2: Tuesday
Kim stood in front of the mirror in her apartment modeling the uniform, tracing the lines of her thick thigh with a sheer stocking. The beige stockings added a slight touch of class to the outfit, even if they didn't exactly match the black and white color scheme, it accented her light tan such that she didn't feel
as
self-conscious about how the uniform fit her. She licked her lips, eying her reflection. "Good morning missus McKenna. Mister McKenna." She repeated the line as she had done a few dozen times, trying to get the 'sophisticated' tone right. Rick people liked that kind of stuck up crap and, Kim figured, if she was going to play the part, she'd best do it right. She'd given her voice and appearance plenty of attention over the last twelve hours.
The tail, however, would need its own attention. . .
Heat flashed her cheeks as she picked up the little plug and the bottle of KY she had been given. Even fresh from the shower with what little warm water remained in the tank, Kimberly couldn't stop her body from shivering as she prepared herself for her second day of work.
#
Her Pontiac trundled up the drive at quarter to eight just as Elliot was emerging from the house with what looked like a contractor's bag. He waited for her to pull up beside his truck, leaning down a bit to meet her eye level and smelling faintly of soap and mouthwash. "Morning, kitten."
"Uh-" Kim stopped herself, cleared her throat. "Good morning, mister McKenna."
That seemed to catch him off guard. He smiled a little and gave her a reaffirming nod; approval. Kim kept her smile hidden, just barely. Encouraged by this turn of events, Elliot gently stroked her hair back a few times and smirked. Kim's teeth sunk into her lower lip, not entirely sure what to do- his touch was warm, decisive, confident like he knew it was okay. . . She was also his employee, did that give her the right to say no? They looked at each other, neither of them speaking for a moment as they fell into their new roles, he gave her hair another long stroke and patted her upper back. "I'll see you when I get home, keep up the good work."
"I will," she whispered. Of course she had the right to say no- she didn't
want
to. As she watched him get in his pickup and pull out, she slumped back in the driver seat and sighed into her bangs. It was the most physical contact she'd had with another human being in a year or more, between these two she had quickly picked up on something she'd lost sight of in her rush to chase her dreams; she'd forgotten to live. "Hmph."
Kim followed her standard Gran Prix evacuation procedure- climbing through the open window and hoping the door didn't fall off. As she climbed out, though, she bumped her tail plug, sending a wave of new sensations through her entire body. She gripped the roof tightly for a moment, exhaling a sharp breath.
"Well. . . This is going to be interesting."
Once she was on level ground, she punched her hands into her coat pockets and jaunted up the stairs. The low heels she was wearing clacked softly against the wood, reminding her just how uncomfortable they were compared to her sneakers- the things she was already giving up for this job. . .
She gave a knock on the door. No response. Another knock was likewise met with silence, so she went around to the back door, getting brushed with every blade of wet grass she could possibly find along the way. When she got up the steps, she understood why there was no answer at the door; Sylvia was making breakfast in the kitchen with music blaring. Her white bath robe was hanging loose from her shoulders and completely open in front. She wasn't ashamed of displaying her toned body, that much was becoming apparent. Kim waved at her and the younger woman let her in.
"Good morning!" Kim tried to say over the bleating of Journey from the under counter radio. "Where can I put my coat?"
Sylvia looked at her oddly, but there was something in her smirk. . . "What?" She leaned forward and her robe slid open just a little more giving Kim a brief flash of her pert breast. Kim noted she seemed to be an avid fan of trimming her pubic region, too. . . All this in the flash of an instant before the catgirl maid looked away, clearing her throat as a fresh wave of heat warmed her cheeks. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy the sight of a human body, but good God, where was the modesty here?
"She's doing this on purpose. . ."
Kim removed her coat and pointed at it. The woman pointed to a peg on the wall for it before she returned to the kitchen, swaying her lithe body like a viper preparing to strike. Kim watched with no small amount of envy; she had never been overweight, but she'd never been as thin and toned as her employer either. Now, forty years old, it didn't seem likely to happen either. . . No, her 'gifts' had never been physical ones- unless one considered big breasts a 'gift'. "Bah."
The entire house smelled of French toast and eggs, undercut by the teasing scent of bacon that set Kim's mouth watering instantly. Her stomach was quick to remind her that she hadn't eaten since last night and joined her headache in its protest of her treatment. She couldn't go on like this, but she didn't have much of a choice; the life of a starving artist tended to put emphasis on the 'starving' and less the 'art' part of the equation.
Even so, she'd been in worse situations; at least she had a job- one that might have actually been kind of 'fun' if she could eat. . . She rolled her eyes, refocusing herself and heading upstairs, promising herself she'd find a way to sneak a few nibbles here and there- hell, if it came to and there were absolutely no other options, there was always the sandwiches offered by the rescue mission. Yeah, that'd be a sight; show up down to the poverty line dressed like a French maid with ears and a tail. She sighed to herself, muttering a quiet entreaty to whatever god might be listening.
"Just need to make it to pay day. . . Please."
Hunger wasn't the only issue, there was gas to worry about, too- "Stop." she commanded. It wouldn't do any good to debate these kinds of things on the job. That was part of the unspoken contract with the three of them. She was supposed to fit their idea of. . . whatever the hell she was supposed to be. It was part of the pay.
Yes. When she was on the job, she was a maid. Cultured. Sophisticated. Not at all prone to foul language, oogling her employers and whining about money. Kim chuckled at that thought as she went to make the bed and clean up the bedroom, once done with that she moved on to the expansive bathroom and then on a whim she checked the guest bedroom- simply trying to be thorough.
The first thing she noticed, aside from the fact that the room was a complete disaster with clothes and bedding strewn about was that the sapphire necklace was gone from the dress form. The dress, however, was not. Kim frowned as she looked over the room from the doorway. "Uh. . . That's not good."
When she trooped downstairs into the cacophony of music, she caught Sylvia's gaze from the dining room. She motioned to turn down the music which earned her a narrow eyed glare. It took every ounce of self control not to call her a bitch to her face- if not for the possibility that she could read lips, Kim absolutely would have. Instead, she motioned Sylvia over with as much emphasis on her posture as she could to make it clear it was serious.
Sylvia wasn't happy. That was fine. She followed Kim upstairs idly while munching her breakfast louder than necessary. She stopped when Kim showed her the room. "You're a terrible housekeeper," she said with an amused expression, poking Kim accusingly. "Am I going to have to spritz you?" Crunch. "The job is pretty simple; keep the place neat and tidy-"
"I didn't even touch this room, yet!" Kim snapped. "Look, uh, Sylvia. There was a
really
expensive looking necklace on that form last night and now it's gone. All I'm saying-"
"Why," crunch. "Were you eyeballing it, hm? Does the kitten like shinnies?" The younger woman tutted. Then she did something that surprised the hell out of Kim.
She slapped Kim's ass. "Get back to work."
Kim stared after her in disbelief, mouth hanging half open as the last split seconds replayed in her mind over and over. She should have been upset, but. . . but she wasn't. Kim frowned, looking down with a vague sense of shame. She hadn't wanted to be held accountable for something that probably cost more than her damned car.
