02-07-2020, 12:19 PM
He grinned again.
“You used to be such a stuck up bitch though, didn’t you?”
“Yes Granddad, but I’m different now.”
“So I see. Well, you’re not finished yet, young lady. Clear these plates away, then get on with the washing up. Oh, and I don’t think you need a skirt on for that, do you?”
I felt colour rush to my cheeks. “No Granddad.” I murmured. I untied the skirt, removed it and dbangd it over the back of a chair. Then I set about clearing the table and washing up while he sat and watched me, smoking cigarettes almost constantly.
I washed all the plates and pans, dried them and put them away, taking every opportunity to bend over and give him a good view of my bum. I could feel the heat building in my pussy. I hoped that whatever he had in mind for me, he’d do it soon.
“What shall we do this evening, Granddad?” I enquired, trying to sound innocent.
“Sunday night is cards night.” He said.
“Cards night?” I echoed stupidly.
“Yes. A few of my mates come over and we play cards and have a few drinks. Do that every Sunday. They’ll be here in a bit. When they get here, I want you to make them feel really welcome. Get them whatever they want, show some hospitality, ok?”
I swallowed nervously. This was getting more and more bizarre. Firstly I’d been locked in his flat as a domestic slave and cook, then I’d been the after dinner cabaret, now I was to be some sort of hostess to a group of dirty old men.
“Are you going to do as you’re told? I don’t want any nonsense out of you. Any tantrums and I’ll smack your arse, right?”
“Yes, Granddad. I’ll be good, I promise.”
“Good.” He looked at me with piercing eyes which promised retribution if I put a foot wrong. At that moment the doorbell rang. I looked at him for instructions and he barked “Don’t just stand there, go and open it. Show the gentleman in here.”
I hurriedly put my skirt back on then scampered off to the front door and opened it. A squat old man stood there, waiting. He had a large pot belly which hung over the waistband of his faded jeans and pushed at the buttons of his grubby white / grey shirt. He was virtually bald, but what hair he did have left had grown long and straggly, stretched across his bald head in an apparent attempt to give the impression of a full head of hair.
“Are you here to see Mr. Stuart?” I smiled at him.
“That’s right.” He said. His eyes ran up and down my entire body, lingering on my legs and breasts. “And who might you be?”
“I’m Alison, I’m a friend of Mr. Stuart’s. Please come with me.” I closed the door behind him then set off up the stairs. I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my thighs as he followed me, enjoying the view up my skirt. I deliberately swayed my hips provocatively, giving him the best possible view.
When we entered the living room, Granddad greeted him. “Hi Barry.”
“Evening Tom. Who’s the skirt then?”
“Local bint. Used to be a right stuck up cow, now she can’t do enough for me, if you know what I mean.” And he gave a huge, theatrical wink.
Barry turned to look at me again, “You’re kidding?”
“No, seriously. She’s here to entertain us tonight. Isn’t that right. Alison?”
I felt my face flush with hot colour. “Yes Granddad.” I muttered. Barry laughed out loud. “’Granddad’? he laughed. My God, she really is a little trollop, isn’t she?”
“Yes, and she’s the hostess for the night, so why don’t you tell her to get you a drink?”
“Good idea. Right, you, take my coat, then get me a can of lager, and make sure it’s cold.”
“Yes, sir.” I said in a small voice. I collected his coat, which smelled as bad as he did, took it into the hallway to hang up, then fetched him a can and a glass.
“Very good.” He said patronisingly as he took the drink. The doorbell rang again. Without waiting to be told I made my way downstairs. This time there were two men waiting. They were both in their sixties, the same as Barry and Granddad.
One was tall, with a head of thick grey hair and a hard looking face. His body was lean. He had enormous hands, they looked out of place on his body. He was dressed in a pair of faded old trousers and a T-shirt that might once have been black. The other was much shorter, about Granddad’s height, with a head of greasy hair which had once been ginger, but now looked sandy and bland. He smiled at me revealing a row of crooked, tobacco stained teeth.
“You used to be such a stuck up bitch though, didn’t you?”
“Yes Granddad, but I’m different now.”
“So I see. Well, you’re not finished yet, young lady. Clear these plates away, then get on with the washing up. Oh, and I don’t think you need a skirt on for that, do you?”
I felt colour rush to my cheeks. “No Granddad.” I murmured. I untied the skirt, removed it and dbangd it over the back of a chair. Then I set about clearing the table and washing up while he sat and watched me, smoking cigarettes almost constantly.
I washed all the plates and pans, dried them and put them away, taking every opportunity to bend over and give him a good view of my bum. I could feel the heat building in my pussy. I hoped that whatever he had in mind for me, he’d do it soon.
“What shall we do this evening, Granddad?” I enquired, trying to sound innocent.
“Sunday night is cards night.” He said.
“Cards night?” I echoed stupidly.
“Yes. A few of my mates come over and we play cards and have a few drinks. Do that every Sunday. They’ll be here in a bit. When they get here, I want you to make them feel really welcome. Get them whatever they want, show some hospitality, ok?”
I swallowed nervously. This was getting more and more bizarre. Firstly I’d been locked in his flat as a domestic slave and cook, then I’d been the after dinner cabaret, now I was to be some sort of hostess to a group of dirty old men.
“Are you going to do as you’re told? I don’t want any nonsense out of you. Any tantrums and I’ll smack your arse, right?”
“Yes, Granddad. I’ll be good, I promise.”
“Good.” He looked at me with piercing eyes which promised retribution if I put a foot wrong. At that moment the doorbell rang. I looked at him for instructions and he barked “Don’t just stand there, go and open it. Show the gentleman in here.”
I hurriedly put my skirt back on then scampered off to the front door and opened it. A squat old man stood there, waiting. He had a large pot belly which hung over the waistband of his faded jeans and pushed at the buttons of his grubby white / grey shirt. He was virtually bald, but what hair he did have left had grown long and straggly, stretched across his bald head in an apparent attempt to give the impression of a full head of hair.
“Are you here to see Mr. Stuart?” I smiled at him.
“That’s right.” He said. His eyes ran up and down my entire body, lingering on my legs and breasts. “And who might you be?”
“I’m Alison, I’m a friend of Mr. Stuart’s. Please come with me.” I closed the door behind him then set off up the stairs. I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my thighs as he followed me, enjoying the view up my skirt. I deliberately swayed my hips provocatively, giving him the best possible view.
When we entered the living room, Granddad greeted him. “Hi Barry.”
“Evening Tom. Who’s the skirt then?”
“Local bint. Used to be a right stuck up cow, now she can’t do enough for me, if you know what I mean.” And he gave a huge, theatrical wink.
Barry turned to look at me again, “You’re kidding?”
“No, seriously. She’s here to entertain us tonight. Isn’t that right. Alison?”
I felt my face flush with hot colour. “Yes Granddad.” I muttered. Barry laughed out loud. “’Granddad’? he laughed. My God, she really is a little trollop, isn’t she?”
“Yes, and she’s the hostess for the night, so why don’t you tell her to get you a drink?”
“Good idea. Right, you, take my coat, then get me a can of lager, and make sure it’s cold.”
“Yes, sir.” I said in a small voice. I collected his coat, which smelled as bad as he did, took it into the hallway to hang up, then fetched him a can and a glass.
“Very good.” He said patronisingly as he took the drink. The doorbell rang again. Without waiting to be told I made my way downstairs. This time there were two men waiting. They were both in their sixties, the same as Barry and Granddad.
One was tall, with a head of thick grey hair and a hard looking face. His body was lean. He had enormous hands, they looked out of place on his body. He was dressed in a pair of faded old trousers and a T-shirt that might once have been black. The other was much shorter, about Granddad’s height, with a head of greasy hair which had once been ginger, but now looked sandy and bland. He smiled at me revealing a row of crooked, tobacco stained teeth.
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