My House, My Rules
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/ft, ft/ft, Teenagers, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Science Fiction, Time Travel, Post Apocalypse, Extra Sensory Perception, Space, Mystery, Brother, Sister, Father, Daughter, MaleDom, Spanking, Light Bond, Group Sex, Harem, White Male, White Female, Oriental Female, First, Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Workplace, Nudism,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Our overworked home business owner hires a live-in housekeeper. He is pleasant but insists that it is his house, his rules. Her 'daughter' becomes quite the tease. 'Mom' gets competitive and ups the ante. However, the Boss hates a tease who can't deliver, so enforces a dress code. The Girls pay the embarrassing price, willingly, to their surprise. As do their friends when the new, very strict dress codes are enforced. The Boss is not unhappy when the teasing becomes a game. He can play, too.
Pete O'Neal was pissed. That snotty little executive assistant was making trouble again. And he was the source of the problem. The problem was sabotage.
"Mr. Phillips. As you've already seen, the program works as advertised. It is not rocket science. It will streamline your order and delivery system. Implementation should have been simple." Pete insisted, "I have interviewed your staff and found changes in the online training routine. Changes that make the procedures contradictory or too complex to learn."
Phillips said, "O'Neal, we have a huge investment here. Either fix it or we go back to the old system."
"Give me one hour with the staff and their laptops. I ask that you to speak to your Network guys personally to find out who made the changes. Get the answers first hand in private." Pete hoped he would not delegate the task.
"Johnson, call a staff meeting now. Get Chuck into my office ASAP." Phillips demanded. Johnson started to object.
"For once, Johnson, shut up and do as you are told. O'Neal, you have one hour."
Pete looked at the 'Dream Fulfillment Team' five minutes later. He passed out CDs to each person. "There seems to have been a bit of confusion here."
"You got that right." The whole team agreed. "The new system is nuts!"
"Please be patient for a few minutes. If we cannot straighten this mess out, I will buy lunch for the whole crew. Load the CDs, the files will self execute." Pete waited several seconds. Soon, everyone looked up. "Now you have the real help/training files. Now type in your query as you would using any help file."
"This is not the answer I got yesterday." One woman said. "This is the window I was looking for."
"This page updates inventory as I place the order. With one click, live." A man exclaimed. "No surprise backorders. Where was this page?"
"It was supposed to be there all along, clearly marked. 'Ctrl U' will keep it open in a small window. You can customize it to track the most popular items or the most heavily stocked."
Pete told them, "If you wish, press and hold shift/alt when you answer the call. Ask the caller's name and repeat it. The voice recognition function will automatically call up the caller's previous order history. No need to reenter information. You can ask if they enjoyed the wine rack or the DVD player or whatever they bought last. The customer will feel they're important enough to remember and you get feedback on the products."
Pete and the team engaged in a lively Q&A session. They were getting excited. "This will work." The supervisor said, "Satisfied customers make this job so much easier. Happy customers make Mr. Phillips happy. And if Mr. Phillips ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!" The room broke out in laughter. "Seriously folks, we can give the Accounting Department good news to pass forward when this system gets rolling. Live inventory lets the warehouse guys keep up with trends."
Pete told them to keep the discs open but minimized until the master files were corrected on the server.
The hour passed quickly. Mr. Phillips had gotten his answers and been waiting outside the room for 45 minutes. When the meeting broke up, he stepped in, smiling. "You people good to go?" He asked the room.
"Mr. Phillips, yes, now that we can get quick simple answers to questions and get answers to questions we didn't know to ask. It makes the computer more like a partner than a tool." The supervisor said, "We can do more with less effort than ever. How did it get so weird?"
"I'm finding that out." Phillips said with some heat. "But it won't happen again. O'Neal, come with me."
A voice in the back said, "Psst. The boss is here. Look busy!" They all laughed and filtered back to the workstations.
"Thanks for not saying 'I told you so.' You knew what, or rather who, the problem was, didn't you?"
Pete nodded. "Johnson was the only one who insisted the files not be 'read only'. Claimed to want them open to improvement as the staff gained experience. 'Improvements' somehow happened first. Do you know why?"
"Chuck told me Johnson's cousin wrote the program I did not choose. He apparently made promises he couldn't keep." Phillips snorted, "He's cleaning out his desk now. My daughter can have the job. She grew up here and the staff likes her. Put that damn MBA to work."
"I'm just glad it worked out, sir." Pete admitted, "I was scared there for a while."
"Don't sweat it, O'Neal. Just don't offer it to my competition."
Pete was exhausted when he got back to his home office. He took the time to put his laptop and briefcase in the office and update his records. The office and meeting room occupied most of the first floor of his three-story brownstone. He closed and locked the entrance, intending to go upstairs and cook dinner.
He was disappointed. The kitchen was basically empty again. This was getting old, fast. Pete was pissed for the second time today. I need my own assistant, 24/7 to keep the kitchen stocked, answer the phone, and do light housework. Hell, I need a housekeeper, he thought.
Reconciled to another night out alone, Pete went to the corner bar and restaurant. He sat at the bar and asked for a menu. "Burger, medium, baked potato, sour cream, salad, bleu cheese. Sam Adams," he said, without looking up. Pete was not in a good mood. How do you find a housekeeper who takes orders he wondered? I am not easy.
He did look up when the food was placed in front of him. "Where is the beer?"
The bartender pointed to the mug that had been sitting there long enough to get the coaster damp with condensation. "You were too preoccupied to notice."
"Sorry to be so grumpy, miss. It has been a tough day and my refrigerator is empty." Pete said. "I can't live on bar food. You want a job?" That surprised even him. "I need a house keeper."
"Really?" She asked. "I go on break in ten minutes. If it's OK, I'll put you at a table and we can talk."
He agreed and she moved his plates and beer to a table near the window. What am I doing? Pete asked himself. He didn't know anything about her. Well, in for a penny.
She came over to the table and waited. He looked up from the salad and said, "Are you going to sit?"
"You weren't finished and I didn't want to disturb your meal." She lowered her eyes. "May I sit?"
"Do. Now tell me about yourself."
"I'm Allison Roberts. I've worked here for two years; make less than minimum wage, plus tips. I'm a widow, with a fifteen-year-old daughter. I'm thirty. Before you ask, I got pregnant in high school and married her father. He was killed drag racing with his friends on our wedding night. I graduated with my parents helping with childcare and went to City College part time. Mom and Dad live in Florida."
"Did you finish?"
"Two years ago. BA in Hotel Management. I started here hoping to get a better job, but got stuck. It pays the bills, but barely."
"OK. Here's the deal. I have a computer business and work out of my house. I'll describe it. Offices are on the ground floor. Kitchen, living room, laundry and entertainment area/rec room are on the second. My room with an en suite bath, and two bedrooms sharing a bathroom in the hall are on the third floor." Pete continued. "The bedrooms have everything, linens-wise and plenty of closet space. OK so far?"
Allison said, "Yes."
"I offer twice what you declare for taxable income here, plus room and board for you and your daughter. I will require that you keep the house spotless, the kitchen stocked and maybe answer the office phones when I'm out." Pete went on. "The house is around the corner. Questions?"
"Where do I shop and will I be expected to cook meals?"
"In the neighborhood and sometimes. I like to eat simple, but healthy. That's why I'm grumpy tonight. I don't like being grumpy. I have no time to operate the business and run the house like I think it should be run."
"Anything is better than working in a bar for tips. I accept. When do I start?"
"Give notice now." Pete wrote his name, address and phone number on a napkin. "Be there before noon tomorrow. I will get the two of you settled in."
Allison had to get back to work, so Pete paid his tab and left. He watched a basketball game on TV until it became boring. The Knicks. So he went to bed.
Pete woke up at 6:30 AM as usual. After the normal morning routine, he had coffee and toast for breakfast. Pete was in the office before 8:00, ready for another day. Answering the phones, checking in with current clients, returning emails, etc. Another normal day, except I have two people moving in. It will either work out or it won't, he thought, but made a note to run a background check when he got her social security number. Couldn't hurt.
Allison knocked on the door at 9:30. With her was her daughter, introduced as Mary. Pete helped them bring in four suitcases and took them to the residential area of the house. "Follow me upstairs. Your rooms are there. You will share the bath. So, basically that side of the hall is yours. The other side is where I live. The whole second floor is common space. Unpack and meet me in the office when you are done." He left them to their own devices.
Back in the office, Pete downloaded and printed a standard employment application form. He had to make it official so his accountant could create deal with the withholding and all the legal stuff. She would have the W-4 forms on file.
Allison and Mary came to the office door at 10:15. "Fill out this form so we can make this legal. We'll fax this to my accountant so she can get you set up." Pete ignored them until Allison was finished. He photocopied the form and sent it.
"OK. You're official. You should start in the kitchen. Make a shopping list. We need something other than what's there. Which is nothing right now. Include your and Mary's preferences." Pete said. "Remember to pick up any toiletries you need."
When they came back with the list, he gave Allison a credit card, telling her to have the store call if there was any trouble. "I'll call the bank now to try to head off any questions."
After a week or so, things settled into a smooth pattern, Allison kept the place clean and organized, Mary went to school and Pete was able to concentrate on the business. They shared meals whenever possible and he always had good snacks and quick meals available. All three used the common spaces at will. Mary did her homework; Pete and Allison watched TV or read. There was no dress code. Each dressed with comfort in mind.
One day, Allison dropped into the office. "Sir, I have a question, may I interrupt?"
"Sure. Ask away." He said, looking up.
"What am I?" She knew how to get his attention. "How do I answer the people at the shops when they want to know my position? Some people are not so nice in the way they ask."
"You are my live-in house manager and part time office assistant." He snapped. She stepped back. "Sorry. I'm not mad at you. I am very mad at what they are implying."
"Thank you, sir." Allison said as she relaxed a bit. "One of the men at the grocery was almost threatening the way he looked. He all but called me a hooker. The woman at the produce stand treats me like her servant."
"They just lost a customer. And they will know why. Period." Pete decided. "From now on, you will dress in business clothes when you are representing this house or this business. We will go shopping when Mary gets home from school. You need a 'task specific' wardrobe. Mary could use an upgrade, also."
"Yes sir. Anything more?" She looked at her feet as she spoke. Pete noticed and raised an eyebrow.
"And we need to decide how to address one another, and when. Come to the office when Mary is ready."
Allison and Mary appeared in the office at 3:30. "I'm done for the day. Lets go to Macy's. They will probably have everything we need." He grabbed his car keys and ushered them out.
He talked to the sales person in the upscale women's department and let her guide Allison to the more trendy office-appropriate areas. He let Mary hit the 'teens' area. Pete insisted on final approval of all choices.
He also wanted them to get casual clothes to wear around the house and some heavy-duty work shirts for the few jobs that would ruin normal women's wear.
They chose well, if a little immodestly in Mary's case. He gave them a charge card and let them make their undergarment and nightwear choices unsupervised. Pete wanted to visit the men's department and, besides, their choices were none of his concern. Or so he thought.
The Floor plan of the imaginary brownstone owned by Pete O'Neal.
The location is West 72nd Street, between Columbus and Amsterdam Avenues, just west of Columbus, on the north side of the street.
Ma/Fa / Ma/ft / ft/ft / Teenagers / Consensual / Heterosexual / Fiction / Science Fiction / Time Travel / Post Apocalypse / Extra Sensory Perception / Space / Mystery / Brother / Sister / Father / Daughter / MaleDom / Spanking / Light Bond / Group Sex / Harem / White Male / White Female / Oriental Female / First / Anal Sex / Exhibitionism / Public Sex / Workplace / Nudism /