A hands on kind of leader...

Friday December 15, 2023

Bimboton is a small town with a big phramcutical company, BioBim, in it. Since BioBim arrived Bimboton has undergone many changes, for the better, so at least the men would say.

The first post in the series is here. All stories in the serires tagged here.

I’d hired a cleaning service years ago, Diana would come in every week and do the vacuuming, a little dusting, whatever dishes were in the sink, and be done in under an hour. Which was perfect for me, as I was working from home and didn’t really need the distraction.

Diane often spoke about how much she loved her job, how it gave her so much freedom and free time, how she didn’t have to get dressed up to go into an office, or have anyone to boss her around.

Once BioBim had moved into town though, things had started to change, and my cleaning service was just one of those changes.

At first Diana had started taking longer and longer to do the same amount of cleaning, which wasn’t a big deal to me as I was paying a flat rate anyway. What I hadn’t noticed at the time was the reason she was taking longer… she was having a harder and harder time staying focused.

It was almost a month later that I really noticed a change thought. Gone were her sweat pants and baggy top, replaced with a tight fitting t-shirt and leggings.

Diana was a good looking woman for sure, but she’d never shown her curves in anyway before, so that had caught my eye. Which is when I noticed she wasn’t just taking longer to do the cleaning, she was spending a lot more time around me and making sure to bend over and otherwise show off her body.

I ignored it as best I could, but between Diana, my neighbours changing behaviours, and the overall feel of the town, it was hard to do.

Especially the first time she’d shown up in the tight little black french maid outfit.

Now a days she has a dozen or more french maid outfits she rotates between, and todays was one of my favorites.

I turned from my computer and closed the lid, “Hey Diana, you just about done with the dusting?” I asked.

“Out mosieur!” she replied in an adorably bad french accent. She didn’t speak french of course, I doubted she even knew where France was, but she did the best she could.

“Good, I’ve got something else for you to clean…” I said and spread my legs.

“Oui, oui!” she squealed and wiggled her way over, leaving her duster on the table, and then bending over at the waist and quickly undoing my pants before slipping her lips around my dick.

She really did love her job, so it was hard for me to deny her that pleasure, even if it did mean that it took her nearly and entire day to get the cleaning done now.

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