I've been cleaning the same office building for 20 years. Usually, nobody is around when I'm working, so it's quiet, and just go about my work. Occasionally someone works late, but not often. Except for the man on the third floor, that's the top floor of this building. The first floor is retail, nothing to do with me. The second and third floor are offices, and that's my kingdom.
The man on the third floor, works one door away from the northeast corner office. I see him a couple of times a month, sitting late, at his computer. He's got his desk set up facing the door, so I can't see what's on his screen. Not when he's there, anyway.
"Hi!" he says, when I walk past his door. "I'll be out soon, or you can just skip me, it's not too dirty in here."
Or I pass him in the hallway, on his way out. "Hi, Alice," he'll say ... my name is embroidered on my uniform dress, red thread on the pale green knee-length dress that buttons up the front.
He seems like a nice man. I know his name is Sean, because that's on his door. I also know he smiles a lot. And I know he looks at naughty things on the internet.
I know that because, twice before now, he's left his monitor on when he left, and when I cleaned behind his desk, I could see what he was looking at.
The first time, I was so surprised. Photographs of an old woman, older than me, doing things with a younger man. Naked things. I turned away quickly, but I just had to look again. I shook my head, and kept cleaning, but the images staid in my mind.
The second time, a month later, there were more, similar images. This time I sat down at his desk, and had a closer look. The pictures had captions: "Old aunt gives her adult nephew a blow job." Things like that. I'd never seen anything like them before. I wouldn't dare look on the internet for myself. That time, I touched myself a little, down there, because looking was making me a little wriggly and wet.
Today, this was the third time he'd left his monitor on. He'd walked past me on his way out ... "Hi, Alice!" like always. This time there was a photo, another older woman with a middle-aged man, quite fit looking. The caption was "Taking my wife's grandmother from behind." In the middle of the desk was a print out of the photo, with a story below. I read it. It explained the man's fascination with older women, and his seduction of his wife's grandmother. On the corner of the page, someone had written, in pencil, "What about Alice?"
Alice. Did they mean me? Impossible. But it was exciting to think that a man could still find an old woman attractive. I was feeling very wriggly and wet after reading the story. I looked back at the glowing photo on the screen. I pulled my dress up, and slid my right hand inside my panties. It was naughty, but who would see? I closed my eyes, rubbed gently, and imagined.
"Hi, Alice!" said Sean.
My eyes snapped open. Sean was standing in the doorway, smiling. Don't panic, I told myself. He can't see what you're doing, behind his desk.
"Taking a break?" asked Sean.
"Oh, sir, I was a little dizzy," I stammered. "So, I thought I better sit down."
"That's OK with me," said Sean. "How long have you been doing this work, Alice?"
"Oh, twenty years here," I said.
"This building can't be more than twenty years old," Sean said.
"And in the building they demolished to build this one, for thirty years," I said.
"You can't be more than 70 years old," said Sean.
"I'm 69," I said.
"Your whole life, here," said Sean.
"Yes," I said. "I know this place."
"Are you married? Children?" asked Sean.
"No," I said. "Just me."
"It's New Year's Eve," said Sean. "Where do you go?"
"Home," I said. "Just me."
"No party?" Sean asked. "Nothing?"
"Just me," I said.
"Well," said Sean. "I'm sorry to disturb you."
"You haven't disturbed me, sir," I said.
"Haven't I?" asked Sean. "Your right hand has been under my desk since I found you. Are you OK?"
"Ah, just, something," I mumbled.
"I came back," said Sean.
"Yes," I said. "Did you forget something?"
"I left something on my desk," said Sean.
"Oh, yes?" I asked.
"And on my computer screen," said Sean.
"Oh, yes?" I asked.
"I left them for you, Alice," said Sean. "I hoped that you would find them."
"Oh, yes?" I asked.
"I hoped that you would like them," said Sean.
"Sir, can I help you with something?" I asked, nervously.
"Alice," said Sean. "Is your hand in your lap?"
"Yes," I admitted.
"Is your hand under your skirt?" asked Sean.
I paused, blushing. "Yes," I said.
"Is your hand inside your panties, touching yourself?" asked Sean.
I didn't say anything, but kept blushing.
"I left the screen up, and the print out on my desk, so you would find them, Alice," said Sean.
I kept blushing.
"I thought you might like that sort of thing," said Sean.
"It was surprising, sir," I said.
"Please, Alice, call me Sean," he said.
"It was surprising, Sean," I said.
"Interesting surprise? Or scary surprise?" asked Sean. "I've brought a bottle of Champagne for us to share, if it's an interesting surprise."
I couldn't have been more taken aback. I took my right hand out of my panties.
"Hold it up, so I can see," said Sean, gently.
I was so embarrassed. My face burned with blushes, but I held up my right hand.
Sean walked around behind the desk and said, "May I smell?"
I just stared at him. He took me softly by the right wrist and held my hand to his nose, inhaling deeply.
"May I taste?" asked Sean.
"I've never, sir," I stammered. But I didn't say no.
Sean took three of my fingers, all but the pinky, put them in his mouth and sucked. I could feel his tongue.
"Oh, sir!" I stammered.
"Sean," said Sean. "I'm Sean. And you're Alice."
"Sean," I moaned. "I don't know how to be!"
"With me," said Sean. "You're however you want to be."
"How should I be, though?" I said, anxiously.
"You've seen what I like," said Sean. "On my screen. On that print out."
"But you're lovely!" I protested. "And I'm an old hag."
"You've seen what I like," said Sean. "I like Alice."
"But how can you, sir?" I protested.
"I like Alice," said Sean, again. "What else I'd like, Alice, is to pour you a glass of this Champagne," he held it out with his other hand from behind his back, "in a couple of mugs. For a Happy New Year toast? Would that be OK?"
"Yes, sir ... Sean," I stammered.
"And then I have something we can watch together, on my computer," said Sean. "OK?"
"What are we going to watch?" I asked, nervously. "I have work to do."
"Your work can wait a little while, Alice," said Sean. He pulled up a guest chair next to me, to the right of where I was sitting in his desk chair.
"I'm pouring us some Champagne," said Sean. He took the bottle, and with two mugs from the side-table, he poured us each some Champagne. He handed me a mug. "Happy New Year, Alice!"