The Cleaning Job

by Pea Jung

  “Hey, Josi, everything okay with you? You’ve been so absent-minded all day,” Jörg notes in the evening after all the guests have gone and we’re cleaning the last glasses.

  “I’m not fully awake today, I’m sorry,” I apologize.

  Jörg smiles at me. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You have a huge smile on your face…”

  “Honestly?”

  “Honest.”

  “I met someone, but it’s complicated,” I explain.

  He pats me on the shoulder encouragingly. “Cheer up! It’ll be all right.”

  “Jörg, how about you go home early today? I’ll close up.”

  “I won’t say no to that,” Jörg responds.

  After he’s gone, I turn the radio volume up, because Tom Jones’ She’s a Lady is playing. I dance to the song as I dry up. In order to train for my cleaning job, I always raise a leg, placing my foot on the high bar while I put a glass away in the cabinet. I circle my pelvis in time with the music. It’s fun. I throw back my hair and wave the towel.

  I like the next song too, Alicia Keys Girl on Fire. I turn the radio up louder. There are no neighbors to complain. The hard of hearing Grandma next door has never had a problem with us andare otherwise there are only stores, and they’re all closed at this time of day.

  When I’m done with everything, I turn the music off and leave the restaurant. It’s frighteningly quiet. Not a soul can be seen. On the way to my car, I hear only the sound of my steps and my own breath.

  I lock the car, sit behind the steering wheel, and close the door quickly.

  But then the engine won’t start. I try again and again, but it just won’t. I drum on the steering wheel angrily.

  A face appears in the dark, close to the windscreen. I scream.

  Then I recognize it. It’s Henry.

  I roll the window down a little: “Henry, you scared me. What are you doing here so late?”

  “I just wanted to make sure that you got home. Are you having problems with your car?”

  “It won’t start.” My voice trembles.

  “Should I have a look st what’s wrong?” he asks, but noticing my skeptical look he distances himself. “It’s okay, I understand. Should I call you a taxi?”

  “No thanks, I have my phone here.” I point at my bag.

  Henry nods and walks away into the darkness.

  “Henry!” I call after him. “Are you familiar with cars then?”

  He immediately turns around and comes back. “It’s my secret hobby so to say. Just let me try it!”

  I slide into the front passenger seat and Henry climbs in. He turns the ignition key and lets the motor grind. Finally, he gets out, opens the bonnet and bends over the engine in the glow of the streetlights.

  I can hear him fiddling around. “Try it now!” he calls.

  Quickly I slide back into the driver’s seat, turn the engine on and it hums satisfied to life.

  “Super Henry, thank you!”

  He lets the hood fall back down and comes round to the still open window: “a tip: when you’re dancing so enthusiastically, you might want to turn off the lights. I literally had to pull Herbert away.”

  “You were watching me!” I’m appalled.

  “I was watching out for you,” he notes, turns around and goes.

  It takes a while before I have collected myself and can leave.

  “Tell me, Jörg,” I ask my boss quietly the next morning. “Henry, does he come in sometimes when I’m not here? He’s a little strange.”

  Jörg considers this briefly. “When you ask me like that, I would have to say no. But I almost never serve him. I can ask Saskia when she comes in.”

  “That would be nice,” I whisper and smile at Henry.

  Herbert hasn’t arrived yet, which doesn’t surprise as he was pretty full when he left yesterday.

  My phone rings. “Jörg, can I get that quickly? It’s Carina. I’m going out tonight with the girls and want to check if there’s a change of plan.”

  “Go ahead,” says Jörg. “Saskia smokes. I don’t take her smoke breaks from her salary.”

  I answer the phone. “Carina, did you find a babysitter?”

  “Yeah, Björn is spending the evening with the children. I’m calling about a week on Monday. It’s fall break! Björn and I want to spend a day at the spa and I wanted to ask you if you could take the children.”

  “Of course, I’m free that day.”

  “Great, then I can book our massages. You’re a treasure!”

  “See you later. I’ll come around nine today.”

  “Where are you going tonight?” asks Jörg, as I end the conversation.

  “We’re going to our local pub, the Steak-House.”

  “I thought you got a new job?”

  “Yes, that’s why I will be joining them later.”

  This time a sexy version of the snow white costume is lying out ready for me: sleeveless and, of course, very short again. Within the blue tight top, low cut red bra cups are set. The underwear today is yellow hotpants, which pinch me in the crotch. I can well imagine that they show more than they hide. But I cannot complain. After all, he has kept his word and it’s not a thong! There is a pair of long, white, silk stockings to go with it. A red headband with a bow should go in my tied up hair, according to the instructions.

  Because I’m overly punctual this time I have to wait a while in the kitchen until he finally arrives. As he enters the kitchen, I have a quick look at him – and I’m surprised. He has dark blue jeans on and just a black T-shirt. His arms are looking really good, muscular, but not exaggeratedly trained. In addition, his skin is tanned. Quickly, I lower my gaze to the ground before he notices that I am looking at him. As usual, he has the mask on over his head. Maybe I should ask him to dress up as well. Today he would then probably have turned up as a dwarf or Prince. Which would he choose?

  “You look cute, Kitten,” he says quietly. “Glad you’re here. I thought you could rinse the drinking glasses today, they’re in the closet.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I respond as he moves the kitchen chair into position.

  “In the small storage room, you will find a household ladder, so that you can better get the glasses down from the cupboard. You understand?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I breathe and go to the small pantry, which connects to the kitchen.

  I carry the ladder back to the kitchen, fold it out to a standing position and open the cabinet with the glasses. He takes his chair and puts it right next to the ladder, while I move slowly up the steps.

  “Kitten, you have a really appealing frame,” he hums and I notice how his words make me soft.

  I try to block him out, but today he has made it his task to embarrass me with his words. Even if he does not physically touch me, his words do – more intense than any skin contact. Once I’ve put all the glasses on the worktop, I get off the ladder, lift a foot up on the kitchen counter and start washing.

  He prompts me to circle my pelvis and pushes his chair closer until he’s right up next to me.

  “Kitten, the hotpants are hotter than any thong. The seam goes across exactly the right place. Can you feel it?”

  I refuse to answer because rotating my pelvis actually rubs the seam over my clit.

  “Can you feel it?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I confess, and watch as he changes his position to observe me even better.

  “Kitten, you also need to wash from the lowest step on the ladder.”

  I lift my leg from the work surface and climb up the ladder.

  This must be a strange sight. Nobody would wash glasses like this! But it fits. Snow White probably didn’t have much of an idea of household manageme
nt either.

  With my left foot, I stand on the lowest step on the ladder, while my right leg rests again on the kitchen counter. Now I have to bend pretty deep if I want to rinse the glasses under running water, which seems to be exactly according to the taste of my client. In any case, he sighs.

  Again I notice myself becoming wet between the legs, and I bet after a short time, it will be visible through the thin fabric of the tight pants.

  “Oh Kitten, you’re so hot,” he moans behind me.

  I do not dare to look at him, but he moves around on the chair pretty restlessly. I am trying to ignore him, and focus on my job. In principle, it should be better than Herbert, who was probably thinking similar thoughts while he watched me rinsing glasses.

  The moisture between my legs spreads and my abdomen is threatening to break apart, as he quietly whispers: “Kitten, you’re all wet. You cannot imagine how much I like it.”

  Rinse glasses, rinse glasses, rinse glasses!

  I pray to this mantra over and over again in my mind while I move my hips seductively at the same time.

  At some point, I’m finished and he moves his chair away from me.

  “You don’t have to dry them,” he says, and I’m not sure whether he’s really speaking about the glasses or not because he sounds like he’s joking. “Come with me to the bathroom!”

  I follow him. He takes a sponge from the sink cabinet. “Scrub the bathtub, from the outside first, on all fours!”

  I go down to my knees, wet the sponge and start using a circular motion to clean the tub.

  After a while, he takes the small wooden stool, on which an artificial plant usually sits, and puts it down next to me. “Sit on it, legs apart!”

  Again I do what he says, and since he’s put the stool so close to the tub, I can only sit on it with my legs spread open.

  “Take off the stockings!” he whispers after a while and I roll them very slowly off my legs.

  “Now crawl into the tub, Kitten!” I hear his velvety voice behind me.

  As I stretch my forearms into the tub while kneeling on the stool, I hear him gasp. I’m not sure, but I think he has his hand in his pants.

  Clean the tub, clean the tub, clean the tub! You’re just here to clean, don’t forget that!

  Oh man, I have half a mind to rip the pants off this guy in order to see for myself how much watching me scrub excites him.

  I climb into the tub and let the sponge slide over the edge.

  “Are you scared of water, Kitten?” he asks suddenly.

  “No, Sir, if the water is not cold.”

  He sits down on the edge of the tub and I try to ignore his arms as they reach over my head for the shower.

  “Close your eyes! Do not dare to open them before I allow it!”

  I close my eyes and clean the bottom of the tub obsessively.

  “Hold still! Sit on your feet!”

  For a moment I consider what he means. Then I kneel down and sit on my heels. And then I listen as he turns on the water. Immediately a cold stream splashes into the tub, but it quickly becomes warm. I can feel him reach past me to the faucet. A moment later water rushes through the shower head.

  “Relax, Kitten! I won’t touch you. I promise,” he whispers in my ear.

  At first, I can feel the warm water making my knees wet and then, slowly, it moves further towards my lap. I open my legs, insofar as the tub allows.

  He has turned the shower on just enough that it feels as if I am sitting in warm rain. When he finally runs the water over my arms, I stretch them upwards and turn my face to the ceiling, eyes still closed.

  He lowers the shower briefly. Is he just looking at me?

  Then, the shower head wanders higher again, over my head. I enjoy the warm water on my body and feel it running from above and down my arms. I sensually squeeze out the sponge, which is still in my hands. The water flows over my face and in between my cleavage. I can’t hear anything except the sound of the water. My heart is beating fast.

  “Don’t be scared, Kitten!” I hear him say, suddenly very close to my ear. His voice sounds unusually clear, almost as if he had taken the mask…

  I jerk as something rough touches my cheek. Then I understand what he is showing me, and I have to smile. I can feel his chin, his cheek. He is clearly not freshly shaven. And he smells incredibly good! I am very tempted to open my eyes, only with difficulty do I manage to control myself. Why does his touch evoke such deep feelings in me?

  But before I’m ready, he turns off the water and as he leaves the bathroom I hear him say: “get dressed! We are done for today.”

  Confused, I open my eyes. What was that? He rubs his face on mine and then disappears? Again and again, he makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong.

  However, I don’t have time to reflect, because I have to hurry if I want to meet the girls just after nine. I get up and peel off the wet clothes. In the small cupboard, I find a towel and rub myself dry. My hair is fortunately not as wet as I feared.

  As always he’s waiting on the couch in the living room. Two green bills are lying ready for me on the glass table. I take them. and because he does not respond to me, I say goodbye quickly, and without sitting down.

  “Goodbye,” he hums.

  He seems so broken, that I can’t help myself, so I ask: “Are you not well?”

  When I don’t receive an answer, I go to the door, but stop there once again. “I really liked the thing with your beard. Thank you.”

  Then I leave.

  Chapter 9

  Once I arrive in my local, the girls wave at me as I am looking around for them from the entrance. I’m glad that the mood at the table is good and immediately order myself a beer.

  A few people are dancing in the single free space. Jana squints at the bar and I follow her gaze. A couple of men are sitting there who I saw at our last meeting as well.

  “Jana likes it here,” says Carina with a cheeky grin. “She’s already been asked to dance several times.”

  Jana shrugs her shoulders.

  “Well, which one do you like?” I ask her and she bends over quite close to me to answer.

  “The one in the white shirt.”

  I turn around again, the men have already noticed us looking. They seem to be talking about us too.

  A blonde man in a white shirt smiles at us and I nod back.

  “Josi,” says Anja amazed, “I don’t even know you.”

  “I don’t know myself lately,” I confess and look at the man beside the blonde. He reminds me of Patrick Swayze. Without further ado, I get up and go over to the two men at the bar. Very slowly I slide my butt onto the free bar stool, spreading my legs slightly more than necessary, but not so much that it is too obvious.

  “How about a slow song,” I say to Cindy behind the bar.

  She smiles: “is there someone you want to dance with?”

  “Not exactly, but my friend Jana would like to dance… with you.” Here I turn to the man with the white shirt, who is already looking at me.

  “Which is Jana?” he asks, coming a little closer. I put my hand under his chin and turn his head in the direction of the table with my friends, who are all looking at us astonished. Then I breathe in the man’s ear: “The pretty one with the dark blonde hair and the large eyes who’s turning red.”

  A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. “Well then,” he says and gets up to go over to Jana.

  At that moment, Cindy puts on the slow song, as requested. I simply slide across to my neighbors’ now vacant bar stool and sit next to the Patrick Swayze look-alike, who turns to me expectantly.

  “You want to dance?” I ask him and he gets up immediately. He holds out his hand, on which is a golden ring, and wiggles his fingers.

 
I smile. “I got it. No problem, I really just want to dance with you.”

  He takes me by the hand and pulls me onto the dance floor, where some couples are already dancing tightly pressed together.

  One of the worst 80s love songs is playing. The woman is howling something about show me heaven. But the song enthralls me because I find myself in the arms of a really good looking guy, who, with his blue eyes, captivated me instantly.

  We look at each other intensely the whole time, his hands wander lower and land on my butt, which doesn’t bother me. Just out of the corner of my eye, I perceive that Jana is dancing with the man in the white shirt next to us. I embrace my dance partner’s body, simply because I long for the touch. He doesn’t react but smiles at me without releasing me from his gaze.

  The track is over sooner than I’d like. Immediately an up-tempo song starts and most of the couples dissolve back into the room. Wake me up before you go go I hear George Michael sing and we jump around overconfidently in the throng of people.

  I soon start to perspire and I pull off my thin sweater. The tight shirt that I am wearing underneath reveals almost every detail of my figure. However, it doesn’t bother me, because I can still feel the pleasant pull in my stomach that started during the cleaning. Even though my bra is holding I can feel the gaze of several men as I dance, arms stretched upwards through the crowd.

  Then comes a slow tearjerker. I close my eyes and slowly dance for myself as a pair of arms loop around me from behind. I turn around and see the guy in the white shirt, who has probably agreed on a swap with my dance partner. He immediately pulls me towards him from the hip and I lean into him, loop my arms around his neck, and enjoy it, as he leads us with his movements. His hands wander about my body a little, but not touching any areas which would make me cringe.

  After the song, he whispers in my ear: “Hot dance, honey.”

  I smile, but remove myself from him in order to make it clear that I am not interested in anything more. He probably understands because he does not follow me through the crowd.

  Jana and I go over to Carina and Anja, who are also dancing. We are all pretty psyched. During the next song, I just called to say I love you, we sing loudly and then as Cyndi Lauper sing Girls just want to have fun we all get giddy with excitement.