cleanguard
He glanced up from his newspaper as she came in, and then
briefly at the monitor screens before returning to his
paper. Thus he missed the brief smile she gave him. He was
vaguely aware of the rustle of plastic as she emptied his
waste bin into her black sack, before leaving him in peace.
It was after all, just routine.
A few minutes later she was back, trailing her vacuum cleaner
behind her like some exotic pet. Again he looked up at her
as she plugged it in and switched it on. This time he did see
her smile, a little apologetic at disturbing him, and he
smiled weakly back before returning to his paper and resuming
the article that ran alongside the picture of the leggy blonde.
The insistent noise of the vacuum cleaner irritated and
distracted him. He kept looking up to see if she had nearly
finished. Well, that would have been his story if anyone
had challenged him. In fact he found himself watching her
as she bent and stretched pushing the nozzle of her machine
into obscure and inaccessible nooks and crannies. She
noticed his glazed lascivious looks, and smiled at him
artlessly but seeing that he had caught her eye, he simply
resumed reading his newspaper with an embarrassed cough.
"You here all night, luv?" she asked absently as she unplugged
the machine and started looping the cable.
"Yep," he didn't look up from his paper.
"Can't be much fun. When do you knock off?"
"Seven." He still didn't look up.
"Must get a bit lonely," she said thoughtfully. She had collected all
her bits and was ready to go.
He said nothing, just shrugged.
"Listen, I'm parched. I'm going to grab a cup of coffee before I go.
D'you want one?"
He looked up at last. She had long curly chestnut hair tied at the
back. As she stood before him, he had to admit that she looked
attractive. In her cleaners overall and with no make-up, though, she
was certainly no film-star. For him such people only existed in
pictures next to articles he pretended to read in cheap newspapers,
and although she had the advantage that she was real and standing
there in front of him, he preferred the safety of the printed image.
She smiled and disappeared into the corridor outside before
returning with the coffees.
"Ta, very much," he said.
She sat down on his visitors chair sipping her coffee while he
continued reading the paper, wondering vaguely how long it would take
her to drink her coffee and go.
"You like this job, then?" she asked breaking the silence.
"S'Okay, I s'pose."
"What's the pay like?"
"S'Okay."
More silence. He glanced up at the monitor panel, then carried on
reading.
Of course he knew nothing about her. He didn't know why she was there
drinking coffee with him and indeed the question never even occurred
to him. He wasn't to know that home for her was just a lonely bed-sit
and that after she finished that night all she had to look forward to
was a bus-ride home and yet another night watching the television
until she felt tired enough to go to bed.
She simply made him feel slightly awkward. He didn't see
the hungry desperation in her face because he was too absorbed
in his newspaper, and even if he had looked at her, he would
probably not have registered anything. He had no idea just
what was going through her mind as her longing eyes ignored
his pot-belly and armpit stains and saw only his sex. As
far as he was concerned, she couldn't possibly be attracted
to him. Only Julia Roberts or Demi Moore had ever expressed
any desire for him, and then only when his eyes were shut.
They had taste and saw him for the real man he was. The ordinary
woman was not so perceptive. How could she be?
More silence.
By chance, as much as anything else, he looked up at her as he turned
the page. She sat facing him and was now staring absently at his
monitor, her hand resting on her thigh. From where he was, he could
see a little white triangle between her legs.
Her eyes met his, and this time she did not smile. He nearly
missed it and would have moved on to the sports section oblivious,
but the movement was there and unmistakable. As he glanced
down, he saw that her legs parting slightly, and her hand
moving unambiguously upwards. His eyes widened reflexively
and he looked questioningly at her face again. The lack
of expression gave him no answers, but as she slowly raised
her left foot to the seat, giving him a full view of her sex,
barely trapped beneath lace panties, his newspaper slipped
to the floor.
He fumbled with his belt, with his fly, and she took a deep
breath as his fleshy member sprang from its confines. She
slipped her hand inside the top of her overall and under
her bra, to pinch at her hardening nipple, biting her lip.
Her heart skipped a beat in anticipation as he arose from
his chair and advanced towards her, his prick swinging
towards her face.
She leaned forward, and pulled him towards her to take his
swelling head into her mouth where she flicked it with her
tongue. He groaned, pulling himself clear suddenly. She
flinched slightly and gasped as she felt his hot fluid spatter
across her cheek. Withdrawing her hand from her breast,
she collected his semen with her fingers and, with a eyes
closed, proceeded to rub it into her breast.
She cried out loud, thrusting her hips forward as she slid
her other hand inside her panties. She was all but oblivious
of him as he re-zipped his fly and walked uncertainly back
to his chair. Her fingers desperately manipulated her
engorged clitoris and spread her delicate moist folds
for him, but he simply retrieved his newspaper. Her hips
bucked convulsively with her approaching orgasm as he
started to read with disappointment how the Arsenal had
lost to Wimbledon.
When she had finished herself off, she sat there for a moment,
her soaked panties now a source of discomfort and embarrassment.
As the warm sensations of passion wore off, she began to
feel dirty and humiliated. Slowly she marshalled her thoughts
and feelings, to direct them at what now became the object
of her loathing. She looked at him venomously, seeing now
the pot-belly and armpit stains, as he concentrated ferociously
on why his favourite team had lost so dismally.
Bastard!
"Well," and she cleared her throat, trying to keep hervoice even,
"I'll be going now, then."
There seemed to be no more for her to say or do. He could only bring
himself to nod.
She rose from the damp visitors chair and left his office walking
slowly down the empty corridors to the building's entrance to sign out
and leave. She seemed unaware of the whirring of the motors on the
monitor cameras which followed her. Her bowed figure moved from screen
to screen on his monitor station as he watched her go. Something
stirred within him, but he wasn't sure what it was and as she faded
from view there was less and less he could do about it anyway.
He returned to his newspaper.
|
|
