The Job

Marta Hernandez had thought the job offer was perfect for her, having seen the advertisement in her local newspaper. It was for a live-in maid, cook and helper for a client. He was in particular looking for a Spanish speaker, preferably from Latin America – in fact this was a requirement. It was so particular, and Marta assumed the client was Spanish, or that his elderly or ill family member was Spanish speaking.

Either way the offer of £10,000 for a month’s work, with full-board and her own bedroom was too good to pass up, and even if she didn’t get the job she would at least apply for it.

Marta was fifty five years-old, divorced from her abusive husband Carlos, and living in a crappy apartment in East London, which was not worth what she paid for in rent. She was even facing eviction within a month, if she couldn’t cover the rent.

Reading the application, it asked for an up-to-date photograph of her, and she thought immediately she would be rejected for the job. Marta was curvy, large and busty; with her greying, black hair and a body of her age she hadn’t been with any other man since Carlos had left her for a younger woman.

Marta decided to take a photograph of herself now, with her mobile phone. Standing near a mirror she brought her hair up into a bun, tying it with a hair band, and put a pair of black spectacles on to look more professional, stand out. But she assumed the client would want a younger woman for the job, and sent off the photo via email to the client.

Hours passed, and as she prepared to go to bed she assumed the client wasn’t interested in employing her for the job after sending him the photograph – when suddenly her phone rang once. Picking up her phone she saw it was a text, and read it.

The text was from the client, saying that he wanted her for the job. Suddenly the phone rang in her hands as she lay in bed, and saw it was an unknown number. Answering it, she spoke in her Colombian accent.

“Hello?”

There was a moment of silence, before a voice spoke.

“Yes, hello. Is this Marta Hernandez?” The young man asked.

“Si, I mean yes it is.” She answered, correcting her words.

“Hi Marta, this is Tommy. I’m the one who put up the advert in the newspaper.” He told her, and she realized his accent was not from a Latin country, but a northern accent of the UK.

“Oh hi, I thought perhaps you had found someone else for the job.” Marta said honestly.

The young northern man laughed, it was a warm, bear of a chuckle.

“No chance, I was just busy with my work. You are the one I want for the job, so I mean if you are free now you can start pack some bags and I can collect you from your house, bring you back to my place and your own room.”

The young man was convincing, but Marta was still unsure and wanted to ask a few questions of him.

“Yes, of course. I just have some questions sir, is this job to care for an elderly, ill family member?” She asked.

“No just for me, love. I just need some help around the house, Marta.”

Marta thought perhaps the young man was ill, or injured and did not continue that question.

“Right, so where do you live sir?” She asked him.

He told her he lived outside of London, even the countryside in the country of Sussex. He told her he owned a large property, and even sent her a photograph of his home. It was a medium-sized country house, with a large walled garden and a few extensions.

From the photograph Marta saw the house was indeed in the countryside, and looked very rural.

He once again asked her if she would take the job, and Marta found herself agreeing realizing she had no choice if she wanted somewhere to live if she couldn’t stop an eviction, and for the sake of the amount offered she agreed.

Two hours after the call, Marta waited in her apartment having packed two small, travel suitcases. She had told her landlord she had taken a live-in job, and that she could cover the rent for the month. She had dressed modestly for meeting the young man Tommy who hired her.

With her greying black hair tied into a ponytail, she wore a dark purple blouse, and loose, but comfortable jeans with black flat-sole shoes. She decided to wear her glasses, hoping they benefited her in some way with the client, and the job.

Her mobile phone rang again, and it was Tommy. Answering the phone, he told her he was downstairs in his car.

Grabbing her suitcases, she slid a brown coat over her shoulders and went downstairs with her cases. Downstairs the car waited, and she saw it was a dark green Range Rover, and as she walked towards it she saw the client was indeed not a man in his later years, but a man who looked to be in his thirties at the wheel. He was balding, but broad shouldered and chested, with a thick brown, copper beard.

She was anxious, but the offer of £10,000 swayed her and she approached the passenger door. The young man stepped out of the rover, wearing thick, heavy, baggy jeans, hiking boots and a black hooded jumper.

“Hey fatih escort Marta, I’m Tommy.” He introduced himself, and he took her hand gently shaking it.

Marta smiled, and even found herself shy seeing the rugged man before her.

“Here, let me get your cases in the car.” He told her taking the suitcases, and effortlessly lifting them and opening the back of the rover, putting her luggage inside.

Marta was surprised at how quick, and convincing he was as he opened the door for her and she found herself climbing in, as he closed the door behind her.

He was soon back in the driver’s seat, and it was pitch black outside now as she saw on the display above the radio read 9:37pm.

“It’s a bit of a drive out to the house, Marta.” He told her putting on his seat-belt, as she did the same instinctively.

Marta had chosen a simple pink shade to her lips, and a light purple eye shadow and liner. She was wearing it simply to mask her age, in fear that Tommy would want to replace with a younger woman, given time.

“Si, no problem sir.” She told him with a smile, even if she did feel somewhat anxious alone with the rugged, built young man beside her.

As he pulled out of her street, he drove towards the motorway out of London.

“So where are you from, Marta?” He asked her.

Marta nodded and spoke in her accent, and her improving English.

“Columbia, I am from Bogota. I came here a few years ago, with my husband.”

She answered him.

As he steered the wheel, both focusing on the road and Marta in unison and comfort.

“Ah really, where is your husband now if I can ask?”

Marta found herself smiling at his manners, but also his forwardness.

“Divorced, he’s somewhere with his new wife.”

“He is? What a fucking idiot, to have had you and wanted someone else.” He said abruptly, with a warm smile.

Marta found herself smiling back.

“She is much younger than him, and me.”

“Age means nothing, young girls can be a fucking headache. Never know what they want, or they want everything. Never a fair trade.” He said as if from experience as he drove the range rover.

“Besides I bet you’re sexier than her.” He added with a grin.

Marta didn’t know if Tommy was joking, but he didn’t correct himself and Marta soon found herself falling asleep in the seat.

It was almost an hour later that Marta woke as the range rover pulled up outside the country house in the photo he had sent her. Tommy parked up the range rover on the drive alongside the property.

Tommy got out of the range rover first, and went to retrieve her suitcases.

As she climbed out of the car, she followed Tommy who led the way to the house. At the dark red Oak door, he unlocked it with his keys and pushed it open stepping inside.

Marta realized how cosey, warm and spacious the country home was. She wondered how Tommy made his wealth, to afford such a property in the countryside.

“So this is my home, now yours Marta.” He said putting down the cases, and turning to Marta who closed the door behind her.

“Si, thank you. This is a lovely home, you have sir.” She said looking at the old wooden beams, and how he had kept the traditional structure of the country house, but had strengthen it and place extensions on it.

“So I was going to ask you when I picked you up, but you slept. I have another request for you, Marta.”

Marta nodded, assuming it was something regarding privacy of a room that was off-limits to her; but his request even took her by surprise.

“Si, what is your request sir?” She asked him standing near the wall looking up at him, as he was a solid 5’11 in height, and an imposing, broad chest close to her.

He was almost afraid to ask, as if this request would be too much for her to take.

“Marta I want you to wear something for me, while you work here. Something I chose for you to wear.”

Looking up at him, she was anxious more now.

“What do you want me to wear, sir?” She asked slowly.

He led her into the lounge, where the large TV screen was mounted onto the stone wall, as well as a large couch, two comfy arm chairs, and the stone fire. It was real, and Tommy went over to a small pile of wood logs, and as he threw them on the fire he lit a rag.

The fire slowly burned and came to life, as Marta looked around the room noticing the clothing laid out on the couch for the first time.

As Marta walked over to it, she picked up the sheer black bodysuit into her hands. It was a fully nylon body-stocking, sheer and black. She could see through the sheer material, and then looked down to see the costume-store maid outfit she would wear over the suit that was white and black, with what looked to be a pair of black, studded ankle boots.

This was not the request she had expected him to ask of her, and she was very anxious now.

“Senor, I do not think I can do this.” Marta said looking at the chosen attire, istanbul bayan escort and looked up to see Tommy standing over her.

But he made no move for her, and he spoke.

“How much for you to wear what I chose for you? On top of the ten grand, you’re already going to get.” He said.

Marta thought on the spot, knowing Tommy was willing to pay for her to wear the body-stocking, and clearly sexual maid outfit.

“Two thousand more, and I will wear it.” Marta said aloud, looking up at he rugged, muscular young man.

“Done, you’ll get twelve thousand now, Marta.” He said agreeing to her proposal.

Marta looked at the outfit, and back up to Tommy. “You want me to put it on now, senor?”

“Yes, please Marta.” He said, it was almost a horny growl and she knew this young man wanted her in more ways than just the advertised role.

She knew he wanted to watch her undress, and change into the outfit. She knew she had £2,000 more added to her wages for the month with him, and began to pull of her coat putting it aside on the couch.

Peeling the purple blouse up over her head, Tommy watched as he saw her soft, caramel skin. Her blouse rose higher, and her free, hanging breasts came into sight for him. They were large udders, heavy and the aureoles were brown, and her nipples erect.

Marta was not skinny, but she possessed curves with her large, fat bottom and her thick thighs. She had a tummy, but it was natural and she was a healthy, curvy woman.

Grabbing her jeans, she undid the zip and peeled her jeans down off her hips and Tommy saw the tight, clinging purple granny panties she wore that had white frills.

The panties were so tight on her, the simple panties clung to her large thick buttocks while at the same time were pulled tightly against her mound and cunt. The view and sight making Tommy’s cock grow harder in his jeans, as he watched her undress.

“You are so beautiful, Marta.” She watched him say, his bulge growing in his loose, baggy jeans.

Marta thought about the situation, and knew she could be honest and be the grown woman she was with the young man.

“Senor, where is your wife or girlfriend? She is not home?” She asked simply assuming the handsome, rugged young man had a partner who was away for him to do this with her.

Tommy laughed again, a warm chuckle and swung his head. “No woman, no girlfriend. Just me in here, on my own pretty much.”

Marta as she began to push her jeans off her feet, she slid off her flat sole shoes. She was now naked other than her underwear.

“Wait, no woman senor? You must be lying.” She said grinning as she picked up the body-stocking, and watched the young man smile back.

“I’m being honest, I’ve been single for a while now Marta. You’re the first woman in this house since I bought it, four years ago.” He said and watched her stretch the body-stocking, as she slid her feet inside first. Flexing her toes she straightened the nylon on her feet, and her thick thighs before continuing to put her other naked foot in next.

Pulling the suit up over her large, big, fat bottom and then up over her naked, large udder-like breasts. She was grateful the young man hadn’t told her to remove her underwear, for her it was somewhat a layer of protection for her. Sliding her hands inside the nylon bodysuit, it soon clung to her body like a second skin only stopping at her navel. Looking down she saw how sheer the body-stocking was, her large breasts visible as her nipples poked against the nylon.

“Do I have my own room, senor?” She asked next sitting on the couch, to slide the ankle boots onto her feet, zipping them tightly around her ankles.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving her body as his bulge was more of a tent now aimed at her in his jeans.

“Yes, you do and you can use the kitchen, and such as you wish Marta.” He told her as she pulled the maid outfit over her head, letting it slowly drop covering her torso and upper nylon thighs.

The costume was quite short, stopping at her upper thighs and she knew realized that when she would have to bend over, or down that the costume would ride up exposing her nylon-clad ass to Tommy.

Tying the costume into place at her back with a small bow, she turned to Tommy.

“Is this how you want me, senor?” She asked him.

He nodded, and to Marta he looked like he wanted to grab her, reach for her but he was controlled.

“Yes, Marta. Let me bring your luggage to your room.” He told her grabbing her suitcases he led her through the country house, Marta followed carrying her clothes in her arms as she walked unsteadily on the ankle boots.

She knew she would have to get used to the boots, and followed him through a door into quite a spacious bedroom with a single bed. On the wall was a mounted television, and even a en-suite bathroom with a sink, toilet and a shower cubicle.

“This is your room Marta, I have no right to come in here unless you allow me. That’s the deal, bağcılar escort you have your privacy in here. This is the key, as for the house. Nothing is off-limits to you, no room or part of the house. But this is your room only Marta.” He told her handing her a key for the lock on the door.

Looking at the key as she put down her clothes onto her comfortable, single bed.

“Si, thank you sir.”

It was then that Marta realized this was more than she expected, having thought him being a horny, young man as he was that he’d want access to her own bedroom. But he wanted her to have that privacy.

Putting her suitcases near the bed for her, he went over to her door.

“So, get yourself settled Marta. All I ask is you wear the outfit around the house when you clean, cook or anything. If there is anything in particular you’d like for food, or home comforts to make you feel more comfortable here Marta; just ask. I’ll cover those costs.” He told her.

Marta nodded, and found herself without meaning to bite her lip playfully and Tommy noticed, moaning as he watched her.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be out in a bit, I’ll cook us some dinner senor.” She told him correcting herself, and stopped biting her lower lip.

He nodded, and smiled before leaving closing the door behind himself.

Marta was now alone in her own bedroom, looking at the key in her hand before looking down her nylon-covered fingers, hands and body.

She laughed to herself at the absurdity of the job, she was pretty much his sexily-dressed Latin maid, but she found herself wanting to stay as he was willing to pay her accordingly for his requests.

Opening the suitcases on her bed, she began to put away her clothes, and belongings as well as her laptop, and her make-up kit box.

Carrying the box into the en-suite bathroom, the ankle boots clacked on the tiled floor.

Opening the box, and placing it on a wall shelf nearby she applied a heavier, darker shade of eye shadow, liner and her lipstick. It was her favorite color, and it gave her confidence to think that it could help her with Tommy.

Undoing her hair band, she freed and loosened her black, greying hair and went onto tie her hair into two pigtails with another hair band, which like a ponytail made cleaning easier for her. Looking at herself in the small mirror above the sink, she saw a woman in her late fifties dressed as if she was a young teenager again, but failing at pulling it off.

But she remembered, Tommy watched her undress and dress as a maid as he requested. He didn’t seem to dislike what he saw, she knew that; he was acting like a teenager with his eyes all over her. Smiling back to herself, Marta felt sexy once again after the messy divorce with Carlos.

Walking out of the en-suite bathroom she stopped at the door of her bedroom, and knowing she was going out to tease, and keep her young client happy she took a deep breath before grasping the door handle with nylon hand and stepped out.

She heard music in the distance, it was rock music – Kiss’s ‘I was made for loving’ coming from the lounge, and she followed the music.

Her ankle boots clacked, and clicked as she walked down the wooden floored corridor to the lounge door.

Peering inside, she saw Tommy was on the couch and playing his Playstation 4 through the large HD TV mounted on the wall, with the controller in his hand. On the coffee table she saw he was drinking a beer, as he lounged on the couch.

Marta took another deep breath, straightened up and stepped inside the lounge walking over to the couch.

“Oh Marta, honey. I’ve already wired the money to you, to the account you gave me the details for.” He told her swigging from the beer.

She was dumbstruck, she had only been in the bedroom for about twenty minutes.

“The money, senor?”

He nodded and spoke again.

“Yeah, £12,000 to your account.” He said with a smile before turning to continue playing his video game, and drinking his beer.

“Thank you, sir.” She said, not knowing what else to say to him.

Wanting to know more, she spoke.

“Sir, may I ask how you made your wealth?” She asked leaning against the couch above him.

“Oh I’m a writer, I write novels; fantasy, and historical. I write a bit of everything to be honest, saved up and invested my money well enough to afford this place. I’m comfortable, I’m no multi-millionaire, but I’ve got my mill and I’m happy.” He told her honestly, as he continued playing his game.

Marta realized what he had said; he had about £1 million in savings, and investments and that he was comfortable enough to spend his money as he liked without worry.

But the way he lived was like how any young man would; in comfort, and it seemed most of his money was in savings, and shares. For him to transfer £12,000 to her bank account in just twenty minutes surprised her.

“So, senor. What should I do for you?” She asked him, truly lost not knowing what he really wanted from her.

Tommy himself was lost, but when he turned up to her he saw how beautiful she was to him. Her hair in pigtails, and the nylon bodysuit clinging to her legs and arms.

“Well you could maybe clean the coffee table, honey.” He told her, and she stepped forward leaning down to retrieve two empty bottles of beer from the table.