Cleaning Girl

by meeah soo

 

1.

The key rattled in the lock. I sat there, petrified, staring at my door. Unbelievably, it started to slowly open and I tried to shout a warning but it was too late. The pretty young Hindu girl who cleaned our offices put her hand to her mouth and her dark eyes flashed with embarrassment and surprise.

"Oh I'm so sorry," she giggled, "ooh, very sorry!"

I tried to explain, to excuse myself, something. But what could I say? She'd caught me with my pants down, literally. I was sitting at the computer, my cock in hand, masturbating.

I was looking at a transgender storysite, reading a t-girl fantasy.

I was naked. I was wearing a pair of red satin panties.

 

2.

I went to work early the next morning and worked harder than I had in months. I made a point of chatting with my supervisor, hoping to confirm that nothing had been said. If the cleaning girl went to human resources and reported what she'd seen, I figured I could be in big trouble.

I had no idea why she'd been going into my office so late: usually, she was finished with our floor hours before. I'd gone out for a drink earlier and returned to the office after 10pm. The offices were empty; the floor quiet. I never thought I'd be interrupted. Still, I wasn't so sure that either my supervisor would see it that way, or, more importantly, our company's head of Human Resources, Victoria Thane, who's singleminded obsession seemed to be the elimination of anything she deemed even hinted of sexual harrassment. I wasn't sure that to Ms. Thane exposing myself, even accidentally, to a female member of the cleaning staff wouldn't fall under that heading.

But the work day passed and so did the next and nothing happened.

Each day I left the office shortly after 5pm—a full hour before the cleaning staff usually arrived. I wanted to make sure I didn't run across the girl again.

 

3.

Three weeks went by and I figured the incident was forgotten…until one day I noticed that my wastebasket was still full from the night before. I didn't think much of it—probably just an oversight—but it wasn't emptied the next day or the day after that. I asked around: I was the only person whose wastebasket wasn't emptied or who's office went uncleaned.

I tried to make a joke of it at first. I emptied my wastebasket myself in the men's room or the office kitchen.

"You must have pissed someone off pretty good," Pete Vick, the accounts supervisor said one morning, laughed as he sipped coffee and watched me stuff yesterday's discarded paperwork in the copy room paper recycling bin.

The cleaning girl's neglect of my office continued.

Eventually, my supervisor, Rita Harris saw me one too many mornings in the hallway with my full wastebasket. She didn't seem amused. She told me to call office services and see what the problem was.

I had thought of calling office services, of course. But I didn't want anything I said to sound like a complaint. I didn't want the cleaning girl to get in trouble and find out it was me who'd been responsible.

The last thing I wanted to do was get her angry: and have her tell everyone what she'd seen.

So that evening I stayed on at the office after 5pm. I waited for the cleaning staff to get there. My heart was in my throat.

I had no choice.

 

4.

I tried to act casual. She was pushing her garbage pail on wheels down the hall and about to pass my door. I called out, and said, "Excuse me…ummm…excuse me but could you…"

She was wearing her usual blue uniform which fit her trim, shapely body snugly. She was wearing thick-soled shoes and white socks which were in sharp contrast to the swell of her smooth brown calves. Her black hair fell in a long braid down her back. Her delicate face was remarkably pretty for a girl who worked alone at night. I'd often thought so. She regarded me with large, sparkling dark eyes.

"Oh you," she said, with a smile on her lips, "do you still work here? I haven't seen you around."

Her speech was only slightly accented—and I realized that aside from a quick and courteous "hello" now and then, I'd never spoken, or even thought to have a regular conversation with her.

"My wastebasket…"

"What about it?"

"It's…you know…full.."

"So?"

I sat there at my desk, staring at her, and then down at her shoes. I could feel myself blushing red-hot. I didn't know what to say. I knew something was happening here, some basic shift in power. I knew that nothing was going to ever be the same again. I waited for her to make the next move. There was no question that it was hers to make. I knew that from now on she would be in control.

 

5.

"From now on," she started, "you will empty your own wastebasket and clean your own office. In fact, you will clean this entire floor. You will stay after hours and wait for me to arrive with the equipment and then you will clean all the offices. Do you understand?"

"But…"

"The answer is 'yes, ma'am.' Say it."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Are you wearing your panties?"

I could feel my face flush with embarrassment. "I…no…I don't…."

She interrupted me. "The answer is 'no, ma'am. Say it."

"No, ma'am."

"From now on, you'll be wearing panties. Is that understood? And you will have your toenails painted. That means no more socks. I also want your body waxed girly smooth. Starting tomorrow, I will find something appropriate for you to wear as you go about your chores. But tonight you can just throw out your own trash and go home and get started. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

 

6.

That night—and the nights that followed—I thought of some way out of my predicatment. I scanned the classifieds. I considered a bribe. I thought of going to Human Resources myself and laying out what had happened. While I pondered these options, I continued to show up at work every day, and to clean the offices every night.

I'd wait for everyone to leave and then slip out of my clothes and put on the cleaning girl "uniform" that Ahalya had given me to wear. The light-blue dress was almost identical to the one she wore except cut shorter. It seemed to me that uniform was two-sizes too small and if I wanted to reach something on the floor I had to bend at the knees to do it. On top of that I had to hold the hem to keep it from riding up over ass. Not that it made that much difference. The outline of my black slingshot panties was clearly visible through the thin material.

I felt terribly exposed pushing a vacuum cleaner through the empty halls of the office. What if someone came back late? What would they think of me dressed like this? I emptied the trash and cleaned up the desks of my colleagues. But I felt like a different person. I was wearing a dress that exposed my bare legs and a pair of rubber slides on my feet. The shoes were open in the front so Ahalya could see my "pretty painted toes." She'd gave me a wig to wear: a long mane of glossy straight black hair. I was wearing shiny lipstick and my eyes were made-up.

On the left breast of my uniform was my new name: Sakari.

 

7.

Weeks passed. While I cleaned up the floor, Ahalya would sit at my computer and read through my work files. Every once in a while, she'd interrupt my dusting or vacuuming to ask me a question or two. In a very short time, she seemed to know my job as well, if not even better, than I did.

Other nights, leaving me behind, she'd get dressed up and leave for a date with one of her handsome Indian boyfriends. Sometimes she'd return from dinner or a movie to show me off. They would laugh at me as I hustled off to the office kitchen to fetch them a coffee or a chai tea. Only once did I make the mistake of objecting. Ahalya responded by calling one of her acquaintances from the cleaning crew: a huge mute black man who carried the trash down from the various floors in the building.

Bent over the desk of the business manager, I felt the tears of pain and humiliation leaking from my eyes. Darren had pulled my uniform up over my hips and the lacy red g-string I was wearing down around my ankles. Realizing that I wasn't going to put up a fight, he removed the heavy arm he'd pressed to the back of my neck and finished spanking my bare ass with his calloused hand.

Then, spitting noisily on his fingers, he thrust three of them inside me. Ahalya, sitting on the desk of an administrative assistant, watched, seemingly fascinated, as Darren proceeded to rape me. He thrust his enormous cock inside me, forced his way passed my last resistance, and fucked me so deeply I thought he would split me apart. I could feel the knot of his cum rising through his cock as it exploded into my bowels. When I rose from my desk, pushing down my uniform and pulling my panties up over my cummy asshole, trying to preserve whatever dignity I could, I heard Ahalya laughing. My last shred of dignity had officially evaporated. I had betrayed myself. On the desk in front of me I saw that I had cum all over the next quarter earnings report.

"Clean up that mess, you stupid bitch," Ahalya said. "And don't ever disobey me again."

I did as she said. I would from now on.

 

8.

While it's true that from then on I didn't give Ahalya any trouble, it wasn't the last time that she had me service Darren. It wasn't so bad, though, once I got used to it. I'd bend over a desk in the publicity department and take it in the ass. Or I'd kneel down in my friend Rick's office and lick Darren's purple swollen balls and take his thick shaft between my painted lips. The huge black man towered over me, and I could feel the power vibrating through him when he took my face in his strong hands, or grasped my pale hips from behind, but once he felt how docile I'd become, he didn't hurt me any more than was absolutely necessary for him to cum inside my ass or mouth.

Sometimes, afterwards, if I wasn't careful enough, I'd have to spend extra time on my hands and knees scrubbing the stains out of the office carpet.

Ahalya left me alone for longer and longer periods of time to clean the office while she went out on dates. By now, she had learned everything about my job. I think she actually knew more about it than I did.

One night I was dusting off some ledgers with my feather duster when my friend Rick barged onto the floor with a giggling girl. They were both a little drunk from the sound of them. I froze, panicked. I wanted to run but I couldn't move. I was done for!

But Rick and his girlfriend passed right by without even recognizing me before disappearing into his office. Before he shut the door, he turned towards me and said, "Hey, don't I know you from somewhere."

"No sir," I said, "I don't think so."

My heart was hammering in my chest. If he recognized me, I was through. He looked at me carefully for a few seconds and then shook his head. "I could swear I know you from someplace sweetheart," then he winked and told me to make sure I didn't disturb him: he had some important work to do. His girlfriend laughed. I did my best to disguise my voice. I was trembling with relief.

I said, "Yes sir."

 

I used the sing-song Indian accent Ahalya had me practice. My Indian language lessons were really paying off.

But my relief soon turned to low-grade panic. What was going on? It's true that the floor was dark and Rick was a bit drunk, but he had mistaken me for a girl!

By now, Ahalya had put me on a strict vegetarian diet and given me a long list of foods and spices to buy at an Indian grocery downtown. I spent most of what little free time I had learning to cook from the recipes she gave me. I thought I must be gaining weight because my cleaning uniform was getting pretty tight across the ass and hips. But Ahalya only laughed and told me I was being a "silly girl." She told me I looked just fine and as proof pointed out how Darren couldn't seem to keep his hands off me.

I felt strangely relieved. Darren grabbed my plump tits, pulling them out of the lacy half-bra I was wearing under my uniform. He grunted as fingered my sensitive nipples and he came to a scalding orgasm inside my chubby ass.

I figured Ahalya must be right. I must look okay.

9.

I guess it was only a matter of time. My supervisor Rita Harris called me into her office. She sat across from me looking very serious. She tapped a folder with a perfectly manicured finger which I was admiring. I wondered what my own hands would look like with a french manicure. Ahalya had told me if I saved up my money maybe I could get one…

"Are you paying attention Robert?" my supervisor said impatiently.

"Huh-uh…" I hardly recognized my old name. I'd been thinking of myself as Sakari for quite some time. "Yes..I…excuse me…I don't think I heard you what you were saying…"

Ms. Harris looked at me strangely, or I should say, more strangely than she'd been looking at me all along. It was my voice, I guess. Americans can be so prejudiced. It's true that I speak with an accent but I understand English perfectly.

"Your work here, Robert, has not improved one bit since the last time we talked."

Last time—had we spoken already ? I didn't remember. I didn't doubt that my work had suffered since I'd been under Ahalya's direction. After all, I was up virtually all night cleaning the office I'd be working in the next day.

I sat quite still as Ms. Harris explained that she didn't know what had happened to me. That I'd had such promise. She passed me a box of tissues. I seemed to be crying.. She pointed out that she'd done her best to accommodate the changes I was going through. But that when it came to job performance, her mandate was clear. I begged her to give me a second chance. I promised I'd work harder. But Ms. Harris was firm. The decision had already been made. I had to be let go.

She told me that she'd already hired someone to take my place. I wasn't surprised when she told me it was Ahalya.

My supervisor let me cry it out for a while. Then she came around the desk and tried to comfort me as best she could. I knew she was right. I couldn't keep up with my work anymore. The fact was that I barely understood what I was doing. She told me everything would be okay. She'd already made an appointment for me in Human Resoures. Maybe Ms. Thane could find a place more suited for my skills within the company.

I sniffed, dabbed at my nose, and gave her a trembling smile. I checked my face in the mirror of my compact. My mascara had smudged a little but hadn't run. The glistening peach lipstick I was wearing brought out the creamy brown lustre of my skin. I guess the special cream Ahalya gave me to help my complexion really worked. My hair, jet black and glistening with fragrant oil, had grown out. It was parted in the middle and tied back in a straight braid that lay between my bare shoulderblades.

I stood up and smoothed my printed skirt. In my flat sandals, my brown toes looked cute with their pink polish and toe-rings. On my left ankle hung a thick bronze anklet with tiny bells. My tight black stretch top held my breasts in place without the benefit of a bra and clearly outlined my nipples. The jingle-jangle of my anklet always seemed to cheer me up. I was feeling much better by the time I got to the elevator.

10.

Ms. Thane sat behind her large glass desk dressed in a red-pantsuit. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back tightly. She didn't wear any make-up. She was what they called a handsome woman. As head of Human Resources, I knew that she wielded the power of life and death over my career. What she seemed to be telling me now was that my career was over.

I was part of her affirmative action program, she explained. It was her goal to advance the cause of women and minorities within the company. For too long, men had the advantage…

She said more, but I was having trouble following.

I was feeling upset all over again. Ms. Thane gave me a sympathetic smile and extended a box of pink tissues. "There, there Sakari dear. Crying never helped anything."

I took one of the pink tissues and dabbed my kohl-lined eyes.

"What am I going to do, Ms Thane?" I said in my sing-song voice. "I need a job very badly."

"There is an opening," she said. "If you're interested….

"Oh I am," I exclaimed, "I am! I would be very happy to be Ms. Ahalya Singh's new secretary."

"I'm afraid there's some misunderstanding Sakari," Ms. Thane said patiently. "You're not qualified to be Ms. Singh's secretary. I'm sorry, dear." She looked down at a sheet of paper on her glass-topped desk. "The position I'm considering you for is cleaning girl.

 

11.

Tonight is just like the other nights. I come to the office after-hours and empty the trash bins and dust the desks. Later, I'll vaccum the floors and clean out the restrooms. At break time, Darren will have me suck him off in the basement and then he'll fuck me in the ass on a mattress he's set up behind the furnace. If there's time, he likes me to strip first to my sexy underwear and jingling ankle bracelet and I dance for him.

I'm lucky to have this job.

I don't like the drab blue uniform very much, but underneath I do get to wear my sexy lace lingerie. I spend what little money I can spare on my pretty things. On the weekends, I clean house for Ms. Ahalya and her new fiancee. I have to work very hard. I don't make much money as a cleaning girl.

Sometimes one or another of my old colleagues works late. I empty their trash can and smile politely. A few times Mr. Rick has been there after-hours. He waits until I bend to take his trash can and then he gives me a hard pinch on my plump behind. He laughs. He thinks that's very funny. He tells me I have nice legs and nice tits. He makes me pull up my uniform to show him my thong underwear.

When he's done, I smile politely and thank him. I wish him a good night. I know better than to complain to Ms. Thane or Ms. Ahalya. I'm very, very lucky to have this job.

Many times, Ms. Ahalya will be working late on an important project. She's very successful. She makes me knock softly on her door before I come into her office so I don't disturb her. Sometimes I just take her trash and leave. Other times, she has me shut the door. I know what I'm supposed to do then.

I kneel on the floor between her legs and lick her pussy.

After she's cum, I gently dry her. Then I get up from the floor and empty her trashcan. She likes to see me wiggly my behind when I leave. Ms. Ahalya says that it makes me look happy. She says I'm a lucky Indian girl. She says I should be happy.

I am.

  

  

  

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