The phone rang and I picked it up. "Hello Mr. M. This is Tina," I heard come across the line.

"Oh, hi Tina. How are you?" I asked.

"I'm fine, but I just got a new client. Would it be OK if I switched to Friday mornings instead?" she asked.

Tina was my house cleaner. She came in once a week for 4 or 5 hours and straightened the place up. I used to be in charge of cleaning the house, or rather, I took on the job when I was disgusted with my wife and kids making huge messes and making no effort to clean up. I eventually got fed up, so I got recommendations from the neighborhood wives and I hired Tina.

Tina was from an Eastern European country, I'm not sure which, and has a heavy accent, but is still quite understandable. She is not a goddess by any stretch of the imagination, but she is thin and in shape. Her face is reasonably nice and she has small but firm breasts. Her hair is a dirty blonde, clearly dyed, but at least she is making an effort.

To date she had been coming on Thursday evenings when my wife and kids were also home. We tried to stay out of her way when she cleaned, and she did a reasonable, if not fabulous, job. But now it looked like she would be moving to Friday mornings. I worked from home on Fridays while my wife is at her office and the kids are at school, but I knew that I could stay out of Tina's way.

On Friday morning I was working in my bed. I have a wireless and today I didn't feel like going to my desk. Tina arrived and as she walked into the house she yelled that she was here, and then presumably went to work. About an hour later she walked into the bedroom and started straightening up.

"All alone today with the upstairs maid," she said with a laugh.

I looked up in surprise. She usually didn't tease like this, but I was game. I looked her up and down and said, "Well, an interesting fantasy, but normally the upstairs maid is dressed differently." She was wearing sweat pants and a thin white v-neck tee shirt. I could see her plain white bra outlined under her shirt.

"What clothes does the upstairs maid normally wear?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"Well, as I recall, a French maid's uniform," I told her. "Of course, naked or just in skimpy underwear work just as well."

She smiled as she returned to cleaning. "I'll keep that in mind," she said. She finished cleaning the bedroom and went to the bathroom. A few hours later she left, yelling good bye as she did.

The next week she was back again. This time I was in my office when I heard her yell from my bedroom, "I have a question for you, Mr. M."

"I'll be there in one minute," I shouted back. I finished what I was working on and headed to the bedroom to answer Tina's question. I walked in and stopped in shock.

"Is this a reasonable uniform?" Tina asked me. She was standing there in only her undergarments, and not the ones she normally wore. Her bra was white and sheer, lacy around the edges. I could see her hard nipples through it. Her panties were also white, not quite as sheer, but I could see her big bush bursting out from under it.

It took me a few minutes to get my breath, then I answered, "It will do for now."

"Thank you, Mr. M.," she said, and she went back to cleaning. As she turned away from me, I saw that her panties were thongs, and most of her ass was hanging out. I sat down on the bed and watched her as she finished cleaning the bedroom, then she headed downstairs. I followed her and watched her start to clean the dining room.

She got on all fours and pulled some crap out from under the table. She started to get up and I said, "You missed some," pointing to under one of the chairs.

She picked up what I pointed out and stood up, her hands behind her back, shifting her weight on her legs. "I'm sorry I didn't do a good job; I hope that you don't have to punish me."