It felt strange to walk through a neighbor's house in the nude, but Valerie hadn't given me much time to dwell on it. I hustled across the kitchen to the laundry room like a passenger trying to make a connecting flight. Valerie leaned on the laundry room door frame and tracked my progress against her watch. She wore a fresh bathing suit in a lighter shade of blue than the bikini bottom in my hand -- the one she'd dropped on top of me before she rode my face to orgasm.
"Good job, Lisa," she said as I arrived at my appointed place of duty. "I like my house slaves prompt, and you're off to a good start." She pointed to a gray metal shelf in the laundry room. "Most of the cleaning supplies are on the shelf, but there are toilet brushes and cleaner in the bathrooms, and some other stuff under the kitchen sink. I want this place cleaned from top to bottom. You can wear the vinyl cleaning gloves that are on the shelf, and nothing else."
She turned, opened the door to the linen closet across the hall, and pulled out a beach towel. "You'll find fresh linens for the master bed in here. Don't worry about the guest bed." She looked at her watch. "I have to leave in three hours to meet a client at the gym, so that's how long you have. Any questions?"
"No, ma'am."
"Good, I'll be out by the pool with some reading material and your clothes. Your first order of business is to bring me a fresh cup of coffee. Feel free to reheat and enjoy the coffee you left in the living room. I don't want you falling asleep on the job."
"Thank you, ma'am." I kept my eyes on the floor between us and watched as she pivoted, walked to the living room, and turned right toward the door that led out to the back yard pool and hot tub. Her calves shortened and lengthened with each step in a way that was only noticeable because of their hard-earned solidity and Valerie's low body fat. Her upper legs were muscular, but feminine, and her ass was a gravity-defying bubble high on her hamstrings. I could almost see how the muscles in her back tied together, and the contours in her triceps were more evident than I'd ever seen in a woman. How had I not noticed any of this in the past year? If I had, I probably wouldn't have been so certain that I could kick her ass, an attitude that had led to my new status as her naked maid and servant.
I considered borrowing some of her loose-fitting clothing and making a run for my house, but it seemed the coward's way out, and I needed to satisfy her of my sincere regret so she would erase the photos she'd taken of me in the living room. I would just die if her husband, or mine, ever saw them, and it would be a disaster if her camera fell into the wrong hands.
I walked the ten feet from the laundry room to the kitchen, poured coffee into a fresh mug from the cupboard, and started a new pot. There were a few dirty dishes in the sink and clean ones in the dishwasher waiting to be put away. I peeked into the refrigerator and the oven and was relieved to find them relatively clean. There weren't any huge, time-consuming messes, and the place was relatively uncluttered.
I plucked Valerie's coffee off the counter and walked heel-to-toe in the careful way of a nude woman carrying a steaming hot cup of coffee. Waitressing in high school and college had taught me that the trick to carrying hot drinks was to pay peripheral attention to the mug. Focus on it too much, or not at all, and it was sure to spill on your hand.
At the back door, I stalled for a moment and checked for neighborhood windows that might offer a view of the pool area. I could see the top third of two windows on the house behind Bill and Val's, but the privacy fence would conceal me once I stepped off the landing. A myna bird squawked in front of the house, and the sudden realization that anyone who came to the front door would have an unobstructed view of my naked backside caused me to lose concentration and splash hot coffee onto my foot. I growled under my breath and decided that the pool area was definitely the lesser of two evils. Not that I really had a choice. I stepped out the back door and made a mental note to close the inside front door and some window blinds before I started cleaning.
Valerie was half reclined on an almond-colored chaise lounge that was turned to face the morning sun. The
Redbook
magazine in her hand shaded her eyes, while her topless torso soaked up some vitamin D. Her firm breasts were as immune to gravity as her ass. She and I each had more than a handful, but her small frame provided an attention-getting contrast to her bust. She had no tan lines.
"Your coffee, ma'am." I set her mug on the plastic table by her chair.
"Thank you, Lisa." She sat up a little and traded the magazine for her coffee. "You know, I almost forgot to tell you: You are not to close the inside doors or any of the blinds or curtains while you clean."
I tried to keep the "Oh, fuck!" look off my face. "Should I not dust the blinds, then?"
"Do what you need to clean them, then get them back up."
"Yes, ma'am. Do you need anything else?"
"I'm fine. You had better get cracking on your housework, slut."
"Yes, ma'am." I slunk back to the door, peeked to make sure there was no one at the front door, and slipped into the house. The end table that stood in the corner of the L formed by the couch and the recliner was just inside the door to my right. On it rested the two cups of coffee that had witnessed my humiliating fall from grace. I picked them up and headed to the kitchen, gulping the warm coffee from my mug as I walked. I emptied Valerie's mug in the sink and set both mugs on the counter.
I had my first chuckle of the day when I noticed that Val had poured my coffee in a white mug emblazoned with "BFF" in pink and red block letters with cute little pink and red hearts sprinkled around the lettering. It was the mug she always reserved for me, and I hoped that she would tire of our new mistress/slave relationship by the end of the day so we could get back to being BFF's in the morning.
I thought that the kitchens and bathrooms would be the toughest rooms to clean, so I started by spraying oven cleaner inside the oven and soap scum remover in the showers so they could soak while I worked on all the food-handling areas.
In an hour I had cleaned both bathrooms, the laundry room, and the kitchen, including the floor around and behind the oven and refrigerator. The biggest obstacle was my bare chest. My breasts rubbed against the floor when I reached under the oven, against the porcelain as I scrubbed around the toilets and against every rag or container that I hung on my shoulder or tucked under my arm; and they were rivaled only by my face as magnets for falling dust.
I had thought that cleaning the windows would be the task with the worst risk of exposure to passing eyes, but the window cleaning spray temporarily blurred the glass, and I could see approaching threats to my dignity as I wiped the windows clean. The ceiling fans were another story. I had to stand on something to reach them, which put my full body in view of any window in the room and added another step to any hasty retreat. It also took time and attention to clean away the dust and cobwebs that had accumulated on the fans and light fixtures. The fans in the dining room and the den were both centered in rooms with three large windows facing the street, and they were the last two things I had to clean before a final vacuuming and a walk-through to check for anything I might have missed.
I decided to get the fan in the den out of the way first. It was the most nerve-wracking because the only escape from that room was directly into the foyer in full view of anyone who came to the front door. I pulled the office chair from the computer desk, stood on it, and dusted as fast as I could, but it took several minutes to get all of the dust and cobwebs off of the fan blades and motor housing. I wiped the entire thing down with a dryer sheet to keep new dust from sticking and then put away the chair and heaved a huge sigh of relief as I crossed the foyer to the dining room.
There was a door from the dining room to the kitchen, so I had an escape route if anyone approached the front of the house. The real challenge in the dining room lay in reaching the fan, which was centered over the heavy dining room table. I threw a towel over the center of the table and stood with one foot on the seat of a chair and the other on the towel. The bulk of the dust stuck nicely to a damp cloth, and a few minutes of work had two-thirds of the fixture and all of the fan blades ready for an anti-static wipe with the dryer sheet, so I did that and switched to the other side of the table.
Valerie came in the house then and looked through the kitchen doorway. "Almost done, Lisa?"
