Chapter 2: (POV) Paula
Two huge yachts are sitting docked in the Miami, waiting for us to clean their insides patiently.
I have shorts and a tiny top on, my belly button is out, and the shorts are more of the hot pants. But, I'm here to clean this stupid rich man's yacht, and it's a hot summer evening. My legs are pretty long and firm. I acknowledge being a pretty good-looking girl, but wearing this still makes me feel strange.
For me, the way I look isn't the most important of life's facts. I never use my appearance to gain or achieve something.
For that, I have my brain and my two hands.
"F*ck, these are enormous. I bet some old fat rich farts own both of them!" My roommate and a friend, Hellen, who prefers cleaning above cooking, says while laughing.
"I'll take that one on the dock 74. I bet the owner is older and fatter," I say, as I like even numbers, without knowing why. And Hellen seems more tired than me tonight.
"And richer, for sure, your boat is like some floating great, blue whale. Thanks for this, Rosie! I'll take what is left over there then, baby white whale on the number 73, here I come!" Hellen agrees, pointing at the smaller one with a grateful smile.
"You said you wouldn't clean yachts anymore, so I hope these two are the last for real. I mean, you probably earn more doing haircuts and highlights. Not to mention how dirty these rich pigs usually are." Hellen works full-time as a hairdresser, and she is a glorious one.
Cleaning the interiors of yachts in the Miami is her occasional job, a part-time one that she takes only once, or twice, per week.
"Yeah, but I can't work two shifts all of the time, and I need money, though we almost met our goal, so I think these are the last ones, for good!" Hellen is saving for her wedding and honeymoon.
In three months, she will marry Tim, her long-time boyfriend. I also have a boyfriend, and his name is Ray.
Hellen and I share a two-bedroom apartment in a safe neighborhood, close to the city center.
I hate to clean, as cooking is my life, more precisely, baking. But this is a favor I have to return.
I own a small patisserie, 15 minutes by foot from our rented home, selling my homemade cakes, pralines, tarts, and cookies, both there, from the shop, and online. My business is getting stronger, having many returning and happy customers.
I love what I do for a living!
Hellen helped me bake cookies for that big online order I received the other day, so I have to help her. That order was truly enormous, and I had to ship it in only 72 hours. She helped a lot, and we did it, did it in time!
"Your ass looks amazing. You should wear tights and shorts more often!" My roommate slaps my ass, heading for her yacht.
"You know Ray doesn't like it, but since we are going only to clean, without meeting any guys, I guess he wouldn't mind," I tell her, and she grimaces at me in disapproval. Hellen doesn't like Ray, but why I have no clue.
Hellen thinks I hide my body within my clothes. Probably, I'm like a usual, casual dressing girl. I like ponytails and clothes dancing on and around my body. I don't wear clothes that highlight my features as I don't feel comfortable in them.
Plus, Ray doesn't like me wearing anything that points my curves out. I love Ray, and I like making him happy.
This yacht must cost a fortune for real. It is a pretty gigantic one, with two enormous decks, reminding me of Titanic.
I'm entering the inside.
I do some dusting and mopping. I don't think this yacht ever leaves the dock. Like really never, ever. This place is a mancave used for sex only. Cleaning. More mopping. Picking up the f*cking used condoms from the floor. Too lazy to pick them by himself. The rich bastard. Luckily, Hellen gave me gloves.
Bottles are everywhere. The man emptied the minibar, a f*cking boozer. Found two bras and four panties, thongs all four. I don't wear them, being more of a hipster panties girl. I don't think just one woman left all these behinds. No, no, sir. More used condoms. Yikes! I put unused ones in the drawer. More of them there. Condom boxes in every damn drawer. Of course.
Found handcuffs in the last one that I dusted. A dildo and some other toys. Just lovely.
High activity boat, for sure.
I would like to see this man, just to tell him a word or two, experienced and wicked, no doubt. Uses rubbers, at least that one thing, is promised here.
I'm bent over the floor, stretching, almost lying on my stomach. Pulling out the last string under the f*cking, promiscuous, waterbed of dirty Paulas.
All of a sudden, I get shocked by the voice coming from behind.
"Hey, little maid!" I didn't expect anyone there. Idiot calls me a maid. Male voice. Maybe an owner. I don't know. I can feel stares on my ass and my legs.
I am up on my feet, turning bravely.
"Excuse me, what did you call me?" I scowl at his words.
"Little maid, as I don't know your name. Is this done yet? I hope you will clean my yacht better than the last time." An owner, for sure. I expected an older man..., this one isn't that much older than me, around 30, I guess.
And I have to admit, very good looking. I bet this one doesn't even have a proper job. I hate these rich guys, thinking they can get anything. And everyone. Not me, honey! I have my Ray, so go and stare at someone else!
"Since you don't know my name, a miss should do. If you are not blind, you'll see I didn't finish with it. So, you're not blind, and I'm still cleaning. And look at this G-string I just pulled out under your bed! Is it yours? Or someone else's?" He measures me still, so I have to shut his ego down, as I don't like it when stared at, not like this.
"Not mine, sorry to disappoint you. But I think I know who lost it." He is looking at my breasts again, the jerk.
"That's so great to hear. I'm so, so, very much relieved now, knowing that you might know the owner. Here, you can give it back." This one doesn't stop with lascivious looks at all.
I throw thong at him. I shoot at his face, but it lands in his hand, a red and lacy one.
"I don't think I will see the owner again," he looks at it, then back at me. Anywhere, but my eyes. What a pig! Rich, promiscuous pig. But a handsome one.
"Ooh, I'm so sorry to hear that. You must be so devastated for not seeing that one again." F*ck, stop looking at my tits already! I'm furious immediately.
The jerk smiles, finally looking at my eyes.
A magnificent smile on his lips inviting me openly, that much I know. He thinks he is a charmer. Not in the long run, not after seeing this yacht. His teeth are flawlessly white. The best dentist that money can buy, unmistakably.
Eyes are so green, and that look under his brows, hmmm, very sensual. His face is bold, manly, strong, chiseled chin. Black hair. More than handsome.
A man has the perfect body, probably working out. That shirt can't hide his muscles, and he is very tall. Very sexy looking, a beautiful guy if I was looking for a one-night-stand, which I'm not. Retrieving Ray's image, reminding myself, I have a boyfriend. I never had to do that, till now.
I'm tidying the last things while he stands there in the doorway, still glancing at me occasionally. Here is a real player. I can't wait to get out. The idiot makes me nervous in a short time. I'm not used to this kind of behavior, stared at, and eye-f*cked.
Finally, finished with the cleaning, I'm ready to abandon this male's boat and the male himself.
"Ok, now it's done. Your yacht is ready to receive all underwear you need. Good luck!" I say, preparing myself to leave.
Passing by him, he stands, silently smiling. And giving me a look from behind, staring again at my ass and my legs, I feel it. And it makes me mad and vindictive, so I turn and add:
"Enjoying the view? Used rubbers go in the trash, not on the floor. You'll understand it when you grow up and become an adult, honey!" I smirk contently at him, thinking I got at least some of my revenge.
But he doesn't recoil one bit, oh, what a pig!
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