Queen's Gambit Ch. 01

I'm struck immediately by Sorana's height. I'm 6"1 and our eyes are practically level. Wearing a red blouse, fitted black trousers and red pumps, she strikes a good balance between dressing for an interview and recognising the informality of the role.

"Did you find the place ok?" I ask over my shoulder, walking her towards the lounge.

"Yes. I live close."

"Ah, handy. Please, have a seat," I gesture towards a grey armchair. "Can I get you a drink? It's so hot today."

Despite only being mid-morning the temperature must already be in the 20's.

"Thank you. I take water, please."

I fetch two glasses of cold water before returning to the lounge where Sorana is sat surveying her surroundings.

"Thank you. You have nice house," she says, accepting the glass.

"Thanks, I bought it a year ago. It's close to work and it's a good size, especially for one person - how much space do I really need, you know?"

She smiles politely.

"So...thanks for coming, I appreciate it was short notice. Tell me about yourself - your background, cleaning experience, that kind of thing. At the end of the interview I'll show you around. Ok?"

"Yes," Sorana answers, placing her glass on the coffee table between us. "My name Sorana. I have 28 years. Sorry my English. I come from Romania. I live in London six month. In Romania, I work in university, for er, how you say...account?" Her brown eyes narrow beneath threaded eyebrows. "No...er, money, fenance."

"Finance, you mean? Accounting?"

"Yes, yes, accounting, for university. But in London, I clean before my English improve. I clean for family, in Angel and also help in house. I clean also for woman in Hackney. Also, I work in shop. In Shoreditch. All will say good words for my work."

Sorana's laconic speech and staccato rhythm make her sound like she's learned specific sentences and is recalling them for the purpose of our conversation. But she's confident, speaking in deep tones and sitting with straight-backed poise on the edge of the armchair. I can easily imagine her as a professional in her country, calm and authoritative.

"Great. And what brings you to London?

"I come London after university want save money. I wish have same work but my English no good."

"I see. Your English is good though, I can understand you well."

Sorana shakes her head, her small nose wrinkling with embarrassment.

"I learn in school but after, no speak. In Bacău, English no speak much. No like Bucharest."

"I see. Did you come to London by yourself?"

"I come with boyfriend. But he go back Romania for work in father business. After, we finish." She swipes her palms together, indicating the finality of their union. "Now, I live in house with couple. They from Hungary. They have boy, him have 5yrs. We live Stratford."

"Do you like it here? I mean, how do you find it? London must be very different to Romania?"

"It ok, I like. Many people nice. London very..." her full lips contort into a pucker, "...I no think word. Many people come from all country, India, China, America... I like see all people together. But, English people...they funny. They say one thing but they thinking another thing, no?"

"Ha, yeah, you're right. I think it's something to do with our English reserve." Sorana gives a quizzical look. "I mean we are sometimes too polite, too nice."

"Yes. I see English people, they say, 'oh, that interesting.'" She widens her eyes, tilting her head and nodding feigned interest. "But they no interest really. They use word for say, 'that a bit stupid, no?'"

"Haha, true. I'm guilty of that myself."

"I no understand. It better speak clear. No pretand. Pretand is right word?"

"Yes, that's right, 'pretend'. And you're right, it would be better if we simply said what we meant."

Sorana shrugs, her oval face smiling. "It ok. I learn English way. Now my boss in shop say, 'Sorana we make new menu for customer?' and I say, "hmm, that interesting..."

"Hahaha, ok. Well I'll try not to use that word unless I mean it!"

She smiles, taking a sip of water.

As Sorana and I talk more, discussing interests and life in general, I find myself warming to her.

She's funny and some of her observations have me laughing aloud. She's intelligent too. Her BA in Accounting aside, she's interested in literature and speaks a number of languages. Surprisingly, she even comments on the chess game unfolding on the coffee table, offering her thoughts on White's next move.

What strikes me most about Sorana, however, is her decisiveness. She seems focused and resilient, able to review and revise her plans, always keeping her bigger picture in mind. Her cleaning is a great example.

"And what are your plans long term? You mentioned wanting to find accounting work in London - do you see yourself being here for some time?"

"I hope. My English must improve. Then I stop clean. Find new job. But who know?" She shrugs her round shoulders in a nonchalant manner, palms upturned. "Maybe I meet nice English man for marry. And give many baby."

Sorana, smiling now in jest, would have no trouble finding a 'nice English man' if she wanted one, she's an attractive woman. She wears no make-up as far as I can tell, bar a slither of black eye-liner which accentuates her almond shaped eyes. Her jet-black hair is in a tight pony tail high on her head. I suspect that when she really makes an effort she turns heads.

"Ok, well thank you, Sorana. I feel I've got a good sense of who you are - well, as much as I can have after 45mins!" I pause. "As you know I'm interviewing other people, so if you could leave me with a final thought as to what you can offer that they won't, what would that be?"

The sun pouring into the room bounces off Sorana's olive skin as she sits for a moment, scrutinising the glass chess set. She looks like she's recalling opening theory as much as thinking through my question. When she lifts her head she fixes her eyes on mine and speaks deliberately.

"Many cleaner clean good. They clean and go next job." She gives a nonchalant flick of her wrist. "Me? I clean like it my house. I control all. I take good care for you, Matt. You can trust on this."

She leans into the armchair, crossing her long legs as she holds my gaze. Her expression is difficult to read, there's an incongruity with her words which I don't quite get. In any case, I'm drawn to her shift in position and notice for the first time the little ankle bracelet hugging her lower leg - a decoration I adore on women.

"Ok, that's great, thank you. We're nearly out of time so let me show you around, and please, if you have any questions ask away."

I rise from my seat and Sorana follows.

I lead her to the kitchen first where she immediately begins opening cupboards and pulling out drawers. Already treating the place as her own it seems!

Taking advantage of her preoccupation I watch as she moves. She has a fine physique, not slim but not fat - curvy in the best way. She fills her fitted trousers beautifully, her shapely legs supporting a delightfully round bum, cheeks bulging sweetly beneath the thin material as a G-string leaves them free to do as they wish. And it's obvious, in an obvious way, that beneath her blouse she's blessed with a heavy bust, the thickness of the bra-strap pressing against her top providing reliable but redundant confirmation.

"Looking for anything in particular?" I joke, a hint of sarcasm lacing my words.

"No. And you?" she shoots back with a knowing smile.

I silently reprimand myself, 'You need to stop that.'

"I am looking that all is here for clean. It ok. You have all. It nice kitchen. But...no food in cupboard! You eat from shop, yes? Maybe I cook also and I ask you more money! Haha."

She laughs a full, hearty laugh, shaking her head as she mutters something in Romanian. I wonder briefly whether I'm witnessing a woman driven by avarice, someone acting with clinical opportunism. I quickly dismiss the notion as saying more about me than her.

"You're right. I don't cook much, never really enjoyed it. And when you're cooking for one, the effort doesn't seem worth it, you know?" The adage about abs being built in the kitchen springs to mind. "Do you like to cook?"

"I LOVE cook," she replies, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. "At home I no cook big meal. Small kitchen. Old. No nice like this." She sighs. "And Andrea and Martin always there with Lukas. But in Angel house I cook many meal. Always they LOVE my food. I am good cook. No, no, I am...I am MAGNIFICO cook!"

She smiles, looking pleased with her linguistic acrobatics.

"Great, that's good to know. A few brownie points for you I think!"

Sorana gives a polite half-smile and I wonder if she understands the idiomatic expression.

"We see next room?" She moves past me, en-route to her next destination.

Trailing her, not looking at those sweet cheeks bouncing away, I consider that Sorana's manner makes us feel less like potential employer/employee. The power dynamic of interviews, there initially, now feels completely absent.

"And this room?" she asks over her shoulder, opening the door and poking her head inside. "Ah, bedroom. It nice. Big. Many mirror. I like outside!"

Sorana speaks enthusiastically as she walks towards the balcony, observing its length. Turning back to face me she speaks again.

"But room is...I no think word. No picture, no nice pillow?"

"I'm not much of an interior designer," I reply, feebly. "As long as it's comfortable I'm happy."

Sorana nods, accepting my excuses with grace.

She's sitting on the edge of the bed now, hands either side of her, palms down, using her arms to leverage her up and down as she gives a few bounces.

"Bed nice. I like." She shoots me a wicked grin. "It big for one man, no? You have girlfriend?"

"Er, no, not at the moment. I'm single," I sound so English as her forthrightness catches me off guard.

She flashes another smile, eyes surveying the length of the king-size bed.

"Ah, ok. So...you like me here also. Yes?"

"Sorry? I...I'm not sure what you mean." The images attendant to what I hope she means race through my mind, my pulse speeding to catch-up.

Sorana pauses, looking up at me, her eyes searching mine as she ponders her next move. Standing slowly, she straightens her blouse, eyes still fixed.

When she begins walking towards me it's like she's moving in slow motion. My mouth is dry and I'm aware of how hot the day is as I feel tiny beads of sweat forming on my forehead. My pulse beats hard in my temples as she stops well inside my personal space, placing a hand on my forearm.

I swallow hard.

"You like me here also, Matt?" she repeats in smooth tones, her eyes scanning my chest and shoulders as she gives my arm a reassuring squeeze. "It my job take care for you. Make you happy. You want I clean bedroom also? It no problem."

She smiles with breezy innocence, her head cocked to one side.

Call me a fantasist but in that moment I am convinced Sorana's clarification was not her initial meaning. There might be a language barrier but she's perfectly able to say 'I clean room'. I search her face for clues to support my assertion. Nothing.

"Oh, I see. It should be ok actually, you probably don't need to clea-"

"It ok. I clean all house. I take good care for you, Matt."

Her hand trails off my arm in a lingering stroke, her touch gentle, skin soft. The increasing tightness of my boxers tells me I need to change the energy in the room.

As if reading my mind Sorana steps away from me, out of the doorway and into the hall. I close the door behind us and follow, thankful for a new distraction.

"Now we look bathroom," she instructs, opening the door to a storage cupboard.

"The bathroom is that way." I nod towards the door opposite and Sorana follows my gaze, entering and flicking the dimmer switch to half capacity.

"Oooh niiiice," she exclaims, charmed by the bathroom's polished concrete finish, dim light flicking out of the recessed halogens. She grasps my arm excitedly. "Your shower, it lovely. So big! Many people may use one time, hahaha..."

She's fixing me with a suggestive look as she laughs, eyebrow raised and almost pouting. Having only just regained a semblance of composure, I'm plunged straight back into a sea of lust as she shoots me that cheeky giggle, challenging me not to imagine us together in the walk-in shower. Desire, proximity and lighting combine to weaken me: challenge failed.

The hot water rains onto our naked bodies, glistening against her tanned skin.

Standing behind her I lay tender kisses against her neck, massaging scented lather into her shoulders before slowly working my way down her arms, entwining my fingers with hers. Then up again, under her armpits and across the top of her chest. Bringing my hands down over those glorious breasts, I brush a feather-like touch over her nipples as I cup her, squeezing gently.

"Mmm..."

Sorana's soft moans encourage me and I give a firmer squeeze, pinching her nipples between finger and thumb. They harden obediently, knowing what's expected of them.

"Mmm...that nice," she purrs, running a hand over my smooth head as she pulls me in closer.

I soap her breasts with full appreciation of what magnificent handfuls they are, as she arches her back, pressing that gorgeous bum against my jutting cock.

One hand takes charge of both breasts as the other trails slowly down her body, caressing all of her subtly rounded stomach. Further I trail, reaching the top of her matted triangle, her pubes fine and silky to the touch. Further still, bypassing her pussy with the faintest of touches as I stroke down the inside of her thigh. Then, slowly, upwards. Higher, squeezing slightly into her soft flesh. Higher still, the tips of my fingers grazing against stray pubes. Higher still...I brush lightly against her labia.

"Aaa yes, touch."

Cupping her faintly, my hand hovers, tempting her on to me with the lightest of contact.

"Mmmm...please..."

I flick my middle finger back towards my palm and I'm on her entrance, feeling her soft lips either side of me. I stroke the length of her warm slit.

"Oooh, yes..."

Her longing is palpable and I press back gently, allowing the tip of my finger to enter her.

"Hh-" she inhales sharply, her body quivering as my fingertip flicks into her sticky wetness. Then out again. In. Out. Steady, deliberately.

"Ahh yes, like this..."

Her knees are bent, weight spread evenly in support of herself as I continue flicking. In. Out. I grope greedily at her breasts, pulling hard on a nipple.

"Ayy, shit, that good..."

She's writhing, thrusting towards my finger trying to push herself on to me. She wants to be filled. Greedy pussy.

I move my finger away from her aching hole, pressing hard against her swollen clit. She almost collapses at my touch as her body spasms forcefully.

"Ahh fuck!" she cries, an arm steadying herself against the wall.

I stroke her like the strings of my bass, alternating index and middle finger quickly, firmly, against her sweet button, all the while groping her tits and tweaking her nipples, twanging surges of electric between nipple and clit. I mouth hungrily at her neck, laying soft bites against her shoulders.

"Ahh Matt, it so good, shit..."

I continue playing her, hitting those sweet notes. Her arousal is wild. She reaches behind and her strong fingers are a magnet for my cock, grasping my manhood tight and pulling back and forth with expert fluency.

"Mmm...so hard...ooh"

Her moans fill the shower, her excitement rising. I move my hand so the heel of my palm is on her clit and my fingers are free to enter her. There is no teasing now. I assertively press a finger deep into her.

"AHH yes. Fuck!"

I add a second, filling her tight pussy, fucking in and out. My whole hand works now, my palm circling friction against her clit while my long fingers penetrate, curving upwards inside her.

"Yes, yes, like this...oh god..."

Her hand is clasped around my dick, no longer wanking now, just gripping for dear life as she grinds against my palm and fucks my fingers, dancing with me in perfect harmony.

"Fu-ck..."

Our tempo increases and Sorana's sharp pleasure-filled gasps echo through the falling water.

"Hh, Hh, no stop.

Hh, no stop."

Her body spasms as her pussy tightens around me and her legs begin to shake.

"Oh god, Matt. I coming...

Hh, Hh, I coming...

Oh, Ohh...

AAAHH. FUUCK!"

Her body tenses momentarily before she explodes into orgasm, beating a hand against the wall and doubling over weak from the electricity shooting through her. Her legs tremble violently and her entire frame convulses. Wave after wave of unshackled orgasmic energy pours through her on to the fingers still buried deep, her pussy contracting powerfully around them. She is gripping my dick so hard it hurts.

Her convulsions last nine or ten seconds before she slowly slips her sensitive pussy away from my fingers, sliding into a sitting position on the floor, not relinquishing her hold on my dick. She's quiet; satiated, exhausted, breathless, twitching the final pleasures of orgasm from her fatigued core. Her knees are clasped shut, soles planted wide on the floor as the warm water falls off her, matting her hair against her neck and shoulders. She looks beautifully vulnerable.

She raises a hand to her flushed neck, eyes closed, breathing unevenly in silent recovery. Looking down at her, I'm contemplating whether to reclaim my dick and join her on the floor, or leave her to her recovery.

She eventually exhales a long sigh, blinking her eyes open as she looks up at me.

"You are...best boss," she whispers, planting a lingering kiss on the tip of my dick. "Sorry my bad words."

She looks embarrassed as her smile broadens and we both begin to laugh.

...

...

"Matt. MATT?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry."

"All is ok, Matt?"

I'm looking at the shower, staring stupidly as if waiting for it to perform some trick. I try to recall the thread of the conversation, rubbing the back of my neck with my palm. "Yes... I mean, I've never really...it is big isn't it?"

I can feel Sorana's gaze burning into me. "Yes, it look big," she says quietly, brushing past me as she steps out of the bathroom.

I stand for a moment trying to compose myself. 'This woman has been in your house for all of an hour, Matthew and you're dreaming of finger fucking her in the shower? What the hell is wrong with you?'

Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I look like a Malteaser melting in the heat as sweat gathers on my brow. Unfortunately, that isn't the worst thing about the reflection staring back.

My Sorana fantasies have stimulated attention from my penis and it has arisen with keen interest. In my fantasy-filled stupor I hadn't even noticed its arrival but it now points at me accusingly, angry at not being summoned into action. How the hell had I not noticed this? This is no shy, retiring semi. My fully awake, hard as fuck erection is trying to burst through my trousers in pursuit of non-existent sex!

It dawns on me that until just a minute ago Sorana was stood feet away and must surely have seen my involuntary growth. She's going to think I'm some kind of deviant, luring women to my apartment so I can perv over them before waving my willy around at them.

I dab at my face with a towel, my erection realising with disappointment there is nothing to see here. 'OK, what now?' Probably best to just front up, apologise for any offence caused and wish her well. She won't stick around so I won't have to see her again, that's something. But it had been going so well. The thought of it ending like this saddens me.

'It's your own stupid fault you fucking pervert.'