Margaret opened the kitchen door wearing a vacant look. Standing there, with a salesman's smile, was a large, rough looking man.
Bill was a hard working guy who enjoyed gardening, and building up a small business. Last Sunday he phoned around the neighborhood, something he hated doing, as people just slammed the phone down. As usual just one person responded, so there he was, hoping to gain some new business.
The smile on his face froze as he looked over the young woman. She was dressed in pink, though it was the clothes rather than the color, gripping his attention.
Lonely, bored housewives sometimes dressed up, or paraded around in a flimsy dressing gown, when he arrived on a regular job. He was used to their games and the teasing, which was usually just a bit of fun. It wouldn't lead to anything, most times.
It was the daughters, trying out their new found power over men, who were the problem, not the housewives. He was handsome in a rugged, weather beaten way, though at forty-five, why did they pick on him? It was because he was the hired help, so they saw him as being a safe target, to practice their little games. He just ignored them, until they got bored.
Bill figured this one was into that 'cos play' thing, dressing up as a character from a magazine or film. Though, she looked a bit old for the outfit and that sort of dress-up game. She just stood there looking stupid, so he reminded her of the phone call.
"I'll come in and explain what I can do for you," he ventured. It was often the best approach, to push them along, until they signed up to something.
"Uhhh? OK!" Margaret agreed, and walked back into the kitchen. She had mastered the art of walking in high heels, and was proudly showing off, wiggling her ass in front of him.
"The dress is very nice," he awkwardly said. Knowing from experience, it was a good start, to compliment a woman on her clothes and home. "What are you?" he asked, while looking over the costume.
"Oh! Err. I'm a dumb blonde. It's gorgeous isn't it?" she giggled, while flashing her eyes at him. Margaret blinked rapidly, wondering why she had uttered such a humiliating remark. The thought became muzzy as he smiled at her, so she pushed it aside.
That was no surprise! It was certainly the most unsubtle costume he'd seen in a long time. She was attractive, and could almost be mistaken for a young, dumb blonde. This woman was hot, so he would have to watch himself, or there might be trouble. He didn't want to be teased into going further than she wanted.
She no longer gave a thought, to the silly little girly voice, and giggles. A few days ago, Margaret had been an intellectual. She had been able to debate the latest scientific ideas with friends, holding her own in an argument, with a forceful opinion. Now she looked through glossy, girly magazines, swooning over the fashion pictures. She tried to follow the writing, with a finger, only to find the meaning blurred in her silly head.
He was uncomfortable in the silence, for she just stood there looking vacant. "I see you're making a coffee, you can make me a cup too," he said, with a generous smile.
"Oh! For sure, sir," she answered, with a cute grin lighting her face. The man had told her to make a coffee, which meant he was a 'Sir'. She would have to pay attention to his orders. Margaret was on safe ground with domestic chores. She had been told, by her master, to remember how to carry out mundane tasks.
"My names Bill, what's yours?" he asked, while she was busy making the coffee. The question seemed to throw her, as though she couldn't concentrate on two things at once.
She was about to say her name but it didn't seem right, as though it belonged to someone else. She put a finger to her lips, as it always seemed to help her concentrate. She wanted to say something beginning with 'M', though the thought escaped her.
"My names Candy, isn't it sweet," Margaret giggled. As soon as she said the new name, a calm reassurance returned, replacing the confused thoughts.
Bill sighed. This was going to take awhile, and the inane giggling was already getting on his nerves. She bent over to get something out of a cupboard, wiping all thoughts about the giggle from his mind.
Under the short dress she wore a thong, showing off a peachy, heart shaped ass. He blinked his eyes, thinking he might go blind from the pure, perfect brilliance of it.
"Coffee, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?" Candy asked, as she had learnt to say. The hypnotic suggestion, helped along with a drug, had her behaving exactly as Marvin ordered. The once clear thinking woman thought she was an unintelligent air-head, and behaved like one. There were a few more stages yet, but she would soon be a perfect bimbo.
"Is your husband home? OK. When will he be home?" Bill asked, trying not to think of her cute ass. It was tedious getting an answer from the simpleton. She would screw up her face in concentration, after the simplest of questions. He figured she was just playing a game, based on some television soap character, everyone knew about except him.
Candy hesitated, trying to remember a husband. There was a dim memory of being married, though it seemed to belong to someone else. The husband idea was probably from a favorite soap, on television. The idea became too difficult to tackle and she giggled, forgetting all about it. "I don't have a husband, sir," Candy eventually answered.
This was going to be more difficult to handle than he first thought. If she continued to flash her ass at him, he would have to leave. These teasing women were all the same. If he dared touch her she would cry foul, and accuse him of molesting her.
He unfolded a brochure, trying to concentrate on the job, to clear his mind. "You need to get the lawn treated and cut," he said, trying not to look at her. "These two figures should do it," he said.
He looked at her in dismay. She was adding the cost up with her fingers.
"I'm such a silly head, how much is that," Candy asked.
He told her how much both would cost, with a sigh of exasperation. He was about to ask what she thought, deciding instead to change the approach. "That's a good price, I'll start next Monday," he told her.
"Umm, I guess. If you think it's OK," she cooed.
"Excuse me, you have something, err, dangling," he pointed out. Below the hem of the dress a pink strap had fallen, swinging between her legs. For a moment he thought it was the thong, but it had a clip on it.
"Oh! I'm such a silly dumb blonde," she exclaimed. Pulling at the strap lifted the front of the dress. She lifted it higher, pulling the hem around her hips.
Bill should have turned away, only it was impossible. The little pink panties gripped her pussy and his attention. It was obviously hairless, for the silk cupped her so tight at the crotch.
"I tried to put it on. It's so pretty. It's so hard to do," she pouted, petulantly, almost stamping a foot. "Just look at it. It's caught in my panties. The stockings look so good with it, I need to get it right," Candy complained.
"Will you help me, please?" she whined.
"I'm, err, not sure," he gruffly answered. He continued to stare, right between her legs, wondering if he should or not.
"I can't leave it like this, just dangling about, it looks bad," she complained, in a whining voice. She gave it a tug. "It's stuck. I'll have to pull my panties off," she said.
"No! Don't do that. I'll see what I can do," Bill told her, regretting the offer, as it left his mouth. It was her game. She had roped him in, so how could she complain?
