was almost purring.
Marie finally stopped. She stood up, turned, and took a towel from the rail to dry her hands.
Phoebe noticed how short the skirt was and glimpsed the stocking-tops. The effect was, she searched for the word, lascivious, that was it she thought, lascivious. She opened her mouth but no words came. She wondered what Hudson thought of Marie. Jealousy flared but died again - Marie seemed more interested in her.
She began washing herself, while Marie fussed with her hair in the mirror. Phoebe had never had any lesbian experiences before and having Marie touch her had produced conflicting feelings. She’d wanted more, yet, at the same time, there had been that instinctive recoiling.
She sat in the cooling bathwater, half hoping Mariewould leave; only half hoping.
Marie turned and smiled. She reached for the big bathtowel and moved back to the bath. She stood with the towel spread out in her hands, her intention clear. She was expecting Phoebe to get out of the bath to be wrapped in the towel.
Phoebe got up, puzzled by her own obedience, and stepped out onto the mat. She turned her back, suddenly very aware of her nakedness. Phoebe stretched out her arms,allowing Marie to wrap the towel around her.
“Could we share Hudson?”
Phoebe couldn’t have been more shocked if Marie had slapped her. She could think of no answer.
She turned slowly, holding the towel protectively over her breasts and stared at the other woman. She finally managed, “I thought, … I thought you were interested in me.”
“Oh I am. Or would be, if you felt the same. You are very beautiful,” she hesitated, showing uncertainty for the first time. “But I want Jack too, I need what you need.”
“You mean … you mean you … you’re …” poor Phoebe was lost.
“Yes, I’m bisexual. That’s the word you want isn’t it?”
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