Jason could hear what sounded like high-heeled shoes tapping on the floor. He turned around in his chair to see who the footsteps belonged to, and when the figure stepped through the doorway into the kitchen, he almost choked on a mouthful of orange juice.
It was almost as if Sofia Vergara and Salma Hayek had been combined and then made about 20 years younger -- and then her voluptuous body had been poured into an erotic version of a "French maid" uniform, all black satin and white lace, complete with a tiny ruffled skirt, fishnet stockings, and high heels.
Jason's father did employ a maid who came to the house once every two weeks, but this wasn't her day -- and she was a 50-something white woman, not the 20-something Latina who was standing in the kitchen, practically dripping with sex. Her wavy black hair was loose to her waist, her face fully made up, and she even had long manicured fingernails -- she certainly didn't look like she was ready to do any actual maid duties.
Jason could feel himself growing aroused, even more so when her bright red, glossy lips parted to say in a thick accent, "Good morning, Master Land."
He thought back to the email: "What you desire most will come to life." As a 15-year-old, of course, he had a lot of desires of this type, and he wondered --
-- wait, he lost that train of thought when he noticed that this "maid" was...
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