A Maid's Tail Ch. 06: Friday

5: Friday

Sylvia had been right; somewhere in the world an emaciated child would've thrown Kim's attempt at bourbon chicken back at her and accused her of violating their human rights. Kim contemplated this as she shivered, curled up under the mound of blankets on her bed and questioning her life choices.

At one point, she'd been sure she had enough money to take the plunge and actually finish the 'Great American Novel' and then get it published. She'd even paid her rent up in anticipation of this monumental burst of creative expression. Now. . .?

Now she was huddled up under blankets in a freezing apartment she was probably going to get evicted from in a few days with no electricity and only catsup and mustard packets for nourishment. What a bunch of crap.

Oh, but then there was Elliot and Sylvia who'd been kind enough to give her a job, the perks of which had snuck up on her when she wasn't looking and enveloped her- it wasn't just the McKennas that were seducing her. It was a familiar stirring that whirled around her stomach when she thought of her maid's outfit.

In it she felt confident and comfortable; as though the world couldn't challenge her any more. It didn't look down on her, she wasn't broke and tired and cold; she was a symbol of someone who had their lives in order and who knew what it was to be dignified. Sure, Kim was rough around the edges, but the uniform smoothed those rough spots out until she was something more.

If not for the missing necklace, Kim would've been absolutely happy in that uniform. Happiness didn't have to be something reserved for people with money when she was that person. When she was their maid.

Kim chewed her lip as images of what could be filled her imagination. If she had some money, she could have bought some black stockings and contacts. Yes, contacts for her eyes, perhaps some body paint for her skin. . .

The McKennas wanted a catgirl maid. Kim could be that.

Kim wanted to be that. It had been so long since she'd been able to look at herself in the mirror, didn't she deserve that?

Couldn't she be happy again?

She could. She needed to. She deserved to.

Kim threw the covers off, prepared to face the day. Maid service didn't have to wait. . .

#

Tempting fate the entire drive out to the McKenna's household, Kim's old Pontiac sputtered up the drive just before six, coasting into her usual parking spot with just enough momentum to stop before it would've rolled into the grass. If she was lucky, she'd make it home and back out in the morning. If.

The cold air had done a lot to wake her up, clopping up the steps in her smartest low heels only re-enforced the notion that she'd made the right choice; she felt professional. Maybe even empowered. Clad in her black and white uniform and its frills brushing against her bare thighs, she was a woman of sophistication and poise. The cat ears spoke of playfulness and the tail. . .

Well, the tail kept tugging on her butt and fighting with her, teasing her with every swish of her finely swaying hips- a move she practiced as she trod up to the front door. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. But it felt good to feel the gentle caress of the furry tail across her back side. Knowing that her employers would appreciate it even more just sealed the deal.

Kim tapped the door bell twice in quick succession.

It was funny how a twenty minute drive could change the world and one's perception. It was welcome, needed in so many ways; here she didn't have to think about her problems. She just needed to clean and be dignified. . . She could even ignore the gnawing in her stomach for a while when she felt wanted.

Wanted she was, too. She could see it when Elliot opened the door, wearing a towel and a thin coat of sweat glistening over his tanned body. His muscles were firm, well defined and curved in all the right ways to make him look strong without being a meat head- he was beautiful in the most sensuous of ways, powerful and hard without the ridiculous air of pretense.

Kim blinked, dumbfounded. "uh-"

"Well. . ." He looked her up and down slowly, a little grin at his lips. "That's a sight to wake up to. Come on in, kitten."

It took Kim a moment to realize he'd spoken, but she shuffled inside suddenly feeling very self conscious about where she stood with him. As she passed by, she caught a familiar wiff of something- musty and deep and primal. It warmed her nostrils like an old friend and almost immediately made her weak in the knees. It- he- smelled so familiar. . . Something she hadn't had in a long, long time.

Kim opened her mouth with a ready lame excuse for her being there so early but her voice died when she turned and saw the scar along Elliot's back; right under his left shoulder all the way down ran a ragged trench in his otherwise flawless skin. The scar had healed long ago, but it still marred his body like a mountain ridge. Unconsciously, she gasped.

"Hm? Oh. . . Heh. Sorry." Elliot started to walk around her. She grabbed his arm with an appologetic look.

"Sorry, I- um. Sorry."

"It happens. How about some breakfast?"

"Uh- S- sure. If you still trust my cooking."

"Now that's something we'lll just have to see. Let's try something simple like scrambled eggs, bacon and toast with some coffee."

"Sure." Kim started to turn.

"Sure?"

"Hm?" She looked back.

Even covered in sweat and smelling of fresh sex, Elliot McKenna's voice and posture were as firm and refined. "Sure what?"

"Oh-" Kim swallowed, blushing at her lapse of decorum. She curtsied deeply, looking up at him through her bangs and in her most practiced high-born accent, she said: "I apologize master McKenna. I guess I wasn't being mewself."

It was Elliot's turn to blink. He smirked at that. "Good, good. See to breakfast then."

"Of course, master McKenna." Kim sauntered into the kitchen, grinning to herself like an idiot. The grin faded when she got into the kitchen, intent on doing the job right. She was a maid, after all. A maid was meant to cook and clean and do other things. . .

She rubbed her hands together. Every day was an opportunity to get better.

#

Sylvia leaned back from her empty plate once they were both finished.. "Not bad. I like the milk in the eggs. . . It makes them fluffy."

"Thank you, mistress. They're soft scrambled."

"Hmph." Elliot nodded as he packed up his leather portfolio with his day's paperwork. He rose a few seconds later with a glance at Kim out of the corner of his eye that made her heart flutter; it was a look of appreciation and probably the most she'd get from him. It was all she needed, really.

What she got instead was something she couldn't have expected; as they filed past her back upstairs to start their days, Elliot fell behind and stroked her head gently, running his broad palm between her cat ears and down the back of her skull, combing her hair back with his powerful touch. He didn't stop until his hand touched the nape of her neck. Slowly, his palm came to rest on her collar bone and they eyed one another. "Mmm. . ." He said softly. "She was right about you." Without waiting for her to recover, Elliot went upstairs to get ready for work. "Feel free to get some breakfast if you want."

Kim managed to make it to the kitchen despite her wobbly knees. She leaned heavily against the counter with a fresh blush burning her face. She clenched her thighs together and took three quick breaths. "Stupid. Don't get caught up in this. . . Just focus."

While the McKennas got ready for their day, Kim busied herself with her own- modest- breakfast and cleaned up the table. Struck by an idea, she peeked around the wall when she heard someone coming down the stairs. Sylvia. Of course it would be Sylvia. . .

"Ah, mistress. Would you like me to cook- er, prepare- something for lunch for Elliot? Is there time?"

The woman glanced up, then settled her dual-tone gaze on their maid. "That's thoughtful. Sure, go ahead."

Kim scuttled back into the kitchen and slapped a couple of sandwiches together as quickly as she could. When it came to trying to find a Tupperware container, that was another story entirely; no matter what cupboard she dug through, it seemed that the little containers had all taken a hike at her expense. Vaguely, she heard someone heading through the front door, but that could have been an artifact from the old house, too.

Kim stuffed everything together in a small bag with utensils and turned to rush it out only to find Sylvia standing in the way. "Excuse-"

"He left."

"But-"

"You were too slow." She stated firmly. "Now you're wasting our food, too."

Kim frowned. "If he's not far out, we could call him or-"

Sylvia cut her off by twirling her finger around in a 'turn around' motion, her brown and green eyes casually indifferent to the slightly apprehensive catgirl maid. Kim swallowed and stuttered, trying to find her voice.

Her confidence fell away as the woman entered the kitchen, stalking forward and driving her into the back mere inches away. When she felt her back hit the wall, Kim jerked forward in surprise, bumping into Sylvia.

That, it turned out, was a mistake.

Before she could react, Sylvia batted her hands away and grabbed one wrist, turning her face first against the wall, pressing her lithe body, hard and unforgiving into the maid's back. Her breath was minty against Kim's ear. "I don't like people that can't keep up, Kimberly. . ." Sylvia's free hand cupped Kim's ass perfectly, her nails digging playfully into the fringe of the velvet dress and clawing the ultra sensitive flesh underneath. She purred deeply while her hand gripped and slackened against Kim's rump.

"B- But, mistress, you said. . ." Sylvia's hand brushed against her tail and she mewled into the wall. Even though she'd never admit it, she clenched the plug inside so tightly she was sure it was going to crack. She wanted her tail pulled. She wanted to be reminded what it was like to be the beta in the odd relationship she had with them. More than that, she wanted to be a good maid.

You didn't get there without a little remedial training. Kim whimpered as Sylvia's fingers raked down her thigh, kissing her leg with the needling prickle of sharp fingernails. She promptly dragged them back up to Kim's flank.

Kim whimpered again, glancing back. "I'm sorry, Mistress. . . I'll- I'll do better."

"Mrrrm. . ." Sylvia dragged her nails across Kim's butt. "Will you?"

"Y- Of course, Mistress. I'm at fault and- eep!" Kim jumped when Sylvia slapped her ass firmly.

"Good." The younger woman eased up a little bit to let Kim breathe. "I want a massage today. Do you think you can manage that?"

"I- I-" SLAP "Yes!" Kim whined. "Yesmistress!"

"Good. Now, I'm going to go into town and while I'm gone, I expect the house cleaned up and everything taken care of. I want these floors scrubbed, too, Elliot's been tracking mud in here, it's disgusting. Understand?"

"Y- Yes." Kim coughed. "Yes, mistress."

"Good." Sylvia eased back so gently that Kim wasn't sure if she'd let go until she couldn't feel the pressure on her flanks any longer. When she finally dared a look back she saw that the woman was gone and she was alone in the kitchen, trembling like a leaf.

"Christ," she muttered as she turned and slumped against the wall. Secretly, however, when no one could have seen her, she bit her lower lip and clenched her thighs together tightly and wondered just what the 'massage' would entail.

#

"Ah, mistress?" Kim ventured carefully as she explored the second floor. She'd heard the shower running a few minutes earlier and between cleaning up the bedroom and sorting out the laundry that had been left in the dryer the night before, she found time to make another search for the necklace.

Still nothing on that front either.

It was frustrating, even terrifying, but still she had a job to do and after last night, she was probably already on thin ice. Maids didn't keep their job if they couldn't provide good service and Kim had done anything but provide good service, in fact she'd been going at this entire job wrong. She was a terrible maid and an even worse facilitator.

Sure, Sylvia was kind of a bitch. . .

Sure, she made Kim weak in the knees. . .

Sure enough. . .

Kim swallowed back on the lump in her throat and hefted herself up. She was a maid, more than that, she was their maid. She could do this. It wasn't like working at Bristol Myer, she wasn't doing complex calculations and that inane crap any more. She could be a professional catgirl maid.

"Yeah, I can do this." Kim squared her shoulders. "Mistress?"

"Down here!" Sylvia said from downstairs. When Kim made her way down, she found the door to the painting room opened and a soft flowing tune humming from a radio inside. Kim carefully edged her way up to the door and gave a knock. "Come in, kitten."

Kim rounded the corner and faltered in mid step. What she saw set her heart slamming against her generous chest. Sylvia was standing in the middle of the room in front of a folding massage table, bracing her hand on the table as she stretched out- and stretch she did.

Wearing nothing but a towel, it was only because she was facing Kim that she wasn't putting everything on display. The soft cloth hugged her form, accenting her modest bust and her tight core, but more than that, it showed off how strong she was- Sylvia's body was lithe, firm and powerful in ways Kim could only marvel at, and at that moment Sylvia was proudly displaying that power as she arched her back in a near perfect C while she pulled her foot from over her shoulder.

The woman's dual tone gaze settled on Kim, a catty, challenging smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. There was something in those eyes that sent a shiver up Kim's spine- one she couldn't suppress and almost instantly regretted. Sylvia grinned at her maid's reaction and eased her foot forward a little bit more until it touched her shoulder.

Kim couldn't help it; she silently wanted that towel to slip and fall from her employer's body. No one that beautiful should have hidden themselves, not when they taunted people with their beauty. Oh, but she could taunt Kim. . .

As if reading her mind, Sylvia let her foot go, extending her leg out to its full length, rolling her body in seductive feline roll like a cat waking up in no hurry to face the world. Slowly, she righted herself with a contented groan and laid her hands on the bench, eying Kim with a newly predatory smirk.

Kim's brain ground to a halt as she watched the woman smiling- the realization of what she had just witnessed and that something; that glint in her eyes. "Uh. . ."

"I want a massage." Sylvia tapped the padded table. When Kim didn't immediately jump to serve, she reached under the pad, producing a bag of oils which she tossed at her maid. "Is that a problem?"

"Ah. . . No, no mistress, it's not." Kim swallowed, clasped her hands over the bag and lowered her head demurely. Of course she peeked up when Sylvia climbed up on the table- watching her prowling form sprawl out on the table was worth the risk of being discovered doing so. When the younger brunette was settle down, she undid the knot in her towel and pushed it down to cover her butt.

"You're lucky, you know." Sylvia said calmly as she settled her pillow down under her head, turning to glance up at Kim with her green eye. "I never let a stranger touch me."

Kim opened the bag, checking over the oils quickly- strangely, all of them had lables announcing how edible they were. She glanced at the resting woman with an uncertain expression. "Ah. . . Their loss, I'm sure. But Uh-" she held up a bottle of vanilla oil. "Mistress, do you have a preference?"

"Mmmm..." Sylvia looked her up and down. "Surprise me."

Vanilla it was. Kim started to unclasp her cuffs, stopped when Sylvia cleared her throat and shook her head. Kim stretched out her fingers, drawing a deep breath to gather her courage. She rubbed her hands together a few seconds to generate some heat and uncapped the bottle, pouring some oil into her hand. "If I may-"

Sylvia cut her off. "You may."

"How does. . . How does the mistress like to be massaged?"

"First." Sylvia shook her right foot to get attention. Kim took it gently in her hands and started working her thumbs into the woman's foot carefully. "Secondly, I'm your mistress. For as long as you're here, you're our maid, kitten."

"Or kitten maid."

"Hmph."

Kim relaxed a bit as her confidence grew and she started to massage into Sylvia's ankle, one inch at a time paying homage to the younger woman's power and beauty the way a servant should have. She'd spoken out of turn, now she was going to have to make it up to her mistress. "I'm sorry, mistress. . . It's a habit. I've always been kind of, ah, casual?"

"Mmm, is that right? Well, let's try again. . ."

Kim re-oiled her hands, sliding her hands up to start working into Sylvia's ankle. She'd been right, the young woman was stronger than she'd first looked- she had the body of a runner; one that seemed ready to give in to Kim's attentions. "What- what would you wish of me, mistress?"

"Mmm. . ."

Kim inched up a little higher, taking the firm muscles of Sylvia's calf in one hand and rubbing oil into either side of her lower leg. She took full advantage of her position, eying the woman's toned back and the tight curve of her waist flowing to her modest yet perfectly holdable hips. . . Oh, but her butt.

She was one of those rare women that could set Kim's entire body tingling; Sylvia could have done a hell of a lot more than that if she'd even raised her finger the right way. It was only right that her maid, then, showed her the proper respect. Kim's hands trembled and she dared edge up a little higher near the base of the woman's thigh. Her pulse quickened as she eased her thumb up the woman's tanned flesh.

"Kitten?"

"Uh- Y- Yes?"

"You're shaking."

"Sorry, mistress. I. . . It's been a while."

"Mmm. You're off to a good start."

"Thank you, mistress."

Sylvia rotated her feet while Kim tenderly explored her compact body, gently easing her thumbs into her hard muscles and taking every chance she could to test the limits of her permission. As her heart slammed against her ribs, Kim massaged her thumbs into the younger woman's inner thigh. She slid up further, breath held.

"Kimberly. . ."

"M- Mistress. . ."

"You serve us."

Kim blinked. "I- Yes, mistress, of course I do."

"Then stop shaking. . ." She opened her eye, glancing back over her shoulder. "Serve me."

"I-" She could do this. "Mistress, I think we have different ideas of what constitutes servitude. . ."

"Is that so?" Sylvia reached over and tugged the towel off to the ground. "Any questions?"

Kim was stunned- her voice died on her lips as she stood in open mouthed awe at the sight of the woman's perfectly rounded muscular butt, now fully exposed and even tilted up at her in offering! Kim blinked a few times while her cheeks burned hotter and hotter. It wasn't just the curvaceous butt being all but offered to the catgirl maid- it was the glimmer of moisture on Sylvia's hairless lips. Her mistress was enjoying this, more than that, she was aroused by it. . .

Kim swallowed and mumbled indistinctly. Unconsciously, she brought her hand to Sylvia's butt to work the vanilla oil into her flesh. "M- My pleasure. . . Mistress."

"Mm. That's more like it."

It took Kim a second to work up the courage to fill her hands with more oil, even more to lay those hands on Sylvia's body- she slid her hands down the curve of the younger woman's butt, pressing inward against her flanks, all the while holding her breath. She knew better than to disobey, but if Elliot came in, there was no way she'd be able to explain.