Her voice was firm and strong, filled with authority like a girl who made her own way—a complete contrast to the girls I’d seen so far. She walked right up to me and stretched out her hand.
I took it immediately and shook it, felt the confident grip and thought instantly what it would feel like wrapped around my cock, which was already about to explode.
“Alden,” I replied. “Alden McLaren.”
“I know who you are,” she said with a small smile.
Jesus…I thought. Look at her eyes.
They were brilliant and green like sparkling emeralds. They were fierce, the perfect topping to her unbelievable body.
Unlike the other candidates, Belle was dressed professionally in a pair of black pants and an off-white blouse with a small golden necklace that hung between the tiny amount of cleavage she was willing to share (which compared to the other girls was basically none).
Instantly, I started picturing her stripping down in front of me, what she’d look like in a set of designer lingerie I’d pick up for her downtown…
…what she’d look like naked.
“I understand you’re looking for a housekeeper?” she asked as she took a seat in front of me without being asked. Her voice was sweet and made me wonder what she’d sound like gasping my name while I split her in half with my cock.
It actually took me a second to respond, as I was too caught up in her beauty to think. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought she was a model, and if we got dressed up for the town, she could easily pass for one in any of the hottest clubs in the city.
Her hair was a warm chestnut and sparkled under the lights, and her lush pouty lips had my mouth watering like a man dying of thirst in the Sahara Desert. Her blouse was loose and obviously designed to be professional, to hide her curves, but it was completely failing in that regard; I could just tell she had some perky tits under there.
And no matter how professional her pants were supposed to be, they couldn’t hide those hips and that ass. Instantly I was picturing her bent over every surface in my house: my desk, the couch, the counter, the dining room table, the pool table downstairs.
The thought of fucking one of those other girls who was practically throwing themselves at me just didn’t excite me—not anymore. But the thought of taking this professional beauty and turning her into my dirty little slut? Yeah…that had my dick on high alert.
“Mr. McLaren?” she asked, shaking me from my daydream.
“Yes, sorry,” I replie
d. “Yes, I need a maid.”
“A housekeeper,” she replied.
“Sure,” I smiled. This girl took no shit and I liked it. “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “It takes a lot more than that to offend me.”
She reached into her slim black satchel and pulled out a resume and handed it to me.
“Wow, a paper resume?” I asked as I took it. “Old fashioned.”
“Well, I’m an old-fashioned kind of gal,” she replied.
So, anal’s out of the question? I smiled and kept the joke to myself.
I set the resume aside without looking and saw a slight flicker of irritation in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything.
“So, you have some housekeeping experience then?” I asked.
“It’s all there in my resume—”
“I’d like to hear it from you,” I interrupted. “If I wanted to just read a resume, I wouldn’t bother having you in.”
“Okay, I can understand that,” she nodded. “Well, I used to have my own housekeeping business, and now—”
“Used to?” I asked suspiciously.