The car rounded the long gravel drive, and Lita, her big tits heaving with her excitement, got her first glimpse of the Barton mansion, a sprawling imitation Spanish castle that seemed to stretch forever into the distance. Lita helplessly gawked, her mouth hanging open. She could hardly believe she'd be working in such a place.
"Some dump, huh?" said Miles, the Barton chauffeur. "Believe me, kid, these people are rolling in bucks.”
"I believe you," said Lita.
She had no trouble believing that Foster Barton was rich. What seemed unreal was that she was going to live in his house, even as a maid. She'd never seen such luxury. Miles drove her around back to the service entrance and carried in her two little bags. Lita followed him, a little repulsed by the brute maleness of the Barton chauffeur. Miles had impossibly large shoulders and chest, rock-hard muscles that bulged under his dark blue uniform.
She wondered how it would be to go to bed with a man like Miles. But how could she really know? She'd never been to bed with anybody… “This here's your room," Miles said, leading her into a pretty ground floor room, light and spacious. "You get squared away, then report to Mrs. Barton.”
"Thank you," Lita said grudgingly. She didn't like or trust this man. He'd been looking at her strangely ever since he picked her up at the bus station. She felt like he was a starving man and she was something good to eat.
As if to confirm her suspicions, Miles hung around while she unpacked. He was perhaps forty, his auburn hair receding on top, a rugged man with a broken nose. He was so powerful-looking, he frightened her. Now he was standing too close to her, and she could smell his aggressive male scents.
"Look, honey," he said, grinning at her, "anytime you get lonely, I got my little cabin right out in back. I mean, if you ever get to needing a man-”
Lita whirled on him, anger flashing in her dark eyes. "I don't need a man, and I don't need you," she spat.
"Okay, okay," Miles said, backing off. "But if you change your mind-”