.girlfriend," I said holding her shoulders. I let her go and turned back straight. Another moment passed. She suddenly leaned close to my ear. "H...y, we should kiss," she whispered. I could feel my heart start to race. I had often fantasized about kissing her before, though, under slightly different circumstances. I turned my head toward her and gazed into her eyes. She was already smiling and it was a contagious one. I examined her face. Perfection it was in my eyes. Everything. Perfect. “What do you think of my kitty?” she asked, seeing my wonder of it.“I-I… it’s beautiful,” I stammered. Then I looked at her between her spread thighs. “I’ve never, umm…”“You’ve never eaten a girls pussy?” she asked, trying to help ease my discomfort.“No,” I said, almost embarrassed at my ignorance. Here I was trying to play the man, and I didn’t know jack about how to please a woman!“It’s okay, honey. Just get down there and start licking. Lick around the outside and then stick your tongue in. All of which brings us back to Christmas Eve 2009. “I’ve had a fantasy,” she giggled, hunched-up against the pillows that night – presumably having stacked up all my presents under the tree – I hadn’t checked yet. “Yeah?” I replied, “You want to see me wash-up, dressed like Lady Gaga?” “Interesting thought,” she said, “But no, I, er…..I want you to tie me up! I looked at her for a moment. She didn’t appear to be under the influence of any illegal substance. This was a new route entirely. I dust and clean and even cook a little bit as part and parcel of my service, but it's not my primary function; I am eye candy, a status symbol. I'm there to serve whilst looking nice; to get me to unclog toilets or scrub a house from top to bottom defeats the point. I'm there to make lunch for rich, young professionals who want a show at the same time, to answer the door at a certain type of party and flirt just enough to get the mood going. I'm sure you can picture what I mean.It's not a job.
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