Date: Mon, 3 Sep 2012 07:47:53 +0200 From: Amy Redek Subject: The Cleaner. Part One. This story is for persons of eighteen years or over. All comments, good or bad, are welcome and all will be answered. Part One. The phone was ringing. It kept on ringing until a hand came out from under the sheet and fumbled it off the hook and took it back under the covers. `Wha'? Wha' you want?' she mumbled into the black mouthpiece, the hiss and static was an erratic intrusion in her ear in her unwoken state. `Angela! Angela? Can you hear me?' the tinny squawk from the earpiece asked. `Yeah, I hear yuh. Wha' you want?' she mumbled again into the phone. `It's me! Philippa. You still in bed?' `Yeah, I'm still in bed. How perceptive of you.' `It's nearly eight o'clock. You should've been up for ages. Christ, you must die when you go to bed,' Philippa shouted down the phone. `Aw lay off Pippa. I had a late night and I ain't due at John's place till after nine,' Angela answered. `That's not why I'm calling, but it's just as well I did `cos you'd have stayed there all day. What I want is for you to cover for Alice.' `Alice!' snorted Angela, `Why should I cover for that lazy cow? The last time...' `Shut up,' interrupted Philippa, `shut up and listen. I'm only asking because it's not her fault she can't do the Morrison's place today. Well sort of not. I just found out she's in the nick. She kicked her boyfriend out last night, and as he was leaving, he shouted something at her that she didn't like. So she picked up the portable t.v. and threw it at him. Well he was in the doorway and moved as she threw it. It went sailing over the balcony and landed on the bonnet of the local cop car that patrols the block. The copper's shit their pants when it exploded right in front of them. Anyway, they nicked her, so I need you to do her job today. It's only for today,' she begged, `I can get cover for the rest of the week if they keep her in. It's only two hours, one till three. You can manage that. Your three o'clock job is only round the corner.' `Okay okay, I'll do it. Now let me get up and get the kid ready for school. Speak to you later.' She returned the phone to its rest and stretched herself, flexing her knees and wiggling her toes and lay back for a few more minutes, comfortable in the warmth of the bed. Monday bloody Monday, she thought. * Angela was a self employed cleaner who got her clients from the cleaning agency. They found the clients and put her in touch with them. It wasn't bad, because she was able to do the hours she wanted. What with taking her daughter to school just before nine in the morning and collecting in the afternoon, meant that she couldn't take on any regular full time work. Apart from that, she was still able to collect social security and dole money, as long as she signed on every fortnight. Philippa was the woman who ran the agency, did all the groundwork and took the flak. Posting all the streets of London, hoping that one in a thousand would sign up with her. Then she had to find a cleaner for the time and whatever area it was in. Then getting the fees out of them that went towards the Public Liability Insurance that was very important. Not for me, Angela thought. I'll just do the jobs that I'm given, besides, a lot of it was fun. You do get to see how other people live. Take John Mortimer's place! Well, that's where she should be at nine, and it was now ten past eight as she could see from the bedside clock. She poked the sleeping shape next to her, and it grunted; so she gave it a harder poke. `Fuck off,' came from under the sheet, as it was pulled tighter around the form underneath it. `Bastard,' she said as she punched the shape hard. `Don't tell me to fuck off, you drunken bum. Get your arse out of bed and get dressed.' She brought her knees up and pushed the form completely off the bed with half the covers. A bleary eyed, unshaven face came up to bed level. `What's the matter with you this morning,' Mike snarled. `Nothing's the matter with me,' she snarled back at him, `I'm the poor bastard that has to go to work. Who do you think paid for your booze last night? Who puts food on the table? Who pays the fucking rent?' she was screaming now, `I fucking well do! Now get your arse in gear and help me get Epsom's breakfast so that you can take her to school. She is half yours!' Angela and Mike had been together, off and on for six years without getting married. In fact, she didn't want to get married to him, in spite of the fact that they had a child born to them five years ago. They had met one night in a disco, both with their own group of friends, and seemed to hit it off quite well. They started going out together, without their friends, and one day, they decided to go to the races. They had taken a picnic basket, and not wanting to mix with the crowds, went right across the wide expanse of the heath so that they could look down the hill to where nearly all the races were run. They had their lunch, and with half a dozen beers inside them, started to get better acquainted. It was a hot August afternoon and his shirt was already off, and she was only wearing the skimpiest of clothing. So it wasn't long before they were both naked and rolling around in the grass. Angela wasn't a small girl by any means in all respects. Her breasts were large and full and had good arm muscles, so Mike really had a wrestle on his hands. Without violence, there's no way a man can rape a woman. Their legs can close like an iron vice, and if they don't want to open them, you'll never get in. She tired of the game when she saw he was really getting heated. His erection had dug into the turf several times as he tried to stab her with it. So with her breasts heaving and covered in sweat and grass, finally lay back and opened her legs to let him enter her. It didn't take much thrusting before they felt the earth move beneath them as they both came to a screaming climax with the ground rumbling and trembling. He collapsed on top of her as the movement and echoes slowly faded away. They didn't realise that they had almost upset the big race of the day. It was a mile and a half start, and that they were laying quite close to the rails only a furlong from the start. The horses and jockeys had come flying past just as they had reached their climax. The naked bodies thrashing about so close to the track, had distracted the jockeys to the extent that two of the horses nearly lost their riders. The plight of the jockeys and horses went un-noticed as the two lay entwined in the grass, sated. Him spent, her full. I say full, because that was when their child was conceived. It was just over nine months later that she got herself to the hospital in time for the baby's birth. Mike was in the pub as usual as she produced an eight pound healthy girl. She was adorable and went straight to sleep in her mother's arms. It was the next morning when Mike showed up at the hospital, hungover as usual. He asked for Angela, saying she was in maternity. With a slight mix up at the front office, he was directed to the registrar's office where he'd said he come to see his daughter. He was asked the mother's name and told them it was Angela Downs. You are the father? he was asked. Mike nodded and said that his name was Mike. The registrar wrote down Michael and then asked for the proposed name for the baby. Recalling where she had been conceived, said that they were calling her Epsom. So that was the name put on the birth certificate. Epsom Downs, and his name erroneously entered as Mike Downs. * Angela looked again at the clock. `Shit,' she exclaimed, scooting off the bed, her breasts bouncing about as she raced for the bathroom, banging on Epsom's door as she passed. `Up and out, come on!' She was washed and dressed within ten minutes and had a bowl of cereals plonked in front of Epsom, who moodily pushed it about the table. `Now eat that up and I'll see you later darling,' Angela said as she gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head as she left the kitchen. `Mike,' she screamed down the hall, `get dressed you lazy sod and see that she gets to school on time.' With that, Angela flew out of the door and raced to the bus stop. Her usual Monday bus, she missed, and had to wait for the next one. She was lucky that it wasn't raining that morning, because she had left her umbrella behind. She was always leaving it somewhere. If not at home, at one of her client's. The second bus duly arrived, and made its somnambulant way through the ever increasing traffic, halting for more passengers at every stop. When you are late, never expect to make up for lost time with London Transport. Eventually, she was dropped off at the end of Peacock Street where the Mortimer's lived. It was just after nine fifteen before she let herself into the large Victorian semi detached house where they lived. Mr Mortimer was a widower and some kind of big noise in the city. His son and daughter didn't appear to have any occupation as far as she could see. Angela was what was known as a "key holder". That is a cleaner whose references had been checked out, and had worked out her probationary period, so was deemed trustworthy enough to be entrusted with the keys to the various houses, or flats that she cleaned. The house was quiet when she entered. That's good she thought, they're all out this morning. She took off her coat and hung it in the hall and put on her apron that she pulled from her bag. I'll start, she thought, as I usually do with Mr. John's room. He was the father and his was a large airy bedroom with an en suite bathroom. Such a nice tidy man that it never did take long to do his room. Then into James' room. It was in its usual mess again. First it was to pick up clothes, some to be hung on hangers and put into the wardrobe, others to be dumped in the wash basket. Then the stripping of the bed and remaking it with fresh linen from the airing cupboard. The bathroom was between his room and Sybil's, and both had doors from their rooms into it. She entered it from James room to find it in the state she always found it. In very much need of cleaning and which took up most of her time. Setting to work on the washbasins and mirrors, the shower and tiles were soon done, just leaving the bath and floor. She was leaning over the bath when a fifty pound note fluttered down over her shoulder to settle on the bottom. Oh shit, she said to herself, I thought he was out. She hadn't heard him come into the bathroom, so he must have been in Sybil's room. She felt his hands on her hips as the front of his body gently brushed over her bent rear. `Long time no see, Angel,' said James softly. `I've missed you.' He pressed up to her and she could feel his hardness pushing against her as she looked down at the fifty pound note. This had happened several times in the past. She had picked it up before, and once she did not. But now, it was not that long to Christmas, and there were still some things she wanted to get for Epsom. She picked up the note and stuffed it into the front of her blouse. `There's a good girl,' said James from behind her. She stayed bent over the bath as the hem of her skirt was lifted up and her panties pulled down. She automatically lifted her legs in turn so that they could be pulled free from her feet. His hands then parted her sex and she felt his cock push up into her till his thighs met her bum. His hands then took a firm grip on her hips and he started moving his body and slowly fucked her. She gritted her teeth as he worked his way in and out of her and felt his balls slapping her at every inward thrust. His grip hardened as he started to come, and really ground himself into her as he shot his load. He stood still for a few moments and she felt his throbbing cock give its last few twitches inside her before he pulled out and smoothed down her skirt. `Thank you darling. I needed that,' he said. `You're welcome,' Angela replied through her still gritted teeth, and heard him leave the bathroom, going through the door back into his sister's room. The door didn't quite close and she heard him speak. `Sybil darling. Look what I've got for you. Now be a good girl and come and suck on this.' Angela heard the sound of the bed being knelt on and the rustle of a silk nightgown. Silence then followed for a bit and Angela pulled on her panties and left the bathroom. Fuck the floor, she said to herself. Some months back she had seen the incestuous pair perform. She had entered the bathroom just as James had gone into Sybil's room, not closing the door properly behind him. Angela, had of course, peeked through the crack. James had just dropped his dressing gown onto the floor and lain across the bottom of the bed. `Sybil,' he had said, `look at this poor thing lying here.' He indicated his flaccid penis. `Come and make it sit up and beg.' Sybil pushed back the bedclothes and moved down to where he lay. `That the nightdress off first darling. Let the cock see the hen,' he said, letting out a cackle. She kneeled up and pulled the gown up and over her head. She had a downy patch between her thighs and a decent pair of breasts which swung as she bent forward and took the limp piece of flesh into her mouth. She was able to take it all in until her nose nestled in his pubic hairs. As her ministrations worked, his penis seemed to grow out of her mouth as the enlargement started to force her head back. One hand held the base of the thickening shaft, while the other played with his balls, her head going up and down on him. His hand stroked her hair as she moved on him. `Enough darling, enough now. Let's put it somewhere else.' Sybil's head was still moving, her breasts bouncing in time to the rhythm and she shook her head from side to side without letting go of him, holding his cock now with two hands, pumping even faster. `No Sybil! I'm coming, let's fuck. Oh fuck...,' he cried as he started to buck his hips. She then stopped moving, holding her head still and let him finish the job of pumping his coming up into her mouth, emptying his balls. Angela was wide eyed as she watched Sybil swallowing his sperm, not letting go of his cock. Holding him fast between her lips till his bucking slowed and finally stopped. Sybil swallowed some more, and only then did she slowly lift her head. Letting his prick emerge from her mouth. When the head finally came free, she wiped her tongue round it till it was clean. `There,' Sybil said, straightening up and sitting back on her heels. She tossed the hair from her face, her breasts swinging with the movement, `I've eaten you, now you can eat me!' She lay back on the bed and opened her legs wide. Her smile was a wide as the gash between her thighs. `Come on lover boy. Breakfast is waiting.' James propped himself up on one elbow and looked at her. He reached out one hand with his forefinger extended, and probed her insides with it. `Not just the finger James, the mouth and tongue are used for eating. You know you're not supposed to use your fingers,' she giggled. He then roused himself and rolled round and buried his head between her thighs. Angela couldn't see exactly what he was doing. His head was making the movements as though his tongue was washing her in an upward motion, but whatever he was doing, she seemed to be enjoying it. Her arms were spread wide, her chest was heaving and her head was moving from side to side, a lascivious grin on her face. James kept working away till her legs started to tremble and then thrash around his shoulders. Her knees came tight to hold his head as she bucked in an orgasm. His face came up wet and sticky and smeared himself across her belly as he kissed his way up till he lay on top of her, kissing her eyes, cheeks and mouth. Angela withdrew from the bathroom and started to clean somewhere else in the house, until it was safe to go into Sybil's bedroom. It was a couple of weeks later after witnessing the brother and sister sexual act, that Angela was in the house and entered the shared bathroom only to realise that James was in the shower. She started to stammer her apologies for intruding, when he called out for her not to go, but to hand him a bath towel. It was an automatic reaction to look round for one, and then to hand it out to him. He turned, and the full force of the shower water went past him and hit her squarely in the middle. He hastily turned off the shower as she screamed with the shock of the water suddenly hitting her like that. He was quickly out of the shower and wiping her face with the towel. It had to be summertime, and very hot with it. So she was wearing the lightest of clothes and no bra. So with this water all over her, there was not much of her body that her clothes were hiding. `Here, get these wet things off and I'll get something dry of my sister's. I'm terribly sorry. I didn't realise you were so close to the shower,' he said as he unbuttoned her blouse. He undid the clasp of her skirt which fell in a wet heap on the floor. She didn't realise that he had half undressed her while her head was swathed in the towel. He took it from her and started to wipe her shoulders, which pushed the blouse completely off to pinion her arms. He turned her round so that her back was towards him and he pulled her arms out of the wet blouse and dropped it to join her skirt on the floor. He wiped her shoulder blades and then gently turned her round. She gasped as she saw that he hadn't wrapped a towel around himself and was still completely naked, and also realised that she was almost naked too except for the wet panties that was quite clearly showing her light bush and cleft. `Oh. Oh. Oh,' was all she could utter. With the towel held in both hands, he looped it over her head to catch her at the back of the neck and pulled her forward until their bodies met and he bent and kissed her. Her breasts were pressed up tight to his chest and she could feel his manhood start to rise as he kissed her deeply. She started to struggle, but he held her tightly and kissed her even more passionately. With his tongue twisting round hers, she suddenly started to melt, her inside going all loose and ceased all resistance. His erection was now full and digging into her stomach as he held her before scooping her up in his arms, not stopping the kisses, and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and only then releasing the kiss and quickly pulling off her wet panties, parted her legs and knelt in between them. He slid into like her a hot knife through butter, she was that wet and ready, and took his length in without any problem. She could feel the heat of him inside her as he moved it back and forth. The pulse beat fast as he pushed in deep and his weight came down on her. She responded quickly to his thrusting with her own movements, and they were soon rocking and thrashing as she reached an orgasm, as he reached his, pumping out his sperm into her. It had been a long time since she'd last had an orgasm, so this one she held as long as possible, till it utterly drained her. She lay there spent, with his heavy body restricting her breathing. But it was a weight she could bear after the turmoil of emotions that had gone through her. He rolled off her finally and lay on his back gasping. She lay waiting for him to move, and when he did, she asked him about some dry clothes. He muttered sorry, and went off into his sister's room and came back with an armful. `Pick what fits, and Angela,' he sat down next to her, not bothering to cover his nakedness, `Thank you. Thank you very much.' He got up and went to his closet and started picking out clothes for himself. Angela dressed herself with the best fitting ones she could find, and when finished, took the rest back into Sybil's room and put them away. James was dressed when she returned and stood in the centre of the room very self-consciously, and stammered when he apologised to her for taking advantage of her, and hope that it would not affect her still working there. He would make amends, he stammered further, and quickly put something into the pocket of the shirt she was wearing. `No, don't look at it now. Leave it till later. I think we should call it a day here. You go on off home now. I'll finish off here. Go on,' he urged, making it quite clear that he wanted her to depart and leave whatever hadn't been done. So she left, and at the corner of the street, she found that he had put fifty pounds in her pocket. Her first thought was that she was not a whore being paid for something that she had enjoyed. She would have done it for nothing, but you don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Which brought it round to the second fifty pound note. This was three weeks later. * She had done the downstairs and the bathrooms, and was just going to start on his room, when she saw a large book of erotic art on his bedside table. So she sat down on the bed and leafed through it. A lot of the pictures were of Oriental origin that would lead one to believe that the eastern gentlemen were the only members of the human race to have penises the length and thickness of a man's forearm. Such exaggeration made the pictures more like cartoons than works of art. Mind you, even the Greeks and others did the same in their drawings. Towards the end of the book came photographs. First the early Victorian and up to modern times. `The other book on the lower shelf is, I think, more informative, though I believe you would call it pornographic,' said the voice of James from behind her. She jumped and the book slammed shut as he came round the bed and sat her down again and reached over her and pulled out a plain covered book from the lower shelf. He put it into her lap and flipped it open. `The book is divided into four sections. The first here,' he indicated the open page that showed a naked woman sitting astride a man who was seated on a chair. He also was naked, and it could be seen quite plainly that he was deep inside her. James continued speaking, `is sex between men and women, heterosexual acts. The second part is of women making love to women, lesbianism. The third part is of man loving man, known as homosexuality. The last part, which I don't care for, is of men and women performing with animals. That's called bestiality. Here,' he turned over some pages, `cunnilingus. I believe a lot of women like this. I know I like doing it and not had any complaints from those that have been on the end of my tongue.' He turned another two pages over, and he felt Angela move her legs beneath the book and had a pretty good idea why she had moved her legs as she did. `This I like. I do believe that this is the only time that a woman is fully in control of the situation.' The left hand page had four pictures of a woman giving oral sex to a big man. The right hand page was of a man's penis ejaculating into a woman's open mouth. The semen caught in midstream, as it were, leaving the eye of the penis and going in dead centre. James put his hand on Angela's thigh. `Have you ever given head?' he asked. He saw her glance at his crotch where it could be clearly seen that he had a hard on. Her eyes went back to the book as she shook her head. He took her chin in between his fingers and turned her head so that he could look into her eyes. `Tell me the truth. You have done it before, haven't you?' He looked intently at her. Her eyes faltered before his steady gaze. `Once. My boyfriend. I didn't like it. It made me choke,' she said quietly. `He sounds like a boor. No finesse. It should be done with gentleness, love, and a little passion thrown in as well. As I said, it's the woman who has the control. Look at that picture,' he pointed to one. `she holds and controls the movements. She uses her tongue, and in this one,' he turned the page, `there. She uses her teeth. Gently of course,' he laughed, `Don't want the bloody thing bitten off.' His hand pulled down the zipper on his trousers and said softly, `There's fifty pounds for you if you say yes.' He threw a fifty pound note on the bedside table and pulled out his throbbing cock. He lay back on the bed and rubbed the small of her back. Angela sat there for a few moments. Her eyes flicking from the book to his cock laying rigid out of his fly and to the money on the table. His hand moved and pushed his prick so that it stood upright, throbbing between his fingers. She gave out a sigh and closed the book and turned to him. `What do I do?' she said in a low voice. `First. Let us get comfortable,' he said sitting up, `and in the mood.' He undid his belt and slipped his trousers down, his cock snagging itself as he wrestled them down over his erection till it sprang free again. He pushed the trousers away with his foot and settled himself back in the centre of the bed. `Take your top off. Just the top, to get in the mood,' he said. Angela slowly unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off her shoulders. She reached behind her and unclipped her bra and shook this forward and dropped it onto the floor. She turned on the bed and faced him. His eyes glowed as they feasted on the sight of her breasts, which rose and fell with her fast breathing. The nipples had come erect and he gently brushed the back of his hand across the nearest one and patted the bed next to his hips. `Kneel here,' he said, and she did so. `The art of oral sex is to do what you want, and how you want to do it. You have a tongue that licks, and a mouth that can suck, so take control.' He pushed his prick upright so that it waggled in front of her. Her fingers touched his as she reached out and took hold of his erection and he withdrew his hand to leave it in hers. She bent her head and her tongue tentatively licked from her fingers going up his shaft. She did this twice before it flicked out to the tip. It caught the clear drop of fluid that had pearled at the top. She tasted the sweetness of this and thought that it can't be all that bad. She moved her head closer, and let her tongue run over top and work its way round the inside of the stretched foreskin. She could feel him quiver and jerk as her tongue touched the exposed head of his cock. She made it jerk several times, and this emboldened her to open her mouth and take the head inside. It was like a hot piece of thick rubber that pulsed. She lifted her head off him so that she could wet her lips more and went back down on him. She went down as far as she could before gagging, and then sucked as she pulled back up. James lay back watching her tits quiver and vibrate as her head went up and down on his cock. Her mouth was hot and her breath steamy as she worked on it. `That's it. That's it,' he moaned. His pulse rate started to rise and he could feel his sap rising too, and rising fast. `That's it. Keep going. I'm going to come. It's coming, coming...' Her head was still going up and down, but she was starting to lose control as his hips started to move in opposite thrusts to her head movements. Her eyes raked him wildly as her head shook violently, her mouth full of his cock. What do I do? Her eyes pleaded. `Either swallow it or hold it in your mouth till it's finished,' he gasped as he started to spurt up into her mouth. He closed his eyes and let it pump out, and his hand went out and held her head till he finished thrusting. When he stopped moving, she looked up at him, her cheeks bulging with his cock still inside. A mute appeal in her eyes, and he nodded, and she pulled her head up, letting his wet prick flop onto his stomach. She had her lips tightly pressed together. `Spit it out in the bathroom if you're not going to swallow it,' he said, gesturing toward the open bathroom door. She leapt off the bed and disappeared through it. He heard her spitting into the toilet and then the running of the basin taps as she obviously rinsed out her mouth, returning after a few minutes wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. `That tasted salty,' she said. She looked great standing there, he thought, bare above the waist, a trickle of water slowly dribbling down between her breasts. She bent down, her breasts swinging forward as she picked up her bra. `No,' said James sharply. `You can't stop there. Come back here,' he said more gently. `The job must be finished properly. That is the art of it. Come on, back where you were.' He patted the same spot she had occupied before, so she moved over and knelt down again. `Take it back into your mouth and just let your tongue work round it until you know the job is done. Believe me, you'll feel the difference and know that it was a job well done.' So she bent her head again and took the semi rigid penis back into her mouth, and was surprised at the softness and pliability of it. She tongued and chewed it, gently of course. She cleaned it with her mouth and realised that he was right what he said that she would enjoy it more. It even tasted better, and when she finally pulled her head back with one great suck and it made a loud popping noise as it came out. She knew that she had done it properly, and to her own annoyance, realised that she had liked doing it, when before she had viewed that kind of sex as distasteful. She now sat up on the edge of the bed and put on her bra and blouse. Picked up the money and tucked into the top of her bra. She looked down at him, stretched out on the bed, dressed in his shirt and socks, with his now flaccid penis drooping across his bare thigh. `Thank you James,' she said sweetly, `I'll be off now. See you next week,' and with a toss of her head, left the bedroom and downstairs, she put on her coat and let herself out of the house. * That had been some time ago, so now with this new fifty pounds, it made the coming Christmas look brighter. Right, thought Angela, I've got a couple of hours to kill. Window shopping and a big Mac was the order of the day. She went down the drive and turned to go back up to the main road. She suddenly stopped. `Shit! Bloody Mrs Morrison. Bloody Alice!'So she turned round and went in the other direction to old Mrs Morrison's house, which was only two streets away. She knew what was involved. Do one hours work and listen to her for another one. Still, she pays for two hours she sighed. Angela duly arrived at the small home of Mrs Morrison, to be greeted with warmth by the little lady herself. Her age, Angela put between seventy to seventy five. Dressed in an old fashioned long black frock with white ruffs at the collar and wrists, a single rope of pearls at the throat. Very much in the style of an age long past. The entrance hall floor was the small black and white squared tiles. Large green plants lined the walls in old ceramic pots, partially hiding the red flock wallpaper. The sitting room, as was the rest of the house, furnished with the heavy dark furniture of that bygone Victorian era. Every surface of this furniture had that deep patina that only comes with the constant application of waxes and polishes over countless years. Many of the flat surfaces were adorned with photographs in their silver frames, porcelain figures and such like memorabilia. But not a speck of dust marred any of these things. The place was spotless. As Angela knew, the only reason Mrs Morrison had anybody in to clean, was to dust the places she couldn't reach. The tops of the picture frames high on the walls. The upper window frame ledges, tops of doors etc. Angela got out the small platform steps that were stored in the cupboard under the stairs, and following the directions of Mrs Morrison, started the round of cleaning the aforementioned high places. She was with Angela the whole time, indicating which nook, which cranny had to be done. Up the steps, dust, and down again. Move along. Up the steps, dust, and so on. This took just over the hour and the steps themselves were then dusted down and put back into its cupboard, and Mrs Morrison made the tea. So another half hour was spent with the brewing and drinking of the tea, accompanied by biscuits, which had to take the place of the big Mac that she thought of earlier; and listening to Mrs Morrison tell of her tales of the past week. Surreptitiously, Angela glanced at the kitchen clock and gratefully noticed that the two hours were up, and, with apologises, said that she must really be going, as another client was waiting for her to clean their house before she could go home to clean her own. Mrs Morrison went to the cupboard and from a small condiment tin, duly extracted the wages owed and gave them to Angela. She thanked her, pocketing the small loose change and said goodbye, and with lots of relief, left the house. * Next stop was the pop stars. Angela called them by that name because they played her kind of music at a local disco near to where she lived. David played second guitar and Stephen played the drums, and were members of a group that called themselves "Spin''. They lived in a detached house at the end of Vicarage Lane, next to the cemetery. Which was just as well, because their practice sessions should really have woken up the permanent residents, but was far enough away from living persons that they could get away with the noise that they made. There wasn't any point of her trying to do their place early, because they were usually only just getting up when she normally arrived there at three in the afternoon. So she was not surprised to walk into the kitchen to find a naked Stephen eating a bowl of cereals at the breakfast bar. She'd seen it all before, so didn't turn a hair as she went to the sink and filled the coffee percolator with water and prepared it. He nodded his acknowledgement of her greeting as she called out to him, and patted his naked rear that overhung the stool he was perched on as she passed by him. `God, you look rough this morning,' she said as she passed. `You should see Dave,' he mumbled through his muesli. `On second thoughts, look at this one!' His `second thoughts' walked through into the kitchen, or that should really be, staggered into the kitchen. One hand held up to a mop of unkempt blonde hair that didn't match the pubic colouring. The breasts had a tired sag to them, and her unwashed face showing smears of last night's make-up. She parked her weighty bum down at the table. `Pour me a coffee honey,' she groaned to Angela. `Honey,' said Angela sweetly, ` the coffee's on the side. Get it yourself.' `Aw come on Angel. Pour us a coffee,' she held her head in both hands now, `I'm burning.' Angela leaned over her shoulder. `Honey, even if you were on fire, I wouldn't bother pissing on you. Get your own fucking coffee.' Angela collected her cleaning materials and left the kitchen. In the large hall, various items of clothing were scattered about. Some male, some female and she picked these up as she made her way up the stairs. Others that she could see in the lounge, she would deal with later. The armful she had was dumped into the wash basket in the changing room. It wasn't really a changing room, but a spare bedroom that had been converted. Wardrobes had been built on both sides of the room and there was a divan in the middle. This, as usual, was covered with clothes that they had either discarded or not bothered to hang up over the past week. It was piled high. Half she hung up, the others she folded and put away. They wouldn't notice the difference she thought, as she went through to the main bedroom. What a sight! The bare arse of David going up and down as he fucked the woman between his legs. `Morning David,' she said as she walked past the end of the bed towards the bathroom. `Morning Angel,' he gasped, not missing a stroke as he bounced on the body beneath him. Angela cleaned the shower and bathroom and then re-entered the bedroom. David and his female companion were laying back and smoking pot. Both were naked and not showing any signs of embarrassment as Angela tidied the bedroom. When she'd finished, she stood at the bottom of the bed watching the female idly playing with David's limp penis. `When the slut's finished playing with your dick, get her to change the sheets. I'm going to do the other room, and then the downstairs.' David grinned at her as she stormed out of the room, and she was furious with herself. Furious because she knew deep down that she was jealous of the bitch. Jealous because if the bitch hadn't been there, she might have been. She had, in the past, been there. * It had happened after one Saturday night at the disco that he had spotted her among the dancers, and had dragged her up onto the stage. Then during the raunchy song that they'd been playing, he had taken her hand and rubbed it over his crotch during a very suggestive part of the song. Very red faced, she'd fled the stage and tried to hide among her friends. One drunken lout spotted her, and weaved his way over to her leering at her while rubbing his own crotch, said, `Here darling. Grab hold of this. It'll do you more fucking good than that of the nancy up there.' She gave him a shove and laughed with the other girls as he fell backwards in a staggering sprawl. * That was on the Saturday night. Monday, when she went to clean their house, it was with some trepidation. She was pleasantly surprised to find that the kitchen was not looking as though a bomb had hit it. Stephen was wearing clothes, eating his 3 p.m. breakfast, and apologised on behalf of the others for their behaviour on the Saturday night. She went through to the hall, surprised at not seeing female garments strewn about, or the lingering smell of cheap perfume. She walked into David's bedroom to find him, not unsurprisingly, still in bed, but surprised that he was alone, and reading a newspaper. This he discarded as soon as she walked in. `Angela. Angel. I must deeply apologise for last Saturday night. It wasn't until you were leaving the stage, did I realise that it was you. I am so very sorry if I embarrassed you. You should know by now, it's just part of the gimmicks to get somebody up onto the stage. If I had really looked at who I was grabbing... well, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it.' He patted the side of the bed, `Come on, sit down. `Angela went and sat on the edge of the bed where he took her hand. `I am truly sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your friends. To do this on the stage,' he moved her hand so that it was again on his crotch, which was only covered by the bed sheet, `is only part of the act. It's supposed to drive the girls wild.' He moved her hand over him, `but all it does is drive me wild. Many of the girls want me to do it to them, but most of them leave me cold and I only go through the motions.' She felt his penis move under the covering. `Quite frankly, there aren't many girls that I do like.' She felt him getting harder under the sheet, his hand still covering hers and curling it so that her hand grasped his covered cock that was getting harder all the time. `Feel that? That means that you, and you alone are having an effect on me.' Still holding her hand, he pulled the sheet down with his other hand and closed her hand back on his now naked erect penis. He let go of the sheet and ran his hand through her hair, his fingers making the strands separate, and after a couple of sweeps, put his hand behind her neck and pulled her forward towards him so that he could kiss her. She let herself be drawn down to him, and accepted, and returned the kiss. Her hand still held his hardness, and her hand moved up and down of its own volition, in the natural movement that that hard piece of flesh seemed to demand. They kissed again, deeper, tongues probing as her body slowly fell across his, trapping his hot throbbing cock in her closed fist. He twisted his body, bringing hers over his own and onto the bed next to him. She released his prick and with both hands, held his head as they thrust their tongues deep into each other's mouth. He rolled some more so that he was lying on top and then he widened his legs so that he was now astride of her, and then broke the kiss to sit up on her thighs. She lay there, her hair spread out over the pillow, her lips already showing signs of bruising, the tip of her pink tongue just showing through them. She closed her eyes and let a small grin play across her face. He slowly unbuttoned her shirt and pulled the ends free from under his knees, and opened it wide. It was summertime and she was bra-less. Her full breasts were there in full view for him to gaze upon. He gently placed his palms on the nipples and then moved his hands in a circular motion. This caused them to harden and stand as erect as his cock was over her stomach. He bent his head and sucked and nibbled with his teeth, first on one, and then on the other. He slid his body down till he was lying flat between her legs, his mouth still fastened to her tit. He moved his hand under himself and undid the belt of her skirt. His lips left her teat and kissed the valley between the hills of her breasts, and slowly licked his way down. He lifted himself as he did so, drawing her skirt down over her hips. She moved a little to help him so that it slipped down easily. His mouth travelled further south and his fingers hooked the top of her panties and pulled them down with the skirt. He had to move off her to be able to withdraw the skirt and panties down over her feet. She lifted her legs to allow him to do this, and then with her legs parted, he went straight down to her sex with his mouth and tongue. She was wet. Her wetness curled round the lips of her labia, which he licked with passion. His tongue then went deeper, probing between the folds of flesh. He didn't use his hands to open her, just his tongue as he delved through the thick lips to the inner core. His long tongue touched and titillated that bud of hers. The touch so light and fleeting that it caused her to pour more fluid out that he took on his tongue and swallowed. She started to writhe at the tantalising touches, the flickers of electricity that was causing sparks to build up inside her. These sparks started to fly round the lower half of her body, looking for somewhere to strike. Her hands went down and she spread herself wide so that he could use his mouth, teeth and tongue to the full. Which he did so. His mouth fastened onto her clitoris and sucked. He tongued it while sucking, and her juices poured down his chin as she worked herself up to a climax, then shuddered through an orgasm. No sooner had that finished before she felt herself building up to another. She grabbed his head and pulled with all her strength to bring him up and onto her so that his prick slid into and filled the aching void that itched; and his cock was the only thing there that could scratch it. She pulled him tight into her, filling her, and going for a frantic fuck. She pushed up her hips to meet his down strokes. The rasping of the head of his cock against her bud, inflamed it and burned it, so that her insides burst into flames with a multiple orgasm. If he came or not, she didn't care. He had of course, and was still heaving with shuddering jerks as the last of his sperm came spurting out, until with a last gasp and a groan, fell on top of her, and lay there not moving for a few minutes. His chest was heaving against hers as his heart beat slowed down and he was able to start breathing properly again. He then slowly withdrew his still large cock from her and rolled over onto his back, his penis lying wetly across his thigh. They lay side by side quietly for some time, until he finally stirred and rolled over towards her. He kissed one breast and rubbed her stomach. `Boy! That was some fuck, wasn't it?' He said round a mouthful of tit. She pushed his head off angrily and left the bed for the bathroom. She used the bidet, seething at his last remark and then scrubbed herself in the shower. At least she was bodily clean, though still feeling somewhat grubby inside as went back and dressed herself. David was reading the paper again, and she stood for a few moments, waiting for some word from behind that newspaper. With nothing forthcoming, she stamped her foot and left the bedroom muttering to herself. Fuck the cleaning, fuck him and fuck the lot of them, as she stormed out of the house and down the road. Mike had better have picked up Epsom from school she thought, or I'll kill him. Fucking men! She saw an empty beer can in the gutter, and kicked it the rest of the way up the road. * The next week that she went in, she was expecting some kind of rebuke for not cleaning properly the week before, but she needn't have worried. Everybody in the house was stoned. Bodies were everywhere. Fourteen she counted, scattered around the house like discarded dolls. A few had wisps of clothing covering them, but the majority of them were completely naked. She walked over and cleaned round them, and not one stirred. She was able to compare the variables of the male penis in repose. Some small and wrinkled, some circumcised. Some straight and some were bent, and none were a pretty sight. Neither were some of the tarts. Flat tits and flaccid ones. Smeared make up, and one girl was still drooling from the mouth, the spittle forming a small puddle in the crook of her arm, as she lay draped across an arm of the settee. A semi erect prick was being held in her hand that belonged to a skinny half bearded wimp. Neither of them looked too clean to her. They could do with a damn good scrubbing, she thought. She went upstairs and passed through David's bedroom and was not surprised at what she saw. David flat on his back, snoring, and an insipid looking blonde, with black roots showing, sprawled alongside him with one arm draped across his chest. The matted bush between her legs showed her true hair colouring. `It's going to be a long time, if ever, that that dick of his is ever going to be touched by me again,' she thought. Angela cleaned the bathroom, and what she could of the bedroom, and was just about to leave when a wicked thought came into her head. She looked around the room till she found a bag that contained lipstick, and unscrewing the cap, went to the bed and wrote, `cunt', over the girl's stomach. Neither the girl or David moved as she left the room. Going into Stephen's room, she wasn't surprised that he was in the same state of comatose as the rest, though who with, she couldn't tell. The other body in the bed with him was covered by the sheet, and this, Angela pulled down out of curiosity and was not surprised to see that it was a male head that rested on Stephen's stomach. She flipped the sheet back over them, and carried on to clean the room. Angela managed to clean most of what she normally did, without any sign of life from the occupants of the house. Her money was in its usual place, so with it in her pocket she went to leave, but stopped. A second wicked thought had crossed her mind, so leaving the door ajar, she went back into the kitchen. She tore a strip off of a newspaper and twisted it into a spill and lit the end of it. Standing on tip toe, she held the smoking paper under the smoke detector till it suddenly erupted in its warbling shriek. Quickly dowsing the end of the paper under the tap, she shoved the spill into her pocket and ran from the house, closing the door behind her. With the door shut, she could still hear the alarm, but it was not loud enough to be heard far from the house. Now that should wake the buggers up, she thought as she hurried up the road chuckling to herself. * Tuesday. That was the day for Carol and Peter's flat. Carol Dench was a fashion designer and worked mostly from home, even though she did have a studio in the city. Her partner, Peter Marks, worked in advertising for a T.V. subsidiary. Angela was on first name terms with nearly all those she cleaned for, though she seemed to be a bit more closer to Carol and Peter than to any of the others. What a nice couple they made she said to herself when she first met them, and they still were. But there was more to them than first met the eye as she found out. Angela would go in about ten o'clock every Tuesday. Sometimes Carol would be there, but most times not. She would do her three hours, pick up her money and leave. She didn't normally poke about in people's private things until the day she found the photograph. It was down the side of the settee cushion that she had just pulled out to hoover down the insides. She didn't notice it immediately; not until she had put the cushions back and straightened up the settee. She saw it on the floor and picked it up and gasped. It was a Polaroid of Peter, taken in the bedroom. He was standing in a coy position wearing a bra, panties, garter belt and stockings. Angela sat down holding the photo and giggled. They must have been looking at this last night, and somehow it must have slipped down the side and not been noticed. But then, she thought, if there had only been the one photo, they would have noticed that it was missing. But if there were more than one, then it just could have been overlooked. So where there is one, there has got to be more. She went into the bedroom, and after a few drawers, she found them. A whole packet of twenty. She sat down on the bed and looked through them. There were several of Peter in different poses, one of which he was naked except for stockings and a garter belt, a big erection and an even bigger smile on his face. There was one where he was fully clothed in one of Carol's cocktail dresses. It was taken in the middle of a twirl, the skirt flaring around his legs, just showing a flash of white thigh above a stocking top. Some of the photos were of him in various items of female underwear. The rest of the them were of Carol wearing some of Peter's clothes, and in some of them, you couldn't tell it was a woman wearing them. She was just about to put them back into their folder, when she pulled them back out again and spread them on the bed. Something had caught her eye in the last one, so she looked it over carefully. The she looked at the others and saw what she was looking for in three other pictures. What she had noticed was part of a tripod leg, and in one other, what could be part of a video camera. She checked the angles of the tripod picture and then went across the room and knelt down, and there on the carpet were the soft indentations that the legs had made. Ergo, video films. Putting the photos back into the folder and carefully re-stowing them where she had found them, then went into the lounge and knelt down at the video cabinet. There must have been about eighty, if not more video cassettes. Some were store bought, in the big plastic boxes; others were home recordings in their cardboard covers. All had the titles showing outwards, except the five at the bottom. These did not have any titles at all. Angela pulled one out and stuck it into the recorder, turned it and the T.V. on and picked up the hand control and set them to play. Bingo! *