Can I be your French Maid? Ch. 03

... strange, I thought as I emptied the dirty water in the small mud room near the garage.

Well, now what?

Was I expected to stay, leave? I suppose I could just leave. I assumed the nerds in my wife's IT department had set up the transaction to be wired directly into our account.

... what if it wasn't?

What would be the harm if I quickly checked the second floor? Better safe than sorry, right?

I set down all my cleaning supplies near the front door and ascended the spiral staircase to the second floor. It had been spared the carnage. There were several hallways that led off in different directions and all the doors were closed.

Seriously, who lived here? Who needed all this space? I'd feel uncomfortable, lost.

"Bonjour?" I asked.

There was no reply.

I suppose I'd just have to settle and hope that they transferred the payment. And if not, really, did I care? I'd spent a good chunk of the day indulging in my kink. In fact, I probably owed them money!

I was about to turn around when my curiosity got the better of me. I should try one door... one door, I thought. Then I'll gather all my cleaning supplies and wait for my wife outside.

Later... much later when I had time to reflect back on this moment, I often wondered what led me to choose the door I did. There were several, all identical. I could have chosen any one of them. Had I chosen another door, how different would my life have been?

Dramatically.

During the many sleepless nights when I tossed and turned, trying to piece together the shattered remains of my life, trying to understand how I had gotten myself into my strange new predicament, I'd see that closed door.

Had I not reached out, had I not opened it, maybe I would have gone on to live a normal peaceful vanilla life.

Or perhaps it was inevitable. Perhaps I should just accept that I was doomed... no, destined to suck a real cock.

I reached out, grabbed the doorknob, turned it slowly, pushed on the door and peeked inside.

"Bonjour?" I asked again, my voice trembling.

The room was filled with a thick fog billowing out from the bathroom.

"Bonj..." I said, then gasped. A figure emerged from the cotton white steam. He was built like a gladiator, his physique legendary. I stared at him in awe. I'd never seen abs cut like diamonds. His shoulders were like concrete blocks, his jaw a hammer.

My eyes wandered down. A shame I thought, as I licked my parched lips. He should lose the towel.

"Fuck, cut!" someone shouted.

I spun around, saw a camera, a cameraman, a boom mic operator, a scowling director and... I recognized her, but from where?

The coffee shop. The skin tight white latex dress. Valerie?

"Now there's a goddamn French maid?" the director growled, tossed his script on the floor, pulled out a flask from his pocket, drank from it then wiped his mouth with his greasy hand. "What kind of fucking porno is this?"