Maid
by Pan
“C’mon Dad, I’m not your maid.”
“Damn straight you’re not the maid. If you were the maid, you’d be fired.”
Angela glowered at her father. The rule had always been that she did some work around the house in exchange for her allowance, but for some reason he’d really been riding her ass about it lately.
“Just show me how to do it, okay?”
“Oh no,” her father scoffed. “You’re not fooling me that easily—you just want me to do all the work, and then you’re off the hook for another week. No, you’re going to do it, and you’re going to do it right. Now, let’s start with the glasses.”
Angela’s job was to polish the glasses. There were dozens of them, and she didn’t see the point—they only got used once every few months, why did they have to be polished so regularly?
“Okay,” her father said. “What are you using as polish?”
As she pointed at the glass polish, he rolled his eyes.
“Well there’s your first problem,” he said with a sigh. “These are good glasses—I want to make sure you’re using the good stuff. Here, try this.”
Angela’s father unzipped his pants, and Angela reached out to take the tan bottle. It felt strange in her hand; strangely squishy and flexible.
“That’s fine,” her father said in response to the look on her face. “It just means you need to shake it up.”
He stood next to his teenage daughter, looking down at her as she shook up the bottle of polish until it was hard to the touch. It still felt warmer and more fleshy than she was used to, but her father’s approving nod told her she was doing the right thing.
“Keep shaking,” he panted. “Just keep on shaking.”
Angela’s arm was starting to get tired, but she didn’t want to disappoint her father—or risk her allowance—so she continued moving her hand back and forth across the bottle of polish.
“You’ll know it’s ready,” he grunted, “by the way it tastes. Open your mouth and give it a spray.”
Her brow furrowed as she obediently opened her mouth and moved it to the opening at the top of the bottle. To her surprise, nothing was coming out, and for a moment she wondered if it was busted.
“It sometimes has a bit of trouble,” her father said. “Try using both hands—that normally gets it unstuck.”
With both her hands wrapped around the bottle, she was moving them as quickly as they could. She poked her tongue out—she only wanted to spray a tiny amount of the polish, just to make sure it was ready to use.
“Here we go!”
At her father’s word, the polish pulsed, and began spraying faster than she’d expected. The first two spurts landed straight in her mouth, but the shock made her lose aim, and the next spurt hit her straight in the eye before slowly sliding down her face.
“Aah!”
“It’s okay honey,” her father said with a chuckle. “It washes off. Now, how does that taste?”
“Fine,” she said, rolling it around in her mouth. It had an odd consistency—globular, not the fine spray she was used to.
“Here,” he said, “let me try some.”
Pulling her to her feet, Angela’s father forcefully pressed his face against hers. She tilted her head back and waited as he spent several minutes with his lips against hers, exploring her mouth with his tongue.
“Great,” he said, finally satisfied. “Looks like we’re ready to go. Now, what cloth have you been using?”
Without saying a word, Angela pointed to the ragged cloth that was on the cleaning tray, next to the bottle of polish she had been using until corrected.
“No no no! That’ll never do—no wonder we’ve been having such problems. No, glasses like this need to be cleaned using underwear.”
“Underwear?”
“Underwear. It’s the only way to do it right. Do you have any on you?’
“There’s, uh, some in…”
At the look of scorn in her father’s eyes, Angela trailed off.
“Baby, I don’t want to be rude, but it’s not like you’ve never done this before. You know it has to be fresh. Are you wearing any now?”
Angela didn’t want to embarrass herself any further, so she didn’t say a word as she pulled off her T-shirt and undid her bra.
“How about this?”
“That’s fine,” her father nodded. “Okay—get to work.”
For the next ten minutes, Angela used her bra to polish glasses. It wasn’t until she’d reached the last one that she realized she hadn’t used any polish. Her father hadn’t said anything—he seemed to be distracted, and she wasn’t going to bring it up.
“Great,” he said. “Okay, that just leaves my pipe.”
Angela looked at him, puzzled. The polish had started to dry on her face, but her father hadn’t noticed.
“You know, the glass pipe I got in college. Please don’t tell me you haven’t been cleaning it…”
In response, Angela just shook his head, causing her father to heave his shoulders with disappointment.
“Okay,” he said. “This will have to be a pretty thorough clean then. Let me just get it for you.”
In literally no time at all, Angela’s father returned with the glass pipe in his hand. As she reached for her bra, she was again met by a disappointed head-shake.
“This is my glass pipe, Ange. You can’t use a dirty rag on it.”
Reaching underneath her skirt, Angela took off her panties, and wrapped them around her father’s pipe. She slowly began to polish it, surprised by its size.
“Have you ever smoked?” her father asked abruptly, and then burst out laughing at the look on Angela’s face. “It’s okay—who am I to judge?”
“Once or twice,” she mumbled in response. For some reason, being on her knees in nothing but a skirt was doing something to Angela’s rebellious side. Normally she and her father were constantly at odds, but from this angle, she felt…strangely close to him.
“I think there’s still something left it in. Why don’t you try some?”
A shy smile appeared on Angela’s face, and after glancing around to make sure that her mother wasn’t about to appear, she put her mouth over the end of the pipe.
“It can take a few minutes to really feel it,” her father said, smiling as he looked down at her. “Just keep bobbing your mouth back and forth.
“You’ll feel it soon enough.”