Having spent a large chunk of the money he had inherited from his grandfather on a Cape Town mansion, Joe Parkinson discovered that he now had a rich person’s problem; keeping a mansion clean and tidy was a lot more work than doing so in a one-bedroom bachelor pad.

His friends were imperfectly sympathetic, pointing out he could employ someone since he earned a decent salary at the power station and unlike them, he did not have a mortgage to pay off.

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Two weeks later the house wasn’t any clearer but he did have a number of letters of application to read through. Most seemed as keen on saying what they wouldn’t do as much as what they would or could. One grabbed his attention though – the applicant had never done domestic work before but she had turned her hand to a number of things in the four years since she left high school. The address given was in the Cape flats – the extensive township and shantytown near the airport.

Probably make more of an effort to keep a permanent job than some of the others. He rang the cellphone number provided. It was answered fairly promptly.

“Miss AmaZangwa?”

“Yes?”

“This is Joseph Parkinson – you applied for the domestic position.”

“Oh, yes sir.

“Are you available for an interview on Saturday?”

“I’ll have to get my boss to agree time off but that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good. 10 am.” He gave the address.

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Shortly before 10 am, the gate intercom sounded. The security camera showed a rather battered bakky.

“Yes?”

“Fezeka AmaZangwa here for the interview, sir.”  She lowered the window and held her ID document close to the camera.

He pressed the button to open the gate, then close it behind her as she drove up to the house. “Good timing!”

“I borrowed my dad’s car,  taxis,” – the hail-and-ride- minibuses that were the only public transport link between the city and the townships – “aren’t reliable enough.”

He showed her round the house while outlining the working conditions. “You’ll have Sunday and one other day off per week by prior arrangement. Any questions?”

She looked at the messy kitchen. “I presume there’s no Mrs Parkinson?”

“Cheeky! No there’s not. Will that be a problem?

“Not at all, sir.”

They concluded the interview and agreed on a start date. Joe couldn’t help admiring her curves, particularly her swaying bottom, as they continued the tour.

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Fezeka quickly and efficiently settled into her routine. She seemed slightly surprised that he ate his evening meal in the kitchen with her rather than in the dining room but seemed happy enough to do so.

“Nice to have someone to talk to sir but most people like to be apart from their staff.”

Joe shrugged. “I sometimes eat lunch with my boss at work. Same thing really. Are you OK with being on your own all day?”

“I phone family and friends which helps. Is that OK?”

“So long as your work’s done I don’t mind at all. Do they mind you being here?”

She hesitated. “They’re fine, sir, and Lulama – my sister – has the bed to herself now.”

“Any other siblings?”

“Two bothers – they and their wives and children live with my parents too.”

“Must be cramped!”

“It’s not so bad. Look.” She took out her phone and scrolled to a family photo. “You can see the main house where my parents live – then there’s three rooms but you can only see one here.” She pointed to what appeared to be a large brick shed separate from the house. “My brothers and their families have one each and Lulama has the small one. There’s another building with the bath and toilet. And there’s a tap in the yard so we’re quite comfortable.”

Joe cringed inside. He knew that despite the ending of apartheid a quarter of a century ago many blacks still lived in third-world conditions but to hear three families sharing one toilet and one tap described as comfortable …

If Fezeka noticed his discomfort she didn’t show it. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“One sister – Alice. She’s married and living in Cape Town too. No children as yet.”

“Do they have a house like this?”

“Yes. Just bought it. We inherited money from our grandfather. Made his money in mining – “

He broke off again. Like as not many of Fezeka’s male relatives would have worked in the mines so their labour would have paid for this house. Fezeka’s sudden silence suggested the same thought had crossed her mind.

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Joe had to admit that he was growing attracted to Fezeka but he refrained from making advances. He had no reason to think she reciprocated and he did not want to come across as some predatory employer.

Fezeka continued to be as efficient as Joe had hoped and she seemed happy enough in the job but as the first Sunday evening darkened into night, he began to wonder. Finally, he rang her cellphone. She picked up promptly.

“Fezeka? Everything alright?”

“It is now, sir, but I had a problem getting a taxi that was coming this far on Sunday evening.”

There was an indistinct male voice.

“Are you the only passenger? Do you want me to stay on the line?”

“Yes, sir”

Indistinct male voice again.

Fezeka switched to Xhosa which Joe could follow somewhat. He could swear she said: “That’s my boss wondering why I’m so late. Probably going to spank my arse when I get back!”

Laughter.

Joe was relieved when he closed the gate behind her. Young women travelling on their own at night were at particular risk of violent assault.

“In future, leave coming back until Monday morning. I’m sure your family will be glad to have you for Sunday evening and you’ll be a lot safer.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“And I had no intention of spanking you!”

“That’s a disappointment, sir.”

He stopped and stared at her. She gave him an impudent smile. He grinned, took her hand and led her into the lounge. He sat in the middle seat of the three-seater sofa as she dropped her handbag and kicked off her shoes. She draped herself across his lap. He flipped up her skirt then eased her knickers down to mid-thigh revealing the milk-chocolate brown skin of her deliciously curvy bottom. He stroked her bottom and upper thighs, paying particular attention to the sweet spot where buttock met thigh. She gave a little moan of pleasure.

He slapped her right cheek then her left. She wriggled a little. He continued smacking her.

“Mmmmmmmmmm!”

Joe smiled. She was clearly enjoying this as much as he was! He continued to smack every part of her bottom. She squirmed in pleasure as her skin darkened. He began to spank faster and harder.

“Oooooooooooooo! That is nice sir!” She writhed on his lap but made no attempt to get up.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

She continued squirming and wriggling but his left arm kept her safely on his lap.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Paying particular attention to the sweet spot. He grew hard as her writhing body rubbed against him.

Her breathing grew heavier as the spanking continued. She squirmed so much he had to grip her firmly round the waist with his encircling left arm to stop her from falling off his lap.

“Oh God, Sir, I’m cumming!” she cried out as seemingly every muscle in her body repeatedly spasmed and relaxed.

Finally, she stilled and lay limply across his lap. “That was wonderful, sir! Thank you!”

He smiled as he gently stroked her hot bottom. After a few minutes, she slid off and knelt between his legs and unfastened his trousers. He raised his hips and helped her ease them down. His briefs quickly followed allowing his engorged manhood to stand to attention. She began licking from the base to the glans. Now it was his turn to squirm in pleasure. She took him inside her mouth, sucking and licking. The feelings of pleasure built up. Just as he began to worry he was going to cum in her mouth she released him.

“Lie back, sir. My bottom’s a bit hot for going underneath.” She fumbled in her handbag, produced a condom, quickly unwrapped it and eased it over his erection. She straddled him and impaled herself on him. Using her hands to support her weight she slid up and down. The intense feelings of pleasure built up. She slowed, keeping him on the brink but finally the dam burst and he pumped repeatedly.

They smiled at each other. He took both her hands in his, brought them to his lips and kissed them.

She climbed off him. Oh wow! That was something! But what now?

She smiled as took her by the hand and led her to the master bedroom. His bedroom. The cotton sheets of the king-size bed caressed her skin, feeling deliciously cool against her spanked backside. She turned invitingly onto her back. He lay on top of her and kissed her. The warm feelings of pleasure in her bottom intensified as his weight pressed her into the mattress. She wriggled in pleasure as her spanking induced arousal grew once more. She reached down – Joe was definitely getting hard again! She gave his prick a gentle squeeze and massage.

He kissed her again, then kissed her throat, then her breasts, running his tongue around and across each nipple. The kisses progressed down her belly, then her right hip and the inside of her right thigh. He switched to her left thigh then back up her hip to her belly. He kissed either side of her pussy. She wriggled in oddly enjoyable frustration. Finally, he licked her clit and then his tongue probed deeper.

“Oh! My! God!”

He kissed her open mouth – her tongue licked his. She could taste herself on him.

He reached into the top drawer of the bedside cabinet and withdrew a condom. He sat up and unwrapped it. Fezeka helped him roll it down over his prick then guided him to her fanny. She squirmed in pleasure as he gently eased inside her. The enjoyment grew as she felt him push deeper inside her. His thrusts pushed her still-sensitive bottom against the mattress, re-igniting the spanking induced sensations. She wrapped her legs around him and the pleasurable feelings grew and spread until delight surged through her whole body. She bear-hugged him and seconds later he came.

Joe took the used condom and clean-up tissues away. He returned with a bottle of Kumala and two glasses.

Fezeka smiled. “Served wine in bed by my man! I could get used to this!”

He sat next to her and put his arm around her. “You can if you want.”

She looked at him. “You mean that?”

He nodded. “Which just leaves the question – do you want to continue with your job?”

“I need the money, the house doesn’t clean itself and if you got another maid I’d have to keep an eye on her. And you.”

“Me?”

“Just in case you decided to spank and have jiggy with her too!”

“I’ve got your gorgeous and willing bottom to spank. I won’t be looking elsewhere.”

“So am I your girlfriend? Are you going to tell people I am?”

“Well of course. Why would I not?”

“Some white people still don’t like mixed-race relationships. Your friends might not.”

“In rural areas and small towns. Not here in Cape Town.” He continued: “I’ve been thinking of having a housewarming party next month. We can invite all our friends and they’ll see us together. If anyone has a problem – “

“My friends won’t.”

“Nor will mine!”

She admired his optimism and hoped it was not misplaced.