Reparations

"Can we stop talking about my bum?"

"Fine." I reply and mime fondling her bum whilst mouthing the word 'Awesome'.

Mary is still blushing, but she had a hint of a smile on her lip and she won't look me in the eyes.

Her gaze stops on my crotch and it's my turn to feel uncomfortable. In sporting more than half an erection.

"Let's get that duster back." I offer and turn away.

Despite my longer arms, I know they are too thick to go under the cabinet, so I choose the man's way and pull it away from the wall. Leaning over the top, I can just about reach it over the top. As my fingertips brush it, Mary speaks.

"Seems I'm not the only one with a nice bum!"

Stretching further, I snag it and retrieve it with a flourish and turn to face her.

"I'll accept mine may be nice, but yours is Stellar. How about we call it a day? It's nearly two hours. At the higher rate, of course."

She smiles at that and shakes her head, amused.

"I'd better go and change." Turning, she heads out of the door.

"You can take that outfit with you if you want. Show it to your husband."

She calls back from the hall.

"I think that would raise too many questions about how I had it, don't you? I'll leave it here for next week." With that, she closes my bedroom door behind her.

That's a turn up for the books, I never expected her to wear it at all, let alone to seemingly be willing to wear it each time. Walking to the door, I look across to my bedroom and imagine Mary in just her bra and panties. Not that it takes too great a feat of imagination as I'd seen both now.

Turning away, I get a jolt of panic as I see the laptop showing the video recording full screen and imagine how hard it would be to explain that.

Stopping the recording and pushing the cabinet back into the corner, I turn to see Mary slipping on her coat. Stepping up to help, I ask.

"I want to ask you something, but you don't have to answer now, as I want you to really think about it. How different did you feel about yourself when you wore that uniform? And did it feel any different when you knew I was watching you?" She looks thoughtful and I'm fairly sure I know the answer.

I open the door for her, but before she can step through it, I add.

"Next week no bra." I joke.

She turns, astonished. "In your dreams!" She replies

"Most definitely." She looks uncertain, am I joking about dreaming of her like that or joking about expecting her to put on her 'uniform' without a bra.

"I'm not pressuring you. Just think how it made you feel today and imagine how it would feel if you did it again but without your bra. Think about it and you decide. You already know which I'd prefer."

Mary looks a little flushed as she turns and goes.

Returning to the lounge, my first instinct is to have a wank while watching the video. However, I decide I need to wait a few minutes in case she comes back. Then I remember I'd left my car keys in my car when the rain came on.

As I reach the car, I look over to see Mary about to enter her front door and her husband at the kitchen sink with a can of beer in his hand. I wave, but he ignores it. Mary appears and wraps her arms around him from behind and I'll never know what she said, but he puts the beer down and they vanish from the window.

By the time I've got my keys and locked the car, I look over just as their bedroom curtains are pulled shut. That is all the confirmation I needed that Mary enjoyed today's games more than she'd admit.

After watching the video all the way through, I'm hard and have my jeans and underwear off. It looks great, but I want to watch it again on the larger TV screen. This time I watched it in slow motion, standing in front of the TV wanking and not caring that anyone approaching my front door could see both.

Seeing her perfect bum with her white panties stretched tight across them, the curve of her cheeks, the swell of her pussy and the little cushioning of it with her pubic hair. I freeze-frame it and wank while imagining what she'd look like with sexier panties, a G-string or something.

Or better yet with no underwear, kneeling there waiting for me to join her and push my fat cock inside. That's it! That's enough to trigger my ejaculation. I just get a handkerchief to catch it, and moments later I chuckle to myself trying to think what Mary would think if she had to clean that up.

The fleeting thought of having Mary watch while I wank to her image passes through me, but it's too alien an idea to get any traction.

Then the guilt set in. Was this what I've been reduced to? Masturbating to an illicit video of my neighbour. Until a little over a year ago, I dated fairly frequently, although not seriously or for very long. The last woman I'd dated had turned sour, and I decided to lay off dating for a while. I think it's time to think about getting back out there.

Heading to the gym, I did a longer and harder workout than usual, partially as punishment for feeling guilty about Mary and partially to prepare for dating again.

I was already aching as I opened my front door and drew a hot bath, taking a large gulp of malt whisky just before I stepped into it. The heat of the alcohol warming my insides as the heat on the water worked into my sore muscles.

Relaxing, my mind turned back to Mary. Only this time it was about why she had done it.

I'd never noticed a vibe of sexual interest between us previously. So it wasn't some sort of sudden flirting. It could have been closet exhibitionism, but her embarrassment of accidentally flashing me her bum was too genuine for that.

I knew one thing; she was starved for attention and compliments. As was obvious from her pleasure, despite her embarrassment, at my compliments of her.

Running through everything we'd said, the last option I could come up with was she was submissive or suggestible. It seemed to fit in from what I'd overheard from conversations with her husband. Mostly they were of him listing jobs he expected her to do while he was at work, and I'd never heard her refuse.

Was that it? She was so used to doing what she was told; she dressed in that silly uniform because I asked her? It might be a factor, but I suspect the need to feel desired was a larger part of it, and her reluctance was part of the performance.

I'd dated a number of women who acted all coy if I suggested something naughty. However, they gave in remarkably easily with a little gentle persuasion. Engaging in whatever I suggested with enthusiasm once it was clear their feigned reticence was noted.

One woman loved to be tied up and taken roughly from behind. However, she'd never outright asked for it. Instead, when she wanted to play she asked me to get something from her bedroom or bathroom cabinet and I'd 'discover' her ropes. She'd act all reluctant, but if I didn't push her into it she'd pout or get downright annoyed.

She claimed she only did it because I'd insisted, which I hadn't. Offering to let me do all sorts of naughty things if only I'd untie her afterwards. Not really my thing and when she wanted me to call her nasty names as I did it. I decided it was time to call it quits. A little too rapey for me.

But I realised I'd digressed from my thinking about Mary, as if there was one thing I was certain about was that wasn't Mary's personality. But then again given how I'd never expected to see her wearing a sexy French maid's costume, perhaps I didn't know her as well as I thought.

I would have to wait until next week to see if she returned. If she wore the uniform without prompting. And if she did so, would she do it without a bra. However, in the extremely unlikely event that she did, what did that mean? And how far could or should I take this? I'd no desire to break up a marriage, even if she'd be better off without Jim.

That night after an enjoyable meal and several glasses of wine, I turned on the TV to see the image of Mary's bottom still frozen on the screen. The plain white cotton panties stretched across her bum distracted from the perfection of her derriere. Grabbing my laptop, I started to surf the net for more sexy underwear, trying to imagine Mary in them.

Then I realised how I could push this a little further. Assuming she came back at all or wore the costume. Even if she refused to wear it without a bra, I could buy her a G-string and tease her about flashing her knickers again.

In my mind, I saw it as an escalation on the original joke. And a definite step beyond anything Mary would do. However, it wasn't worth spending too much on the underwear she'd never wear. So I flicked into Amazon and hoped it wouldn't screw up my recommendation too much, searched for a black G-string.

Choosing a nearly transparent black lace item, the waistband about an inch wide. The pouch so narrow, if Mary were ever to wear it, she'd need some serious landscaping of her pubes. The sort of thing one I could swallow with one sip of water. Then as a backup, I added a pair of powder blue lacy boy shorts. A sort of halfway house between what she'd worn and the extreme of the G-string. It would still show off her bum cheeks beautifully, exposing nothing else.

Clicking the confirm order I realised this couldn't go on too long as it was costing more than she was repaying.

Chapter 3 - Underwear

As I let Mary in on Saturday morning, I sense instantly something is off.

"Morning." I offer, and she only offers a mumbled reply.

Going on my guard, expecting some sort of recriminations over the last week. Getting her the French maid's outfit had been a drunken joke, and I never expected her to actually wear it. However, Mary simply hangs up her jacket and heads into my bedroom, leaving me alone in the hall. I suppose that's something, so I return to finishing my breakfast.

Several minutes later she walks into the kitchen wearing the maid's uniform. Which is great, not only did it seem I wasn't the cause of her mood this morning, but also from the view. Then I realise she's not wearing a bra. She holds up a single-digit to silence me.

"Not a word!" she says as she heads to the sink and starts picking up the pans I'd planned on putting through the dishwasher. She starts to bash them about as if she has something against them.

"What's the matter? Is it the costume? Because if it is, you really don't have to wear it?"

"No!" She replies a little too quickly. "It's about Jim and that's all I want to say about it."

Ok, I know when not to get between a husband and wife in an argument. I'm just pleased it's not about the outfit or me. Even though her back is to me it's great she's tried it without the bra, it looks so much better. Last week I'd noticed the straps of her bra exposed on her shoulders.

After several more minutes pass in silence, I'm dragging out finishing my breakfast as an excuse to admire Mary's legs and curvy bum under her minuscule skirt.

"He's away on a stag weekend." She declares, unable to keep quiet about what's bothering her.

"Oh!" is the best I can come up with.

"And while he promised nothing sketchy would happen, I don't trust the other guys from his football club. They have a reputation for things like this getting out of hand."

"Oh!" I repeat.

"It's just I know what Jim is like, easily led astray. Like all men."

"Hey, not all men," I reply, automatically defending myself, and then I chuckle. "Ok, having you dressed like that kinda undermines my point." She chuckles, and then sighs, then resting one hip against the sink turns towards me. Glancing at me for an instant, before dropping her eyes to the ground, she asks.

"Satisfied?" Without the bra, her breasts hang a little lower, but the sculptured shape of the blouse and waistcoat holds them in place and forms a lovely cleavage. "I told you not to expect too much," she adds

"Are you mad?" I exclaim standing and stepping towards her, taking her hand in mine I give it a gentle squeeze. "You look stunning."

She looks into my eyes, seeking reassurance.

"Honestly, better than I ever could have hoped for. You truly are beautiful." Her expression changes to disbelief.

"Ok, if you don't believe me, remember last week. I'm sure you noticed my physical reaction to you?" She glances down to my crotch and back.

"That cannot lie. You are an attractive and desirable woman, even if your husband is too stupid to notice." I give her hand another gentle squeeze.

"Thanks, I needed that." She pulls her hand free. The moment feels a little too intimate.

"I'd better get back to work. I don't want to be chastised by my boss for slacking." She turns back to the sink.

"True, that might earn you a smacked botty."

"Really?" She asks amused and surprises me by pushing her bum out.

On instinct alone, my hand reaches out and slaps her bum firmly. We both freeze in shock, Mary turns her face towards me, her mouth open and I snatch my hand back as if in contact with molten lava.

"Oh, god I'm so sorry." I blurt.

Mary blinks, closes her open mouth and then replies.

"It's OK, I actually rather..." She looks away. "It's OK."

She repeats and there is a definite awkwardness between us. So I try to defuse it the only way I know, humour. Dropping to my knees and raising my hands in a praying motion.

"Please forgive your humble disciple to the celestial bottom, for deigning to inflict any damage, no matter how slight to the divine derriere." Mary laughs, thank god that worked.

"Arse!" she replies.

"What is it you used to do to your son when he was younger and hurt himself? Kiss away the boo-boos?" Mary turns towards me, raising one eyebrow.

"You want to kiss my bum?" 'Kissing is just one thing I'd like to do to it' I thought.

"Whatever is needed for penance for my grievous sin."

"Stop messing about. Away with you." She waves one foot at me as if to shoo me away. I grab the ankle and place her foot on my kneeling thigh.

"That's it; stand upon your servant, one so lowly he does not deserve the honour of feeling the sole of your foot." Something about Mary's demeanour gives me the impression she likes that idea. Perhaps she has mistress-slave fantasies?

Whatever the reason, she does not attempt to take her foot away. I take the chance to admire her up close. From this angle, her bust looks bigger, and I'd swear there was a hint of nipples showing through the cloth. Looking lower, with one leg raised, I can see a hint of the front of her panties under the skirt.

Looking up, there is excitement and apprehension on her face. Enjoying the game while scared where it might end up.

"You know I can see your underwear from here?" Her eyes widen a little, and then she feigns indifference.

"So? You saw a lot more last week."

"OK, so you wouldn't object if I did this?" slipping a hand under her foot I started to lift it higher.

Mary could easily have stopped me, her leg far stronger than my arm, but she didn't. I kept my eyes locked on her eyes as her leg rose until her thigh was parallel with the floor. Only then did I look down. I was disappointed that the pleats of her skirt had shifted and covered her underwear.

However, Mary couldn't be sure of that and this was the point. I wanted to see how she reacted to the chance she was being exposed. Two things gave me hope. First, she'd not pulled away or stopped me, and the second was as I looked up at her. At her flushed face, there was no doubt her nipples were hard beneath the blouse.

Moving her knee sideways, opening up her thighs more, broke the spell and Mary pulled her leg from my grasp.

"What are you like?" She asks, turning back to the sink and pushes both hands into the soapy water to resume work.

I sat for a few seconds and realised my idea she might be submissive might have been accurate. However, I suspected she might not even know that herself.

"I'm popping out for some groceries, anything we need cleaning wise?" I ask, standing.

"Oh yes, I'm glad you asked. Have you a pen and paper?" She turns and dries her hands as I hand over a pad and pen. Mary puts the pad on the table and leans over to start writing a list.

Trying to be subtle, I move slowly around the table to enjoy the look down her cleavage.

"You're not fooling anyone you know," Mary says without looking up.

"In that case, it must be OK. You're not doing anything to stop me." She looks up and holds out the list to me.

"If I'm honest, I'm scared to make any sudden moves in case I fall out."

I'm tempted to not reach all the way across the table, forcing her to lean further forward, but don't want to overplay my hand. At least not yet.

"How about you do some jumping jacks so we can check?" I reply instead.

"Behave!" She admonishes, but with a grin.

I'd just parked my car after returning from the shops and pulling the bags from the back seat when the postman appeared with a cardboard Amazon envelope. He popped it into a bag and went on his way.

Inside the house, I saw Mary in the lounge with the feather duster again. I pause to stand in the doorway to watch. Mary saw me, gave me a smile and kept dusting, perhaps with a little more pep in her work.

"Careful, you don't want a repeat of last week." I joke, and then take the bags into the kitchen.

Mary follows me, gathering the cleaning supplies as I unpack them. She spots the Amazon envelope on the table. "What's that? Another late night drunken order?"

"Yes and no, it's something for you either way. Open it."

"Should I be worried after the last thing you bought me?" She gestured to the maid's uniform but tore open the packet.

The first thing that fell out was the tiny black G-string in a clear packet.

"A g string, seriously? I've never worn one in my life."

"I just thought that with a bum as great as yours it shouldn't be covered up with granny panties. However, there is an alternative as well." Mary checked the envelope and withdrew the second pair.

"Oh, those are actually pretty nice. Not granny panties as you refer to mine, but not a bit of string up your butt and claiming to be underwear."

She takes them from the packet and holds them up to examine them. The powder blue material is lacy without being see-through. The cut meant most of her bum would be exposed without exposing the 'good' bits.

"Those I could actually wear. Although, I'm not sure who would get to see them at the moment." I realise she was meaning her husband being in the potential dog house when he got home and didn't want her to dwell on it.

"Fancy a coffee?" I ask and flick on the machine.

Mary takes a seat and winces.

"Sorry, it's just the plastic of the seat is a bit cold on the back of the thighs," she explains. "Can I ask you something a bit personal?"

"I think you've earned that considering."

"How come you don't have a girlfriend? You're good looking with a good job and a nice house. Given what I'm wearing and what you just bought, it's obvious you're into girls, so why single?"

Not an unreasonable question and it deserves an answer, even if it is a little comfortable.

"I had a few unfortunate relationships..." I remembered the last but one was the woman and her ropes. "And a little over a year ago I resorted to joining a dating website. Don't judge me." Mary shrugs, but I sense a hint of amusement.

"I messaged a few women and one suggested we meet. We went to a wine bar on our first date and she asked for a lift home. As I waited for her to get out of the car, she suggested a goodnight kiss. Which led to snogging and some teenage-style groping.

"She invited me to her place for our second date and I almost walked out when I saw the state of it. Messy and smelling of mould. She cooked a small frozen pizza and when we finished, she asked if I was still hungry. It took me a moment to realise she wasn't talking about food." Mary grins as she realises what I'm saying.