The Countess and the Caretaker - Part One.

The rays from the early morning sun silently moved across the
counterpane. It would soon be time, but not quite yet. Still
plenty of time to indulge his usual early morning urge.

His arm moved outside the covers and blindly felt under the bed
for the latest edition of Playboy. Fingers made contact with the
shiny pages and he brought the magazine into his line of sight.
He had bought it yesterday, read it and masturbated several times
before he fell asleep. It was still folded to the picture that
had made the biggest impression on him.

He looked once again at the beautiful model, dressed in a red
satin basque. Her long stockinged legs, her black patent leather
shoes, and the long silver fox fur coat draped over her
shoulders. She sat haughtily on a chair, a cigarette in one hand,
and under her spiked heels, lay the prostrate figure of a man in
overalls.

The overalls bothered him - they were too clean. Not like his,
which were well worn, with the odd splash of paint and dirt, but
the mind is a wonderful thing, and in the twinkling of an eye, he
was there, on the floor at her feet. His erection pulsed faster
and his hand brought a release of his excitement.

He took a few moments to savour all the nuances of the
photograph and to relax. The clock at his bedside edged onto the
eight, and the days mundane tasks began to intrude on his
reverie. He flung the bedclothes off, pulled himself up,
stretched, scratched and started to think about breakfast.

His job gave him a place to live, in fact, it was virtually
living on the job. He was a caretaker to a small luxury block of
apartments. His two rooms, bathroom and bedroom cum kitchen, were
sufficient for his needs, but were in total contrast to the
apartments above. But if one of the rich tenants had a squeaky
hinge or noisy pipes, he was right on hand to deal with the
problem. And the most pressing problem today was the window that
refused to open in the Countess's bedroom.

He settled for a cup of coffee and made a mental note to buy more
breakfast cereal, next time he went to the supermarket. He
stirred the sugar into the lukewarm liquid - too much milk again
- he must stop doing that.

His thoughts gradually strayed back to the beautiful goddess in
the photograph. She reminded him of someone. Not her physical
features, but that haughty look in her eyes. He had seen that
look - experienced that look. The early morning fog gradually
cleared from his mind and the look took on form and shape and
finally crystallised.

The Countess. Yes, that was the way she looked at him, on the
rare occasions he had come into direct contact with her. Strange
he had not realised this before. He started to think of her in a
completely different light. The stirring in his groin told him
she would feature prominently in his next fantasy and he suddenly
had an overwhelming desire to mend her window.

He hoped she would be there so that he could dream while he
worked. It would certainly liven up his day if she were. He
shook himself out of this reverie to find his coffee was
completely cold and as he stood and reached towards the kettle
for some more hot water, he was stopped, mid-action, by the
buzzer on his door.

The maid from Flat 5 was talking and gesticulating before she had
his full attention. He began to realise that there was a major
plumbing leak in the basement laundry room. He promised her that
he would be right there, went to his tool cupboard, picked out
the pieces he thought he would need, threw one final glance to
the glossy lady lying face up on his bed, and started his working
day.

                     ***************

The Countess had divorced her husband, an obscure Italian Count,
just six months after her marriage. He had not lived up to her
youthful and naive romantic imaginings. He had been rich,
good-looking and totally selfish in bed, and it did not take her
long to realise that she was not the sweet, submissive type.

She had strong desires of her own, and now, ten years later, she
knew how to fulfil them. She was the selfish and demanding one
now, and had no shortage of men who seemed, very definitely, to
like her that way. Yes, she was very happy with her life now.

She unfolded her body, slowly, feeling the sensuality of the
satin sheets, as she slid onto her back and stretched. Her finger
gently searched the top of her bedside table, for the bell.
Contact made, she settled herself comfortably and waited for her
maid to respond.

The door to the bedroom opened quietly, and after a polite
exchange of greetings, it was established that the maid should
prepare and then serve breakfast, on a small table next to the
bed.

The Countess heaped all the pillows up behind her, and sat up.
She pushed another button on her bedside cabinet and the floor
length curtains opened silently, allowing the early morning
sunshine to pervade the room. She reached for her diary and
established that she had a completely free morning, a late lunch
appointment, and for once a free evening. All in all, a lazy day.

She picked up the telephone and dialled the caretaker's number.
She did not want him to forget about the window. It started to
ring, just as the maid returned with her breakfast. With a wave
of her arm, the Countess motioned the maid to pour her tea and
then her long manicured fingernails began to tap impatiently on
the bed, as it became increasingly obvious that he was not there.

She was going to have to do something about him - he was
inefficient and never around when she wanted him. A cruel smile
played around her lips, as she savoured the thought of him
running around the room, totally at her beck and call. Men were
so easy to manipulate, if you knew how.

It had never occurred to her before, that there would be
tremendous benefits to be had, not to mention that annoying
window in full working order, if she turned her not
inconsiderable talents to work on the Caretaker.

Apart from any other considerations, it would be fun to have a
new toy to tease, and she really did not have a very busy day
ahead.