Kim stood in front of the mirror in her apartment modeling the uniform, tracing the lines of her thick thigh with a sheer stocking. The beige stockings added a slight touch of class to the outfit, even if they didn’t exactly match the black and white color scheme, it accented her light tan such that she didn’t feel as self conscious about how the uniform fit her. She licked her lips, eying her reflection. “Good morning missus McKenna. Mister McKenna.” She repeated the line as she had done a few dozen times, trying to get the ‘sophisticated’ tone right. Rick people liked that kind of stuck up crap and, Kim figured, if she was going to play the part, she’d best do it right. She’d given her voice and appearance plenty of attention over the last twelve hours.
The tail, however, would need it’s own attention. . .
Heat flashed her cheeks as she picked up the little plug and the bottle of KY she had been given. Even fresh from the shower with what little warm water remained in the tank, Kimberly couldn’t stop her body from shivering as she prepared herself for her second day of work.
Her Pontiac trundled up the drive at quarter to eight just as Elliot was emerging from the house with what looked like a contractor’s bag. He waited for her to pull up beside his truck, leaning down a bit to meet her eye level and smelling faintly of soap and mouthwash. “Morning, kitten.”
“Uh–” Kim stopped herself, cleared her throat. “Good morning, mister McKenna.”
That seemed to catch him off guard. He smiled a little and gave her a reaffirming nod; approval. Kim kept her smile hidden, just barely. Encouraged by this turn of events, Elliot gently stroked her hair back a few times and smirked. Kim’s teeth sunk into her lower lip, not entirely sure what to do– his touch was warm, decisive, confident like he knew it was okay. . . She was also his employee, did that give her the right to say no? They looked at each other, neither of them speaking for a moment as they fell into their new roles, he gave her hair another long stroke and patted her upper back. “I’ll see you when I get home, keep up the good work.”
“I will,” she whispered. Of course she had the right to say no– she didn’t want to. As she watched him get in his pickup and pull out, she slumped back in the driver seat and sighed into her bangs. It was the most physical contact she’d had with another human being in a year or more, between these two she had quickly picked up on something she’d lost sight of in her rush to chase her dreams; she’d forgotten to live. “Hmph.”
Kim followed her standard Gran Prix evacuation procedure– climbing through the open window and hoping the door didn’t fall off. As she climbed out, though, she bumped her tail plug, sending a wave of new sensations through her entire body. She gripped the roof tightly for a moment, exhaling a sharp breath. “Well. . . This is going to be interesting.”
Once she was on level ground, she punched her hands into her coat pockets and jaunted up the stairs. The low heels she was wearing clacked softly against the wood, reminding her just how uncomfortable they were compared to her sneakers– the things she was already giving up for this job. . .
She gave a knock on the door. No response. Another knock was likewise met with silence, so she went around to the back door, getting brushed with every blade of wet grass she could possibly find along the way. When she got up the steps, she understood why there was no answer at the door; Sylvia was making breakfast in the kitchen with music blaring. Her white bath robe was hanging loose from her shoulders and completely open in front. She wasn’t ashamed of displaying her toned body, that much was becoming apparent. Kim waved at her and the younger woman let her in.
“Good morning!” Kim tried to say over the bleating of Journey from the under counter radio. “Where can I put my coat?”
Sylvia looked at her oddly, but there was something in her smirk. . . “What?” She leaned forward and her robe slid open just a little more giving Kim a brief flash of her pert breast. Kim noted she seemed to be an avid fan of trimming her pubic region, too. . . All this in the flash of an instant before the catgirl maid looked away, clearing her throat as a fresh wave of heat warmed her cheeks. It wasn’t like she didn’t enjoy the sight of a human body, but good God, where was the modesty here?
“She’s doing this on purpose. . .” Kim removed her coat and pointed at it. The woman pointed to a peg on the wall for it before she returned to the kitchen, swaying her lithe body like a viper preparing to strike. Kim watched with no small amount of envy; she had never been overweight, but she’d never been as thin and toned as her employer either. Now, forty years old, it didn’t seem likely to happen either. . . No, her ‘gifts’ had never been physical ones– unless one considered big breasts a ‘gift’. “Bah.”
The entire house smelled of French toast and eggs, undercut by the teasing scent of bacon that set Kim’s mouth watering instantly. Her stomach was quick to remind her that she hadn’t eaten since last night and joined her headache in its protest of her treatment. She couldn’t go on like this, but she didn’t have much of a choice; the life of a starving artist tended to put emphasis on the ‘starving’ and less the ‘art’ part of the equation.
Even so, she’d been in worse situations; at least she had a job– one that might have actually been kind of ‘fun’ if she could eat. . . She rolled her eyes, refocusing herself and heading upstairs, promising herself she’d find a way to sneak a few nibbles here and there– hell, if it came to and there were absolutely no other options, there was always the sandwiches offered by the rescue mission. Yeah, that’d be a sight; show up down to the poverty line dressed like a French maid with ears and a tail. She sighed to herself, muttering a quiet entreaty to whatever god might be listening. “Just need to make it to pay day. . . Please.”
Hunger wasn’t the only issue, there was gas to worry about, too– “Stop.” she commanded. It wouldn’t do any good to debate these kinds of things on the job. That was part of the unspoken contract with the three of them. She was supposed to fit their idea of. . . whatever the hell she was supposed to be. It was part of the pay.
Yes. When she was on the job, she was a maid. Cultured. Sophisticated. Not at all prone to foul language, oogling her employers and whining about money. Kim chuckled at that thought as she went to make the bed and clean up the bedroom, once done with that she moved on to the expansive bathroom and then on a whim she checked the guest bedroom– simply trying to be thorough.
The first thing she noticed, aside from the fact that the room was a complete disaster with clothes and bedding strewn about was that the sapphire necklace was gone from the dress form. The dress, however, was not. Kim frowned as she looked over the room from the doorway. “Uh. . . That’s not good.”
When she trooped downstairs into the cacophony of music, she caught Sylvia’s gaze from the dining room. She motioned to turn down the music which earned her a narrow eyed glare. It took every ounce of self control not to call her a bitch to her face– if not for the possibility that she could read lips, Kim absolutely would have. Instead, she motioned Sylvia over with as much emphasis on her posture as she could to make it clear it was serious.
Sylvia wasn’t happy. That was fine. She followed Kim upstairs idly while munching her breakfast louder than necessary. She stopped when Kim showed her the room. “You’re a terrible housekeeper,” she said with an amused expression, poking Kim accusingly. “Am I going to have to spritz you?” Crunch. “The job is pretty simple; keep the place neat and tidy–”
“I didn’t even touch this room, yet!” Kim snapped. “Look, uh, Sylvia. There was a really expensive looking necklace on that form last night and now it’s gone. All I’m saying–”
“Why,” crunch. “Were you eyeballing it, hm? Does the kitten like shinnies?” The younger woman tutted. Then she did something that surprised the hell out of Kim.
She slapped Kim’s ass. “Get back to work.”
Kim stared after her in disbelief, mouth hanging half open as the last split seconds replayed in her mind over and over. She should have been upset, but. . . but she wasn’t. Kim frowned, looking down with a vague sense of shame. She hadn’t wanted to be held accountable for something that probably cost more than her damned car.
Instead, Sylvia brushed it off like it was nothing. All fine and good, but what would Elliot say? Kim looked at the bedroom and sighed. It took her almost two hours to finish that one room as she went over every square inch on her hands and knees looking for the missing jewelery. When it didn’t turn up, she went back to the master bedroom, then room after room. Nothing was safe or sacred, she pulled couch cushions, moved nightstands and checked every seam in the place that looked as though something could have fallen in.
Dread became a tangible force in her day while each search turned up less and less. Christ, Elliot was going to think she took it and not only would he fire her, he’d have her arrested! How the hell had this job become so stressful all of a sudden? It had to have been somewhere.
Then there was Sylvia popping her head in every half hour asking if she was ever going to get around to starting downstairs. Which of course, she completely forgot about in her searching. By the time she noticed it was nearly quarter to six, she had cleaned out the master and guest bedrooms, done a top to bottom search of the bathroom and the ‘poetry’ room at the end of the hall which contained wall paper splattered with gaudy poetry of all sorts. The professional massage table, racks with oils and little radio in the corner meant it was next to impossible that the neclace had fallen in somewhere, but Kim still checked.
“Kitteeennnn…” Sylvia’s voice echoed through the hall with a singsong lilt. “I shouldn’t have to remind you it’s nearly dinnertime.”
“Y- Yeah.” Kim sighed. “Yes, mistress, but uh. . . That necklace–”
“Are you still looking for that? Don’t tell me you’ve spent all day looking for that thing and neglecting your duties. Please don’t tell me that’s the case.”
Kim opened her mouth to protest.
“No, I don’t want to hear it. It doesn’t look very good on you, not at all.” Sylvia’s gaze settled on Kim with a sudden wolfishness, a sly little smirk parted her lips. “I think we need to train you more, is that it?”
Kim looked at her like she was dumb. “I’m old enough to–”
“Ah, ah, ah. Stop. Turn around.”
Again, Kim stared at her like she was insane. When the woman with the dual colored eyes didn’t relent, she let her hands drop by her side and turned to face the window. “Is this why you never had a maid–” her voice backed up when Sylvia pressed her body to Kim’s back and wrapped an arm around her stomach.
“I think we have an issue with our communication, kitten.” The woman said in a throaty voice that tickled Kim’s ear. “I expect our house clean daily. Even if it doesn’t need it.”
“But the necklace–”
Kim sighed. “Yes, mistress.”
“Understand?” Sylvia lingered in her space for a moment longer, just enough to assert herself, even before she ran her fingers down Kim’s back. She trailed over the older maid’s butt and gave it a firm squeeze. “mm. . .”
Kim tried to pull away but Sylvia held her firmly. “Yeah, I get it– will you please stop that?”
“But it’s your best feature.” Sylvia replied innocently. She smiled when Kim looked at her. Her smile didn’t fade in the least as she continued her dominance game, running her finger down Kim’s generous butt. She twirled a little of the maid’s tail around her finger and gave a playful tug.
“Sssssshhh” Kim hissed out in a low sigh. Her entire body prickled with heat and the sudden tension of Sylvia’s demand. She turned her head away to hide her blush, but it was too late, Sylvia already knew which caused her to blush even more as her heart fluttered in her chest. There’s no way she couldn’t have.
But she didn’t stop pulling. Then a thought struck Kim; if that tail came out she would be out of uniform and thus, she’d loose her job. It wasn’t just dominance this bitch wanted– she wanted Kim to know how much she could take from her.
Kim had other plans, though. She clenched her ass tightly, drawing the glass plug in as deep as she imagined it could go. Sylvia noticed the change in resistance, gave another tug. Kim whimpered. “Ah– dammit. . .”
“Bad kitten,” the younger woman murmured. “Don’t curse in my presence or I’ll have to punish you.” Even as she pulled the tail a little harder, trying to pull it out. Kim fought by clenching herself tighter around it. It wanted so badly to stretch her opening and come out, but she couldn’t let it. This job was too damn important.
“I- I- I- I’m sorry, mistress.” Kim stammered. “It won’t happen again.”
“Mmmm. . . You sure about that?”
“Y- Yes, mistress. I won’t let it.”
Sylvia leaned against Kim a little more, sighing a hot breath against her ear. “Pity.” Then she let her go. Kim grabbed the edge of the table, panting softly. “I hope you’ll have dinner ready for us on time, kitten. . . Elliot doesn’t like eating late.”
“I- I’ll get on it right away, mistress.” Kim whispered.
“Good, good. See you downstairs.”
Kim stared at the wall for a moment, then another, wondering just what the hell had happened and where she’d lost control of the situation. More importantly, why she’d been so willing to give it up in the first place and not fight back.
Cold cereal was a terrible dinner, but it was something Kim seriously considered when she realized the cupboards were all but empty. She hadn’t noticed last night, but now there was no denying that she’d need to go shopping tomorrow. Luckily, there were enough condiments and canned veggies to put together a reasonable chicken dinner– plenty of greens and succulent breasts the size of her fist.
It wouldn’t win any awards, but it would fill up hungry stomachs. Kim was definitely jealous, but she managed a smile as Eliot and Sylvia sat to eat. Elliot’s gaze occasionally flit to Kim as she went about cleaning up the den and hall way as a half-assed way to apologize to Sylvia for not getting it done sooner. Of course, she’d have to look for the necklace in the morning, but for the meantime, she could keep the domestic peace.
The entire time she could feel Elliot’s gaze on her back as she worked, and for a while she thought maybe it was wistful imaginings- childish though they may be- but when she looked back at him by sheer coincidence, she saw both of the McKennas watching her with catty little smirks of their own. “Great,” Kim mused. “I’ve joined some kind of weird cult, too. . .”
When the work was as done as it could be and the two were done with dinner, Kim went to take the plates but Elliot laid his hand over hers and smiled. “I’ll take care of these, kitten. Why don’t you take off and have a good evening, hm?”
“Ah, are you sure? It’s no problem.”
“Well, thank you, mister–”
“Elliot’s fine. I’m not as stuck up as Sylvia is.” He winked.
“Only in some parts,” Sylvia chimed in.
Elliot smirked at that, never taking his gaze from Kim. In a soft voice meant only for them, he said. “Leave the pantyhose at home.”
Why, because the meat of her thighs wasn’t perfectly shaped by them? Because they didn’t match the uniform? Because they were too tanned? Kim frowned slightly.
“I like the shoes, though. . . Maybe higher heels.”
Kim blinked but Elliot was looking at her with a stern expression. “Uh. . .”
“At least for dinner,” He added.
“If you want. . .”
Elliot rose smoothly. “I do.” He guided her to the back door and slipped her coat over her shoulders. Before she could make it out the door, he stroked her head softly. “Kim?”
“Y–. .. Yes?”
“You okay? You seem tense.”
“Ah, just. . . Nothing. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, that’s all. Won’t happen again!”
The strong, tall man ran his fingers through her hair softly, down her neck and even further down her back than she’d imagined he would. He stopped right at the crest of her butt trailing his fingers all the way. When she turned to look up at him, he eased his hand a little lower and smirked at her. It wasn’t the smirk of someone exuding power over another, but rather the confident grin of a friendly face who. . . just happened to enjoy turning her on.
These people were insane.
She was all the more insane, though; she looked Elliot right in the eye and purred.
On her way home, Kim stopped at a convenience store and shop lifted a couple of candy bars– in action movie heroine style, when the clerk inevitably caught her clumsy ass attempt to stuff them in her coat pocket, she looked him in the eye and shook her head. “Nobody’s going to believe you anyway, I mean look at me.” She threw her arms out. “Fucking, Meow, dude. Just forget you saw this and I’ll come pay for them later in the week. I promise.”
At least she managed to keep from going to jail over a couple bucks of caramel and chocolate. They also did a lot to curb her appetite and keep her energy up, which had been sagging considerably since the morning.
It was getting home to her apartment that was more difficult than she had intended. Old man Vickers was waiting on the stoop of the building, shadowed by the overhang. She saw him just in time to avoid pulling in to the parking lot. Instead she sunk down into her seat and rolled on past, pulling up into a parking spot ahead of the complex by a few hundred feet. In order to keep from drawing attention to herself, she crept out of the passenger’s side and looped around the building.
In the alley behind the complex, she climbed up the building’s trash dumpster and the fence surrounding it, carefully balancing herself so she could leverage her kitchen window open. To anyone observing, it had to look incredibly stupid, but as with so many nights before, Kim managed to climb in without getting herself killed. Tonight it wasn’t just four legged cats breaking into apartments through open windows.