A night with Victoria.

We get back to her house. I try to follow her lead, since anything I do might turn into an issue. She takes her heels off right away then heads to her bedroom. I take off my sports jacket and tie, then look for a place to hang it. I settle on the back of a dining room chair, but now I’m paranoid about it. I shake my head to wake up.

I look over all the items on the table, souvenir items, coupons, gift certificates, and gourmet snacks. I start opening the bags, and setting them up in rows, not wanting to do more without her approval.

I walk into the living room, about to call out to ask where a suitable bathroom is when I notice something. She has an antique roll-top secretary that is open, with mail and office supplies in it. Sitting in the back corner, I see a small silver key. It looks like a key on her keyring... I think it is for her desk at work. I check over my shoulder quick, then grab it.

Victoria comes back. To my overwhelming disappointment, she is wearing some relatively modest clothing. A loose cotton shirt with a collar so wide that it keeps slipping a few inches down one shoulder. She has simple black leggings and is barefoot. She is still hot as hell, but not enough to make me spontaneously spout poetry.

“What bathroom should I use?” She directs me to a small one near the back door. It is very small, maybe triple the size of an airplane restroom, at most. I get the servant’s bathroom, I muse. After relieving myself, I return to the kitchen to see Victoria has reorganized half of what I had already done. I notice my jacket is gone, too. I feel like I anything I do is going to be in her way. Why am I even here?

She finishes straightening a pile. Then starts to direct me. “Empty bags here. We work from opposite sides of the table, filling bags from this end to that, then stuff with tissue paper here, then they get racked in these boxes here. Each full box gets put against that wall in the living room.” It all makes sense. It is a good plan. I nod along. There are hundreds of bags to fill and it is 10:30 pm. That part was bad planning.

We get to work, filling the first box pretty quickly, other than the lecture over how I was crinkling the tissue paper wrong. After I moved the filled box to the living room, I see Victoria is opening another bottle of wine. She pulls out two glasses, then looks at me before pouring the second one. “You aren’t going to spill it, are you?” My immediate reaction is feeling insulted. Then I think about all the things getting moved about, then her white rugs and white grouted tile floors. She does have a point, I have to admit.

“No, I’ll keep it over on this counter,” I say, pointing to a clear area near the next box we will be filling. She seems satisfied by that. I take a sip, whatever it is, it is very good. No sooner do I set it down than she chides me again.

“Use a coaster or it will stain.” I look at her stone countertop and realize that I don’t know if it would or not, so I assume she is right. How many etiquette rules are drilled into her head? How many times has she been chided this way. I look around until I find a stack of white coasters near the sink and use one.

We plow through another two boxes when she gets up and turns on some bluetooth speakers and syncs her phone to them. I watch from the corner of my eye as she bends over the counter, tapping at her phone. Her legs and ass calling to me. Music kicks in, the her ass starts gyrating. I can’t even pretend to work. I am transfixed. She sings along starts dancing by herself for a moment. Her moves are so fluid and natural and rhythmic. She is dynamic and confident. It stuns me to see this beauteous creature totally in touch with the whole of herself in the moment, moving without concern that anyone else is in the room. I feel privileged just to have witnessed it. What can’t she do? The song ends and she sits down to work again.

We get back up to full speed on our production line. Every hour one or both of us stops to pee. As I get up to the ‘servant’s’ bathroom, I realize Victoria’s phone is still unlocked and unattended on the counter. And from where Victoria is, she can’t see it, and she is getting pretty drunk. I pick up my wine glass, take a swig, then swap it with her phone, and walk into the bathroom. I sit on the toilet, browsing her phone for anything good while I pee. There are lots of apps that I don’t recognize and I ignore. I tap on the photo app and flip through pics. Selfies, travel photos, family photos, then...BAM!

There is a series of professional photos in lingerie. Good thing I had already finished peeing, because I grow a hard-on in a few seconds. I start stroking myself. She is wearing a harness style black bra. Six velvety black straps connecting to a ring at her collar bone, and another between her breasts. The cups are so lacy that they could be transparent. Her dark nipples showing through. The small black triangle of panties barely covers her pussy. The corners of the triangle also have rings where six more straps wrap around her hips. A wide black choker is around her neck. Talk about a world-class escort, this is amazing! I remember where I am and flush the toilet. I select the photos and send them to my phone, then delete the message after washing my hands. I close out the photo app and switch back to the music player. I return it to the counter while taking another sip from my wine glass. I can’t wait to browse them later.

“My third wind just kicked in,” I say with a wink.

Victoria looks like she could use a third wind. She is determined, but slowing down. “Thank god, we still have a way to go.” She takes a sip of wine.

It is 2:00 am when we finally finish. She gives my my coat at the door, yawning. “Thanks for staying so late to get it done.”

“Thank you for the memorable night.”

With that, I leave.