Cally was a drifter. Ever since leaving High School she had drifted from one dead-end job to another. However, it was soon after her eighteenth birthday that she found what was destined to be her true vocation, although it had not appeared that way at the time.
She had been casually trawling through the 'Sits-Vac' page of a large national newspaper when her curiosity was aroused by the following 'Ad'.
'If you are a liberally minded young lady with a caring nature then we may just have the ideal career for you. Every day will throw up a new challenge, where your enthusiastic involvement will be well received. This is a highly paid, live-in position with a guarantee of overtime at triple rates. Please send recent photo with application β No CV required'
Having nothing better to occupy her time, she duly replied to the intriguingly worded advert' and consequently, less than a week later, she found herself outside a large ivy-clad country house, perusing the large sign that pronounced that this was 'COXHOLME TOWERS β HOME FOR RETIRED GENTLEMEN.' "My God β what have I let myself in for," she mused to herself. Caring for a bunch of dribbling geriatrics was certainly not her idea of an 'ideal career'. Still β the money sounded good and she was sure she could stick it out until something more favourable came her way.
The interview lasted but a few short minutes as the exceedingly buxom and rather 'butchy' woman, who introduced herself as Ms Dyke (sic) passed quickly through the questioning stage and appeared more interested in Cally's long shapely legs that terminated in a firm and well-defined butt; a cheeky face that still retained traces of childish innocence, but most of all on her totally natural 32E bosom, that somehow looked out of place on her otherwise slim frame. They were in fact an erotic artist's dream as the way they jutted out from her chest, they simply defied gravity and surely those cherry-sized nipples set upon the slightly darker aureoles were never real β were they?
Cally found the request to hitch her skirt up to her panty line a little disconcerting, but to demonstrate her required liberal attitude, she duly obliged. The nod of satisfaction and the somewhat lascivious glint that appeared in Ms Dyke's eyes somehow assured that the post was hers.
"Now my dear", purred Ms Dyke, "I will get your uniform for you and show you to your room where you can try it on in private." The room turned out to be small but adequate and contained all the usual bedroom furnishings, complete with a large mirror that almost covered a complete wall of her snug quarters. Cally carefully laid the so-called uniform onto the bed and noted that it was similar to the ones worn by 'candy stripers', except that the skirt was a little shorter; the blouse a little lower cut; the shoe heels a tad higher; the black stockings a little sheerer and she couldn't quite imagine a nurse wearing a miniscule lilac coloured thong and a crimson garter belt. The ensemble was completed with a somewhat flimsy push-up bra' that would leave little to the most jaded imagination. However, when she eventually clothed herself with the outfit and glimpsed her shapely image in the large wall mirror, she realized that the overall effect was sexily smart although the delicately designed bra', which appeared more for showing than supporting, was definitely losing the battle in containing her fulsome though firm young breasts.
Her reverie was disturbed by a knock at the door, which turned out to be the formidable Ms Dyke with a list of her immediate duties. She was informed that most of the elderly gentlemen in the home were from high society backgrounds, which meant in turn that they were mostly rich and could be most demanding. She was further informed that she would find it to her pecuniary advantage to go along with what was expected of her as regular big buck bonuses were to be earned by being 'helpful' to the elderly inmates. Ms Dyke then informed her that her first task was to give a bed bath to old Tom Granger, who, according to our Ms Dyke, was loved and appreciated by all the Coxholme staff.
As Cally entered the room she was somewhat surprised to find the old guy, dressed in an old fashioned nightshirt; seated in one of those luxuriously upholstered armchairs that could be adjusted to suit ones mood or posture and reading what was undoubtedly a most graphic porn magazine (was that cock for real on the front cover?).
"Come a little closer girl," he instructed her, "Me eyes aint what they used to be." He certainly appeared pleased as she stood close to him and gave a little curtsey that caused her firm breasts to jiggle ever so slightly. "My lass! You're a bonny one that's for sure β Are those tits real or have you had 'em seen to?" he enquired with a wicked grin. Cally was somewhat take aback by this forthright enquiry as to the state of her breasts but at least had the good sense to respond that to date that was a secret known only to her and her maker. This caused Tom to laugh out loud and inform her that the best of secrets would eventually be shared between true friends!
"Now Miss Cally would you mind looking under my night table. I think I dropped a $50 bill there earlier." Cally saw that it was there alright and as she bent to retrieve it she realised that her skirt had ridden up to such a degree that both cheeks of her firm little ass were in full view to all who cared to look β and Oh Boy β did our Tom want to look?
"Gee Cally" he exclaimed, "That takes me back a few years," he continued in a rather shaky voice. "How would you like to keep that $50 bill you just retrieved?" With an air of caution she enquired,
"What, just for flashing my butt?"
"We-e-el," he responded with a drawl, "perhaps if you just slipped outa them flimsy drawers and unhooked that bra' of yours, which can't be doing much for your circulation (although it was certainly doing plenty for his), I might just be able to find a companion for that bill your holding."