The glass window faced down on the customs room at the airport. The girl was now checking thru customs and they had passed one of her bags without opening it. The second was on the table and a woman was feeling around the carefully arranged contents, seeming to be looking for something. Finally she closed the case, put a tag on it and waved her on.
I went down to the exit and met her face to face for the first time. I held a picture in my hand and yes, it was her. She was much more attractive in person than she was in the picture.
I stepped up to her and almost questioningly spoke her name, "Heidi?"
She put her bags down and looked up, "Mister Nielson?"
I acknowledged the greeting with a nod and picked up her bags. In all, there were three, not two as I had thought so she carried one as we went to my car.
Actually we had spoken at length several times before on the Internet, but her voice was more lilting and her accent seemed less noticeable in person. She said very little as we drove to my home.
Heidi would be my new housekeeper. When my wife passed away seven months earlier, I simply couldn't stay in my old home. Everywhere I looked there was a memory of her, so I had relocated and purchased another, but larger home. Within a month I knew it was too large to maintain myself.
I never was much good at taking care of the inside of a house, so I contacted an agency which provides Europeans with jobs here in the states. After going through a number of prospects I finally decided on Heidi.
She was the daughter of some sort of minister, or pastor in Germany. She spoke English without much difficulty and she was just out of a finishing school in Switzerland. Besides, I knew a little German and wanted to practice, so she would be my best choice.
It was a four hour drive so about twenty minutes into the trip we began to have a dialog. Mostly it was Heidi who asked questions and commented on the scenery as we drove thru the countryside.
"Mister Nielson, you know I don't drive don't you?"
I hadn't really thought to ask that, but I told her that that didn't matter. When ever she needed to go somewhere I would take her, or have a cab pick her up.
There was another five minutes of silence before she began to ask questions. Mostly about her duties, and in particular why I had requested a young woman who was comfortable hosting social gatherings.
I explained that in my business it was frequently necessary to host parties. Not too often, but perhaps once or twice a month. That is why I had purchased such a large home.
Now as I looked at her, a gradual concern crept into my mind. She looked so damn young, yet her birth certificate said she was of age and although I tried to push it out of my mind I couldn't.
She was going to be a Live-in housekeeper and undoubtedly rumors would start. A thirty eight year old man with a young woman living in his house was certainly fodder for suspicious minds.
That was one of the reasons I had selected a girl who came from a rather strict home upbringing. If word got out that she had that sort of background, it would help quell any rumors, I hoped.
Soon her questions got around to my more personal situation. Why I didn't want to use local help. What would I expect her to do as my escort to social functions. Things of that nature.
I explained that when Lisa, my wife passed away, I was hounded by women who wanted to be her replacement, and quite frankly after she was gone, I wasn't interested in another relationship.
I went on to explain that the two girls I had tried as housekeepers were never there when they were needed or had other outside interests that interfered with their work.
What I didn't go into with her, was my wife and my relationship. It wasn't exactly the norm. Lisa was highly sexed and demanding in the bedroom. She was a fantastic partner when we were out at some function or other, but once we were behind closed doors, she was insatiable.
That was in the beginning actually. Within three months of our marriage, she had taught me how to satisfy her. When we first married, I couldn't keep up with her. And she kept me exhausted trying to.
But over time I began to know her weaknesses. I learned what excited her, and how to drive her crazy with my mouth and tongue. I learned to make her finish six or seven times before letting her have her way with me. And she would actually cum simply by being fucked, no hand play or vibrators necessary, simply feeling my shaft moving deep in her pussy would make her explode.
She loved cock and she was an expert when it came to sucking me off. So I had to learn to hold back, and if I couldn't, how to stay aroused enough to finish a second or third time myself. That was when we were at our best and up until the time I lost her, we did almost everything imaginable in the way of sex.
Since then, I have avoided women. I'm not celibate, but I have tried to stay occupied, not wanting to think about Lisa, so I have become sort of a workaholic.
But going to social functions as a single, is an invitation for every horny woman out there, to pounce. Married or otherwise. They were predators and I didn't want to get involved..
By the time we arrived at the house, she was calling me Max and had dropped the "Mister Nielson" thing.
She went to her room to unpack and freshen up. A half hour later she came into the living room. My jaw dropped. She had taken her hair down. No longer in a bun, it hung over her shoulders like a golden shower, framing her face. Couple that with those deep, clear blue eyes, she was a dream.
She word a white skirt that ended discreetly just above her knees. Her waist was clinched with a blue belt that covered a waist not more than twenty four inches and the pale blue blouse she wore was opened just low enough to reveal the cleft between two firm breasts.
She wore no bra. Her nipples left no question about their size and her breasts, supple and firm, would probably fill a "C" cup. Add to that high heels that showed off a set of beautiful legs and
I had a living dream standing before me. We walked the house and gardens for the next hour chatting and confiding in one another.
She had this quaint way of looking at me. Sometimes questioningly and at other times almost admiringly. It gave me an almost, paternal, protective feeling towards her.
It was approaching six and I decided to take her to a little restaurant just outside of town on lake Vista. Being quite well known there, I had no problem getting a window seat overlooking the lake.
Patrons at other tables were already taking notice of us and I began to be a little uncomfortable. Again the conversation over dinner revolved around my wife and I. Reaching across the table she took my hand.
She asked questions about my wife and if I missed her. Her last question sort of hit home. "are you lonesome without her? I mean do you miss the intimate things she had with you?"
I swallowed, and nodded before answering. "Yeah, I miss that most of all."
