His good luck doesn't hold out

Adam makes his way quickly to the nearest wardrobe and opens it.

It's too dark to make out the clothing. The moonlight shining in through the window is too faint. Reluctantly he turns on the bedside lamp, and the room is lit in a soft yellow glow.

The cupboard is full of hanging dresses. There are plenty of styles and colours, and Adam runs his hand across them, marvelling at their softness. At the end of the rack are two maid uniforms, short black dresses with white aprons. Adam smiles. Isla looks so hot in her uniform, he thinks. He briefly fantasises over a new forfeit for Nathalie involving the maid uniform, but puts it to the back of his mind as quickly as he can.

He has a job to do.

He opens the drawers under the cupboard and finds stockings and socks, neatly paired. He shuts it again, wincing slightly at the loud creaking the drawer makes as it slots into place. Isla might be out, but Chapman Hall's second maid Sarah and the cook would almost certainly be in their rooms.

He checks the drawers next to the bed and strikes gold. Isla's panties and bras. They look cheap in comparison to Lady Chapman's. He reaches in and selects a pair of white tangas with a black elastic waistband. Still, very nice, he thinks. He slips them into his pocket.

He opens the next drawer down and finds papers and douments. He sees her passport and checks it curiously. Isla is 21 years old. A few years older than him, but not so many really in the scheme of things. She looks great in her passsport photo, her curly red hair dominating the picture.

The next drawer down is laid out with t-shirts and blouses. He roots through them for a nightdress but has no luck.

But then he finds a cardboard box buried at the bottom of the drawer.

Curiosity gets the better of him and he opens it.

And then he smirks.

Sat in the box are two dildos - one black, one white. They are realistic looking rubber cocks with veins and balls. The black dildo has a suction cup base.

Dirty girl, he thinks.

Adam can't help but picture Isla sat on the dildo, firmly suction-cupped to a chair, riding it furiously, thusting her sweating body up and down on the wet black shaft, red hair plastered to her ecstatic face.

Drips of sweat sliding down her back and between her ass cheeks.

His cock grows hard in his jeans.

Now is not the time, he thinks.

Regretfully he slides the box back into the drawer and shuts it.

One more cupboard to go.

He opens it. There is swimwear, a pair of white tennis dresses, a posh wedding frock, and there, at the end, two nightdresses. One white, one pink, both made from soft transparent materials.

He takes the pink one, and bundles it up.

Done! He thinks with delight.

But he has been concentrating so hard on searching the room that he hasn't heard the door open behind him. He hasn't felt the draft. So when he turns and finds Isla stood in the doorway, looking stunning in a short green dress of thin fabric that shimmers on her athletic body, he literally jumps and lets out a startled gasp.

Isla is gripping a half-full bottle of bourbon and her face is flushed with alocohol and indignation.

"What the fuck are you doing in my room, you little pervert?"