The Housekeepers mess

The glow of your phone is the only thing that illuminates the room as you doomscroll for "just" another five minutes. You know you should put the phone down. To just go to sleep, it's alright late, well, technically early. Then something caught your attention. A posting, interesting enough to make you stop. It was a simple premise, an offer. Light cleaning, some dusting, mopping. Complete with the catch, always a catch. Some vague language that hinted to the real intentions behind it. High pay as long as the outfit is “Light”, “Cute” and “Thin”. Yep, another creep

*“That's enough for tonight”*

You tell yourself after briefly considering the idea of it. Realizing you’ve hit that point where you're so tired you no longer think rationally. Laughing at the fact that you momentarily considered it. Rolling over and staring at the ceiling, you mulled it over a little more, thinking of your bank account, now in the double digits, rent is due soon… maybe it was worth hearing out. Rolling back over and grabbing the phone, typing out a quick message, deleting it, laughing about the absurdity of the idea. Coming back, typing another and finally throwing the phone away. Pulling the covers up over your head. You need to stop. It’s not like you.

But in the morning, you found yourself still pulled to it. The idea was intriguing, a little provocative in a way that felt good, like an adventure you desperately needed, not a possibly dangerous mistake. It is just cleaning after all. Hell, even the outfit requirement, you have bikinis that show more skin than he was looking for. But the pay, it’s almost a full day's pay for an hour or two. Against your usually better judgment, driven by a lack of funds and stealing yourself, you send a quick message as you hold your breath.

*“Hey, still looking?”*

What convinced you was the way he responds to your obvious nervousness. Swaying you by suggesting you send his address to a friend, set up a time for them to call you, check in and to send the cavalry if you don’t answer. Encouraging you, he said all the right things to make you feel safe.

You had discussed wearing a small crop top and a skirt, or booty shorts, both fine with you and he gave no preference to either. Not exactly sure why, but you found a top that was a little thinner, enough to leave something for the imagination, but so little that it was fun. Paired with your favorite skirt. Just long enough that if bending over to sweep or mop, there's enough left to the imagination.

But as you were getting ready, for your own personal amusement you thought it may be fun to leave the panties at home, at the time the idea was exciting, exhilarating and so out of character for you that you couldn't help getting a little carried away. Now that you are here, sitting in the driveway, the excitement has turned to panic. The rush of driving here, the idea of cleaning this house with the slim chance of exposing yourself to this stranger is gone now. Pulling up into the driveway, seeing him standing there. It was real now, not some fun game. Leaving you with hands that wouldn't stop shaking as you fumble with the door and finally manage to get yourself out. Taking a moment and several deep breaths, you compose yourself.

You had prepared for a predator. Some creep, gross and disheveled, with crumbs in his beard. An old man that needed some young eye candy to get his thrill. Completely unprepared by this handsome man, maybe early 30’s at most. Polite with kind bright eyes and a disarming half wave. He was not the creepy voyeur you pictured. Just a normal guy with disposable income and an interesting idea. A miscalculation that throws you a little more off balance and a little more on guard, for some reason it would be easier if he was creepy looking, it would at least match what you prepared for.

As you step closer, he greets you with a charming smile. His hair was long, he stood not too tall at about 5 '11, maybe 5' 10. Broad shoulders, he seemed to be in great shape. You even see a flash of a tattoo peeking out from under his shirt as he walks you through the house. Leading you to wonder what it was and how many more there may be.

The nerves are gone now, you feel at ease until he shows you to the closet where he keeps his supplies. No immediate red flags, no bad vibes. You catch him taking a quick glimpse at your chest. The top was thin, sheer and his house was a little cold. Enough that it stiffened your nipples, it would have been all but impossible for him not to notice. The light translucence was a bad idea. You had forgotten how you were dressed until you caught him looking. Laughing, as you remember what you had agreed to, the whole point was to be noticed. Of course he was going to stare, he was paying to stare.

As if attempting not to embarrass you, or maybe he is just embarrassed that you caught him looking, he sums up the tour right there, quickly leaving after pointing to the supplies again, advising he will let you get to work, and to just yell if you need anything. For a quick moment, you notice the flush in his face, maybe he was the one embarrassed. The thought of making this grown man blush was cute, endearing. He wasn’t bad on the eyes and that shyness really looked good on him

Getting started, you find yourself in a rhythm. Every once in a while, you can feel his eyes over you, staring, wanting, burning a hole through your clothes with his eyes when he thinks you are not looking. The excitement grows in you with every glance. Emboldening yourself into going out of the way to give a little show whenever he was within view. Enjoying the power you felt was surprising. You usually aren't one to move like this. Shocking yourself with this unknown strength to walk around a stranger's house, panty-less, breasts on full display, arching your back, moving to puff them out, to show yourself off. But god, does it feel good.

The attention was addictive. Every glance was driving this little fantasy in your head. Swearing he must see you dripping down your own thigh. He would have to be blind not to. You could probably see the glistening shine of your leg from space. You're getting bolder, and with it, a hot flash is hitting your body. For a moment, you wonder if you could sneak off to the washroom, the excitement of getting yourself off in some strangers home, it felt so dirty. You already took a chance today, maybe it won't hurt to take another. Ultimately, you decide against it, leaving you torn between delaying the work so you can keep putting on this show or running straight home and using this memory, this feeling to bring yourself to what you knew would be a life changing orgasm.

Deciding on the latter, you pick up the pace, no longer caring about this job, focused only on the desperate urging between your legs that demands to be satisfied immediately. Otherwise, you may break down right here and now with broom in hand. Overcome by your own ferocious sex drive, that growing itch in your pussy, was screaming to be scratched. You put everything back to where he showed you it belonged. Pausing to take a quick step back, double checking the cash you got up front was still in your purse pocket. You are not sure what's come over you, but you need to get home and work it out.

A long sigh escapes you, both sad its over and loving the excitement this little adventure has brought you. You're ready to leave, to run out the door, praying you can hold it together, you can attack yourself, tease and relieve the aching throb of your clit on the drive home and finish the job when you collapse in bed. The idea sends another immediate shudder, so wild you can feel it through the hairs on your skin. Your clit isn’t just throbbing, it's begun spreading the feeling throughout you, each pulse sending a wave through you, landing in your stomach so hard you're barely able to stand.

So lost in your thoughts you didn't notice he had been walking over to you, jumping as you finally sensed his presence. The small hairs on the back of your neck shooting straight up, snapping you out of it. Startled, turning towards him, about to let him know it's all done, to thank him for the gig and ask when you're needed next. The look on his face tells you something is off. He keeps coming closer, his pace not slowing, as if instead of trying to stop in front of you, he’s trying to pick up the maximum amount of momentum as he reaches you. Standing half a foot away, his hands reach forward, grabbing you and pinning you up against the wall, his hands locking around your forearms, lifting you off the ground as if you were nothing as he pushes you flat against it with a heavy thud.

The size difference was terrifying, you had noticed when you first walked up to him, but it was more apparent now than ever. Usually something you would have subconsciously clocked, seeing that size and naturally keeping a reasonable distance, no matter how kind he was. The most basic method of self preservation. It failed today, the idea of disposable cash and his disarming charm, coupled with that fantasy you had been playing out in your mind had dropped your guard. Unable to speak, small and helpless as he held you firm. Staring at you with the eyes of a man possessed.

*“You really thought I hadn’t noticed, didn’t you?”*

That voice, its a heavy breathy rasp, each syllable hammers away at the sinking feeling in your chest as it crawls into your ear.

*“All that extra effort today… the way you lingered in every doorway, that whoreish arch in your back. Watching you laying it on so thick. I saw you watching, making sure I looked whenever you reached for a shelf. I saw every single moment of it, enjoyed every second of it. More than you can possibly imagine”*

Shifting his weight, as he speaks through heavy breathing, pressing his knee into your thigh. He can feel you trembling. Smiling as he enjoys the sight of it.

*“You put on one hell of a show for me, didn’t you? Like you were trying to see if I would break. Well congrats, you won. But I think there's still so much for me to see, isn't there?”*

Finally in control of yourself again, the shock wears off, replaced by a small amount of adrenaline, but it's pointless. His hands wrap completely around your tiny little arms and he's detained you as if you're nothing. Almost laughing as he reaches for your top and tears it in one quick motion. Your eyes widening in disbelief.

**“Get the fuck off me, Ill fucking end you, asshole. You’ll regret this you piece of shit”**

Screaming at the top of your lungs, making it clear to him your not to be fucked with. At least, that's what you screamed in your head. Those are the words you wanted to say, knew you say. Should declare at the top of your lungs. Instead, barely rolling off your tongue, a meek little statement.

*“Please don’t”*

The way it comes out doesn’t even convince yourself. To say the show didn't mean this, that clearly it wasn’t what you meant, it’s not really true.. Instead, your own voice has said what you had been feeling in the depth of your stomach. You had played out this fantasy the entire time, building it up to a point your body, that impulse has taken over. Forcing you to imply what you now needed. Silencing your mind, it's the pulsing, throbbing of your clit that's speaking through you now.

*“Ill make you a deal”*

Those words dangling some small shred of hope for the last morsel of logical thought being slowly silenced by your libido. Sliding you further up against the wall. Pushing and pining your hands above your head, crushing your chest against it with his own. His knee forces open your legs, spreading them just enough to make you understand that you do not have the body strength to fight him. Forcefully, he brings your hands together, grabbing them both by the wrist with a single large hand, it hurts, and trying to struggle just makes him clamp down on them tighter.

His free hand is grazing down the sides of your face. Making you flinch. The touch, that touch in this moment was more than you can take. Not the disgust you knew you should be feeling. Instead it was a shock of electricity, sending that pulsing sensation deeper, the throbbing, picking up intensity. He’s still moving, slowly, towards the skin at the sides of your breasts, reminding you that he has already exposed you from the neck down. So exposed, his touch is an electric attack against your common sense. His hand continues down to your skirt, pausing for a minute to circle your inner thigh. You're struggling against yourself, forgetting to breathe. Wanting to fight him off while all the while frustrated, hating that his hand, that electric hand, stopped.

*“Prove to me you don’t want this. That you don’t want me, right now. Ill stop, ill double your cash and you’ll never see me again”*

The way he says it, almost as if he’s laughing, both of you understand you have proven the excitement already. The proof of it had slowly snaked its way to your knees by this point, there hasn’t been a moment from the second you stepped foot into his home it hasn’t been a clear and visible readiness.

The sudden dizzying realization that you were in control sent a shiver down your spine. Unable to react, frozen in place. Not by fear, but the reaction that forced you still. Fight or flight kicked in and you had chosen to freeze even in the midst of pleasure. You can feel the intention in his smile as you do nothing. Still frozen as you feel the jerk of your skirt, thrown up above the waist as he hiked it up in one smooth, fluid motion. Why? Why does that simple act drive you insane?

Slowly, he starts again, heads up your thigh, starting by lightly circling your knee. The feeling, a light tickle makes them quake. Your chest is becoming flush, an agonizing want, making it tight. Continuing upwards with a steady slow pace, his fingers shooting a nonstop tingle up your leg, each slow inch, insatiable. Your breath is ragged, you feel hot. Like you're burning up from the inside out. The intensity, your impatience. It's making you sweat. Your eyes are locked on him, trying to plead him to get to the point. Watching as he tests the waters, waiting for a rebuke that never comes. Heading towards his prize, the one place your mind says you don't want him heading. Knowing that there's no coming back if he reaches. Your body, trembling at the touch, heavily disagreeing with that assessment. Knowing when he reaches you’ll be putty in his hands.

Within seconds, he feels the soaked thighs. The drying proof from mere moments ago that had you ready to run off home. Combined with this flooding rush of want he’s dragging out of you now. It’s this moment of truth and realization that had you both lock your eyes onto each other, bringing forth a gushing rush. Triggered by that cold steely gaze of his. Sharp blue eyes washed over you, seeing through you, bathing you in the first body shaking wave of pleasure. Light electric pins that spread across your skin, making their way down your neck, lighting your nipples on fire and firming your breast, the whole of you now hyper aware of his presence. The feeling hammers away, diving quickly towards the flooding aching of your pussy and coming to a rest in your womb. You no longer want this. You need it, a primal urge to give in to a dominating presence standing before you. It’s becoming a hormonal desperation.

Laughing, with a grin that reaches all the way up to his eyes, that same cute smile you had noticed before coupled with that same flush in his own face, perfectly matching yours. The space between you was static, burning with intensity thick enough to cut, ready to burst in a moment of passion you both held your breath for. Knowing it was coming.

*“Look at that”*

It's just a murmur, knowing he has you melting already. His bright blue eyes filled with a hunger you have never seen. It’s stirring something in you. Something you're not familiar with, but know that it can only be trouble.

*“You can’t even hide it can you? Right there, I know you feel it on your skin. Proof of how much you want this. You're dripping, literally dripping for me. So why still pretend? Why are you still acting like you're not begging for it? Why don’t i see just how much your willing to give”*

The betrayal was instant, absolute and mortifying. The way he called you out was a white flag of surrender waived by your common sense. You had never been so turned on, never felt yourself so wet , so acutely aware of your own arousal that you feel every drop in a way you never have before. Almost hypnotized in a daze as he pulled his hand back, showing you his fingers, soaked and glistening.

You couldn't find the words to lie, to dispute or argue. He was right. You didn't want him to stop. You wanted to be taken, to be ruined by him, to be punished for the tease.. Wrecked for the sin of baiting this handsome stranger. That's the background thought that had been running through your mind the entire time. The whole reason you had begun to feel yourself becoming bolder, why you had started putting on that show to begin with. Just not expecting it to truly become real.

*“No… we don’t need to pretend”*

Again, you want to get a hold of yourself. This mousey little voice was not yours, but the power he somehow held over you made it impossible to speak. His words stole the very air from your lungs. Your mouth was dry from nervousness and the way he still, after all this time kept you pinned and suspended was weakening not just your knees, but had eroded your resolve completely.

*“Take me”*

The words left your mouth against your will. Your body says what your mind had refused to acknowledge. Less than a whisper, he leans closer, you can feel the warmth of his breath. Smell his cologne, earthy, hints of forest. A manly smell that’s not helping you regain your senses. Instead the combination of his show of force combined with that musky smell of man drives you deeper, further into a desperate urge for him.

*“Speak up slut”*

He says it so directly. Demanding that you speak clearer, to make it known what you want. The words hit you like a blunt object cementing the fact that you now need him, not want, but completely need him. Leaning forward, noses almost touching. Lips so close to each other that you can feel the buzzing intensity between them. Your mouth is watering, licking your lips, staring at his. Thick, full and inviting, you finally find your voice. Matching the directness, swinging back with a bluntness of your own, defiant now. Your eyes showing him a hunger matching his own.

**“I said, stop talking and fucking take me”**

The confidence of which you said it surprised even yourself. The whole word froze for just a moment, that record scratch in the movies where everything pauses and the main character explains to those “Who may be wondering how i got myself in this mess”.

The words hung there, in the air between them for a second that was really an agonizing lifetime. Then, shattered. He lunged forward, their mouths crashing together in a fiery, wet kiss that felt less like a loving embrace and more like a declaration of war between superpowers. Their tongues swirling and entangled, desperate with urgency. Trying to reach into each other as if they would both drown if they couldn't get further. His free hand, still slick and dripping with the saturation of your pussy that he had just mocked you with, clamped firmly over your face to tilt back her head and pull her deeper. The scent and taste of you on his skin was a mental overload. A reminder of how quickly and thoroughly he had exposed and melted you. No longer able to help yourself, hips grinding against the kne