| Author: | Jack Stratton | ISBN: | 9781508069324 |
| Publisher: | Writing Dirty Books | Publication: | March 16, 2017 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Jack Stratton |
| ISBN: | 9781508069324 |
| Publisher: | Writing Dirty Books |
| Publication: | March 16, 2017 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
The Valet is the tale of a dedicated butler doing his best to attend to the needs of his employer's female guest.
From The Valet:
She looked over the uneaten fruit and pastries and sighed.
"A man like that certainly does leave a lot of leftovers," she said, a little sadly, pouring herself some more champagne and considered her place.
"No need to worry, miss, nothing will go to waste," I said pouring the orange juice into a plastic jug for later. She laughed at this, her charm was visceral.
"He doesn't mind you taking the leftovers?" she asked, the question lingering in the air whether she meant the food or other things.
"I assure you, he often insists, miss" I said, gathering her glass and her coffee cup, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the heat of her body.
"Does he ever let you finish what he's started?" she said, her voice lower. I straightened.
"You'll have to ask Mr Leinhardt about that, miss, I'm not really at liberty to talk about the goings on of the house," and there was nothing in my voice. I squashed all feeling and simply busied myself with the cleaning up of breakfast and memorizing every blushing inch of her body.
"What if he told you to-" she reached down and grabbed my crotch. I coughed a bit, mostly for her benefit. It's unfair to have such a ravishing woman think she has no effect on a man. Even a man who is adept at swallowing his own desires.
"I'm afraid, as I said, you'll have to take that up with Mr Leinhardt, miss. The particulars of my responsibilities are indeed up to him. And if I might, miss, my name is Howards."
The Valet is the tale of a dedicated butler doing his best to attend to the needs of his employer's female guest.
From The Valet:
She looked over the uneaten fruit and pastries and sighed.
"A man like that certainly does leave a lot of leftovers," she said, a little sadly, pouring herself some more champagne and considered her place.
"No need to worry, miss, nothing will go to waste," I said pouring the orange juice into a plastic jug for later. She laughed at this, her charm was visceral.
"He doesn't mind you taking the leftovers?" she asked, the question lingering in the air whether she meant the food or other things.
"I assure you, he often insists, miss" I said, gathering her glass and her coffee cup, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the heat of her body.
"Does he ever let you finish what he's started?" she said, her voice lower. I straightened.
"You'll have to ask Mr Leinhardt about that, miss, I'm not really at liberty to talk about the goings on of the house," and there was nothing in my voice. I squashed all feeling and simply busied myself with the cleaning up of breakfast and memorizing every blushing inch of her body.
"What if he told you to-" she reached down and grabbed my crotch. I coughed a bit, mostly for her benefit. It's unfair to have such a ravishing woman think she has no effect on a man. Even a man who is adept at swallowing his own desires.
"I'm afraid, as I said, you'll have to take that up with Mr Leinhardt, miss. The particulars of my responsibilities are indeed up to him. And if I might, miss, my name is Howards."
