The House Sitter
Some people love to go on holiday, or take extended trips overseas for business or whatever, but are often reluctant to leave their homes and possessions unattended for long periods. That's where I come in; I'm a house sitter, and quite simply, people pay me to live in their houses, while they are absent. I'm not a security guard, I just occupy the house while they are gone, and leave when they return. That means I'm on the premises most of the time, leaving only when necessary, with the signs of my living there the best deterrent possible.
I have a few things which make me ideally suited for the job. First off, I don't drink alcohol or smoke, so I'm not going to throw parties in their absence, or leave their homes smelling of cigarettes. I don't do drugs, I'm scrupulously honest, and I have virtually no curiosity about their private lives or possessions, so I don't go snooping into things that I have no business snooping into.
I house-sit, I leave virtually no sign of having been there, I clean up after myself at all times, and I have no criminal record, with a police certificate to prove it. I also have a stack of references, and repeat business is good too, so I'm doing alright, although on the very odd occasion there can be an unexpected, 'perk,' with the job.
I was house-sitting in the, 'millionaire's row,' part of town, where I frequently worked. The house was huge, the last word in luxury, and it was my second time there. As I said, repeat business is good, the easiest customer to reach is the one you already have, and I was delighted to be back in this particular house. Although luxurious, it was obviously a family home too. Some houses seem to serve as a backdrop to the owner's affluent lifestyle, and are more a, 'prop,' show-house than a home, but this one had that lived-in feel that only comes with, well... being lived in.
I'd been in the house for 4-5 days, and had settled in comfortably, it was Friday afternoon, the height of summer, and unusually warm, so I'd gone upstairs to take a shower. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately as it turned out, as I was coming down the large feature staircase, a woman unexpectedly walked out of the door leading to the kitchen area, and took one very alarmed look at me. Give the woman her due, instead of screaming as many women would have done, she went into attack mode.
'Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in our house, you... you fucking pervert?' she shouted. I stopped dead in my tracks, not wanting to alarm her any more than she already was.
'I'm the house sitter,' I tried to explain. 'I've a right to be here, I was hired to look after the house while the owners are away. I may well ask you the same question, who are you?'
'I live here,' she explained, hastily adding, 'well not anymore, but my parents do, and I've come home for the weekend. The last fucking thing I expected was to see a stark, bollock naked stranger coming down the stairs.' I forgot to mention that having just had a shower, and it being particularly warm, I hadn't bothered to get dressed again, and I was indeed, stark, bollock naked.
'I'm sorry Miss,' I said, apologising for my lack of clothing, 'but I just went upstairs for a shower, and I thought I had the place to myself.' It was far too late to try to cover myself up, she'd already seen all I had, so, slightly embarrassed right enough, but knowing there was nothing that looked more pathetic or ridiculous than trying to cover myself with my hands, I just stood there as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be naked in front of this beautiful stranger.
I'd noticed that she had looked at my cock a couple of times, and as she was the kind of woman I really like, tall, dark haired, brown eyed, with a figure to die for and great legs too, I began to react in the most natural way, which drew her attention even more to the affected area, which led to a full erection for me. She started to giggle.
'I can see you're pleased to see me,' she snorted, before turning her back and walking back towards the kitchen. 'Perhaps you should put something on,' were her last words thrown back over her shoulder as she disappeared through the kitchen door. I ran upstairs and hastily dressed in a shirt and jeans, and made my way downstairs again, to find her still in the kitchen, calmly making tea as if nothing had happened.
'Tea?' she queried, 'how do you like it, milk and sugar?' I thanked her and told her I liked both, but only one spoon of sugar. I sat at the kitchen table, and she turned to me, bringing the mug of tea to the table and then sitting down herself. She looked at me, and I felt as though I was being studied, appraised. I raised an eyebrow, the question silent, but she got it alright.
'I'm Madeline,' she said, introducing herself. 'I didn't know mum and dad had gone away, so I came home for the weekend. I must say you gave me a bit of a, "turn," when I saw you coming down the stairs.' I just smiled, and introduced myself, and explained that I was in essence working for her mum and dad, for the second time I added, hoping that her parents trust in me might rub off on her. When I added politely that I was pleased to meet her, she smiled a secretive, teasing kind of smile, and said, 'Yes, I could see that.'
'Oh come on,' I pleaded, 'I was naked, and you're a particularly beautiful woman. It was just a natural reaction, and anyway, it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't kept looking at it.' Her mouth fell open in surprise.
'Get over yourself,' she admonished, 'I was
not
looking at you,' but there was a smile on her face. 'Well, at least not until you started, "twitching," down there, and then it was difficult not to look.'
'As I said, you're a particularly beautiful woman. I can only plead extenuating circumstances,' I shrugged. She had the good grace to blush lightly, and sipped at her tea in attempt to deflect the conversation and attention away from herself.
'Do, you intend to stay the weekend?' I said, changing the subject, and she confirmed that was her intention, just catching up with old school friends, she explained, and having some, relaxing fun to take her mind off work. When I asked her what she did, she just said she was a doctor, adding junior hospital doctor. I knew that meant she had a very stressful job, often working long hours without a break, snatching sleep when she could. I sympathised, and she thanked me for my sympathy. 'So, you've come home for a rest?' I asked.
'Duh - no!' she said scornfully. 'I've come home for some fun. I intend meeting my old friends and getting rat-arsed drunk at the first possible opportunity. You may not see very much of me, and I'll try not to interfere too much in your work, or bother you in any way.'
'I'm hardly overworked here. My, "work," consists of making sure everything is secure, and keeping the house clean. It's hardly an onerous task and gives me plenty of time to do what I want to do,' I explained.
'Well, yes, I understand, you just look after the house. As you say, "not an onerous task," so what is it you do the rest of the time?'
'I write,' I replied. 'Articles for magazines, short stories, and between that I'm working on a novel too. Of course, depending on what I'm writing, research takes up a lot of time, but with the internet, it's a lot easier than it used to be, so I've heard.' She looked interested.
'Would I have read any of your stories, articles, or whatever?' she asked. I told her that I doubted it, but when I had my first novel published, she could always say that she knew the famous author before I was famous. She smiled wryly at that and wished me good luck, and I thanked her, knowing the present state of the publishing industry meant I'd need it.
I cleared the cups away and washed them while she went to get her overnight bag from her car. I offered to carry it for her, and she let me, leading the way, directing me to her room, further along the corridor from my own.
'Well, at least I'll know where to carry you if you come home too rat-arsed drunk, and you can't make it up the stairs,' I teased. She smiled at me again.
'I've never been so drunk that I couldn't make it up the stairs,' she protested, adding 'I exaggerated anyway, I'm not much of a drinker, so I'll probably have a few drinks, come home and slink up the stairs quietly, so as not to bother you, and fall asleep. I'm very sensible you know,' she explained, laughing at herself.
'Really, I expected a lot of loud singing, and bumping into things, knocking them over, and telling nobody in particular, in a loud voice, to be quiet,' I teased her. She laughed. 'I thought I'd maybe have to carry you upstairs, undress you, and put you to bed,' I went on, pushing my luck a bit.
'You wish...' she laughed. 'No chance, I've always been quite capable of undressing myself, thank you very much. Sorry to disappoint you.' I expressed my bitter disappointment, keeping the teasing and flirting going for as long as possible, until she said she was going for a nap before her evening out. She'd driven a fair distance and was understandably tired, so I left her and went downstairs to carry on what I had been doing in the morning, editing a few of my short stories for possible publication.
It was harder to concentrate now that the, 'dynamic,' of the house had changed, and I found her presence disturbing, yet exciting too. She was so beautiful I couldn't help but think of her, and thinking of her looking at my cock was not the best way to settle down to work and so I abandoned that idea and went into the kitchen to prepare my evening meal. I decided to prepare a little more than I would normally do for myself, taking more care in the preparation and presentation. If she didn't want to eat with me, then I could always freeze what I didn't need and have it later in the week.
