1 – Tuesday
It wasn't hard to imagine that in some dusty crypt lay a book that outlined the rules for what a proper maid should have been. It would likely outline expected behaviors-- how to tip a kettle or prepare a sandwich, for example-- and above all, how to be
on time.
The writer of that tome would have wept if they'd seen Kim right now; leaving the apartment only partially uniformed, still trying to choke down a bagel and barely awake. She stumbled down the rickety steps aiming for the back door and trying to balance her weekend's worth of trash and her bag of accouterments she'd need to do her job properly.
Not only would that writer have wept, he-- because of course the author would have been a man, it only made sense-- probably would have bitch slapped Kim with the
'Codex Madicus'
and he would have been right to do so; she was a wreck.
Maybe not entirely.
Kim hid a secret under her baggy sweat pants-- one that not even her employers knew about yet. Forty years on this planet might have seen a woman fail to make it as a writer-- so far, anyway-- but that didn't mean she hadn't learned a thing or two about exceeding expectations and keeping a job. Oh, no, the world may not have realized her talents just yet, but that ignorance didn't extend to the older blonde.
As Kim chucked her trash in the dumpster, she mentally went through her checklist to ensure she had everything she needed. By the time she got to her waiting Pontiac and climbed through the driver's side, she knew she was ready. She had everything she needed and all that remained was to get herself straightened out-- something she'd do at every stop light along the way.
The first to get done was her makeup; she could have passed for early-mid thirties, there was no question, but a touch of blush highlighted her eyes and made her straw blonde mane all the more radiant. If only in her own mind.
Eagerly, Kim checked the dashboard clock, trying to remember how to get to the back roads-- city traffic wasn't bad, but if she wanted to open up the old car and stand the remotest chance of getting to her client's home on time, she'd need to go a hell of a lot faster than she could on the main roads.
Of course, that carried its own set of risks-- God how could she have been so stupid? Maybe it was having gone weeks without her cupboards being stocked and scraping by on condiments and handouts from the church-- having actually had the money to get her bills and rent caught up, she'd splurged and gorged herself in a carb-fueled stupor over her 'weekend' and now? Now it might have cost her the first job she'd actually enjoyed. What kind of idiot risked that for extra cereal and ham and cheese sandwiches?
It wasn't like she couldn't have stood to loose a few pounds, anyway. That might have been her darker side speaking, though. She was reasonably fit, but for a few extra pounds that made her body soft; thick thighs, a voluptuous figure that her employers seemed to enjoy and had taught
her
to appreciate, too.
"Mmm. . ." Kim adjusted her velvet uniform to accent her cleavage that little bit more, treading a dangerous line between alluring and outright perversion. A few more miles and she pulled into a gas station at the edge of town, ducking into their bathroom.
It wasn't just the job she loved, she was coming to realize-- her entire weekend had been taken up with thoughts of her employers and the new skills she'd learned under their guidance; the respect and dignity inherent in servitude and the confidence that could come from the most unexpected of places.
After she ran through brushing her teeth she dug into her bag and grabbed the other accessories she'd need for the day: the satin choker with the little bell on it, the half-apron that cinched neatly around her waist and then the velvet cat ears which she took pains to conceal the band in her hair, topping it with a lacy frill 'crown' to protect them.
It was still a strange transformation to witness, but the further Kim went, the less she found herself caring; she was paid-- quite well-- to be their maid and even if she wasn't, the exotic nature of it made her heart beat just that little bit faster.
After double checking she was cleaned up and primed correctly, she reached under her uniform and began stripping out of her sweats. The plastic wrap she had taped to the outside of her meaty thighs was still holding, still protecting her latest additions to her uniform. Running down from her ankle to her pelvis was a cascade of leopard styled rosettes that dotted her flesh like freckles. It had taken her hours to paint them correctly and now, seeing herself in near full uniform, she realized it had been time well spent.
Then came the tail. . .
Kim grabbed her bag, fishing out the plug it was attached to. She'd bought a longer tail than what the McKenna's had provided her, nearly the length of her thigh and a slightly larger plug to keep it in. She'd practiced over the weekend, but even as she lubricated it with saliva and Astroglide, she had to wonder if it would be too heavy for her. Her employers expected a lot more than just walking around from her.
Carefully, Kim slathered herself up and then leaned forward against the sink, touching the narrow tip to her anus. A slow breath and she pushed-- easing gently into her own body with a comfortable familiarity and that thrill of naughtiness of something so wrong it was right. She had first done so out of necessity, but now. . .
Now it was an honor.
Kim bit her lower lip as she met her eyes in her mirror, pushing deeper. Deeper. The swell of the plug stretching her open further and further until she hit the widest part-- she breathed a soft moan that fogged up the mirror for a second and then gave the final push. Cementing her will with the black tail dangling from the end of it, she was almost complete. Kimberly pushed it in deeper until she could feel the base of it resting firmly between her cheeks. She lowered her gaze, giving her body a moment to adjust before she rose.
Once settled in with a few laps around the bathroom, Kim grabbed her bag and slipped on the sheer white nylons she'd bought to accessorize her uniform. They allowed her rosettes to be seen, but still had that air of dignity that came with the uniform, matching its frilly lace perfectly. The final touch came with the contact lenses she'd bought, soft green slit irises that truly completed a catgirl look.
Kim stepped back, turning her leg out a little bit and studying her reflection-- hands on her generous hips and her body cocked to the side, she looked like an entirely different person; confident and brazen, ready to take on the world. She knew better, of course, but her place was to serve her clients and look good doing so. . .
She blushed a little bit at the lurid smirk worming its way across her lips. "Oh, yeah. . ."
In a little gas station along the southern interstate, she went from being Kimberly Williams to something more. Something that her normal-self almost envied. Even if she knew what was coming once she got to the McKenna's, it didn't mean she couldn't appreciate herself any less. She grinned at the mirror and bundled up her stuff on her way out the door.
Right into the arms of the young female station manager who was just starting to look up from her phone as she reached for the handle and was now looking at Kim blankly. Kim blushed, turned away, managing an 'excuse me' as she scampered for her car and sensing the girl's gaze on her the entire way. Once back in her car, Kim took several deep breaths and got herself back on the highway.
So much for being confident. . .
#
Pulling up the drive at quarter past eight-- a full fifteen minutes late-- made Kim acutely aware of every inch of the gravel path leading up to the colonial styled house. Sitting in the middle of the ten acre grass land, it was a beacon. . . A reminder that even though someone made a good but modest living, they could have a lot if they were careful with their money.
In a way, it was something to strive for, but at that moment, the only thing Kim would think of was how much she was dreading going up those stairs. Even as she pulled into her customary parking spot on the side she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. This wasn't going to go well.
She needed to keep this job, she loved this job. She had been late. She could face the consequences-- she wouldn't run home. She would be a good maid
They paid her for that.
They had expectations, she couldn't very well let them down, now could she? Kim checked her mirror, noting that Elliot's work truck was gone and feeling only a mild relief. Then a sudden tension when she saw Sylvia's car parked along side the house.
