" He looked down in shame.She continued, "So you're a maid, but not a SISSY maid. Tell me, what'swrong with being a sissy maid?" I don't know, it just...seems kind of... demeaning," he saiduncomfortably."I see." She thought for a moment. "But surely it's demeaning to bedressed in a maid's uniform and have to serve someone. Most people wouldfind that a little demeaning, don't you agree?" Um, I guess so," he replied uncertainly."And you're not even a woman, " she pointed out drily. "For a man. There were pink roses on the table. “I will leave you for a moment while you change into the robe that is hanging in the powder room. When you are done just have a seat in that chair, “ she said gesturing to something like a cross between a plantation chair and a chaise lounge. “You can go ahead and put your feet in the basin and relax. I will be back.” I went in, stripped to my underwear and put on the robe. The chair was the most comfortable thing I had ever sat in. There was a porcelain foot. The soft carpet was a pale cream color, cut with a complex geometric pattern. The bed was a dark wood with a canopy in lace, a flowery duvet, creamy soft pillows. A graceful, elegantly simple love seat was near a window. There was one drawing of her, framed, on the wall over the divan. Even in pencil, you could see the flush of her skin, the taut breasts, the immediate post-orgasm breathing, the sweat glistening on her, the light dew on her pale pubes that meant someone had been kissing her. Before I could react, he had pulled me close again. My breasts rubbed against the fabric of his shirt, and he kissed me once more. I melted in his touch. One of his hands started to knead my breast and I moaned sharply. He was rough and greedy, and it was exactly what I needed right now. His fingers found my nipple and twirled it, squeezing it, and my moans got louder, spurring him on. “Fuck,” he exclaimed, pulling away to get some air, “you’re one seriously hot vixen, Mrs. Goodprey!” “Oh my.