Hawaiian Punched Ch. 02byCombat323©
It felt strange to walk through a neighbor's house in the nude, but Valerie hadn't given me much time to dwell on it. I hustled across the kitchen to the laundry room like a passenger trying to make a connecting flight. Valerie leaned on the laundry room door frame and tracked my progress against her watch. She wore a fresh bathing suit in a lighter shade of blue than the bikini bottom in my hand -- the one she'd dropped on top of me before she rode my face to orgasm.
"Good job, Lisa," she said as I arrived at my appointed place of duty. "I like my house slaves prompt, and you're off to a good start." She pointed to a gray metal shelf in the laundry room. "Most of the cleaning supplies are on the shelf, but there are toilet brushes and cleaner in the bathrooms, and some other stuff under the kitchen sink. I want this place cleaned from top to bottom. You can wear the vinyl cleaning gloves that are on the shelf, and nothing else."
She turned, opened the door to the linen closet across the hall, and pulled out a beach towel. "You'll find fresh linens for the master bed in here. Don't worry about the guest bed." She looked at her watch. "I have to leave in three hours to meet a client at the gym, so that's how long you have. Any questions?"
"Good, I'll be out by the pool with some reading material and your clothes. Your first order of business is to bring me a fresh cup of coffee. Feel free to reheat and enjoy the coffee you left in the living room. I don't want you falling asleep on the job."
"Thank you, ma'am." I kept my eyes on the floor between us and watched as she pivoted, walked to the living room, and turned right toward the door that led out to the back yard pool and hot tub. Her calves shortened and lengthened with each step in a way that was only noticeable because of their hard-earned solidity and Valerie's low body fat. Her upper legs were muscular, but feminine, and her ass was a gravity-defying bubble high on her hamstrings. I could almost see how the muscles in her back tied together, and the contours in her triceps were more evident than I'd ever seen in a woman. How had I not noticed any of this in the past year? If I had, I probably wouldn't have been so certain that I could kick her ass, an attitude that had led to my new status as her naked maid and servant.
I considered borrowing some of her loose-fitting clothing and making a run for my house, but it seemed the coward's way out, and I needed to satisfy her of my sincere regret so she would erase the photos she'd taken of me in the living room. I would just die if her husband, or mine, ever saw them, and it would be a disaster if her camera fell into the wrong hands.
I walked the ten feet from the laundry room to the kitchen, poured coffee into a fresh mug from the cupboard, and started a new pot. There were a few dirty dishes in the sink and clean ones in the dishwasher waiting to be put away. I peeked into the refrigerator and the oven and was relieved to find them relatively clean. There weren't any huge, time-consuming messes, and the place was relatively uncluttered.
I plucked Valerie's coffee off the counter and walked heel-to-toe in the careful way of a nude woman carrying a steaming hot cup of coffee. Waitressing in high school and college had taught me that the trick to carrying hot drinks was to pay peripheral attention to the mug. Focus on it too much, or not at all, and it was sure to spill on your hand.
At the back door, I stalled for a moment and checked for neighborhood windows that might offer a view of the pool area. I could see the top third of two windows on the house behind Bill and Val's, but the privacy fence would conceal me once I stepped off the landing. A myna bird squawked in front of the house, and the sudden realization that anyone who came to the front door would have an unobstructed view of my naked backside caused me to lose concentration and splash hot coffee onto my foot. I growled under my breath and decided that the pool area was definitely the lesser of two evils. Not that I really had a choice. I stepped out the back door and made a mental note to close the inside front door and some window blinds before I started cleaning.
Valerie was half reclined on an almond-colored chaise lounge that was turned to face the morning sun. The Redbook magazine in her hand shaded her eyes, while her topless torso soaked up some vitamin D. Her firm breasts were as immune to gravity as her ass. She and I each had more than a handful, but her small frame provided an attention-getting contrast to her bust. She had no tan lines.
"Your coffee, ma'am." I set her mug on the plastic table by her chair.
"Thank you, Lisa." She sat up a little and traded the magazine for her coffee. "You know, I almost forgot to tell you: You are not to close the inside doors or any of the blinds or curtains while you clean."
I tried to keep the "Oh, fuck!" look off my face. "Should I not dust the blinds, then?"
"Do what you need to clean them, then get them back up."
"Yes, ma'am. Do you need anything else?"
"I'm fine. You had better get cracking on your housework, slut."
"Yes, ma'am." I slunk back to the door, peeked to make sure there was no one at the front door, and slipped into the house. The end table that stood in the corner of the L formed by the couch and the recliner was just inside the door to my right. On it rested the two cups of coffee that had witnessed my humiliating fall from grace. I picked them up and headed to the kitchen, gulping the warm coffee from my mug as I walked. I emptied Valerie's mug in the sink and set both mugs on the counter.
I had my first chuckle of the day when I noticed that Val had poured my coffee in a white mug emblazoned with "BFF" in pink and red block letters with cute little pink and red hearts sprinkled around the lettering. It was the mug she always reserved for me, and I hoped that she would tire of our new mistress/slave relationship by the end of the day so we could get back to being BFF's in the morning.
I thought that the kitchens and bathrooms would be the toughest rooms to clean, so I started by spraying oven cleaner inside the oven and soap scum remover in the showers so they could soak while I worked on all the food-handling areas.
In an hour I had cleaned both bathrooms, the laundry room, and the kitchen, including the floor around and behind the oven and refrigerator. The biggest obstacle was my bare chest. My breasts rubbed against the floor when I reached under the oven, against the porcelain as I scrubbed around the toilets and against every rag or container that I hung on my shoulder or tucked under my arm; and they were rivaled only by my face as magnets for falling dust.
I had thought that cleaning the windows would be the task with the worst risk of exposure to passing eyes, but the window cleaning spray temporarily blurred the glass, and I could see approaching threats to my dignity as I wiped the windows clean. The ceiling fans were another story. I had to stand on something to reach them, which put my full body in view of any window in the room and added another step to any hasty retreat. It also took time and attention to clean away the dust and cobwebs that had accumulated on the fans and light fixtures. The fans in the dining room and the den were both centered in rooms with three large windows facing the street, and they were the last two things I had to clean before a final vacuuming and a walk-through to check for anything I might have missed.
I decided to get the fan in the den out of the way first. It was the most nerve-wracking because the only escape from that room was directly into the foyer in full view of anyone who came to the front door. I pulled the office chair from the computer desk, stood on it, and dusted as fast as I could, but it took several minutes to get all of the dust and cobwebs off of the fan blades and motor housing. I wiped the entire thing down with a dryer sheet to keep new dust from sticking and then put away the chair and heaved a huge sigh of relief as I crossed the foyer to the dining room.
There was a door from the dining room to the kitchen, so I had an escape route if anyone approached the front of the house. The real challenge in the dining room lay in reaching the fan, which was centered over the heavy dining room table. I threw a towel over the center of the table and stood with one foot on the seat of a chair and the other on the towel. The bulk of the dust stuck nicely to a damp cloth, and a few minutes of work had two-thirds of the fixture and all of the fan blades ready for an anti-static wipe with the dryer sheet, so I did that and switched to the other side of the table.
Valerie came in the house then and looked through the kitchen doorway. "Almost done, Lisa?"
"Yes, ma'am, just need to finish this and vacuum the floors."
"Good. This place looks great, and you should be done with about forty minutes to spare. I should have made you my bitch a long time ago."
She walked off toward the master bedroom. I got back to work on the ceiling fan and tried to ignore the strange pride I felt when she complimented my work. I heard her coming back down the hallway a few minutes later as I put the finishing touches on the fan. Then the doorbell rang.
"Package for miss Valerie." Shit! It was Benny, our local parcel delivery guy.
I froze, then slowly brought my foot off the table. Benny couldn't see me from the front door, but I would pass through his line of sight if I moved toward the kitchen. I would have to wait until Valerie had accepted the package, then move after Benny turned from the door but before he could look through the windows.
Valerie turned into the dining room from the kitchen. She was dressed in black nylon running shorts, white ankle socks, and a white tank-top over a dark colored sports bra. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail.
"Get the door Lisa."
I felt the dismay on my face as I looked at her, but Valerie's expression remained stern. She pointed toward the door and mouthed one word: "Smile."
I stepped down from the chair and leaned on the table for support. She might as well have been asking me to step out in front of the Boy Scout Jamboree. On shaking legs, I gathered my courage, took a deep breath, and recovered a measure of composure.
"Miss Valerie," Benny yelled. "You have to sign for this one."
I crossed the dining room and stepped into the foyer; two more steps took me to the screen door.
Benny stood on the other side of the screen door with a large box at his feet. He was the prototypical Hawaiian mutt; a good-looking young man with a mixture of Polynesian, Filipino, and probably some other Asian blood with a dash of Scandinavian sailor mixed in a few generations ago. He kept his dark hair short and wore a single diamond stud in his left ear. He was dressed in his work uniform, a poly-blend shirt, matching shorts, and black steel-toed work shoes. He had the smooth, supple physique of a young man who stayed outdoors and active all day.
I smiled. "Come in, Benny."
For probably the first time in the twenty years since he learned his first word, Benny was speechless. Customers on Benny's route joked that he would chat up your dog or your house plants while he waited at the door. His surfing buddies claimed that he always missed the best waves because he was too busy telling stories and that you were always safe surfing with him because the sharks couldn't get far enough away from his incessant chatter.
Benny's sudden bout of lockjaw was complicated by an inability to bring his eyes any higher than my neck. He was a deer caught in full-frontal headlights, and I was too out of my element to figure my next move.
Valerie walked up from behind me and put her arm around my waist. "Benny, you know Lisa from next door, don't you?"
His eyes finally found my face. "Oh yeah. Hi Miss Lisa. Guess I didn't recognize you at first. You change your hair or something?"
Heat rose from my neck to my forehead, and Valerie laughed. "No, Silly. You've just never seen her up close and naked. Now, are you going to pick up that box, or do I have to carry it in the house myself?"
Benny's easy smile was back. "No, you just get the door, and I'll bring it in for you."
Valerie's hand pushed on my tailbone. "Lisa will hold the door for you. Won't you, Lisa?"
I nodded and turned the door handle as Benny scooped up the box and stepped back to let the door swing open. Then I walked out onto the porch, in full view of any passerby, and held the door while Benny entered the foyer. I was back in close on his heels.
He set the box just inside the den, then pulled his digital clipboard from its holster, scanned the UPC label on the box, and presented the device to Valerie for signature.
Valerie signed and said "Lisa, it's rude to stand behind our guest and show your ass to the neighborhood like that. Come over here by me."
I moved past Benny on his left and stood in front of the box he'd just deposited in the den. I could feel the cardboard against my calves and Benny's brown eyes taking another long walk all over me.
He finally looked back at Valerie with a puzzled expression, and she laughed and explained how poor Lisa had lost a bet and had to pay it off in her birthday suit.
She gestured toward me and asked "Does she look as good as you have undoubtedly imagined, Benny?"
"Even better," he said, "and my imagination is quite generous."
"So you like her tits, then?"
"Oh, yes. They're the most amazing thing I've seen in twenty years."
"I see," said Valerie. "How do you know her ass isn't even better?"
Valerie made a twirling motion with her finger. "Make half a turn for us, Lisa."
I was past embarrassment or even mortification. I had broken through to some weird kind of acceptance, and I felt relaxed and confident. I turned my ass toward Benny and hoped that he would enjoy the view.
"Wow!" he said. "That is very, very nice, but I'm just more of a tit man."
I turned back toward him and cupped my breasts in my hands. "So, you like these better?"
"They're the best thing you've seen in twenty years?"
"Yes, Miss Lisa, the best thing ever." Benny's grin couldn't have been any bigger.
I returned a genuine smile. "Thank you, Benny. That's the nicest compliment I've had in a long time."
"And this is the best delivery I've ever made," said Benny.
"I'm sure it is," Valerie said. She looked toward my legs and the box behind them. "It's a very nice box, isn't it?"
Benny's grin took a mischievous turn. "It's an awesome box. I wish I could see a box like that every day."
A few months earlier, their conversation would have gone over my head, but I'd finally grown tired of the "Slip the Sexual Euphemism Past Lisa" game and studied up online. I was pissed to discover how casually Erik had inserted dirty references into our conversations and horrified to learn what others thought I meant when I said that something "Sucked the big one."
Valerie said "It's probably a good thing that Lisa's husband will be here later to help with the box."
Benny laughed. "I'm sure he'll take good care of it, Miss Valerie."
Val moved a step toward the door and said "I'm glad we could brighten your day Benny, but hasn't this delivery eaten up a lot of your time?"
Benny got the hint. "Yes," he said. "I'm definitely behind schedule, but that's mostly because I thought I should hold delivery until after the ceiling fan was clean."
It was a good thing I'd moved beyond embarrassment.
He stepped toward the door, and Valerie caught his arm. "Benny, I know this will be one of your best stories ever, but --"
"-- Don't worry, Miss Valerie. I will change the names and addresses to protect the naked, and to protect me from Mr. Erik. That guy looks like he could eat a bowl of bullets for breakfast."
Valerie laughed. "He probably could, Benny." She let go of his arm. "Mahalo for the delivery, stud, and aloha."
He turned back as the screen door closed behind him. "Mahalo to you, ladies. I'll try to be a gentleman if we meet in my dreams."
"Like hell you will, Benny," said Valerie. "Now get your ass out of here and make sure you keep two hands on the wheel for the rest of the day."
"I'll try." Benny jogged off toward his delivery van, stopped half way to turn and shout a happy "Aloha," and then got back to work.
I was alone again with the woman who owned my ass.