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—"
