I had never thought too much about the cleaning ladies who came once a week to go over my apartment. I left their money before I went to work and, when I returned, things had been tidied up, the dishes washed and the carpets vacuum cleaned. Some were more conscientious than others; not that I was that bothered. I hardly saw them from one year to another; when I did, they were all middle-aged cheery ladies happy to make a bit of tax-free spending money.
I knew that they could only have spent an hour or two, judging by how much difference they made, although I paid them for three. The occasional girl friend would complain but it didn't worry me - I could afford it.
Then I was made redundant and started working for myself. This meant that I spent at least half the week working from home. I tried to arrange to go to see clients on Wednesdays, which was when the cleaners came; the sound of the Hoover used to drive me mad. But that was not always possible so I closed my office door and put up with the noise.
Then a new cleaner started. At first, I paid her little attention other than the usual "Good morning. How've you been?" stuff. I found out that she had left her husband and was doing this job until she found something better. She was always very reticent when I asked her what she had done before. I only asked because sometimes I could help with introductions to clients if someone was looking for office work. I had no real curiosity. It was weeks before I found out her first name; it was Brenda.
"I hate that name. Just call me Pet." She said.
She was pleasant enough: late twenties, blonde dyed hair cut short and a trim figure. She always wore tight jeans and a sweater. She reminded me of that early Rolling Stones song: "She was common, flirty; she looked about thirty. I would have gone away but I was on my own!"
I found I was spending more time at home on Wednesday. I guess I began to look forward to our little chats over coffee in the middle of the morning. She had a good sense of humour and we would often laugh about something or other. She would smoke a cigarette, which I usually hate but not with her - I liked the way she held it between her lips and sucked in. Then I would go back to work.
Nothing changed until one morning in early June. As spring turned into summer, on warm days, she had began to come along wearing just a T-shirt and no bra. She had small pert breasts with nipples that poked out endearingly. That day she was wearing particularly tight jeans and, for the first time I could remember, perfume and make-up.
"You look good today – who's the lucky guy?"
"You must be joking. I've had it with up to my eye-teeth with men!"
I wondered whether maybe she had a girl friend instead and changed the subject. I went back to work and was busy on the computer, trying to finish a presentation, when she came in to do my office. This usually only took a few minutes, but today she seemed to linger. She looked over my shoulder and I could smell a mixture of her strong perfume and the tobacco on her clothes.
"What are you up to? I always wonder what you do up here all day."
"Nothing very exciting, I'm afraid, but it pays the bills."
"We all could do with a little excitement in our lives, Edward. God knows, I could!"
It was the first time I can remember her calling me by my name. It made me turn around quickly, my arm accidentally knocking against her breast.
"Oops, sorry." I said. "Are you ok?"
"Well, you can always kiss it better if you like, Edward!"
I was amazed; she was young enough to be my daughter! I looked at her closely; she was smiling, her white teeth glistening in the light. A single bead of sweat was running down the side of her face. I could see that her nipples had hardened and grown; they jutted out invitingly through her white shirt.
"Do you want me to, Pet?" I asked.
She smiled and took my hand. As she did so, she pulled her T-shirt up and exposed her lovely breasts, small but shapely, white and firm, nipples pink and prominent. She placed my hand on her right breast; it felt so young and soft to the touch. I stood up and ran both hands over her breasts, kissed and sucked on the left one and then kissed her gently on the lips.
"Are you sure about this, Pet?"
"You tell me." She unbuttoned the front of her jeans so that I could just about ease a hand down between her legs. She was not wearing panties and was completely shaven; it felt as if she had shaven that morning, perhaps specially for me? My finger found her slit and slid in. God, she was so wet it was unbelievable!