A Housekeeper Twink
by Erika Loveley
Copyright 2012 Erika Loveley
Smashwords Edition
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First of all: I wasn’t a maid, okay? I was a housekeeper. I know that it’s mostly women at this line of work, but so what? The wages were nice, and it was only part time anyway: I played bass in a metal band, and I liked it too much to trade it for a permanent job. And I didn’t want to work on some construction site either: too much dirt and physical work, thank you.
It was much easier in the hotel. My mom had been working there for fourteen years, and it was her who persuaded the manager to hire me. Mr. O’Brien, fat and exceptionally ugly Irish, wasn’t very happy to see a guy among the housekeeping staff at first. But somehow my mom had her way, and I was in. If the hotel were bigger, O’Brien said to me during my induction, I wouldn’t stand a chance to be hired. I should be very thankful to my mother, he said, and to the fact that they have more Hispanic female staff than the whole Mexico City. One man could be a welcome minority.
He didn’t like me, Mr. O’Brien, and the feeling was kind of mutual. But he paid me, and that was the main thing. And, like I said, the job wasn’t too hard. It even had some advantages, as I discovered during my second week. When I entered a suite to clean it up, some milf went out of the bathroom wearing nothing but panties: she probably hadn’t heard me yelling “Housekeeping!” from behind the front door. She blushed, yelped and disappeared at once, leaving me grinning and following her with my gaze. She was fine, this chick: a very tasty ass and a pair of very meaty boobs with a tattoo on the left one. Of course, I shouted apologies and retreated, but now I had a very sweet memory to cherish.
Almost a month had passed since I started working there when I entered Mr. Archer’s suite to clean it up. I don’t always know all our tenants by name, of course, but this guy was a regular client, and O’Brien told me specifically not to disappoint him. I met Mr. Archer in a hallway a couple of times: he was a guy in his forties, tall and stocky, with dark hair and a bit of a bald. O’Brien said he arrived once a month or so, always claiming the same suite, and then checked out a couple of days after. He was an executive in a mining company or something like that. I didn’t care, to be honest; but as long as my manager wanted to be extra-careful with him, then so did I.
I entered the room and left my cart beside the open door. Quickly I moved from one place to another, dusting and wiping everything that could be dusted and wiped. It was the best suite in the whole hotel: a huge bed with a canopy, a giant TV screen at the opposite wall, a spacious bathroom with gilded taps. The only thing that ruined it was a loud noise coming from the street. I looked out and saw a bunch of road workers jackhammering something right under our windows. Poor O’Brien, I thought without any compassion. He’s going to get a lot of complains about this noise and tenants’ headaches, and he’s powerless to stop it.
When I cleaned and vacuumed everything, I returned to the bedroom to do the bed. I quickly shook up and lined the two pillows, smoothed out the blanket—and just when I was going to leave I caught a cardboard box on a nightstand with my hip, and it fell to the floor. The lid went off, and probably a hundred of colored photos scattered over the floor. “Shit,” I thought and squatted to collect them all back. But when I saw what was on these photos, my heart skipped a beat.
There was Mr. Archer, but that wasn’t the most interesting thing. Even the fact that he was absolutely naked didn’t amaze me. There was also a naked boy at these pictures, looking slightly younger than me. The boy and Mr. Archer seemed to be very fond of each other. Some photos showed them hugging each other with a great deal of tenderness in their eyes. Then they were kissing—using a lot of tongue—and then Archer was on top of the boy, ramming his cock up the boy’s ass. From the look at the boy’s face, he was enjoying it probably as much as Archer. Then I saw the boy sucking this thing—I could only hope it was before the ass-fucking—and then he was under Archer again, facing him and clutching the man’s waist in his legs while Archer was fucking him. The boy’s own cock and balls were cleanly shaved and smooth, as were his arms and legs.