When I started working in "El Palacio de Los Angeles Perdidos" (or the Palacio for short), my life started getting crazy.
It was the summer before college and much to my chagrin, I wasn't born rich, so I needed some money for living expenses. The Palacio was a new luxury hotel built in New Mexico, far away from the prying eyes of the Hollywood press. So naturally, it became a hotspot for celebrities to go on a quiet vacation.
Obviously, as an eighteen-year-old boy, I didn't have any prior job experience. So the only position I could was a cleaner. I should have already been alarmed by the sheer amount of NDAs I had to sign for the position, but I'll be the first to admit I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, so I thought nothing of it.
I started working the same day I applied, and if there's one thing you need to know about working in a hotel, it is that they will work you to the bone. I cleaned the pool, the showers, the rooms, and even the dining hall. And I got paid below minimum wage.
The job did have its benefits however, first, nobody paid attention to me. Among the variety of egotistical megalomaniac Hollywood producers, nobody noticed a tall and lanky dark-haired bboy. Which as an introvert, suited me just fine.
I settled into a rhythm, I would come to work at around noon, talk to my manager to see what he wanted from me, clean, go home, and play some video games. It was all thrown into chaos when she arrived.
I came to work like any other day, slightly ahead of schedule. I walked towards my manager Bob, sitting behind the counter at the reception.
"HI boyo, I got some important work for you today," he said with his harsh Irish accent. He seemed anxious, usually, he would ask me how I was doing but today I didn't even have time to say hello.
"We have a very important guest coming today. She'll be staying at room 707 on the top floor and I need you to go clean it. And when I mean clean it, I mean spick and span. I don't want to see a speck of dust and I need the floor to be as reflective as a mirror. Got it lad?" he told me this with anxiety tightly surrounding his words. He rubbed his balding scalp nervously as he spoke and the remaining hairs on his scalp were being assaulted by his nervous scratches.
"Ok," I replied rather succinctly. I didn't know why he was so nervous. This hotel specialized in hosting the rich and famous, we had practically every Hollywood producer stay here by this point, as well as a few actors and actresses.
I grabbed my cleaning cart and headed to the top floor.
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I had never cleaned a suite before, only the regular rooms which seemed incredibly fancy to me. When I entered the suite I expected to find something that dwarves even those rooms. But instead, I found a dumpster fire.
The room was a mess. Clothes were strewn about everywhere, the floors were covered with leftover food items, forks sauces, and even entire dishes just left on the ground. The curtains were gone from the window and were placed on the bed to act as bedsheets. As to where the bedsheets went... The question remains unanswered to this day. To the expensive gold and mahogany headboard of the bed chains and ropes were attached in strong knots. On the nightstands next to both sides of the large square bed lay a variety of what I assumed to be sex toys. considering I was an eighteen-year-old virgin I didn't recognize most of the strange shapes except some dildos, anal beads, and a strap-on.
The stench of the room was what snapped me back to reality. It smelled like spoiled milk and I hurried to start cleaning. I Threw away all the trash managed to clean the floor a little and opened the windows before I heard the door open behind me. I was busy scrubbing the floor and I assumed it was only Bob checking in on me to see what I've done so far.
"I promise I'll get it cleaned before the guest comes Bob, There''s just so much trash here, how much time do I have before the guest arrives?" I said while huffing from the exertion of cleaning.
"Approximately zero seconds," A smooth female voice said behind me.
I turned around. Surprise to find that the face that was looking at me was one that I'd only seen on SNL and YouTube videos. She wore a sleeveless white top that had written on it "Ready to bat" as well as a graphic of a baseball bat with bat wings. She wore dark boots and a pair of blue jean shorts that accentuated her long-toned legs. Her face was slightly sunburned giving the impression that she put on a lot of blush beforehand. Her striking red hair was held up in a ponytail and she smirked at me.
"Y-Your'e the guest," I say, somehow managing to piece the sentence together.
"Yep, I think so," she says with a strong British accent.
She walks towards me and holds out her hand "Dua Lipa, nice to meet you" she says.
I shake her hand while a dumbfounded expression is plastered on my face. We had plenty of people from entertainment come visit the hotel, but until now not a signal musician has stayed that I know of.
She giggles and suddenly I feel very self-aware of how awkward I'm being. I realize that I didn't say my name when we shook hands.
"I'm John," I say, trying to salvage the situation.
She nods and looks around.
"Is this supposed to be my room?" she says and gestures at the mess surrounding her.
"Er yes, well um no- like it's not ready yet, but this is your room" I mutter and feel my cheeks blush.
She laughs at that. Not in a mean way where she's making fun of me, but more in a sympathetic tone at my situation.
"It's okay," she says "I understand how it is to work in the service industry, so don't worry I won't, like, talk to the manager of anything"
"Thanks," I say, an embarrassed smile now plastered across my face "Do you want me to finish here? I think it'll take me about half an hour. Or I can go if you want to stay"
"What about we both stay," she says with a smile.
"I have a meeting that I need to get ready for and I need to shower, you can stay and clean, don't worry I'll try not to bother you" she continues.
That sentence made no sense to me. First and foremost how can she bother me? If anything I'm the annoying awkward teenager. Second of all, is she really going to shower while I'm here? Doesn't she feel uncomfortable?
"John" I snap back to reality as the Albainian beauty says my name.
"Is that okay with you?" she asks.
"Y-Y-Yes of course. Go right ahead I won't interrupt you" I blurt out.
She giggles again and heads towards the bathroom. I resume my cleaning duties, slightly shaken from the sudden encounter with the pop star. Only now that I promised her that I would be finished in half an hour do I suddenly realise how big the room is.
I get to work with manic energy. After a few minutes, I hear the shower start to run.
I often try not to be a stereotypical horny teen, but I'm only human. With the number of hormones flowing through my body, I can't help but imagine Dua nude in the shower, rubbing her lithe body with warm water and soft pleasant white soap...
Naturally, I get a boner. Like most guys, I was initially happy when I found out I had a large cock. It immediately gave me a boost in confidence and I felt much more secure about my future sex life. But like everything in life, it has its ups and downs. Right now I'm suffering from the down as my cock tents in my jeans, struggling painfully against the denim. I try to focus on the work harder, thinking that if I exert enough effort in cleaning the blood will stop flowing to my cock. Around twenty minutes pass before I hear the bathroom door open.
My erection is still very much present so I duck and clean the floor as Dua walks out.
"Hey John" I hear her say behind me.
"Yeah?" I ask.
"And need you help with something in the shower, I don't think it's working properly," she says.
