Peeping maid

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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.

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