Originally it was a joke. Friday night, 24 pack, a crowd of young and lonely engineers, and you get someone drunk dialing. Les had the phone and he had the number in mind.
Of course I was convinced it was a joke. Until he gave over my address,
phone number, and nicked my wallet to also give my credit card
information. It was at that point I realized I was getting fucked
over. Hugh and Pat wrestled me to the ground while Les darted
upstairs and completed the call. After all the fight had been drained
from me, Les came downstairs and put the receiver back in its dock.
"Her name is Cynthia. She'll be by tomorrow at one o'clock."
So it was 12:30 the next afternoon when I finished cleaning the
house. I've never understood that --cleaning your house
when someone was coming to clean it for you--but now
that I actually had a woman on her way to see my home, I panicked.
It wasn't often I had women under my roof. Let alone naked
women. So I panicked again and re-vacuumed my bedroom, which I'm
fairly certain has never been done in the three years I've lived
When the doorbell rang, I furiously readjusted my erection again
so it was safely tucked into the waistband of my jeans. I hurried
downstairs, thinking I didn't want to keep a naked lady outside long,
then slowed. Would she be naked before she got into the house?
Couldn't be, could she? I mean, that's just asking for indecent
exposure lawsuits galore. But it seemed awfully imprudent to advertise
that you're a nude cleaning service when you show up in scrubs or
The doorbell rang again, so I all but flew downstairs to the front
On my front step stood a voluptuous woman in a brown and green
track suit. She had the sleek blonde hair of a goddess, which flowed down her back, straighter than I was, and blue feline eyes. Wait, no, women
didn't have cat eyes. They were just accentuated around the tips. Did she do that with liquid eyeliner? Holy shit, what would
women learn to do with face paint next?
"Hello?" she said, peering into my face like I looked
ready to puke on her.
"You contacted DMS last night?"
"No. Dirty Maid Service."
"I... think so."
"I'm Cynthia. I'm looking for Steve Werther."
She stared. "Is this the right place, then?"
"Yes. Sorry. Come in." I held my breath as she walked by
me. I watched her while she surveyed my house from the landing. When
she looked at me, I looked away.
"So, you're aware of the charges?"
"Mm. Yes. Yup. Uh, actually, no, not at all. What am I paying you?"
"A two-hundred dollar deposit was charged to your card. That covers my first two hours of cleaning. It's an additional
hundred per hour after that."
"Oh. Right. Good. So, uh, you just... you just go 'round
cleaning stuff, while, uh... birthday suit."
She smiled and giggled, but it wasn't mean. "Yes. I'll just
grab the appropriate equipment."
"Let me help you," I said, so eagerly that it was
obvious she was doing me the favour rather than me for her.
So we went into her van and hauled out computerized
vacuum cleaners, motorized fiberglass mops and brooms, solutions coming in
bottles that made them look like elixirs out of a fantasy story, and
finally the most sexual duster I ever have and ever will see. It had
pink and purple microfiber feathers and a shiny, black, phallic
handle on the end, which I quickly learned twisted, turned, and
vibrated at the touch of impeccably placed buttons on the grip.
"Business must be good," I said, playing around with the
"Why do you say that?"
"Some of your equipment puts my engineering firm to shame. We
manufacture air conditioners, and while they're expensive enough, we
still have an embarrassing recall rate on oh sweet Jesus."
I don't know how she did it, but one second she had her hands in
her track suit pockets, and the next second every shred of clothing
was pooled around her ankles. That's when I noticed she was wearing
dangerously red high heels. I don't know how I managed to speak, but
I pointed to her feet and said to her breasts, "Are you sure
you're going to be able to clean in those?"
"Well, as you said, business is good." She stepped out
of her clothes and pressed her boobs together. "This is the
most expensive equipment I use, and it brings in the most cash flow.
Paid for itself five times over by now, and it's only been two years
"I. Uh. That's good market strategy, right there."
"I'll just get to work. Are there any areas of the house you
don't want me to go into? Any particular instructions?"
I shook my head. Or at least I'm pretty sure I looked like I did.
"Good. Don't mind me, Mr. Werther."
"Actually, would you, uh... would you mind if I, er... minded
She ran her hands over her body. “You can come watch.”
“Oh. Thank you.” I winced.
What made it worse is she smiled, and I knew she only didn't look at
me like an idiot because I was paying her not to.
But after I grabbed a beer and
followed her to the living room to watch her vacuum (that would have
been the third time in twelve hours it received such a treatment), she
somehow charmed me into forgetting that I'd paid her to be here. The
looks she shot me as she bent at the waist to slide the vacuum under
the coffee table... whew.
She had a triangle gap between her thighs, and I found myself
transfixed in that gateway to heaven for the entirety of the first hour.
Once I'd watched her wash the
bathroom (letting her tits get wet and soapy in the process) and
scrub my kitchen floor (commenting on her dirty knees afterwards),
she was nearly done. She must have seen my thoughts shining like neon
signs on my face, for she stepped so close she was nearly touching me
and said, "I don't do this for everyone...."
"Add pine finish to
She blinked and waved her hand
like chasing away an irksome insect. "No, let me finish." Then
her voice went sultrier than sultry. "I don't do this for everyone,
but there's this offer the maids are allowed to make if they...
appreciate their clients."
My dick must have jumped ten feet
in the air. "Mm."
"It's a bit pricy, but... a
strapping engineer like yourself... wouldn't mind getting a little
dirty with me. Would he?"
I scratched the back
of my neck. "Do you take card?"
Turns out she did.