The Cleaning Job

by Pea Jung

  “It is clear to you that I will stop coming if I should actually meet a nice man,” I scold him further. “A double life is not for me. And my boyfriend should have the certainty, that I would only clean the apartment on all fours for him.”

  “Why do I always feel like you’re making fun of me? Do you not have any secret fantasies that you would like to live?”

  Most likely I’m now bright red, but I react impudently: “I would certainly not discuss these fantasies with a man who hides his face behind a mask.”

  “Would you like to see me without a mask?” he asks and tilts his head to one side again.

  “I… um… no idea. To tell you the truth, I haven’t really thought about it. I have constant thoughts about what you look like. But I might not even want to know who you are.”

  “Maybe I’m Herbert,” he tells me amused.

  I have to laugh bitterly at that. “Yes, sure.”

  “Or someone else, you know? Your boss, for example.”

  I actually catch myself looking him intensely in the eyes and then trying to imagine Jörg’s eyes. “Jörg would never call me Kitten. You are playing a devilish game with me.”

  “Mmh, my Kitten. I really liked you in the teasing underwear today. It’s too bad that we had such short pleasure from it,” he coos, still amused.

  I’ve had enough. “Can I go now?”

  “Of course – if you come back on Thursday.” He pulls out his wallet to give me my tip.

  “I’ll finish the month in any case,” I say without thinking about it and reach for the money.

  “And then?” He won’t let go of the paper currency and we both hang on to it.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Come on. You don’t really want to stop?”

  “Why not? The monthly arrangement doesn’t only give you the possibility to get out,” I tease him.

  “You won’t do that,” he says confidently.

  “Oh, yes!” I answer snippily and just as confident. In doing so, I pull on the note, which he finally releases, and thank him smiling.

  Then I leave. I am really glad that I will see and hear no more of him until Thursday evening.

  Adam calls me on the same evening and also on Wednesday evening, and we talk for a while.

  Chapter 14

  On Thursday after work I make my way to the apartment as always, just seeing it from the outside makes my heart beat faster. The costume once again shows me that my employer has a pretty weird sense of humor, or he has made it his mission to annoy me.

  Just from the headband, I recognize that I will be dressed as a cat. I slip into the pink corset with black lace trimming on the sides and give a skeptical look to the black tail that is sewn on the back. I find matching panties and long stockings, which I can attach to the holders of the corset. There are black high heels too.

  “Meow,” I purr in the mirror, but I’m sure that in the presence of the man who chose this costume I won’t be so confident. Quite provocatively, I slink into the kitchen and swing my cat’s tail playfully in my hand.

  I stop in surprise because he is already there waiting for me. The cat’s tail falls out of my hand and I lower my gaze. “Relax, Kitten. Just pretend I’m not here!”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I answer with a shaky voice.

  He stands up and pushes the little table and chairs to the side of the room. Only now do I see that he has a CD-player.

  “Would you dance for me?” he asks.

  “Umm, maybe.”

  He comes over to me carrying a sleeping mask, which ironically has cat ears, and whispers: “I want you to relax. Forget that I’m here. May I blindfold you?”

  “All right,” I respond just as quietly.

  As he pulls the mask on over my head, he whispers in my ear: “Pretend you’re in a dance class, with lots of other people. Don’t worry, you can’t do anything wrong.”

  With anticipation, I listen to the first bars of the song he chooses: Stolen Dance by Milky Chance. I try to move easily to the beat of the song, even though the feeling of him observing me makes me tense up. Amazingly, the blindfold helps me, because otherwise, his presence would distract me even more.

  I dance with my eyes closed, but I don’t move too energetically because I don’t want to bash into anything.

  “May I?” I hear him ask at the same moment as I feel one of his hands on my waist while he grabs my left hand with the other. He leads me in a slow foxtrot and when he spins me away from himself, a laugh escapes me. His movements are very enthusiastic and it lets me be more lively myself. It really is fun, to dance with him like this. He seems very confident and I rely completely on his leadership.

  As the next song starts, he pulls me much closer and I can feel that he has pulled off his mask. His scratchy chin rubs against the skin on my cheek and as Emeli Sandé starts to sing, he lets go of my hand and puts both hands around my waist. I sling my arms around his neck and pull him toward me. Since I am only dressed in thin clothes I can clearly feel the solid fabric of his dark jeans, the wide belt and the hard muscles of his abdomen against my body. His breath touches my shoulder and my neck as his hands move slowly across my back. Actually, it might upset me if it were not so electrifying.

  Now, goaded by his clear breach of the rules, I begin to explore him with my hands. I brush his hair. At his neck and above the ears his hair seems to be rather short, while he clearly has more hair on the top of his head. It also feels hard, as though he has gel or hairspray in it.

  “What are you doing, Kitten?” he softly whispers in my ear.

  Without allowing myself to be diverted, I trace both hands across his face, over a smooth forehead, which feels large, probably, because he has hardly any hair on his face. Bushy eyebrows sit above the eyes, which I had already seen despite the mask. He closes his eyes as I stroke over them and slowly down his long, narrow nose with two fingers.

  His arms keep hold of me, while my palms feel his cheeks. I smile, as I feel the spikes of his beard and notice how his face is warping also. My finger is approaching his mouth and circles it. As I’m exploring his upper lip, I give myself a fright and almost scream, because I imagine him biting me.

  Then I laugh out loud and withdraw from him, which he does not prevent. I dance around the room exuberantly, after I have located the kitchen counter, and know where I am. Almost cocky, I move across the room on high heeled shoes. I remember the arm movements from my ballet lessons and sing along with the simple chorus of the song.

  With the last sounds of the song, I let myself fall to the ground and lie still. Immediately as the next song begins, I slowly move on the kitchen floor to Wings by Birdy. I now completely don’t care whether he’s watching me and what he is thinking. I writhe on the floor and drive my fingers through my hair. As I spread my arms out across the floor, I can feel that he is directly above my head. I reach for his ankles and hold on. Then I start a movement like abdominal muscle training, as I spin my legs in the air. First closed and then spread. The whole thing is becoming more and more of a game to me and I don’t care now about anything.

  Then I swing around onto my knees and hiss at my strange employer, my claws come out and I circle him. Unfortunately, I can not see his reaction, but he seems to stand completely still as though he likes my idea. Only when the next song begins, do I feel him take my hands and pull me up.

  Robbie Williams is singing She’s the One and I let my dance partner lead me through the room, where I keep my arm movements slow ensuring that we move slowly to the music. How I’d love to see him, even with his mask, I could tell how he is feeling through his body language. To be so completely in the dark makes it difficult and I must discern whether he is as relaxed as I am though the pressure of his hands or the resistance of his arms to my movements.

 
After Robbie Williams comes The Black Eyed Peas with Where is the Love. In a conventional dance posture, my mysterious employer twirls me through the room and I trust him completely, not to let me dance into any pieces of furniture.

  The songs come and go. I have no idea how much time has passed. The fact that I have broken out in a sweat, makes me suspect that it is already quite late.

  Then I hear the gentle sounds of R.E.M. Everybody Hurts plays and my partner, who is also hot, pulls me into his arms. Nestled closely together we sway to the song and I sometimes hear my partner quietly growling, singing along. Actually, I don’t hear it, I can feel it from the vibration in his chest. As the song fades away, it remains silent.

  The CD seems to be over and I am all of a sudden completely alone.

  “You can remove the blindfold now.”

  Immediately I pull it off my head and try, blinking, to get used to the brightness in the kitchen. Great! He has his mask back on, I’ve taken mine off. What is this for a working relationship?

  “You can take a shower if you want,” he says and I nod because I’m really exhausted.

  Wearily I peel myself out of the costume and as always in this apartment, I feel really good from the adrenaline rush. I really liked the dancing today, and his touch did not bother me, on the contrary. I enjoy the shower and although I usually like really hot water, I cool off with a little lukewarm water at the end.

  Then I knock on the door of the living room. Maybe he didn’t wait for me?

  “Yes,” I hear him answer almost immediately, and as always, I go over to the chair which is ready for me and sink into it. He is silent and I am too.

  Finally, he pulls out his wallet and heaven knows what’s gotten into me when I say: “no, please, I don’t want a tip.”

  He stops mid-movement, but eventually puts his money back on his lap before eying me, then he asks: “Why not?”

  Nervously, I look around the room, searching for the right words, my hands clamped between my knees so that I can not gesticulate uncontrollably. “It was beautiful… exactly… I would feel somewhat… tawdry, if I took money from you for the best evening of dancing in my life.”

  Abruptly, his head tilts backward. My words have probably surprised him. He silently drums the fingers of his right hand on the back of the sofa for a while. Finally, he growls: “I would feel extremely tawdry if you don’t accept the money. I hired you to be in this costume in my apartment.”

  “But I haven’t cleaned anything” I burst in immediately.

  “You have never properly cleaned.”

  “That’s not true. I…”

  “Forget about it. I want you to take the money,” he growls low and reaches for his wallet.

  “No.”

  “Don’t be so uptight.”

  “Don’t be so stubborn.” With these words, I get up and leave the apartment.

  Chapter 15

  That evening, my phone rings, and because I think it is Adam who’s calling, I answer the phone without looking at the number.

  “Josefine Wagner.”

  “It’s me,” I hear his deep, pleasant voice. He sounds calm and collected.

  “Hello, Mister unknown,” I practically sing into the phone, because I’m somewhat glad that he’s calling me.

  “You’re really stubborn,” he says, mildly amused.

  “Yes and? You’re not much better.”

  “And you’re cheeky too, like a cat. The nickname fits you perfectly.”

  “Please don’t expect that I’m going to start purring.”

  He just laughs. “I’d like to hear that. But I’m actually calling about your tip. I’ve thought of a compromise. In the course of tomorrow, I will let you know my idea. And please, be so kind and don’t dismiss me nor my idea out of hand.”

  “I can not promise you anything.” I hate it how he always wants to have the last word.

  “I don’t want you to give up your work with me,” he says suddenly and sounds unexpectedly soulful, his voice gives me goosebumps.

  “What’s wrong with you? Can’t you find a woman, with whom you can organize costume parties without the mask?”

  He sighs. “It is not customary to speak about sexual preferences on a first date, is it?” he explains. “Besides, I’m not interested in a relationship. I just want you to keep coming.”

  “And this other woman, you want to keep screwing her in peace?”

  “It’s more complicated than it perhaps looks to you at the moment…”

  “Actually it didn’t look particularly complicated” I snap at him, “and it is quite clear that I have no right to be upset about it. Nevertheless, I am.”

  “Yes, you are, and honestly I like it.” He seems to smile and I get angry.

  “But I do not like it. I don’t even know what you look like.”

  “Appearance is not everything. Do you like me?”

  “I really don’t know you at all.”

  “You probably know me better than most others. Do you at least like what you do know about me?”

  “You want to hear a yes. All right, I like you. Are you happy now?”

  “I like you too, quite a lot even. That’s why I don’t want you to disappear from my life.”

  I do not know how I should react. Ultimately I feel flattered. It’s not every day someone tells me that they like me, even if it is obvious, like with my girlfriends and me. But it rarely happens that you actually say it. It should actually come up more often, but not as corny as in those American movies.

  “I met someone,” it bursts out of me.

  “Another man?”

  “Yes. I’m going to the cinema with him tomorrow evening. He’s nice.”

  “Do I know him?”

  “How should I know? He’s called Adam and he works as an investor.” I willingly provide the information, because I have the feeling that he won’t believe me otherwise.

  “May I ask where you met him?”

  “Do you know him?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I first met him in my local pub, and later by chance at McDonald’s.”

  “Aha.”

  “Aha, what?”

  “You’ve only met these two times?”

  “No,” I answer amazed. “We went on a date, in the pub. Why do you want to know?”

  “Just because. I wish you a beautiful night and remember your tip is coming tomorrow.” Then he hangs up.

  Honestly, I don’t like the idea that next Tuesday might be my last work day with my strange admirer. But how long do I want to do something like this? I’ve tried it, it’s not exactly easy for me, and the idea that he is actually interested in underwear, that’s barely worth mentioning, I find scary. How long will he be satisfied with these slightly more generous underpants?

  On Friday, I have the early shift. Henry is also back and I take the time to get a cup of coffee for him.

  “Well, Henry, tell me. What’s new?”

  “Well, we might not see each other so often in the future,” growls Henry.

  “That sounds mysterious.”

  “It is. I’m actually quite glad I’ll be traveling more again, but I’ll miss you.”

  “What do I do, if my car won’t start again?”

  “You become a member of the… you know,” smiles Henry.

  While I laugh at his advice, the idea doesn’t sound so stupid given the old box I drive.

  After work, I empty my mailbox as usual and of course, a letter immediately strikes me – which is without stamps and only has a one-word address: “Kitten”. I open the envelope on the way into my apartment and am amazed by the content: A voucher for a waxing! It was so clear.

  Admittedly, I was actually thinking about
whether I should try it out. Actually, in hindsight, I could have realized that he would give me no peace where this was concerned. Interestingly he has even made me an appointment for Monday morning. Let’s see whether I can actually go.

  That evening, I’m standing in front of the cinema, where I have agreed to meet Adam. I’ve already been waiting a while and my imagination started playing up a few minutes ago. A few meters away from me is a man who appears also to be waiting in vain for a date.

  I rummage in my pocket for my phone, which I had already turned off so that it would not go off in the cinema. Adam has not even tried to reach me. I find his number and call him. He actually answers: “Yes?”

  “Adam, it’s me, Josefine.”

  “Josefine, I’m so sorry. I can’t go to the movies with you. I’m up to my neck at work. We’re having a problem in the company. My boss…,” says Adam.

  “Your boss? I thought you were an investor?”

  “Actually, I lied a little. I’m the employee of that investor.”

  I close my eyes as I press my lips together. “You lied to me!” I whisper after a few moment in which Adam also remains silent.

  “Yes.” He sounds sheepish.

  “You know what? I’m going to the movie now. Have fun!” I scold him through the device and hang up.

  I have no desire for a love film now. I need action, or as Arnold Schwarzenegger would say: “An Aktschon Fuim!” There is in fact a movie with Bruce Willis and John Malkovich. Wonderful!

  “One for screen 4, please,” I say to the cashier. The single man who still seems to be waiting for his date give me a compassionate smile and I smile back sympathetically. Then I look for a space in the cinema, which is already half full. There are a few seats next to me. In the middle of the adverts, I have to move my legs to the side because someone wants to sit in my row. It is the solitary man from outside, clearly, he also chose to watch a movie alone – with a giant box of popcorn. He probably expects that his girlfriend or friends will still come. He occupies the seat after the one next to me and immediately digs into his popcorn.