A week or two went by uneventfully. Aside from the usual additions at the start of everyday, which she noticed Mr. Nickerson was becoming quite gentle with, she entered, cleaned, and left.
A few days later, on a night of no particular other consequence, she arrived to find a large box waiting for her upon returning home. She had seen his handwriting a hundred times on his desk, but this time it was somehow more jarring, like a relic of another world thrust into her home with no warning. His expertly and meticulously crafted lettering pulled her focus, the clear intention spelling out her name.
Alone in her bedroom, the box menacingly on the bed, she opened it. Inside there was...nothing, tissue paper and smooth air...nothing at all...except there, in the center of the box...a letter.
His words were curt and to the point, as always:
The underside of my desk needs cleaning. Tomorrow when you arrive you will grab the duster and put on the knee pads, and then crawl immediately below my desk and take the following position. You are not to say a word unless spoken to, you are no to move a muscle unless asked. I recommend you do not break either of these rules. -N
Below was a drawn picture he had pasted, though it did not look like it was sketched from his own hand but rather cut out of a book. The woman was naked but did not look uncomfortable. In fact, she looked fairly content from the vague expression on her face. She was on her knees but not in a polite sort of way. Her legs jutted out in a deep V, spread wide and open with her toes pointed together behind her back. Her shins were flat against the floor and her heels were digging into her butt, as if she had been kneeling politely and then been made to spread her knees apart from each other. Her hands were clasped together behind her back, her chest pushed up almost as if an offering.
The picture made Missy nervous, she laid down on the bed for awhile
and couldn't look away, but somehow later in the night sleep claimed her.
She arrived that morning bright and early as usual and after shutting the door with a loud click behind her, grabbed her duster and knee pads and made her way under Mr. Nickerson's desk. This was slightly less easy than she had anticipated considering he was sitting at the desk at the time, paying her no heed in his usual manner.
She crawled underneath and got her body into position, trying to remember the picture as perfectly as possible.
Her knees were spread, each one pointing towards their respective leg of the desk, with Mr. Nickerson's feet squarely in between, pointing at the center of her. She placed her hands behind her back, jutting her chest out as the drawing instructed, and waited.
It was at least 1-2 minutes of hearing nothing but rustling papers above her until Mr. Nickerson's hand came into view, briefly, to feel around, snatch the easily-removable strip of fabric that was the part of the uniform covering her breasts off, and then float back up to his papers. A few minutes later he stood up, quickly strode around the desk and came up behind her. Suddenly she felt him grabbing at her skirt. He swiftly gathered all the fabric behind her back and secured it somehow before returning to his seat. Not only were Missy's tits visible but now she was completely uncovered from the waist down, and her legs were wide open. She shouldn't have been embarrassed by this point but her face seemed to turn beet red involuntarily. She was not accustomed to feeling this exposed.
