© Sauce*Box, Fall 1998. All rights revert to author. 
Return to Sauce*Box Winter 1998-99

Taking the bed sheet in his hand, Max pulled the entire linen set from the bed. The nasty wet spot would take him twenty minutes to clean. He would also have to wash the linen. Perhaps, he thought, he could explain that he had accidentally spilled coffee. A good idea. Hurrying down to the kitchen on the first floor by the common entrance, he questioned himself. Was this how he wanted to live his life?

Elsa was a small woman, a woman not quite Max's age, the ball of fire that cleaned his house and never seemed to take breaks. Her short torso and tanned arms were well suited to the house, despite its high, vaulted ceilings and endless supply of dust. Elsa would suspect anything - a strand of unfamiliar hair on the bathroom sink or the side of the tub. A different footprint on the path of the carefully planted garden. Each piece of evidence needed to be eradicated before she arrived in the morning.

Elsa caught him once. She was cleaning the closets and found a stashed bag with a hairbrush, two bobby pins, a gold necklace and a bra. When she questioned Max, he couldn't run or hide. She stopped seeing him and, more importantly, she stopped cleaning his house. He needed Elsa.

Some time ago, Max had called around to the people he knew to find a cleaning lady, but to no avail. He placed an advertisement in the newspapers, but Max couldn't see hiring any of the slovenly people that showed up to interview. Then Elsa showed up, slammed down her purse and refused to clean anything until he at least paid her a week in advance.

"The first year, I want a Christmas bonus, two weeks off at my convenience and if I'm to clean for special occasions, I want a bonus before that date. Is that clear?" As she ran her index finger over the doors only to produce dust, she told him what her salary was to be.

Max paid her in advance. He gave her a bonus if she would start work that day. She did.

When Max became sick, she wore a dust mask over her face. " I don't want no boss germs."

"Yes Ma'am."

"Elsa. Call me Elsa. I'll still call you Mr. Hefferman, so don't get any ideas. It's proper that you call me by my first name."

"All right, Elsa." Max watched her clean. It was a delight. Elsa's movements were machine-like, her thin waist and large behind working in rhythmic time as she methodically pulled items from tables and wiped them off, setting them carefully back down in the exact position she found them. Max would close his eyes watching her and turn to his side to keep his interest hidden. She was, after all, the cleaning woman. Had he mistaken the intensity of her being around him with sexual chemistry? No, he thought. Untouchable. She probably had family at home.

Fifteen minutes later, Max, in his robe and house shoes, walked quietly past the bathroom. As he did, he heard a moaning, the unmistakable moaning of a woman pleasing herself. Max quickly turned around and padded back to his bedroom. The idea of Elsa pleasing herself excited him. He found a handkerchief and hid it beneath the sheets. When he could hear the vacuum cleaner downstairs, knowing she couldn't hear him, he threw the covers off and stroked himself until his hand was sore, thinking about the taste of Elsa's lips on him.

Placing the handkerchief on the nightstand, Max fell asleep, dreaming of tanned arms and familiar fingers playing with Elsa's thighs and Elsa's secret place. When he woke, the handkerchief was gone.

The following week, Max had a date with a woman he'd picked up from the shopping mall where he shopped for a gift of cheese and wine.

"Do you think this would go with a good steak?" He held up a bottle to the tall, blond woman standing behind the counter. She was barely twenty. He was more than twice her age.

"Yes, that would be lovely. Have you tried the Stilton?" The girl faced Max. His handsome face was unrelenting in its honesty. Looking down, she said, "Are you always so intense?"

Max loved it. He stared at her for a moment longer until she started moving away. "Don't go. What's your name?"

"Sara. Yours?"

"Max. I think you have the most gorgeous eyes."

Despite knowing that she'd just been fed a pick-up line, Sara blushed. The thin, blond hair on her head could not hide her reddening scalp and forehead. She looked around at the other girls behind the counter who could hear Max flirting with her. They all rolled their eyes.

"I'd like to go out with you, Sara. Would you go out with me?"

Sara didn't answer. She didn't want to say 'yes' in front of her co-workers. She wanted to say 'yes,' and bit her lip as she peered into the eyes of this stranger.

Max sense what was happening. "Here. Here's my phone number in case you change your mind. It's nice meeting you, Sara." Max held out his hand and when Sara placed hers in it for a handshake, Max brought the lily-white fingers to his mouth and kissed them quickly.

She called him that evening.

"Do you think I'm handsome?"

"Is that what you ask the women you date?"

"The truth. Would you have called me if you didn't think so?"

"I think you're sexy and very handsome." Sara blushed just saying the words into the telephone handset.

"Now see? Was that so hard?"

Sara rang Max's doorbell at eight. She had wanted to go out to a restaurant but he persuaded her to come to his house so he could prepare a meal for the two of them.

"I want a chance to show you what I can do," he said, grinning as he talked to her on the phone. "I promise I won't bite. Unless, of course, you like that sort of thing."

Sara laughed nervously. She'd never been with a man so commanding. Her experiences were limited to friends who became more than friends and then went away.

Sara's eyes roamed around the huge window view of the ocean outside of Max's house. She couldn't hear the waves, but she felt them on her as she peered into the spotless reflection and saw Max approaching her from behind.

Max had put on soft music and turned the lights almost off so that the scene out the window would have more of an impact on Sara. He put his hands on her shoulder to remove her jacket. Sara felt the blood in her body follow his hands as he coaxed her arms out of the thick fabric. "Nice view."

Max crossed his arms as he came back from the coat closet. He looked at Sara and the ocean outside. "Yes, I think the view is lovely." He stood beside her, three feet to her left. Still looking out the window, he asked her in a low, seductive voice: "Are you hungry?"

Sara blushed. Deep inside, she knew what the question meant, but on the surface, she would answer. "Of course. Ravished. What are you making?"

Max took her hand and escorted her to the kitchen. "Steak and.... For dessert, well, I don't have a dessert. We'll have to go out for that."

Sara looked disappointed, but said nothing. "I'd like a tour of the house before dinner, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Here, let's start with the kitchen. This is the kitchen.

Kitchen, say hello to Sara." Max made squeaky, imitation voices that said, 'hello Sara' and did this with each room in the house. On the stairs, he dropped Sara's hand. "Shhh. Be very quiet. The bedroom is sleeping."

Sara giggled and when she reached the top of the stairs, she accidentally bumped into Max. "So sorry."

Max pointed to the bed and the closets and showed Sara the huge round tub. "I have a rubber ducky, but he's been complaining a lot lately."

The close proximity ignited the chemistry that took Sara's breath away. She loved the way Max smelled, the way he kept his house clean and the way he answered her questions directly.

Back in the kitchen, Max turned to her and pulled her close, hugging her. He liked the feel of the slinky dress covering her body. She wore no brassiere and he could feel her nipples touching his chest.He kissed her forehead, her blond eyelashes and her closed eyes. He made his way down to her nose and was about to find her lips when she blushed and pulled away.

"I'm sorry, it's justŠ it's just that IŠ" Sara was confused. Yes, she wanted him. This was too fast for her, wasn't it? She had to look inside. Her body wanted to go full speed ahead but half her mind wasn't willing to give in without a fight.

"Sara, it's okay. We won't do anything you don't want to do. All right? I just wanted to kiss you. I've wanted to since I saw you standing behind the counter trying to sell me Stilton. I didn't mean to frighten you." Max stirred the pot filled with seasonings and avoided Sara's eyes.

Sara made her decision quickly. "Are we going to make love tonight?"

"Well, now there's a question for you." He stopped stirring and looked directly at Sara.

"I was just curious." Sara surprised Max by standing behind him and placing her hands on his hips.

Max looked down at her manicured fingers touching him. The gentleness of her soft hands gliding over his clothing made him twitch with excitement. She slowly roamed over his hips down the sides of his thighs and back up to his waist. Max said, "If you keep that up, we may not make it through dinner and I'll have to answer affirmative to your last question."

Sara half-whispered, half moaned, "That's all right with me...on both accounts."

Max turned the light off on the stove and gently pulled Sara's hand from his waist, moving it slowly down onto the erection in his pants. Sara leaned into him, rubbing her breasts against his back as she pushed her pelvis rhythmically into the bottom curve of his buttocks.

Max just stood there as she massaged his testicles through his slacks with one hand and stroked his penis with the other. What else would she do to him? He reached down and unzipped his pants, redirecting her right hand onto the skin of his protruding penis. He moaned. "Your hands are warm."

Still standing behind Max, Sara placed both hands on him, gently taking the drop of liquid from the end of his penis and making circles just under the engorged head. "Just don't forget wet. I'm very wet!"

Max closed his eyes and experienced a new tension in his groin.

Sara pulled him slightly backwards. "Keep your eyes closed," she whispered, quickly pulling down the straps of her dress so that her small breasts were bare. Watching Max's eyes, she turned him slightly toward her and knelt down in front of him. She placed his hands on the top of her own head as she unbuttoned his slacks and tugged on them until they were piled up around his ankles. She reached one hand into his underwear from the band across the top while the other hand wrangled the soft cotton down with the slacks. She opened her lips and looked up to see Max's eyes still shut. Quickly, she took him in, placing one hand underneath his testicles and one on the right cheek of his buttocks to pull him to her.

"Oh, Sara. Sara." Max couldn't believe his luck. No one had offered to do that to him in such a long time. He peeked at the woman whose mouth he disappeared into over and over again. He knew he would come if she didn't stop, but the feeling was so good that he gave into it, into the heat and moisture and warmth. He warned her, but Sara kept using her mouth, alternately sucking and licking, her warm hands tugging on the swollen testicles.

Max exploded and she kept licking him afterwards, heightening the sensitivity of the skin surrounding his sex.

Sara stood up and put her dress on as she sprinted for the stairs leading to the bedroom. Once up the stairs, she pulled her dress off again. Heading to the bathroom, she stopped, bent down to examine the items next to the sink and turned around in shock, deciding to leave this place at once. When she dressed and headed down the stairs, Max made his way to her, his pants still halfway down his legs.

"What's the matter?"

"You didn't tell me I would be sharing your bed. Good night and don't call me."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Max. Get a clue." Sara left quickly, grabbing her handbag and making it to the door before Max had a chance to say another word.

Max asked himself what did she mean by that? What did she see? Max pulled on his pants and headed upstairs. He looked around and saw nothing that would make a woman want to scream at him or leave. Then he opened the bathroom door.

On the counter were Elsa's things. Her hairbrush, a pair of pink panties and a picture. Max picked up the picture and began to laugh out loud as he examined it. The picture was of Elsa without any clothes on, leaning back in a chair with her hands on her crotch obviously enjoying herself. On the back of the picture were her telephone number and a message. "For a good time, call me." There was a smiley face next to the sentence. Max sighed. He stared at them, and then held Elsa's satiny, pink panties to his nose. Her smell was still intoxicating. He laid the picture of her and the panties on the bed and removed his own pants and his shirt.

Forgetting about Sara, he leaned back on the bed and wrapped the panties around his penis, rubbing the silk against him as he thought about what it would be like to be inside Elsa, listening to her moan against him. He closed his eyes and after a long time, came hard again, soaking the panties that he left next to the bed so the cleaning woman would find them. He headed for the kitchen. He was starved.

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