by Amelia LeFay
When the elevator came, I glanced back down at the address in my hands.
2829 W Rowling Street
Boston, Massachusetts
It was time to see how the other half actually lived.
Tuesday
“You need to sign this,” the older maid said in a thick German accent before handing me a pen and clipboard. She made me feel like I had entered a clinic instead of a penthouse. She stood outside the doors like a guard dog, but I couldn’t look away from the mole above her lip, which sprouted hair.
“Sign.” She shoved it into my chest.
“Okay. Okay.” Putting my bag down to read the non-disclosure agreement, I wondered why it was necessary.
“No sign. No work,” she said again.
“I get that, but why? Should I get a lawyer or something?”
She just crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at me. I read it quickly; it was simple and straightforward enough.
“Fine, here,” I said, handing her back the clipboard. She nodded and tucked it under her arm before turning around to open the door.
“Code 3140902. No remember, the police come after three times.”
“3140902,” I repeated as the door opened to expose an awe-inspiring view. Wall to wall windows revealed a private pool and the whole of Boston. I couldn’t look away.
“Pain in the ass,” said the German lady while shaking her head at the wall of glass. I realized I still didn’t know her name. “You clean the windows. Wiper is in the closet.”
The moment she said it, the view I was admiring vanished. All I saw now was all the effort it would take to keep the windows clean.
“Come on.” She waved me farther across dark wood flooring, giving me a quick tour. “Living room, you clean. Laundry, the clothes to be washed in the blue basket, dry in the red basket. Kitchen, you clean. Pots and knives you clean with this, nothing else.” She showed me the unmarked cleaning products under the sink. “Understand?”
“Understood.” I nodded, staring at the state of the art stainless steel kitchen. I noticed everything was colored in gray, blue, and off-white, and was perfectly placed like in one of those model homes.
Great, I thought. These people must be neat freaks.
Don’t complain, Jane. Remember you need the job.
“Upstairs.” The unnamed German lady moved around me and up the spiral staircase.
“Three rooms,” she said when she reached the upper level. “Master room, you clean. The spare room, you clean. Private room, you not clean.”
“This one, not clean?” I asked, pointing to the cream door.
“No.” She waved her finger at me.
Raising my hands up in defense, I said, “Okay I got it, but believe me, there is nothing behind those doors that would actually shock me. It could be Christian Grey’s room and I wouldn’t even blink an eye.”
“Who?”
I laughed. “Never mind.”
“You understand?” she asked me.
“Yes.”
“Yes. Okay. Goodbye.” She replied by taking off her apron, handing it to me, and marching down the stairs.
I followed her. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes. You clean. I leave. Goodbye.” She started to happily pack her bags and whistle. Yes, the woman was whistling and heading toward the door. When it closed, I stood in the middle of the penthouse and took a deep breath. I then did what any good maid would do. I got gloves. Cleaning toilets may be boring enough, but it was still better than rubbing glitter on a woman’s breast…to me anyway.
This was my new life.
Jane Chapman, the penthouse housemaid.
Chapter One
One month.
Twelve days.
And far too many hours to count.
That’s how long I had been cleaning the penthouse at 2829 W Rowling Street without having any idea who lived there. If it weren’t for the damn laundry left for me every week, I’d think I was working for ghosts. The penthouse was never that dirty. True there may be a tie or sock left somewhere, or a cup left on the table or in the sink plus the normal dust, but other than that, I had never actually met the owner. There weren’t any pictures, and I couldn’t stop my imagination from running. There was something about the forbidden room hidden behind the cream-colored door that kept me guessing, so I had come to irrational conclusions: I was working for a serial killer, or one of those men who secretly collected blowup dolls. It could be anything, I thought—anything creepy enough to keep me from going inside.
“Maybe he’s a rich doctor who harvests human body parts?” I muttered to myself. I had only realized it was a he because of the boxer briefs in his laundry. I bobbed my head to the Bon Jovi blaring through my headphones before perfectly folding the newly ironed white shirts. I wasn’t expecting anything or anyone and was so focused on my little world that when I did turn around and saw him—them, I nearly screamed.
“Take my hand and we’ll make it…” The music rang in my ears as I stood frozen in the hall. I was unable to tear my eyes away from them as they ripped each other’s clothes off.
It was two men—no, better make those two models I must have dreamt up. Well over six foot, one with dirty light brown hair, the other’s jet black, shirts off, ivory arms locked around each other, their sculpted chests and abs rubbing together. They kissed like they needed to breathe through each other’s mouths while their tongues circled. The dark haired one reached into the pants of the other and grabbed the other man’s cock, which was now standing proud and thick…and tall. He kissed the side of the other man’s cheek and down his neck.
The more I watched, the hotter my body became. This was so fucking hot, and I couldn’t look away. I wasn’t sure if it was even real. The lighter haired man didn’t just stop at the nape of his lover’s neck. He kisses fell in a quick line down the center of his lover’s abs, and all the while he never stopped stroking his partner’s cock. Even from where I was standing, I could see it was throbbing.
Oh, my god. My mouth dropped open as he started to lick the cock’s tip and sides like it was an ice cream cone melting in his hand, and he wasn’t going to waste a drop.
“Ah…” Shit! Fuck! I moaned. I didn’t mean to. I wanted to take it back, but I was caught. The dark haired man’s blue eyes focused on me as he got up from the floor. He was pissed ,but his lover only looked me over. Before either of them could say anything, I ran down the stairs screaming, “Sorry!”
I didn’t even think. I just kept moving and quickly closed the door behind me.
“Jesus.” I leaned back in the elevator trying to calm down, but erotic images kept flashing in my mind.
I’d never be able to get that scene out of my mind or listen to Bon Jovi again. “Living on a Prayer” was still playing in my ears.
I made it all the way to the first floor before reaching for my bag to discover two things: one, I was still holding on to the client’s shirts, and two, I had left my purse.
Why God why? I couldn’t leave without my bus pass or house keys, so I had to go back upstairs. I couldn’t do it, and I didn’t know why. I’d seen people getting off dozens of times. I’d even known that a few men had jacked off at the Bunny Rabbit. Shit like this didn’t faze me, but right then, I was reacting abnormally, and I had no idea why.
“Why? It doesn’t matter,” I whispered to myself. I just needed to get my things.
Turning back around, I re-entered the security lobby and took a seat. I would wait an hour. I didn’t want to interrupt.
“Ms. Chapman?” the security man called from behind the desk.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Emerson said you forgot your things and to tell you to come up.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, moving back toward the elevators and hoping I still had a job when I went up.
Of course I would still have a job. I hadn’t done anything. Who cares if they were having sex; it was their place, right? Wait. Was one of them not out yet? Was that the reason for
the non-disclosure? Or were they having an affair? Were the two men married? Or maybe politicians? Someone high up the food chain? The dark haired one had pulled off a tie...
So, Jane, in your little world, all men in suits worked for the government?
“Urgh…” I groaned and rubbed the side of my head. I was trying to fight back the headache I was giving myself when the elevator opened.
I stared at the double doors with the padlock at the end of the hall.
3140902.
“Error, password denied.”
Just as I was about to panic, the door opened slightly. Staring down at me with the brightest green eyes and a sexy five o’clock shadow was the light haired man. He took the shirts from me at the same time his eyes wandered down my body for what seemed like forever. They finally settled on my face and he smirked.
“Hello Ms. Chapman,” he said with a thick English accent that made me feel like he was trying to seduce me just by saying ‘hello’. He opened the door wider, exposing his bare chest to me, forcing me to not only stare at his body once again but also at the tattoos he had collected. I couldn’t help but look. He had a five star constellation on his inner bicep, a dream catcher on his shoulder, Chinese lettering on the side of his abs, a cross on his chest, and hovering over it were Roman numerals.
“You done staring, sweetheart?” he asked.
“You stared, too,” I said impulsively, and the moment I did, I regretted it. This was what Mary was talking about: my secret annoying desire to always get the last word in.
“Touché,” he said while one of his eyebrows rose. “Are you going to come in?”
“Yes, shit. Sorry.” What is wrong with me?
My eyes immediately went to the man now standing at the window. He was dark haired and clean-shaven, and this time the blue eyes that had glared at me earlier were focused on his phone. He checked something before nodding. I noticed that in the few minutes I was gone, he had managed to put his shirt and tie back on.
“I got it, Nick. Yeah, I’ll read it before coming in. Tell Carrie I want to go over the program when I get—I don’t fucking care if she’s done it. I’m saying we are doing it again, so do it again.” His voice was calm yet harsh, a slight Boston accent, which meant he had grown up here but had most likely been trained to speak ‘properly’. He hung up then stared back at me. I noticed he looked me over just like the other one had.
“You’re the maid?” he asked like he couldn’t believe it.
“Yes.”
“How long does it take for you to clean this damn place all by yourself?”
“I’m sorry, but is there anything I can refer to you two as?” It would at least make me feel like less of an outsider if I knew their names. “Or just ‘Boss’ works,” I added in when neither of them answered.
“You don’t know who I am?” Angry eyes glared at me, causing his lover to snicker as he came over and fell back on the couch.
“Should I?” I knew it. He was a goddamn politician.
“I’m Maxwell Emerson,” he finally stated. I was sure I had heard that name before, but I couldn’t place it. He reached down and grabbed the remote control, turning on the large flat screen to the left of me. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to show me until he appeared on screen in a fitted black suit and navy tie as part of some news report intro.
“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, I’m Michael Madison, and we are going to get right to it. Only a day after Maxwell Emerson broke the story on The Emerson Report on Governor MacDowell’s scandal, the district attorney has released a statement that they will be prosecuting—”
“She got it. Turn the damn show off.” His lover groaned and turned off the television. When I turned back, he winked at me. “If you like, you can call me ‘Boss’. I like the way you say it.”
I was confused. It felt like he was flirting with me, but in my line of work, I hadn’t come across many gay men. Maybe my radar wasn’t as sharp as it should have been.
“The Brit here is Wesley Uhler, head chef of the Wes Hill—”
“This is the asshole who charges almost three hundred dollars per fucking person?” I snapped, remembering how many times I’d seen receipts from there. Allen had the habit of trying to live the high life at the expense of his club and, most importantly, me. I was so angry that it took me a second to notice the expressions on their faces. The words I had just said came back into my head, and I wished the ground would open up so I could just sink away from there.
“I’m so…”
“No, it’s all right.” Wesley laughed, shaking his head. “It’s meant to be ridiculous. The higher the price, the greater the desire people have to eat there. It also helps that I’m a half decent cook.”
“Don’t be humble. It doesn’t look good on you,” Maxwell muttered, reaching for a printed piece of paper on the table.
“Fine love, I’m a fucking badass in the kitchen, and if you ate at my restaurant, Ms. Chapman, you’d orgasm with every damn bite.”
My breath was stuck in my throat as I stared back at him. I could feel my ears getting hot. However, Max stepped into my line of sight, and his eyes were hard, sharp, and unwavering. He flashed the document he had picked up.
“Now that we have been introduced, I hope you recall this,” he said, and I saw my signature on the non-disclosure I had signed a month ago. “I didn’t call you back up here for us to make nice and get along. You saw something today and I never want it repeated to anyone, because if it is, so help me God, it will be the end of you. Are we clear?”
His nostrils flared, and in one second, he went from being cool and collected to almost manic. He looked like he’d even consider killing me if I didn’t agree.
“I know how to keep my mouth shut,” I replied, doing my best to stand up confidently.
“Good. That’s it for the day. Take your things and get out. The new pass code will be emailed to you.”
I nodded, reaching for my purse and jacket. I didn’t look back. My mind was spinning. I just needed air…and to get as far away as possible from Wesley and Maxwell.
They were opposites, like fire and ice, and I couldn’t take the swift temperature changes.
The moment she shut the door, I turned to him. “What the fuck was that?”
“What?” he asked casually, getting off the couch.
“Don’t play dumb. You were basically fucking her with your eyes.”
“Are you jealous?” he whispered and came closer to me. He reached out to place his thumb on my lip.
“Not even a little bit.” And that was the truth. “But you seducing her while I’m trying to intimidate her is hardly a wise choice, don’t you think?”
His green eyes looked over my face before he spoke. “You and I have always been honest with each other about everything.”
“And….”
“And I want her,” he said darkly, moving in closer to me. “I want her in bed with us, and I know you want her, too.”
“Wrong again. Besides, you’ve known her all of five minutes—”
“That’s longer than it took me to want you.” He snickered while leaning in, but his lips only hovered over mine, and in that moment, we shared the air between us.
“I don’t want her.” I wanted him…like always. Like a fucking drug I couldn’t break free from. “Besides, she’s an annoyance. Who just stands in the hall gawking at us like we—”
“Are two lions fucking in a zoo?” he said softly. “Maybe it’s because we were like two lions fucking in a zoo. I like this maid, and she’s like a little worker bee. I can see my reflection in all the silverware. Plus she’s sexy and feisty.”
“Then you fuck her and come back to me.” The thought pissed me off more than I liked.
“No.” He shook his head. “When you stop lying to yourself, when you admit you want her too, that’s when we see how much she might want us. Until then, I’ll just keep making you cum in my hands…” He reached into my pants.
“Has
anyone ever told you that you have the mind of the devil?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have the body of a sinner?”
I couldn’t reply. His lips were on top of mine, his tongue already in my mouth, and my hands moved to grip his tight ass. With everyone else I was Maxwell, the asshole, the ice block, the boss—but with him, I was as good as a bitch in heat.
“You’re turning me on just by breathing like that,” he whispered slowly while dropping to his knees.
I could see my reflection in the windows, my mouth opening as he gently stroked down the length of my cock, his thumb brushing the tip of me. “What do you want Max?”
“To go to work.”
He squeezed, licking the length of the vein now throbbing at the side of my cock. “Don’t lie and don’t make me do it again.”
“I want your mouth on me…now,” I demanded. He did as he was told, allowing me to slide my dick into his hot wet mouth. He grabbed the back of my knees, leaning forward and taking all of me into his mouth.
“Fuck,” I hissed, thrusting forward, grabbing a fistful of his hair, closing my eyes, and tilting my head back. He took my length all the way down to the base as his teeth softly glided over me. After being interrupted before, I couldn’t hold myself back and my whole body wanted this and him. Over and over I fucked his mouth and his head bounced back and forth on me. Letting go of one of my legs, he reached up to cup my balls in his hands.
“Fuck. Ahh…Wes…urg!” I grunted, cumming into his mouth. He held me in place while drinking all of me as I tried to catch my breath.
When he got back up, he wiped the corner of his mouth. “That was quick.”
“Shut up,” I said between breaths; he just kissed the side of my face.
“Another reason to be nice to the maid, Max, is the non-disclosure. You need it. Remember it’s just a paper, and she could blurt things out by accident. Suing her wouldn’t undo the damage she might cause. You’ve come too far now.”
“Even with a sexual reference, I still don’t find your jokes funny,” I frowned.
“My jokes are fine; it’s you who lacks humor,” he replied, kissing my lips before casually heading into the kitchen.