Part 02: The Counter Offer

One rule I made up as a cobweb cleaner is always check behind the doors. Leaving webs feels so unprofessional so while it comes in handy at work, checking behind all the doors in a room is a weird habit I've been unable to break in my daily life. Maybe it's because old horror movies are my favorite and the killer is always jumping out from somewhere. I pull the mask on and hold both ears tight with my right arm as I slowly slide my left hand up and down the ears slowly like my ears are a shaft. I glide past the trees. There are no doors to check behind out here but I remember the regular mansion I clean for and on the final door finding a slum of chalky webs and a few shocked inhabitants.

Another reason I started the garden was for all the spiders and insects I find as I twirl their homes on the end of my duster and wipe away their existence I am always careful to be a gentle as possible and allow the spiders to scatter to safety. I hate killing bugs and want them to keep making webs so the client will ask me back as well but that will be our little secret. I keep a few small jars handy and from time to time I rescue some and release them in my plants. This allows me to avoid using pesticides and creates a cool cycle.

I strut into my garden with my custom ripped beige overalls nestled between my juicy cheeks. The leather strands have worn quite a bit with all my squash rides but for now it seems to hold solid. I have the angles of the sun timed pretty well and I try to plan my shows around the natural light. I know they're watching every second of my routine.

Names are not exchanged but I am learning some details about my audience and the more I know the easier I can seduce them. One has a collection of rare telescopes and another was a natural geographic photogrpaher in the early 80's. I wish I could see his collection up close but I I imagine his nimble fingers scampering across his camera, trying to ensure a perfect image of me. I imagine his long lenses watching me bend in perfect focus. I drop to my knees and feel a rushing tingle through my calf muscles. I feel his cock must be so hard as he captures every second. I point my bare backside right at his window on the third floor and bounce slowly for him. I can feel all his blood pumping with each time I push my afternoon harvest deeper. I feel his load launch into his pants as he watches my body. The tingle has become a shooting jolt of ecstasy and I erratically reach for the phone and hold it up. What the hell am I doing?

This is my signal I want them to call. They never hesitate, which I love. The flip phone is vibrating within two seconds flat.

"Yes? How may we serve you?"

"I've been thinking about our deal and I have a counter offer."

"What do you propose?"

"Nothing major, but I want to dance privately for the winner, in person. You know, the last one still alive."

There is a pause as the voice is letting the group know of my request.

"Splendid! What a marvelous idea!"

"Can't wait!"

"Oh, and your next check is waiting by the way. Faster than even we expected."

I close the phone and set it back in the planter box and gracefully collapse to my knees. I shimmy all the way across the garden and find my next check and sneak a peak. I wonder who died and suddenly I'm worried the photographer has passed. I never got to see his work. Almost like a puzzle I fill in new details at home about my mystery watchers but so much is left to learn. Why am I feeling this about someone I never met?

I dance in my garden until the sun goes down. It has been a wonderful getaway. I even called in sick on a regular cleaning job just to increase my time here. Now, I'm not saying I wish to retire anytime soon but why clean all day when I can take a short walk and dance in my garden. With the last ray of light I time my finale for the setting sun peeking between the swaying tree branches.

I twist the squash in a slow circular motion working it in and out. As I bend and hold my pose I finally feel the firm leather thong snap. As planned, I ride my squash harder than ever before. I notice small traces of blood but I keep going. Now I really need to order a new costume.

I hold the phone up again and as I collect my backback and regular clothes and calmy ask what they want to see me wearing next week. We ended up talking for thirty five minutes, well into the darkness. Mostly about what I will wear but other things as well.

Before I hang up I learn the guy who died was a military veteran and they have been taking turns watching me in his night vision goggles as I walk in circles talking on the phone to them.

"Not like he needs them anymore!"

As their laughs die down I get the final word in before my short walk home. I always try to say something that will leave them wanting more and maybe stall a heart or two.

"I wonder which one of you it will be? Who will be the lucky one to smother my bunny tail for me?"