Chloe Hunt sat in the bedroom, awaiting the next episode in the chain of indignity and humiliation that had befallen her. Quite how she'd gone from a naïve schoolteacher to a sextoy for all to enjoy in the space of four days she didn't rightly know. It had all been such a blur.
Manly baritone voices from downstairs wafted up the stairs as they took seats in readiness for the game of poker.
Stealing a lungful of air and a glance in the mirror, the petite blonde was far from sure that the little black mask around the eyes would conceal her identity, especially from those that knew her intimately, like Jack Willis, the former lover with whom she'd shared six blissful months. And if not Jack, Bill Mason and Jeff Andrews, the headmaster and games teacher at Chloe's school surely would.
Joining them was Charlie, her milkman, a man who'd hounded her for a date over several months. It had reached the stage where, quite frankly, he made her skin crawl. Only one face was totally unfamiliar: a huge black man whose mere physical presence frightened the demure schoolteacher half to death. The sextet was completed by Frank Manning, Chloe's neighbour and the only one that knew her identity – so far. As an added precaution, Chloe had bunched her hair up into a blonde bun to make her less conspicuous.
The black and white off-the-shoulder French Maid's outfit clung to her braless bosom, chafing the attentive teats beneath, a ridge of material running from nipple to nipple as the material stretched tautly. A length of frilly white lace trim ran around the top edge of the outfit leaving her shoulders exposed. A white lace collar hugged her neck whilst a little two-tone hat perched on her head. At the front, a spotless apron hung from her hips, the one-piece outfit ending somewhat abruptly thigh-high. Inevitably no panties had been provided.
Undoubtedly sexy on a figure like Chloe's, she couldn't help but admire her reflection, clocking a crooked smile borne of uncertainty and an ever-present fear. She wasn't at all sure what her role as hostess for the evening involved – serving drinks and food and attending to the men's needs had been Frank Manning's brief – all their needs?
Slowly and with the uncertainty of Bambi on ice, the sexy blonde took to the stairs, the front room coming into view to the left over the banister. The men had assembled at a round table and poker chips were being counted out into piles amid a volley of good-hearted banter as Chloe arrived at the door to present herself.
"Mmmmmmm, you really have excelled yourself this time, Frank," enthused Charlie the milkman who was facing her way.
Not aware she was Chloe, his fantasy girl from next door, Charlie introduced himself, inducing in Chloe a nervous smile. Not expected to speak, that suited her fine. It would merely help give the game away if they heard her voice. Discovery tonight would almost certainly mean being fired from the job she'd strived so hard to succeed at and the real probability of police intervention. Abusing a position of authority with a pupil was frowned upon in law as many teachers before her had found out. If only she'd gone when the chance arose she wouldn't be in this mess now.
As she stood in the doorway, Chloe fiddled nervously with the mask, praying it would conceal her identity. A glance over at Jack elicited a lustful grin and a whistle of appreciation from her former lover. "Indeed he has excelled himself," he concurred with seemingly no hint of recognition in his eyes. "Hi, I'm Jack."
Chloe issued a thin smile. She was struggling go through with this. She just wanted to turn and run.
The two teachers with whom she worked, and to whom it was the most essential she remained anonymous, had their backs to the door as she entered. However, their eyes bulged immediately as they craned around to see. "Oh my," they gasped in unison before introducing themselves, eyes lingering and mentally undressing her.
Chloe nodded back, forcing a smile, before her attention passed to the only complete stranger in the group. "Hi, I'm Big Col," confirmed the larger-than-life Afro-Caribbean who, complete with a wiry goatee, resembled the 70's detective Shaft.
Again Chloe pursed her lips in greeting.
"And you are?" enquired Big Col, causing Chloe's heart to flutter.
"Sarah," confirmed Frank Manning on his hostess' behalf.
Tonight she was Sarah, Sarah the sexy French Maid.
"Well don't just stand around there like a spare part, get us beers, chop, chop," Manning commanded. "In the fridge in the garage, and bring something to eat."
"I know what I'd like to eat right now," mused Charlie, causing Chloe's cheeks to redden.
The other men grinned, a similar thought evidently in their minds too.
Chloe issued a polite little curtsey before engineering a hasty exit. It was not hasty enough, however, to prevent Bill Mason from goosing her arse. Chloe squeaked and the other men shook their heads in mock dismay, berating the leering headmaster.
Glad to be free of the claustrophobic living room, Chloe located the beer fridge and took a moment to compose. Removing a handful of cans, she filled six pint glasses and placed them on a tray with six bowls of Doritos and an assortment of dips from a nearby cupboard. "Come on Chloe, you can get through this," she told herself.
Bill Mason wasted no time in picking up where he left off. As Chloe leaned to place the glass on the coaster, he gathered a bunch of arse cheek in hand. On the other side, Jeff Andrews did likewise, the two lecherous lecturers getting a good feel of the goods. Unashamedly the headmaster uttered: "Mmmmmmmm, what a peachy little bum you have my dear."
