The Maid Pt. 04

The Conversation

A Friday Afternoon Early in December

Note on Chronology

The Maid Part 01 was set on a November afternoon and contains a flashback scene to the preceding June in which Will remembers the first time he and Marieta had sex. The Maid Parts 02 and 03 are set in the weeks following that June day remembered in the flashback scene in Part 01. The Maid Part 04, the story you are about to read, takes place a couple of weeks after that Friday in November, which was the present time of Part One.

'You remember how we talked about our first time the other week?' she asked.

'Yes.' he replied.

'Then, we have a story. When you start to think about the first time, it means you are beginning chapter two.'

'I hadn't thought of it that way,' he said and asked, 'what is the difference between chapter one and chapter two in a story?'

'In chapter one, a story begins. Everything is new and exciting. If the story gets to chapter two, the story broadens and deepens, and complications arise.'

'Is that where we have arrived?'

'Yes.'

'And what does that mean?'

'We will see,' she said and changed the subject by remarking on how comfortable his bed is.

'This bed is very comfortable,' she said. 'I wouldn't mind sleeping in it.'

'You can sleep if you want to,' he told her.

'Sleeping together. that's closeness, that's intimacy.'

'Different from having sex?'

'Yes.'

He thought of the poem: 'you can have sex with anyone, but with whom can you sleep?' he quoted it to her. she nodded and said, 'yes. that's it.'

'I thought men could separate sex from love, but women couldn't,' he said.

She looked at him and rolled her eyes. 'That's what men think about women, but most women can, if they want to'.

'You like dirty talk, don't you?' he asked.

'Yes, it's fun and those words excites me, when I'm in the mood for that.'

'It turns me on too, when you talk like that.'

'I know,' she said. 'If I invite a man to call me a slut and a whore, it's fun. It's acting. We're playing roles, me as a slut or a whore, a character, a part.'

'Like acting?'

'Yes. but playing the role of yourself, another version of yourself.'

'You have a philosophy of sex,' he said.

She paused and smiled and said, 'yes, I probably do. I have had a lot of sex with a lot of people and I think about it. I think people show themselves most when they are having sex; they allow the person they are with to see the things they usually don't show.'

He thought she was right.

'So,' she went on, 'if I want to play the game of playing a slut and a whore, I play it. it's not real, it's a game, a fantasy for me and the man I'm with.'

He could not think of anything to say, so he said, rather lamely, 'I like it.'

She was a little disappointed with him, but perhaps she had been too subtle. She was inviting him to ask her about herself. She decided to prompt him. Let's play three questions, but with an adjustment to the game. We can respond to the answers. I'll go first.

'Ok,'

'Do you have a girlfriend now?'

'No.'

'Your turn.'

'How many men have you had sex with?'

'I thought you'd ask that. I don't know exactly. I think probably about two hundred.

'Wow!' he said.

'It's not as many as it sounds, think about it. I had sex for the first time on my wedding night with my husband when I was nineteen. Forty-four years, 200 men. That's about five each year. Have you had sex with any other women since we started?'

'Yes.'

She did not ask for details, but he wanted to tell her more.

'Only one woman. My age. I met her online and she came here from Lebanon for a weekend.'

'You don't have to tell me details. And nothing that might reveal a person's identity. That's a good rule to live by.'

'It's unlikely you know her, or that knowing any details about her would enable you to find out who she is,' he said obtusely.

'Doesn't matter,' she said, 'secrets must be kept. Your turn.'

All the questions that came to his mind; the ones he really wanted to know the answers to, were too direct. He feared they might offend her. As if she had read his mind, and knowing that if she asked him straight, he would not ask what she was sure he wanted to ask, she returned to the subject of talking dirty.

'When I call myself a slut and a whore, or when I invite a man to call me his slut or his whore, it's because it excites me in that moment, but on those occasions when I was whoring myself and having sex purely for money, I would not like being called that. Funny, isn't it? When I am a prostitute, I don't want to be called a whore, but when I'm not, I do!'

'You wanted me to ask if you have ever had sex for money.'

Yes.'

'Why?'

'Because I'm sure you wanted to know.

He had.

'But you were too shy to ask that.'

'I can't ask it now, because you've told me.'

She smiled and said, 'so I have. Ok, ask me if I'm a prostitute.'

'It's the same question.'

'Not entirely.'

'Ok, are you a prostitute?'

'I have been, and I may be again.'

She waited for him to ask her to elaborate, but he was still fearful of offending her. She would not have been offended. She trusted him enough now to tell him. She guessed why he did not ask.

'I thought about it, and I've decided to tell you tell you more about myself. First, though, I will ask my third question.'

'Ok.'

'How do you feel knowing you are having sex with a woman who has sometimes had sex for money?'

He hesitated for a moment and then decided to answer honestly. 'I like it. It kind of turns me on.'

She laughed and said, 'you're not the only man I've heard say that.

After a pause, during which he did not speak, she said, 'I'm going to guess that you have had sex with prostitutes before.'

'Yes, when I was younger and I wanted to try things; things I hadn't done before.'

There was a comfortable silence between them, which she broke when suddenly she looked serious and she said, 'I'm glad you didn't say, I don't pay you for it, because actually you do, but we pretend otherwise, and that makes the day pass that little bit more pleasantly.'

'But I don't see you as a prostitute, and what we do is not the same as the experiences I had when I visited prostitutes.'

'I'm glad you think that,' she said and smiled, 'but the difference is not one everyone would accept.'

He knew she was right.

'It's because you chose not to ask me these personal questions, that I'm telling you now. Whatever you might have thought, you respected me by not asking. I like that. So, I trust you.'

'Thanks, but in what way do you trust me?'

'I trust you not to tell anyone about what we do. I trust you to care about my feelings. I trust you not to think I'm a whore, when sometimes I am. I trust you to be delicate and believe, or pretend to believe that you really are just paying me very generously because I'm such an amazingly good cleaner.'

She looked at him intently.

'Well, you are the most amazing cleaner ever.'

'Especially when I'm cleaning your cock with my mouth.' She laughed loudly.

'Exactly,' he said.

They fell silent.

'I don't like the word 'prostitute'. It's always negative. A woman has sex for money. A man too, though less often. I prefer to say 'escort'. It's more neutral, less judgmental. And then there is what I do with you.'

'And what do you like to call that?'

'Friends with benefits? What would you call it?'

'I call it erotic friendship', he said.

She thought for a moment and said, 'yes, I like that.'

'And what do you call yourself?' he asked.

'An erotic friend,' she said and grinned. 'I like to call myself a concubine or a courtesan. Those words sound fun and mysterious.'

He liked those too, and told her so.

She was warming to her topic and he saw she wanted to tell him more.

'I'm not going to tell you any details of who or what. I will tell you though that I have been having sex with men I clean for since I was young. I was twenty-four when I came here. I worked for a family and I lived in. I went to clean for a friend of the man of the family I worked for. I went to his house to clean on my day off, with my employer's knowledge and permission. The man was in his forties and good looking and he was divorced. He took time to get to know me and I liked him.

One day, we sat down to drink tea together, and he flirted with me and I flirted back and before long we were in his bed having sex. I enjoyed it. When he paid me for cleaning, he gave me quite a lot more than usual. He said it was a gift between friends. I didn't want to take it at first, but he gently insisted.

Afterwards, I told a friend, one of the older women in the Filipino community here, and she laughed and joked that I had taken a long time to getting around to it. I was shocked, really. She told me that what had happened between me and the man I was cleaning for, was common. I had not realised. I was very naïve when I was young.

I thought about it, and decided that I was comfortable with having sex with men I liked in exchange for 'gifts', and the extra money was very helpful.'

The next time I went to clean for him, I said to him, I have not been living here very long, but I know that men like you don't openly have relationships with the women who clean their houses. He smiled and said, that's true, but many men here do have sex with their maids, and the ones who are good men treat their maids generously. It was confirmation of what my friend had said. You simply had to play by the rules.

After that, we would have sex whenever I went to clean his house and he would pay me very generously for cleaning.

That funny thing is, I had never thought of looking for that until I started doing it with him. I mentioned it to other friends in the community, and they told me they did it too, and they laughed and told me that they had been as naïve and innocent when they had first come here when I told them I hadn't thought of it. They also told me that foreign men, from Western countries, are less worried about secrecy. They will openly date Filipinas.

Since then, and that was over thirty years ago, I've done it whenever I wanted to. I accepted men I liked and declined those I didn't. I will have sexual relationships in return for delicately given gifts of money, but only if I like the man and find him attractive, and if I think I will enjoy having sex with him.

I have a few rules, though. I don't mind married men, if they are here alone and their wives live in their own countries, or if they live elsewhere here or if they have girlfriends who don't live with them. I won't have sex with a man whose wife or girlfriend lives with him, and I don't like meeting the wife or girlfriend inadvertently. When I have, it usually led to the end of the thing I had with the man.

I have done out and out prostitution when I needed the money. And the money I made doing that paid for important things, like my children's education. Before the internet, I would go on a trip to another city and go to the bars at the upscale hotels. I never risked doing it here. I went to Beirut to do it too, sometimes.

Since the internet came along, I met men online. I began with an advertisement on an escort site, which I put up when I needed to, and took it down when I didn't need to do it. More recently, I use social networking sites. Usually these days, it's men visiting here on business or for a holiday, who want some fun, and don't want the bother of having to try to find a woman and court her, because they don't have the time for that.

Of course, n that world, I have had to have sex with men I didn't find attractive, or even like, but I was well paid. And I suppose I've been lucky, because I've never had any really bad experiences. Like being attacked or abused.'

'You've led a life, that's for sure.'

'I'll take that as a compliment', she said, although it was clumsily phrased. He had not meant it to sound like a criticism, and she knew that.

'I grew up in a poor family in the provinces in the Philippines. We had nothing, but we were a happy family. My parents were good people and they did their best for us. I have four siblings. Two brothers and two sisters. There was no money for college for any of us. I married at nineteen and had two children by the time I was twenty-four. My husband didn't earn enough for us to survive on.

We decided to become OFW's, Overseas Filipino Workers. He got a job in Saudi Arabia and I came here. We wanted to be together, but that's the way things turned out. Our children were raised by my mother and father. We sent money back for them and our wider families. We had two more children, one conceived when we were back home on one of our yearly trips to the Philippines.'

'And the other?'

'My youngest son is quite a bit younger than his siblings. He's at university now in Manila. He's nineteen. I had him when I was forty-four. His father is a Filipino man I had a relationship with here. He was a lot younger than me. The relationship didn't last. My husband told me, surprisingly, have the child and I will say he's mine.

'Life dealt me a poor hand of cards, but I think I played my poor hand pretty well. Three children grown up and married, two of them with children, and one with one on the way. They all have university educations and they all have professional positions. The young one at university now. My life has been a struggle at times, but I have enjoyed a lot of it too.

'And, yes I have enjoyed the sex. I love sex and I love having sex with different men. And I'm glad that I could help my family and have fun doing it.'

She paused for a moment and then said, 'the world condemns prostitution, but it doesn't condemn the things that lead women, and men, into prostitution.'

They fell silent again, and lay side by side in silence.

'I'm very lucky,' he said. 'I grew up in England. My family is middle class, not rich, not poor, but comfortable. It was a given that I would go to university and have a professional career, as long as I did the work to get it.'

'Never married?'

'Not yet.'

'Want to?

'Yes, I think so.'

'Marriage is good, even it's a strange one like mine. I will tell you more about that another day.'

'Ok', was all he said to that, but he was curious about her husband.

'I think you've probably had quite a lot of women.'

'Yes, I suppose I have.'

'How many?'

'I think around forty. How did you know I had had a lot.'

'The way you are. Relaxed, confident. You seem very self-assured. That comes to men who are successful with women and know they are attractive. Your confidence in bed, even if you are sometimes a bit shy about telling me what you like.'

'You're good at working it out!'

'Are you more confident with other women you've had?'

'I think so, yes.'

'So, why a little shy with me?

'I don't really know. Maybe because you're older than me. I don't know. Anyway, I've always been shy about telling women I want them to piss on me!'

'So you went to prostitutes for that? The things you were too embarrassed to ask your girlfriend to do.'

'Yes.'

'And yet...'

He saw her point before she made it. she saved him by saying, 'I'm your erotic friend, not your girlfriend.'

They both laughed. He said 'yes.'

Another silence.

'Anyway. We've talked enough for one afternoon. I want you to fuck me. But first, give me my money now.'

'Really?' he said.

He went to get it. When he returned, she had got out of bed and she was holding her handbag in her hands. He gave her the money and she put it in her handbag.

'Now,' she said. 'I'm your whore. Fuck me like a whore. Use me.'

She threw her leg up not the edge of her bed. She opened herself as wide as she could and looked down at him and said, 'is that good cunt? How much is that cunt worth?

'It's the fucking best,' he told her.

Their sex was always fucking not love making, but that afternoon there was a new even greater aggression in them than before and they went at each other like wild animals. As they kissed, it was as if they were biting each other and as they embraced each other, it was as if they were clawing and mauling at each other.

'All my talk about what I've done has got me hot,' she said.

'And me,' he replied. 'I want to eat your pussy.'

She wanted to be provocative and, knowing what his answer would be, she asked him, do you want to eat it because it's been fucked by two hundred cocks?'

'Yes,' he said energetically, and he really did. She had never been so desirable to him as she was in that moment. She had been right. Telling him about her past would make him desire her even more. As he licked and sucked her pussy lips, and sucked her clitoris, and pushed his tongue inside her hole, he saw in his mind pictures of her sucking men's cocks. Being fucked, having threesomes, taking on whole groups.

She encouraged him by telling him over and over as her ate her, 'two hundred cocks, a two hundred cock pussy, my fucking pussy fucked by two hundred cocks, eat it, baby.'

He could not resist any longer. Her needed to be inside her. he moved into position on top of her and guided his cock inside her. 'Two hundred and one,' he said, staring down at her.

'And another two hundred before I die,' she answered.

They stared each other hard in the eye. Neither of them flinched, but in the end he blinked and she told him to turn her over and take her from behind, 'fuck me like a dog,' she barked, like she was giving him an order.

He did as he was told and took her doggy style, pumping her hard and fast as she shouted obscenities at him to urge him on.

He held her arse cheeks open so that he could admire her anus as he fucked her pussy. The sight of her delicious sphincter was too much to simply look at. He had to touch it, so he caressed it with his fingertip and then without lubricant he pushed it inside. She squealed with pleasure and then turned her head and told him. 'fuck my arse. Get your cock up there. Just stick it up there, come one, fuck Marietta's arse.'

He pulled out of her cunt and with her slime coating his cock, he pushed it into her anus. Her pussy was tight, but her arse was tighter still. When he was all the way in, the soft velvet flesh inside softly hugged his cock and her sphincter gripped the base of his cock with vice-like tightness.

'Fuck it hard, fuck it without mercy, fuck my fuckin' arse.'

He filthy talk heightened his excitement even further, and hers, because he felt her brace and then stiffen and then shake, as she came.

'Whoa', he almost shouted, impressed at her capacity to have an orgasm from anal sex.

Understanding him, she turned and said, 'fuck, yeah. Marietta comes when you arse fuck her.'

With those words, she pushed him over the edge and his cock squirted his sperm deep inside her anus. When he withdrew from her, she told him to come with her to the bathroom. She squatted on the toilet and told him to sit on the floor in front of her.

He watched as she strained and for a moment he thought a turd might emerge from her arse, but instead, it was his sperm that she was squeezing out. What muscle control!

'Watch me drip dry,' she said and poked her tongue out at him lasciviously.

Suddenly, her felt something warm on his chest. It was a jet of her piss. She leaned back a little so that it hit his chin. He ducked down a little so that t would hit his open. He opened his mouth and her piss jet went straight in and he drank her.'

When she finished pissing, she leaned back on the toilet and said, 'your turn.' He wanted to go, so he held his now flaccid cock and aimed for her tits. She purred with pleasure as his piss shot from his cock onto her tits. She rubbed it over her skin and caught it in her hands and lapped it from the pool it formed in her cupped hands, like a greedy cat. with a bowl of cream.