Give a warm Duct Tape and Daddy Issues welcome to a brand new guest poster Demasiado Suerte! Demi is the voice behind Hughes and Sons Opticians, Camberley and has been heard at most local cinemas promoting Cutting Crew, your local hairdressers. Next door to Bombay Curry House. You have never had it so hot!
In her spare time she moves toads to safety across roads and sews hats for them. Yes, they asked her, mind your own business!
Mrs Cooper
I was working as a PA at a recruitment firm in London when I first met Katherine Cooper. I’d had a vague idea that working at a recruitment firm might be a somehow useful career. I think I imagined myself helping people complete CV’s and things. But people who don’t have CV’s aren’t going for £120k middle management jobs through recruitment firms. I started out in admin and quickly got ‘promoted’ to being the CEO’s PA, I think mostly because he liked to look at my arse when he thought I wasn’t looking. I should have left sooner, but I was being paid £30k for making coffees and putting appointments in the CEO’s diary, so it was too cushy for me to make a proper effort to move somewhere else. Plus if I put in enough appointments I could ensure that my boss was never around to look at my arse anyway.
In 2022 the firm got into a lot of hot water- quite reasonably- for only putting people of colour forward for ‘ethnic’ type roles (their words, not mine), and so my boss called an emergency meeting with his lawyer. I was expecting a fusty old white man to bumble into the office 20 minutes late, so I busied myself with arranging the office Christmas party. I was absorbed in trying to find a restaurant that could cater to gluten intolerant fruitarians, when someone cleared their throat softly in front of me and I looked up to see her standing right in front of my desk. My eyes ran involuntarily up her body; all 5 foot 8 of it, taller in stiletto heels, clad in a green silk jumpsuit, until I met her eye. She was smirking slightly- but not unkindly- at me, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jumpsuit, one shoulder tilted towards me like she was on a cat walk.
She cocked one eyebrow at me as if to say ‘here I am, it’s your turn to dazzle me’. She had me on the backfoot and she knew it. I managed to recover myself quickly enough to clear my throat and say
‘Er, you must be Ms.Cooper…?’
‘Mrs’ she said simply, blindsiding me again.
In my limited experience at the time, most gorgeous and successful professional women didn’t choose to define themselves by their marital status. And perhaps my initial gaydar ping had been wrong after all.
‘Of course.’ I said. ‘I’ll let Mr. Garfield know you’re here. Would you like a cup of coffee while you’re waiting?’
‘Oh, Freddie won’t keep me waiting. And I don’t drink caffeine’ she said, as if I was slightly stupid for not intuiting that. I’d never heard anyone call my overbearing, slightly lecherous, gout-riddled manager ‘Freddie’ before.
‘Well… we have herbal tea?’ I don’t know why it was so important to me to make her a cup of tea at that moment, but it was. She shrugged, rolling her whole shoulder around like a bored cat.
‘Yes, alright.’
‘What would you like?’
‘Guess…’ she said, smiling with her whole face for the first time.
I’d never known anyone to imbue such a boring conversation with so much intrigue before. I didn’t want to let her down, so I looked her up and down, taking in her deeply green eyes and sweep of auburn hair, and before I could think it through I said:
‘Redbush’.
Her eyebrows shot up and I felt my whole body blush from head to toe with shame; then she threw back her head and laughed the throatiest, sexiest laugh I’d ever heard and I felt myself grinning like an idiot.
‘Yes’ she laughed ‘Redbush is perfect for any occasion’ she added with a waggle of her eyebrows, causing me to blush even more.
At that moment my awful boss swept out of his office and started to fawn over Mrs. Cooper in a way I would never have thought possible. I made them both their beverages and joined them and a number of interchangeable middle-aged managers in the board room for their big meeting. I was, of course, the only woman other than Katherine, and I was, of course, there to take the minutes. It struck me as we sat down that despite her throaty laugh and cheeky eyebrows, she was still one of the bad guys; there to defend my boss’ unforgivable racism in order to make her £300 per 6 minute fee. I felt ridiculously bereft at the thought. But I needn’t have. Katherine stood at the front of the room and before everyone had even sat down, she leaned forward on the table (Oh God, when she leaned forward…) and said
‘Well, gentlemen, you’ve really fucked this one, haven’t you?’
Mr. Garfield went white as a sheet. The silence that followed was penetrated only by the sound of me loudly typing out what she’d said. Katherine paused to grin at me wolfishly, as if we were co-conspirators in bringing down the company I worked for. Every man in the room glared at me jealously. The meeting went on in the same vain for around 20 minutes, during which time Mrs. Cooper told Mr Garfield in no uncertain terms that she was not in the business of defending the indefensible, and the best thing to do if you don’t want to be sued for racism is to not be racist; and I fell completely in love.
She said things I’d never heard anyone say out loud, like ‘I hadn’t finished speaking, actually’ and ‘when I need your opinion, I’ll retire’. I typed furiously. She finished by telling Mr Garfield his best bet was to settle out of court for an outrageous amount of money, and then saying ‘you may leave’. We all stood like someone had yanked on our strings. I almost forgot the laptop and had to go back for it. She hung back for a moment too, and I felt her eyes on me.
‘That was brilliant’ I murmured.
She smiled. ‘We make a good team, Ms…?’
‘Miss’ I said with a smile ‘Buchanan. Lily Buchanan’.
***
Two days later, as I was scanning my 67 emails about my colleagues’ various impossible food intolerances (how can you be allergic to honey?) an email popped through from Cooper, Morgan and Steele. I fully expected it to be a bill for their services that I would need to deal with, but the memory of Katherine’s rolling shoulders was still strong enough for me to come out of the email I was drafting and open it.
It read simply:
‘Dear Miss Buchanan,
I was impressed by you at our meeting on Monday.
I’m looking for someone to work for me; the rate will be very competitive.
Please meet me at 4b Westbourne Terrace, W2 at 2pm next Thursday (19th October 2022) to discuss this matter.
I have already let Freddie know that you won’t be available that afternoon.
I look forward to seeing you again.
Katherine Cooper’
I laughed out loud and then glanced around me to check that no one had heard. I caught ‘Freddie’ glaring at me from inside his office, and guessed he had just received the news too.
***
I thought about not going, of course I did- I had no idea about the company, the role, or the pay- but the thought of seeing Katherine again was stronger than logic. Plus I’d get the afternoon off. I responded, and following her lead I simply said:
‘I look forward to seeing you on Thursday’.
On the day, I left the office at 12pm and popped home to change. I told myself over and over that it was just an interview, and she didn’t need to know the shape of my arse in a pencil skirt, or the swell of my breasts in a low cut blouse and push up bra. It was ridiculous to lust after an older woman I’d only met once, and who was in all likelihood just going to offer me a minimum wage job as a janitor after a 10 minute interview and not even notice the shade of lipstick I had agonised over. I still left the house looking only just the right side of respectable.
4b Westbourne Terrace, W2, was a flat, not an office. I checked the address on the email several times before ringing the bell. Once I did though, the door clicked open softly, without any other intervention. I pushed my way in to a sweeping pink marble lobby as silent as a tomb. I took a moment to collect myself and pull my skirt down a tiny bit further. For the first time I was beginning to feel apprehensive. This was clearly not a regular job interview. Maybe I was going to be murdered and hidden in someone's floorboards. What then? I should have got more tattoos so that my body would be more identifiable in such circumstances. But I was here and I'd taken the tube and the day off work, so putting possible dismemberment aside, I took a deep breathe and walked up the incredibly deeply carpeted staircase to flat B.
Katherine opened the door before I knocked. My polite greeting froze in my throat and I just stared. Her thick, copper hair was down around her bare shoulders; her shirt plunged down, clinging just barely to her breasts and exposing the milk-white skin of her sternum all the way down to her navel. I realised I was staring; my mouth was open in fact, and in another few seconds I would actually start drooling. But I realised she was staring too and I watched her watching me for a second, noticing my legs and my breasts appreciatively. Eventually our eyes met and we both smiled- me shyly and her in the shameless, slightly predatory way that she always did. She gestured for me to come in and take my shoes off.
The flat was as impressive and classy as you'd expect; the living room surrounded by picture windows overlooking the street side, and mahogany bookshelves on the other. Katherine led me to a 'reading nook' just inside the window and poured me a glass of water before sitting back herself, and draping her arms over the back of her armchair luxuriantly. She stared at me a beat too long to be just polite, before saying:
'I'll be blunt, Lily. I'm a businesswoman. I work long hours. I don't have time for cooking or cleaning. Or eating, often. I need someone to look after this place' she waved her hand around dismissively.
My heart sank. 'So you need a…housekeeper.' I summarised.
'Yeeees, I do. But…' and at this she leaned towards me over the coffee table and held my gaze, her expression deadly serious, '...I have other needs too.' She raised an eyebrow and smiled at me lopsidedly, just in case I hadn't got it.
My jaw dropped. My heart was telling me to be hurt and offended; my head that there was nothing wrong with sex work, but it wasn't really the career jump I'd been expecting; my pussy was pulsing with desire. I wriggled in my seat, trying to ignore the latter, and said weakly,
'I don't really…do that'.
'I understand' she said 'and I'm not asking you to make a long term commitment. Two weeks initially. Three thousand up front and if you're not comfortable at any point, we'll forget it'.
Whatever organ makes financial decisions had woken up.
'Three…thousand…pounds?' I asked.
She smiled gently. 'Yes, of course.'
The rest of me caught up and I started to feel properly angry. 'No, I'm sorry, there's been a misunderstanding. I'm not in…that business'.
'I know that.' She said softly. 'I didn't mean to imply that I see you as…insignificant in any way. I like you. I've thought about this a lot. In other circumstances, maybe we'd…flirt…date…make love…but I'm not in that position, and I don't think you'd want that either, really.'
'Why not?' I demanded.
'Because I'm an exhausted 48 year-old workaholic and you're a 25 year old with a flawless body and her whole life ahead of her?'
'I'm.. 29' I protested weakly.
She smiled. 'Right…well. Anyway, I need to have sex, preferably with you, and you need a new job and this seemed like the perfect solution for both of us.' She spread her hands helplessly.
'Well…I appreciate that, but…I still don't have sex for money. And also…'
'What?'
'Aren't you married?’
A look of pure pain crossed her brow fleetingly. ‘I am…but…my wife is no longer with us. That’s another reason that this arrangement would suit me more than dating. I…’ she looked away vaguely; it was the first time I’d seen her anything other than completely focussed and confident. I felt my heart clench for her, and for the first time- ridiculously-
I wavered. ‘I’m really sorry for your loss’ I murmured.
She waved me away and recomposed herself. She suddenly turned business-like, standing up and apologising for taking up my time. She walked me to the door but at the last moment she handed me a business card 'just in case'.
After leaving the apartment I headed straight to the nearest coffee shop to sit and gather myself, but on the way in I bumped- quite literally- into an old friend from uni, Dai. He swept me into a hug and seamlessly invited himself to coffee with me. Dai was one of those guys who gets away with a certain amount of toxicity by being a 'cheeky chappy'. He was an arsehole, but in a sweet kind of way. Maybe because it had just happened, or maybe because I was unlikely to ever see Dai again, I found myself explaining the situation with Katherine.
Dai hooted and slapped his leg. 'Thats mint Lillo!' Dai was also one of those people who are incapable of using anyone's real and full name. 'Three grand a week to shag a gorgeous woman?!' 'Well yeah but…' 'But WHAT? Thats EVERYONE'S wet dream'
'But I don't have sex for money'
'That's not very feminist of you. Sex work is real work you know' he said.
I gawped at him. Was Dai 'fingerbang ' Evans lecturing me on feminism?
'I know, and that's a perfectly respectable choice, but I choose not to'
'Why?' He asked amiably.
'Because…because…' I was surprised to find that I didn't have a coherent reason. It just felt icky and I couldn't explain why.
'Look, you'd sleep with her anyway, right?'
'In a heartbeat' I grinned.
'Then you're not doing anything you wouldn't do for free anyway. You're just getting bonus money. And it sounds like this lady has money to burn anyway. She'd probably just give it to the donkey sanctuary anyway'.
I considered for a moment how I felt about being in financial and sexual competition with the donkey sanctuary.
'I…' 'Its a great deal and you know it' he said. 'In 3 weeks you could get enough for a deposit on a house back home.'
It was true, I hadn't considered it like that. Of course I didn't know what Katherine was in to, but she didn't seem at all nefarious, and beyond that it was exciting to not know what to expect. Until that moment in time I'd always had satisfying but fairly vanilla sex with long term girlfriends, and a couple of dreary one night stands. No one had ever seem as…intriguing as Mrs Cooper before.
'Seriously, Lily, I love this for you' Dai was saying.
Bless his heart.
Back home I poured a bath and a sat in it looking at Katherine’s business card. It was embossed gold on black card and it just said her name and phone number. Like being her was impressive enough of a job title. I got a bit drunk on some rose that Sarah had left in the fridge, and at 10pm I texted her.
'The thing is I can't just take two weeks off work without any notice'. It wasn't the most interesting of romantic text ever written but it was a start. She text back immediately.
'I can let Freddie know you're needed at Cooper, Morgan and Steele for two weeks. Starting whenever you'd like.'
Presumptuous, but still sort of accommodating. I desperately wanted to know what she had on Freddie to order him around like that. I took a deep breathe and before I could change my mind I texted back:
'Monday.' There was a nerve wracking 10 minute gap between messages but then she responded
'I've spoken to Freddie, you're on paid annual leave from tomorrow. I'll see you on Monday at 9am'.
And just like that I was a professional housekeeper-come-sex-slave.
It's hard to know how to prepare for something like that. Firstly I bought a lot of lingerie. Like £300 worth. But it was an investment. Secondly, I masturbated furiously, imagining twisting her thick hair round my fingers as she sucked on my nipples. Flashes of her hair, eyes, lips and breasts ran through my mind on a continuous loop. Finally, and rather oddly, I defrosted the freezer.
It was 8.45am on Monday and I was pacing up and down on the street outside her flat; frustrated, anxious and dripping wet. All night I'd whipped myself into a frenzy, and touched myself until I was sore, imagining her pouncing on me as soon as I walked in the room; or maybe tucking my hair behind my ear and kissing me in a way that made my knees buckle; or maybe taking her clothes off achingly slowly and bending over…but nothing would satisfy me except her, and I was on the verge of screaming in frustration. At 8.50am I decided I couldn't wait any longer, and rang the bell. This time there was a delay of a minute or two and I felt certain she was teasing me deliberately. I let out a low moan that startled a nearby dog walker. I didn't care. She answered the door, looking more professional than at our last meeting, but still gorgeous in a green silk blouse, a grey blazer and silver crepe pants. She only ever wore green or grey, I noted. She kissed me coolly and chastely on the cheek.
'Miss Buchanan, what a pleasure' she drawled 'but where are your things?'
'My…things?' I stammered.
'Your overnight things'
'I'll be staying overnight?' I asked stupidly. My heart hammered and I had to rest my hip against the back of the couch for support.
'Well' she said coolly 'its up to you; but I'll need to to start at 6.45am and finish at 7.30pm, so you may as well stay over. There's a spare room, it's quite spacious. I'll show you'.
I was slightly crushed that 'sleeping over' didn't mean what I'd thought, but soon mollified by the quite spacious spare room which of course was bigger than my entire flat, exquisitely decorated, and en suite. While I studied the room, Katherine studied me.
'You like it' she said. 'You'll stay. You can run home and get your things while I'm at work.'
I just nodded. It was impossible to argue and besides, she was right.
'I'll show you the ropes' she said, and once again I was headed for disappointment. Katherine showed me around the apartment and explained what chores she needed me to do each day. She was vegan and she had breakfast each morning at 7am, before leaving for the gym at 7.30am. She got back from work at 6.45pm, and wanted dinner at 7pm. Other than cooking I would go shopping, clean the house (other than her bedroom, which was out of bounds) and do laundry. I was bored and frustrated almost to tears by this conversation. When she finally asked 'any questions?' I blurted out
'And what about the other…duties?' She turned to face me, looking down her eyelashes sternly but sultrily, and said, in a slightly deeper voice than usual
'You don't initiate those. You do as you're told. You don't touch me unless you're asked. Don't be a brat.'
Something about the way she said it told me that she very much wanted me to be a 'brat'.
'Also, you'll address me only as Mrs. Cooper and actually…turn around and bend over'. I'd never obeyed anything so fast in my life. I was wearing my pencil skirt again so I hitched it up. She let out the barest sigh as I did so. I was dripping wet, and she must have been able to tell through the barely-there lace of my panties. I was trembling with want but I stayed as I'd been told. I didn't initiate anything. After several minutes of taking me in, she reached out and snapped the side of my panties, hard. I flinched and let out a whimper. I desperately wanted more but I stayed still and quiet- 'like a good little sub', I realised.
'No more of these' she said, her voice about an octave deeper than usual.
'The panties?' I managed
'Any panties' she said
'OK.' She cleared her throat.
'I really must go to work now' - her voice was completely normal. I stood back up and rearranged myself hastily. 'One more thing'. She went to a tacky and incongruous ceramic pig cookie jar and drew out the biggest wad of cash I have ever seen, before or since, and handed it to me.
'Here. No strings attached. Any time you want, you can take it and leave. It's all about consent, right?' She grinned encouragingly, like a secondary school science teacher.
'Right' I managed. She made for the door but turned around at the last minute
'One last thing. Don't you dare think about touching yourself. I want you ready' she smiled perkily, and slammed the door.
For the next two days I really just did chores. I spent the whole time in an agony of frustration and boredom. When Katherine wasn't there I went into a sort of stasis, just wondering what would happen when she came back. When she was there I went onto school girl crush high-alert, noticing every look, every sigh, the smell of coconut in her hair, her finger brushing against mine. She was painfully self controlled and most of the time she was just polite and distantly friendly, giving absolutely no indication of interest in me. But every now and again I would catch her watching; noticing my skirts getting shorter and my tops getting lower as I tried desperately to lure her. On the third night I had served her dinner and wine and retreated to the kitchen to load the dishwasher when she called for me. As I walked over to the heavy antique table at which she ate, I noticed that she’d pushed her plate away.
‘Is everything OK with your food, Mrs. Cooper?’ She nodded.
‘Yes, it’s fine. I just realised I want something else.’
‘Oh, OK, what can I get you?’
Slowly, she slid her chair back and patted the table. ‘Get up’ she ordered ‘and spread your legs’.
I froze. She clicked her fingers- ‘now!’- and I snapped out of my trance and did as I was told.
It’s hard to climb up onto a table in an alluring way.
‘Lie back’ she said.
The table was cold and hard against my bare skin. Katherine moved forward and gently parted my knees further and hiked up my skirt. I could feel her breath on my pussy for an agonising second; then she spread my lips apart and started licking. My body bucked and she used both hands to slam me back into the cold table. It hurt, but the sensation folded seamlessly into the feeling of unexpected pleasure.
She started off slow, but not teasingly slow- exploring my folds with her sharp tongue and probing inside me- before turning her attention to my clit, using her hands on both my hips to rock me back and forth, keeping the rhythm of her tongue against me. She alternated between licking rhythmically and sucking furiously. I could feel the pressure building deliciously inside of me and, lost in the moment, I snaked my hands through her hair. I half expected her to push my hands away, but she didn't. I pushed my pussy hard against her face as I got closer and closer until I felt a wave of orgasm crest and break over me, dousing me in pleasure, making me yell out and pull her hair tighter around my fists. This time she did push my arms away and sat up, wiping her chin on an expensive linen napkin. Automatically, I sat up and leaned towards her, desperate to kiss her swollen, wet mouth and taste my juices on her. She let me get to within a centimetre of her face before placing her forefinger on my lips.
'Ah-ah-ah' she said. It was the first sound she'd made during our encounter, I realised. 'You don't get to kiss me, remember? Only I can kiss you.'
'OK' I said hoarsely 'could you?'
She smiled at me with genuine warmth. 'You're so cute' she said. 'Now, you'll need to reheat that. And NOT in the microwave.' I blinked in incomprehension as she handed me her plate of risotto. 'Off you go.'
Legs shaking, I dutifully reheated her food (in the pan) and then excused myself as politely as I could. 'Goodnight.' She said 'But Lily? Remember the rules won't you?'
She raised an eyebrow at me and I felt like she could see right through me to the wall behind. I nodded weakly, literally biting my tongue, and retreated to my room where I took a very cold shower. Although it was totally illogical, it still felt like she would somehow know if I touched myself. She would raise an eyebrow at me and…what? Fire me? Touch me even less? Punish me? The last thought made me writhe; but the first two didn't, and I couldn't risk it. Instead I lay awake torturing myself with thoughts about what she would do next that I couldn't act on.
As it turned out, I didn't have to wonder for long.
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