CHAPTER TWO — STEPHANIE
I glance down at my bed, surveying my different options. I'm trying to decide what to wear while I clean David's house. Of course, I could go for the practical option, i.e. sweatpants… or I could go for a slightly elevated, sexier, yet comfortable and practical option like yoga pants or leggings.
I glance at the different pairs of pants on my bed and toss them to the floor.
Nope.
I rub the fabric of the red satin dress on my bed. Alternatively, I could do something absurd like wear a tight dress. I let go of the dress. That was never a serious option.
My eyes go to the last option on my bed. The nuclear one. I pick up the short white dress and study it.
Or… I could go nuclear and wear this. I examine the tiny dress from all angles, admiring it.
I smile involuntarily. I know I shouldn't…
but at the same time, I know I will. The second I realize I shouldn't do something, it just makes me want to do it more.
I rub the thin fabric between my fingers, probably some cheap polyester from a factory.
Doesn't matter though. It's skimpy, and I look hot in it.
And I can justify wearing it. Because I'm about to clean David's house, i.e.
be his personal maid. So it makes total sense that I'm about to march into his house looking like the Halloween cover of Playboy.
Or at least I can make a good argument about why I'm dressed like a stripper if he objects.
That's the best part about this plan. It gives me plausible deniability.
And I love that.
I mean, in what other scenario can you wear a sexy maid costume outside of Halloween and get away with it?
I slip the dress over my head and wiggle to squeeze my body into it.
It's probably two sizes too small, which is exactly what I wanted.
It barely covers my ass, and if I bend over, it won't cover me at all.
It's so low-cut that the tops of my bra cups are showing, and I'm wearing a very low-cut bra.
It's perfect. It's what I wore last Halloween, and judging by the compliments I got then, I think it'll have its intended effect on David today. I put on the matching hat and pull up the knee-high socks as I contemplate exactly what that is.
How do I want David to react? I definitely want him to check me out, but it's more than that… I think I want to throw him off guard.
There's definitely a part of me that's attracted to him, but that's not why I'm dressing like this either.
I'm wearing the maid costume because it's a power play. Simple as that.
David thinks he has all the power in this situation, since he's the landlord. And he kind of does. I'll admit that. But it doesn't mean that I just have to sit here and take it.
I have cards I can play too. I just have to be sneakier about it. And I have to play to my strengths.
Like being a young, hot woman.
By throwing my sexuality in his face, I hope it'll make him nervous. He'll see my confidence and be intimidated. Older men don't know what to do with a young, confident, sexual woman. Younger men don't either.
Throwing your enemy off guard, making them feel stressed, confused, or uncertain is a strategic move. I'm not sure where I read that. Art of War? Or did I make it up? Either way, it sounds right.
By flaunting my sexuality in David's face, I'll show him that even though he has the money and the house, I have something that he wants, and that only I can give him: me.
And that gives me leverage.
After I caught David eyeing me the other day, I had an intuition that if I played my cards right, I could maybe get him to cut me some slack. I would settle for him cutting me some slack about the vaping… but if he threw in a month or two of free rent, I wouldn't complain either.
Or maybe this isn't about gaining a strategic advantage over David at all. Maybe I'm just doing this for the thrill of it. Maybe I'm bored and horny and curious about how David will react. Or maybe I just want to cause some chaos. It wouldn't be the first time.
Who knows? Do any of us ever know why we do the things we do?
I glance at myself one last time in the mirror as I grab a tube of lipgloss from my dresser and paint the shiny pink gel across my lips. I smile at myself, admiring my outfit.
I look pretty good. More than good, actually. The short white dress hugs my curves like an F1 car hugs a racetrack. It's so tight that my breasts are almost spilling out, and so short that it barely skims the top of my ass.
I look like a porn star, basically. Which is exactly the look I was going for.
I'm essentially whoring myself out to the male gaze. And I know that. It's a risk, but no one's ever complained about me looking too sexy before. I've worn this outfit to clean boyfriends' apartments before, and they always loved it.
I remember the reaction my last boyfriend, Todd, had when he saw me in the outfit. His eyes bulged so hard, I thought he was going to have an aneurysm. The memory gives me a quick hit of dopamine, and with that, I stride out of my room and knock on David's door.
I smile, expecting a warm reception. He swings open the door, and at first, he looks confused. Then, after a second, shocked. And then angry.
This is not what I was expecting.
He stares at me.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asks.
"Coming to clean your house, silly," I say in a sing-songy voice.
He stares at me.
"If you think this is gonna work on me, think again.
I'm not one of your loser college boyfriends.
You can't just bat your eyelashes at me and flash your tits and expect me to sign away my firstborn.
I wasn't born yesterday, sweetheart. And as beautiful as you are, beautiful women are a dime a dozen.
So please, save yourself the embarrassment next time and wear some proper clothes. "
What the fuck?
He stares at me and continues.
"That said, I don't have any time to waste, so let me tell you what I'd like you to do today."
I feel my entire body turn into one flaming ball of fire. I'm so shell-shocked, I don't even know what to say.
So I say nothing.
I follow David as he leads me towards the backyard and starts pointing out the various yard tasks he'd like me to do. I'm so shocked that I don't protest at all, even though we kind of agreed that I would be cleaning his house, not the yard.
"You got all that?" he asks.
I nod, despite the fact that I've tuned out basically everything that he just said.
"All right. Well, I'll be back in a few hours, but if you have any questions, you can—"
"Where are you going?" I blurt out.
"On a date," he says.
I get a pang in my stomach. It throws me off guard. That can't be. I shake the thought away.
"Okay then," he says, looking at me once more. "You sure you're okay?"
I nod. I mean, I'm okay insofar as somebody who's just been completely humiliated can be. He turns to leave, but before he does, I catch him check me out.
It happens so quickly that I almost miss it, but I'm sure of it this time. His eyes skim my body, doing a once-over.
And for a split second, a bit of my humiliation eases. David can say he's not affected by me until he's blue in the face, but now I know that's a lie. He's not affected by me the way that my college boyfriends have been—he's not desperate—but he still wants me. Even if he won't admit it.
He's attracted to me. I know that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, now. He just has self-control, unlike most of the men I know.
But that doesn't mean he's untouchable. As humiliating as that was, I'm not ready to throw in the towel yet.