When I was younger my late mother had a couple of cleaning jobs to make ends meet. She worked for a brother and sister who had separate houses but who employed my mother for four mornings a week to their mutual satisfaction.
In my last year at school, I had gone into town with my mother to get school uniform and my mother had diverted into a department store where the sister worked as a manager of the make up and perfume department. Nina, was, I thought, in her early thirties, and a divorcee. But she made an immediate impression on me: immaculately dressed, her hair classily coiffured, twice a week my mother said with awe, and very, very attractive. She wasn't tall, barely five feet but had a gorgeously curvaceous figure, large breasts in a green silk blouse, waist cinched in with a three inch wide patent leather belt and a beautiful curve to her arse, hips and thighs in her tight black pencil skirt. I was immediately smitten and my balls tingled and my cock began to harden.
Nina gave me a small brown paper bag which she had filled with aftershave samples, shaving foam and deodorants, and as she handed it to me she lightly and affectionately caressed my cheek with her hand. I blushed and she laughed not unkindly at my embarrassment and in later years subsequent to the next part of the story I mused that it amused her to tease me, and maybe other young men.
Needless to say I thereafter associated the smell of one of her primary brands, Aramis, with her and I favoured it for years until I discovered another one in Japan, named after the french actor Alain Delon, which now reminds me of another lady, but as the Dutch say that's another story.
Post school, after I had finished my training, passed all my professional exams and got a full time well paid job, at the age of twenty I was able to buy, amongst other things, Aramis and naturally went by to see if the delectable Nina was in store, but never seemed to be able to talk to her and barely a glimpse of her as she ran her department.
It wasn't until I was twenty one that my mother told me about Nina and her bathroom tiles. Pretty mundane I know but her brother had grouted her tiles and failed to wipe off the excess which when hardened had left a right mess. Just that spring I had, with my fathers help, revamped my parents kitchen and paid for my brother to install an electric shower in the bathroom. Both jobs involved a modicum of tiling and even at twenty one I knew how to grout and finish tiling.
Knowing that, and having bragged to Nina of my DIY prowess, my mother asked if I could sort out Nina's tiles and I agreed. Had it been anyone else I'd probably have declined, but she treated my mother well, as did the brother who often ran her home in the Rolls Royce, (part of his family business) which delighted her.
My mother gave me the address and phoned Nina to see if she was available. She was but was going in to work at ten until three the following day and could I get there by nine thirty? I agreed which surprised my mother who, when I was back home, was used to me drinking with my friends until late and sleeping in until the crack of noon.
Nevertheless, I got an early night and was up early for a shit, shave and shower and headed off. I didn't have a car and my motorbike had been stolen but after a little walk could get a bus to near where Nina lived. It was nine thirty five when I rang the bell.
She answered the door, immaculately dressed as always but her hair was different than I remembered: blonde not just highlighted as I remembered and cut into a very trendy bob, just above her shoulders. The years since I first met her hadn't aged her at all and she met me at the door with a cursory glance at the watch. I was five minutes late but I apologised saying it was because the bus had been late. I didn't know if that was strictly true but it didn't improve her mood.
She showed me the bathroom: my mother was correct, it was a right mess and I quickly figured that if I wasn't to scratch the tiles I would need to clean it off with a plastic scraper then a scotch pad, then gouge out enough to re-grout and....you get the idea. It wasn't a five minute job but I thought I could easily manage it even though tiling was as far from my profession as is possible to imagine.
I took off my denim jacket and opened my toolbox putting it on top of the wash basket. Nina left me to it and said she was off and I thought I'd heard the front door close however it transpired it had been the postman.
The house was quiet and still and although tempted to have a look round I got my gear together. I knelt to clean off my scraper and glancing to my side and could clearly see through the holes in the washing basket, which was about 2 feet six high. The black lace and satin caught my eye. I couldn't help myself and lifted the lid and delved inside. The black knickers were on top of black lace top stockings and a black platform bra. I took them out and looked at them before turning them inside out and bringing them to my nose. The smell was incredible. I'd gone down on a couple of girls but neither smelled as good as this. My cock got so hard, so fast that it was straining in my jeans. I took the gusset away from my nose, inspected it then closing my eyes licked the light cream, fantasising I was licking her cum off her cunt lips.
Her cough behind me made me freeze. She stepped closer and snatched the dirty knickers out of my hand. I was certain she had left and was aghast that I'd been caught red handed perving in her laundry basket.
"I invite you into my house and you invade my privacy." It was more a question than a statement and I stuttered a pathetic apology but as I turned she had gone. I stood and began to put my tools away but I heard a double clap from across the landing and tentatively stepped out of the bathroom. One bedroom door was open I guessed it was the Master bedroom at the front of the nineteen thirties semi-detached house. I crossed the landing and stepped inside.
Nina was sat on the bed legs crossed and arms signalling that she meant business. She uncrossed her arms and pointed a long purple painted nail to a point in front of her. I stepped forward and stood with my hands behind my back like an errant schoolboy. I could hear my heart banging in my ears and couldn't believe I'd not checked she had left before perving on her. That might surprise you but the regret wasn't sniffing her knickers but in being caught doing it!
"So, an explanation is probably in order but I suspect that it'll be pathetic, so maybe I should just call your mother. She'll be as embarrassed as me and I have too much respect for her to put her through that."
I breathed a sigh of relief and my heart rate steadied.
There was a silence in the room lasting several seconds and I looked up at her. She was stony faced and had her right eyebrow raised. She looked majestic, almost queenly, and as I began to speak she snapped "Be quiet, I'll tell you when you can speak!"
I blushed again and she surprised me by asking "Did that give you an erection? Sniffing my knickers I mean."
"Yes."
"Yes? Yes what?"
