I was a fourth-year Business Administration student at UCSF. My grades were decent, but I was struggling to keep up with all my living and tuition costs. I decided I needed to find a part-time job to help supplement the partial scholarship I was receiving.

Looking through the online want ads, I saw quite a few job openings for in-store sales or for restaurant waitstaff offering minimum wage or sometimes a little bit more for the hourly wage. I needed more than that to make ends meet. I was about to give up when an ad caught my eye. It read, "Part-time housekeeper needed for divorced man working from home. Needs help keeping a small uptown flat tidy and well-maintained. Substantial pay is negotiable to the right applicant."

"Tidy," I thought to myself. "Who really uses that term in real life?"

I could definitely clean a small apartment, though. If I could negotiate a substantial wage like the ad stated, this might be exactly what I was looking for. I clicked on the link and made an interview appointment for the following day.

The next morning, at the agreed-upon time, I buzzed on the intercom for his flat number. The building was located in the swanky Nob Hill area and was really quite impressive. It was a three-story building with multiple units and a view of the bay. He buzzed me in, and I used the elevator to the third floor. I knocked on the door to the flat, and a handsome man opened the door. He was older, probably in his early fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and the bluest eyes I had ever seen in my life. He was well built, obviously into taking good care of his body. Dressed in a pressed, button-down white shirt and khaki pants, he completely exhibited confidence and wealth.

I stuck out my hand in greeting, "Hi, my name is Becka. I'm here about your housekeeping position."

Taking my hand and returning my greeting, he said, "Hi, Becka. My name is Frank. Very nice to meet you. Won't you come in?"

He led me in, still holding my hand, before ushering me to a sofa in his living room where I sat down. He took a seat in the chair opposite me.

Looking me up and down before continuing, "So, tell me, Becka, what experience can you offer me for a position such as this?"

"Well, I have never officially held a housekeeping position before, but I have always preferred neat and tidy surroundings." I purposely used his word to hopefully score a few brownie points. Continuing, I said, "My own apartment is spotless. My friends always laugh and comment that it must be the cleanest on campus."

Frank smiled and nodded at that. "Yes, I guess you are right. A previous housekeeping job does not need to be a requirement for my position. I just need to be comfortable with the applicant, and of course, they must be willing to agree to the rest of my terms of employment. I do have to say, I'm impressed with your spunk so far, so point one is covered."

"OK, I'll bite. What about point two? What are the rest of your terms of employment?" I asked.

"Number one is, my housekeeper can only work on days when I am home. I prefer not to have people in my home when I am out. Number two is, I need my home cleaned twice per week, preferably Mondays and Thursdays, but I can work around a different schedule if and when needed. The person must also be on call for special situations, such as preparations and assistance with dinner parties that I host for my friends from time to time. Of course, there would be an additional bonus payment in those instances." He paused there for a moment for me to absorb everything he had said.

"Is that everything?" I asked. "I wouldn't have an issue with any of that, as long as I can make it work around my class schedule. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, the third term is the one that some applicants balk over," he said, pausing again.

"Everything seems on the up and up so far. What is it about your third term that scares other applicants away?" I asked again, now extremely curious.

"Well, you see, I have strict standards for the appearance of my employee. They must be well-groomed and be willing to wear a uniform that I supply for them," he said, looking me directly in my eyes. "Are you willing to do that, to work for me?"

I paused for a moment myself, mulling over what he had just said. "What does the uniform consist of?" I asked.

"Follow me and I will show you," he said as he stood.

I stood as well, following behind him to a closet in the hallway. He opened the door and pulled out a dress hanging on the bar and turned to face me. In his hand was what looked like a classic French maid's dress, all in black with a white apron. It looked to have an acceptable length, not the cheap, short skirts you see around Halloween. Something you might actually see in a foreign film.

"As you can see, I have strict rules for what my housekeeper should look like within my home. Is this something you could agree to wear while under my employ?"

Looking at the uniform, I considered my options. I could just walk out now and look elsewhere for employment, or I could see what he was willing to pay and then make a decision. Since the hem of the skirt was a respectable length, I really did not see that it would be an issue, depending on the salary.

"What would the salary be if I accepted?" I asked.

"I would be willing to pay you four hundred dollars for twelve hours of work each week. Any pay for special party prep would be negotiated for each individual event depending on what would be involved for you, but rest assured those would be paid at an even higher hourly rate."

"I think I could accept all your conditions if you bump the salary to five hundred dollars per week," I said with as much authority as I could muster.

Frank looked me up and down as he considered what I had said.

"I think I can accept your counteroffer, Becka, but there is one last thing you'll need to agree to first in regard to the uniform."

"What is that?" I asked.

"You will need to wear black stilettos with heels of at least four inches, and you must always wear black stockings, preferably attached to a garter belt. All of your lingerie must match. As you can see, the dress is long enough for you to keep your modesty while working. I require my employee to always look tidy both on the outside and with what they wear underneath. This is non-negotiable. You either agree to all of these terms, or we can part ways now. What is your decision, Becka?"

I listened attentively as Frank spelled out all his terms. As he first described the lingerie I would be required to wear under the uniform, my initial thought was, who does he think he is, defining what underwear I would have to wear? But the longer I thought about it, the more I started to tingle all over. My panties actually started to get wet at the thought of being so vulnerable in front of him, of him being so dominant over me. Before he finished speaking, I had already made up my mind.

"Yes, I accept all your terms, Frank. I will wear the uniform as you described, down to what I wear underneath," I replied, maybe a little too breathlessly.

Frank smiled at that. "That's my good girl, Becka. I think we will make a great team, you and I. Now, here is the dress. Take it home with you so you can come dressed appropriately on your first day here. Let's say next Monday at eight in the morning. Will that work for you, my dear?"

"Yes, that works for me, Frank. Monday morning will be perfect," I replied with a beaming smile of my own.

He handed me the dress and led me to the front door. "I will see you Monday then, Becka."

"Yes, see you on Monday, Frank," I said as I turned and left.

Frank closed the door behind me, and I got in my car for the drive back to campus, my mind still reeling.

________________

Later that evening I paused to look again at the uniform I had been given, now hanging on a hook upon my bedroom door. I reached out my hand to touch it, feeling the soft fabric between my fingers.

I thought to myself, "Can I really wear this for him as I work while cleaning his flat? Especially while also wearing the specific lingerie he had insisted I wear underneath it?"

I felt a tingling throughout my body again that settled between my legs. I felt my panties start to moisten with my growing arousal.

"Yes, I can do this," I said out loud. "I want to do this."

Stepping backwards, I fell back onto my bed, my eyes never leaving my new uniform hanging on the door. My hand slid into my shorts and over my panties.

"Fuck, I am so wet." I moaned as I started sliding my fingers between my legs, circling my clit over my panties. I cupped my breast over my t-shirt with my other hand, pinching and pulling on my pointed nipple. My eyes still locked on my uniform, I slid my hand up to the waistband of my panties before plunging it underneath to stroke my wet and swollen pussy. My thumb circled my tender clit, as one finger, and then a second, dove into my now dripping cunt.

My back arched from the mattress as I climaxed. I screamed out Frank's name as wave after wave of pure bliss rolled through my entire body. Still trembling, I slid my soaked fingers from my panties, bringing them straight to my mouth to taste my sweet release.

"Yes," I thought to myself as I slowly drifted to sleep. "I will do this."

The last thing I saw before sleep finally overcame me was the French maid uniform hanging on the door, which would now completely define me.