We arranged for her to come over early Saturday afternoon. “Sir” and
“Ma’am” were going off to visit friends in Malaysia this weekend, and she said she could drop in when her auntie had her naptime. “Great. Oh, we should spend some time together over at my place,” I added.
“No problem,” she promised. “My auntie usually takes a long nap in the middle of the day.” I really liked the way she said “lo-ong.” My cock somehow managed to stiffen even more as it found another nook at the side of my boxers to snuggle into. I could barely move. But for Liana and me, it just remained to work out the logistics.
She had told me that her auntie usually dozed off right after lunch. That should be about a quarter past one, she thought. But it was almost three by the time she finally arrived. I was going crazy by then, scanning some of the DVDs I’d pulled out to try to distract myself while waiting for her. But it was worth the wait. When she finally stood there in the doorway, she was just so hopelessly lovely. She had done something special with her hair and even put on a bit of lipstick. As much as I loved her natural look, she was even more alluring with this little touchup. I had a hard-on within seconds.
I offered her some sugar cane juice. She said she would love some.
Then she shyly asked if I could add some alcohol to it. “Sure,” I answered, “no problem.” I reached into the back of my cupboard for a bottle of vodka.
She scooped up the glass, then downed the whole thing in one long swallow. “Sorry,” she said, “I was so thirsty.”
“Nothing to apologise for,” I replied, then asked if she wanted a refill.
She nodded, but added, “Just half a glass.” While I was still pouring, she turned and glanced at the kitchen floor. “Oh,” she sort of squeaked. “You really need your floor cleaned.”
“Oh yeah, but it’s alright,” I replied. “I… I always leave it until Sunday.
I look forward to doing it right after morning coffee and the Sunday Times.” I doubt she even heard me. She looked around quickly and then, as if guided by some preternatural instinct all Indonesian girls born to be maids have, headed for the cabinet under the sink where I keep what few cleanup items I have. She enthusiastically hauled out a rarely used bucket, a scrubbing brush, a couple of rags and some liquid that I guess you use to clean floors.
She was amazing; I don’t think I could have found those things so quickly.
“It’s alright, it’s alright,” I said.
“Oh no, Sir, this floor really needs a good clean.”
“Just leave it,” I barked. “I’ll… I’ll take care of it later so you can get a good sleep tonight. I promise.”
Liana had moved to the kitchen sink and was running hot water into the bucket. “No, this is good, so. I really like cleaning floors. It’s so much fun.” While I moped, she mopped. And then things got more interesting. “I hope you don’t mind, Sir. But it always gets so hot when I do this work.” Before I could ask her what I was supposed to not mind, she had swiftly tugged off her tight-fitting tee and with one further, deft movement removed the bra as well. She stood there with those luscious coffee-toned breasts topped by dark nipples and a kid’s-party smile spread all over her face. She looked down briefly, as if to check what had me so transfixed, then looked back up, her smile conveying a sense of total understanding and agreement.
She then swivelled and flipped the bra and tee onto the kitchen table with all the grace and artfulness of a stripper.
Oh my God, she was a fucking work of art under that maid’s attire. Her skin was soft, light brown, the shade of coffee just the way I love it. Probably just as sweet, too, I was thinking. Although Liana was of small stature, her tits were fantastic: not as large as I imagine Hazniya’s were, but sizeable and perfectly sculpted. I wanted to clutch them in my palms and moved towards her with every intention of doing so.
Holy wake up, I couldn’t stand it. I had such a massive hard-on, I thought it might choke me. I figured if I couldn’t put it into her, and very soon, I’d probably start ramming myself against a wall until I collapsed from exhaustion and multiple abrasions.
But she seemed obsessed with getting that damn floor clean. Desperate to plunge myself into this lady, I moved to the very edge of the soapy circle and reached out for her. But she pushed me off. With a poised smile and a no-no shake of her head, she said, “Not yet, Sir Jeffrey. I have to start scrubbing first.”
Then she said something else that made me crazy. “Oh,” she said, “I wore my very special panties today, you know.” She unhooked her shorts and opened them to show me the knickers: a splashy swirl of bright colours. They looked like they’d been designed by someone whose usual job was turning out ice kachang. “I always wear them for special days. But I don’t want them to get wet. Would you mind it if I…?”
I guess she took my tongue hanging down over my chin as the closest I could get to “No, I don’t mind!” because within a few seconds she had pulled off both shorts and pants, then carried them over to the kitchen table too.
And, wah, could she sashay that perfect little tush as she made the journey. As great as her tits were, I’m ready to concede the ass may have even topped it. I couldn’t believe this was really happening to me. And then she turned around again, and I saw her pussy fully for the first time. Oh God. It was a beautiful crop of dark, wiry hair, as lovely, dark and deep as the Indonesian rain forest.
I felt like lunging over there, grabbing her and then carrying her off to the bedroom, like Tarzan bringing Jane to his boudoir in the trees. But I thought that might spook her, ruin the whole moment. No, I had to practice a little patience. At this point, however, my patience had an expected shelf life of about five seconds.
She was now down on her knees with a wet rag in her hand, but before she began scrubbing, she looked up and flashed me another quick smile. She then commenced with the cleaning. She swabbed the rag against the floor in small circles, her ass and tits rotating in syncopated rhythms to this entrancing motion. She seemed so concentrated as she applied delicate pressure to those circles she was making on the tiles.
I suddenly noticed that I was unconsciously making similar strokes with my right hand across my groin. I started to sputter out a plea—or maybe it was a confession of love. “Liana, I… the thing is, why I really wanted you to come down here today…”
She looked up to listen, then flashed the most knowing smile I’d ever seen and spun my life around. “Oh, this is such hard work. I don’t think I can do it all myself. Don’t you want to help me, Sir?”
“Help you? You mean…?” Without dimming her smile one click, she nodded towards the floor, with its sodden field of white-capped mounds. I tore off my clothes as quickly as I could; I tossed them back into the other room with the rest of my stuff, then rushed over to Liana and the bucket, sliding along the last stretch of the slick surface on my knees.
She handed me a rag and together we started working on the tiles. After a few moments, I started gently rubbing the rag along her ass. She gave a soft purring sound at this. I started to move the rag up the small of her back, making small concentric circles as I moved. Meanwhile, she had started rubbing my chest with her rag, gently rotating it the way Hazniya did when I was a kid. She put the rag down and used her finger to wipe behind my ears.
I was in high ecstasy.
But that was just the prelude. As my rag was making its way up around her shoulders, she put both her hands on mine. “Now we come to the best part of cleaning floors,” she said. And then she gave me a gentle kiss, as sweet as any kiss I can remember.