u/madeherupabit

There are many joys of working from home, and being alone is often one of them. No one to bother me or complain about my music or judge me for eating cereal in my pajamas while I type away. But of course, being alone and being lonely are very close together. There are days where I would love someone to chat with, someone to bother me.

You are my only regular visitor: the cleaning lady who comes every other week. You are, conceptually, entirely unnecessary. I live alone and have only a few simple hobbies (cooking, reading, an occasional exercise); there is absolutely zero reason I can't handle all cleaning myself. But I don't like cleaning, I loathe it. And I make enough that I splurge on the little indulgence of having someone tidy up for me. My own personal maid.

On the days you come to my place, I have an excuse to dress up a little bit. I like to pretend I'm the CEO of my own home office: a blouse, a jacket, some slacks or pencil skirt, heels that clack around my hardwood floors, jewelry, even makeup! I'm not trying to impress you, really. If anything, I probably come across as a bit of a bitch, all gussied while all alone. You surely notice that my laundry pile is filled with sweats and cheap bras, so you know I'm not done up like this every day.

We don't even interact much, despite the show I'm putting on. I welcome you in and then retreat to my office while you pop in your headphones and set to work. Maybe I come out to make some tea or use the washroom, then eventually you knock lightly on my door to let me know you're done and heading out. Sometimes I have a little moment to chat, but usually that's it, a bit of fleeting excitement.

Sometimes, I do imagine it going differently. Us having a bit more of a chat. Us having a bit more than a chat. You are undeniably cute. Attractive. Sexy. But I'm paying you to do a job! I'm probably several years older than you, too. And I have no idea if you're into women. I'm just lonely sometimes, that's all! And you wear those tight leggings... you see me in my skirt and stockings... so maybe...

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No more maybe, it's time to make this happen! Will your character be shy and suppliant if I try to make a move? Will you be the one to tip the scales, coming into my office and teasing me while I work? There's so many places this can go, especially if I start to schedule your visits a little more often. Come tempt me and let's play (with discord preferred after some chatting here).

I wouldn't call myself especially fancy or proper. Maybe just a little Type A. Perhaps a bit proper. I guess it's the old pressure of being a straight A student still lingering as an adult. I feel best in a nice blouse, a fitted skirt, the right accessories. But I'm still a woman with needs! My lingerie is equally sophisticated and my drawer of sex toys is well organized. I try to keep my attitude peppy and my outlook sunny. I strive to be in control. My brunette hair is bouncy and my skin tanned just so.

The other side of this coin is that I keep finding myself fantasizing about almost my opposite. Well no, I don't want someone whose life is a mess, who's drunk and drugged up, or who does nothing to complain. But I do crave that hint of darkness...

I want porcelain skin. I want raven black hair or blindingly blonde locks. I want a thigh tattoo peaking out from a too-short skirt. I want aggressive red lipsticks smeared on my neck and nails leaving marks down my back. I want to be owned, to be shown off, to be ravaged and left wanting more. I want to call you Mommy while I taste your cunt on my fingers...

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Check my profile for more of my kinks (they aren't actually that extreme, lol). Mostly, I just want to tease and be teased, to build the sexual tensions between these near opposites until we explode with pleasure.

I wouldn't call myself especially fancy or proper. Maybe just a little Type A. Perhaps a bit proper. I guess it's the old pressure of being a straight A student still lingering as an adult. I feel best in a nice blouse, a fitted skirt, the right accessories. But I'm still a woman with needs! My lingerie is equally sophisticated and my drawer of sex toys is well organized. I try to keep my attitude peppy and my outlook sunny. I strive to be in control. My brunette hair is bouncy and my skin tanned just so.

The other side of this coin is that I keep finding myself fantasizing about almost my opposite. Well no, I don't want someone whose life is a mess, who's drunk and drugged up, or who does nothing to complain. But I do crave that hint of darkness...

I want porcelain skin. I want raven black hair or blindingly blonde locks. I want a thigh tattoo peaking out from a too-short skirt. I want aggressive red lipsticks smeared on my neck and nails leaving marks down my back. I want to be owned, to be shown off, to be ravaged and left wanting more. I want to call you Mommy while I taste your cunt on my fingers...

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I am 18+ and all characters must be 18+. We're both adults and you aren't actually my mommy. That's just what I moan when you touch me

Check my profile for more of my kinks (they aren't actually that extreme, lol). Mostly, I just want to tease and be teased, to build the sexual tensions between these near opposites until we explode with pleasure.

[My condo has always been small, but it's plenty for just me. Sure, a house would be nice, but I've accepted being alone and have made the space cozy. I drift through life content with my simple job, my simple joys, my simple home.

The windows from my second floor place look out onto a house that has been there for a century. My whole time here, that house has been occupied by an elderly man, also all alone. I'm pretty sure he bought it for like $10,000 a decade or two ago. Then eventually his wife passed away and left him alone in practically a mansion. I don't know why he didn't just sell it for a cool million or two and go live in Greece.

Then it *did* go up for sale. Perhaps he passed away too, or perhaps he finally went to Greece. I saw a For Sale sign briefly but never an open house, just a very quick change to Sold. Then two months of nothing, no occupants or remodeling.

It all changed last week, when **you** moved in. Clearly to have money, to afford the house.and the fancy furniture I see moved in. But more than that: you're *beautiful*. Gorgeous. Mesmerizing.

I find myself staring through my windows at you whenever I get the chance. I'm constantly worried you'll glance outside and catch me peeping, as I duck behind a curtain or a houseplant. It's not like I'm trying to catch you naked, specifically (though obviously I wouldn't mind!). The thing is: suddenly, for the first time in possibly years, I find myself filled with desire. Longing. Need.

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So what will happen when you finally catch me? Perhaps there's a long time of teasing, of you performing as though you don't know I'm spying, but you're enjoying the audience. Perhaps you're furious and come to give me a piece of your mind.

Whatever it is, I want you to show me absolute indulgence. Dress me up in the most expensive lingerie. Whisk me off to exotic locales I could never afford. Wine and dine and absolutely fuck me till I'm a puddle in your hands. I promise I will return the physical pleasure as much as I can, or die trying.

My condo has always been small, but it's plenty for just me. Sure, a house would be nice, but I've accepted being alone and have made the space cozy. I drift through life content with my simple job, my simple joys, my simple home.

The windows from my second floor place look out onto a house that has been there for a century. My whole time here, that house has been occupied by an elderly man, also all alone. I'm pretty sure he bought it for like $10,000 a decade or two ago. Then eventually his wife passed away and left him alone in practically a mansion. I don't know why he didn't just sell it for a cool million or two and go live in Greece.

Then it did go up for sale. Perhaps he passed away too, or perhaps he finally went to Greece. I saw a For Sale sign briefly but never an open house, just a very quick change to Sold. Then two months of nothing, no occupants or remodeling.

It all changed last week, when you moved in. Clearly to have money, to afford the house.and the fancy furniture I see moved in. But more than that: you're beautiful. Gorgeous. Mesmerizing.

I find myself staring through my windows at you whenever I get the chance. I'm constantly worried you'll glance outside and catch me peeping, as I duck behind a curtain or a houseplant. It's not like I'm trying to catch you naked, specifically (though obviously I wouldn't mind!). The thing is: suddenly, for the first time in possibly years, I find myself filled with desire. Longing. Need.

-----------------------------------------

So what will happen when you finally catch me? Perhaps there's a long time of teasing, of you performing as though you don't know I'm spying, but you're enjoying the audience. Perhaps you're furious and come to give me a piece of your mind.

Whatever it is, I want you to show me absolute indulgence. Dress me up in the most expensive lingerie. Whisk me off to exotic locales I could never afford. Wine and dine and absolutely fuck me till I'm a puddle in your hands. I promise I will return the physical pleasure as much as I can, or die trying.