My maid

George had trouble keeping his maids. The ones who cleaned properly never caught his eye. Lucky changed that. She hardly touched a duster, yet he paid her more than any housekeeper before. Ten minutes in the morning, just enough to pull the tiny uniform over her curves, and the rest of the day belonged to him. The house stayed dusty, but George kept his word and kept her full. Every afternoon she took him down her throat until her lips shone, then climbed onto the counter, legs spread wide, and let him fuck her until the room filled with the wet slap of skin on skin. When he finished, he pulled out and painted her face, thick ropes across her cheeks and lips, the warmth making her skin glow. Lucky smiled through it, already thinking about tomorrow’s schedule: same short shift, same thorough fucking, and another load she could wear like the best skin treatment money could buy.