Author's Note: It was recommended that this story would be better categorized under non-consent/reluctance. As a trigger warning, while there is no non-consensual sex, there are some elements of non-consensual sexual contact. If you are uncomfortable with reading anything dealing with that subject, please skip this story. Thanks.
The wheels of my cleaning cart squealed like the whine of a lecture hall full of undergrads being presented with a pop quiz. I'd gotten crushed earlier that morning along with most of my classmates by our chemistry professor's unannounced quiz. Once I was done with my part-time shift cleaning hotel rooms, I'd head back to campus and figure out how to put the pieces back together on a semester that was completely off the rails. I'd already lost my academic scholarship the semester before which was why I was cleaning hotel rooms in the first place.
I bent to scratch my knee as I reached the end of my last hallway. My light blue maid's uniform was a short-sleeve dress that looked like something out of the 1950s and was made of a horribly cheap wool that made my skin itch like nothing I'd ever felt before.
As my cart came to a stop, I consulted my room list. Room 545 was the first room on the list, and according to it, the occupants wanted a cleaning but wouldn't be checking out until the end of the week.
I approached the door and gave it a solid knock. "Housekeeping," I called out. I paused for several moments, and when I heard no response or other sounds from inside, I knocked again and announced my presence.
It was almost midday, so it made sense that the occupants were out and about.
I retrieved my room master keycard from my pocket and pressed it against the door's key lock. I swiveled the door handle and pushed the door ajar far enough for me to poke my head into the room. I called out one last time to announce my presence. There was still no answer, so I reached back for my cart and pulled it into the room then let the door close behind me.
Thankfully, the room wasn't in horrible shape, so it wouldn't take me long. Even though guests were entitled to take some liberties with their room, it always annoyed me when they treated the rooms like they were in a frat house.
I went to the far side of the room to grab the trashcan there. As I passed the bathroom door, it abruptly swung open to reveal a middle-aged man standing in the doorway. A nude middle-aged man with what almost looked like a third leg between his legs.
I quickly averted my eyes and put up a hand to shield my face. "Ohmigod, I'm sorry," I said as I scampered for my cart and the door.
"No, sorry, it's my fault," the man said. "Wait, hang on, I'll put something on."
I paused at my cart with my back turned. "I'll just come back."
"No, please wait, we could really use having the room fixed up." He spoke again after a beat. "Ok, I'm decent now."
I slowly turned around. 'Decent' was a relative word. He'd fastened a white bath towel around his waist and was meandering around the room as if nothing had just happened. During my time working at the hotel, I'd encountered people in all states of dress, so if he was fine with it, I was fine with it. The sooner I started, the sooner I'd be on my way.
I went back to begin tidying up the room while he laid back on the bed and turned on the TV. Before long, I noticed his towel had ridden up his legs and was getting dangerously close to him revealing his massive cock again. He crossed and then uncrossed his legs, spreading them wide. If I went past the foot of the bed, I'd surely be able to see it again. Thinking better of it, I decided to shift my cleaning focus to the bathroom.
There were several towels scattered on the floor, toothpaste on the mirror and counter, and the trashcan needed to be emptied. I stooped down and gathered up the towels and started to carry them to my cart then stopped. It would make more sense to clean off the mirror and counter and then gather up whatever towels were leftover.
I dropped the towels into a pile on the floor and went to my cart. As I emerged from the bathroom, a blonde middle-aged woman entered the room. Her eyebrows arched up as she looked back and forth from me to the man on the bed who slid off it and picked up a pair of black slacks that were laying on the floor.
"Heather! I thought you were going for a jog," the man said as he tried to pull on the pants.
'Heather' was dressed the part. She was wearing a light gray long-sleeve pullover with a half zipper that was at least a size or two too big given her small frame. The shirt hung down past her hips over a pair of dark gray pants that looked more appropriate for yoga than jogging around the neighborhood.
"I got downstairs and realized I forgot my phone and headphones." She turned to look me up and down. "Who the hell is this?"
"I'm housekeeping," I said quickly. I'm just here to—"
Heather made a 'be quiet' sign with her fingers and thumb. "I wasn't asking you." She turned her head back to the man. "Michael, who is this?"
'Michael' had managed to get his pants on and was looking around, presumably for a shirt. "That's just the maid. She's nobody."
"Uh-huh." Heather folded her arms and looked back at me. "It doesn't look like you're doing much cleaning...," she leaned forward, examining my name tag, "...Clarita."
I stuck my thumb over my shoulder and gestured toward the bathroom. "I'm cleaning the bathroom."
"With no cleaning supplies?"
"I—I—I mean, I was just about to start cleaning it. Ok, well first I was going to get the towels but then decided to clean it first."
Heather turned back to Michael. "And you're just sitting there naked?"
"I had a towel," he said quietly.
"I had a towel," Heather repeated, mocking him.
Michael's shoulders were hunched over, and he looked like he was folding in on himself. A far cry from the proud man with the huge cock from a few minutes ago. "I was just...I just got out of the shower."
"Yeah, I bet." Heather huffed. Her eyes flipped back and forth between Michael and me before something behind me caught her eye. She stalked past my cart, ramming it with her hip as she went. I stepped back out of her way as she stormed past and went into the bathroom. I looked at Michael who looked back at me and shrugged. A couple seconds later, Heather marched out of the bathroom and stepped right up to me and held out her hand. "Give it to me."
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"Don't play dumb. Give it to me right now and I won't call the police."
Michael stepped around the side of the bed. "What's wrong, honey?"
"What's wrong is your little cleaning whore here stole my tennis bracelet."
I was flabbergasted. "What? No! I never saw—I didn't steal your bracelet!"
"Where'd you leave it?" Michael asked.
"I left it right there on the counter and now it's gone. The only two people who've been in there are you and her. So, unless you stole it, then she did."
I took several steps backwards while holding up my hands. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about. I never saw a bracelet."
Heather pointed at my waist. "Empty out your pockets."
I pulled out the lining of my uniform's pockets and held up my arms. "I don't have anything." I twirled around in place. "See?"
"Don't patronize me, bitch. I know it's in there somewhere." She took a step toward me, but Michael moved to get between us.
"Are you positive you left it in the bathroom?" he asked.
"Yes, Michael! Why are you sticking up for her?"
"I'm not sticking up for anyone. I just think we need to be sure before we start accusing her of anything."
Heather closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Michael, get out of my way." Her voice was quieter and calmer, but she looked like a volcano about to blow.
Michael held up a hand. "Hold on just a—"
"Get out of my way!" she screamed.
Michael flinched and stepped back, moving so that my cleaning cart was between him and her.
Heather opened her eyes and glared at me. "I'm going to count to ten. And if you don't give back my bracelet, I'm taking it back."
"I don't have your bracelet!" I was on the verge of tears.
"One."
"Look! I don't have anything!" I turned around again to demonstrate it.
"Two."
"I don't have it!"
Michael eased around the backside of my cart toward me. "If you have it...just give it back." His voice was quiet.
"Three."
"I don't have it!" I shouted at Michael. I turned back to Heather. "I don't have it!"
"Four—fuck it." Heather moved toward me with the speed of a striking cobra.
I got my hands up just as Heather reached me. "What are you—"
Heather grabbed the collar of my dress and yanked it hard enough to pull me off balance. I grabbed her wrists as I started to tumble to the floor, pulling her down with me. As soon as we hit the floor, Heather clawed at my dress like a furious housecat. I grabbed at her arms trying to stop her.
"It's in her dress! Michael, help me!" she shouted.
A shadow appeared over us, and I looked up and saw Michael looking down on us with concern. "Come on, guys, don't do this."
"Michael!" Heather shouted as she yanked her hand back, taking my collar with it and popping off the buttons.
Michael knelt down next to me. As he reached toward us, for a moment, I thought he was going to break us up. His hands reached into the flailing mess of limbs that we'd become. But instead of separating us, he grabbed the other side of my collar and pulled. A distinct ripping sound followed. I cringed as I felt Michael's hand slip into the top of my dress. It slid across my upper chest and then settled onto my bra. He gave my right breast tentative squeeze.
"Fucking get off me!" I started kicking out with my legs, trying with renewed ferocity to break free.
He lifted his hand, and I thought he was going to remove it. Instead, he slipped it into my bra and grabbed my bare breast.
Meanwhile, Heather was screaming like a banshee and pulling the other side of my collar. There was another ripping sound. And then the top of my dress came completely open.
"I know it's in here." Heather reached into my dress and felt along my torso and the inside of my dress searching for a bracelet that I didn't have.
Michael withdrew his hand from the inside of my bra to my relief. But to my horror, he grabbed the top of the cup and yanked it down, exposing my breasts. Heather didn't seem to notice. She also didn't seem to notice as Michael put one hand down the inside of my dress and began groping my ass while he passed his other hand across my breasts and then back, copping a feel both times.
My dress was practically in shreds and dangling off my body. And yet, Heather kept pulling and digging and clawing.
