The Maid

The initial chapters in this multi-chapter story have worked out to be quite short, sorry about that. I will endeavor to get them up quickly.

I am definitely hanging out at the 'reluctance' end of the NonConsent/Reluctance category. You have been warned.

With grateful thanks to Misternik for copy editing and vmc312 for being a sounding board and more general advice.

*****

She'd just finished making the bed and was smoothing down the sheets when her phone rang. It was Tracey.

"Babes are you okay?!" she asked urgently into the phone.

Andrea knew she shouldn't really answer when she was at work, but this was her best friend. Three days ago Tracey walked in on her boyfriend and her sister in bed together. To say she'd taken it pretty badly would have been a bit of an understatement; Andrea hadn't heard from her since the morning it had happened, and was worried sick.

Knowing that this was going to be a long conversation, she looked around the room. There were no obvious signs of inhabitation; the room appeared to be vacant. Slipping off her plimsolls, she flopped onto the bed. It would be fine she thought, I can smooth the sheets down again afterwards.

Stephano had decided to pop back to his room to freshen up after a grueling meeting and was astonished to find a young woman stretched out on his bed, talking on her phone. She was lying on her front, shoes kicked off and feet in the air, ankles crossed. She clearly hadn't heard him arrive and had no idea she had an audience. It took him a moment to figure out she must be the hotel maid there to clean his room.

He stood stock still and gazed at her, unsure what to do. He couldn't see her face but her arse was well and truly delectable. He watched as she unconsciously grabbed a lose lock of dark hair and began to twist it round her finger while she talked. Far as he could tell from the side of the conversation he could hear, she seemed to be comforting a friend who'd just split up with her boyfriend.

Taking a step closer, Stephano noticed the tops of stockings peeping out from under her skirt. He felt his breath catch as an unexpected surge of attraction coursed through him. He didn't know why she would be wearing them but he found the fact that she had them on underneath her uniform - and that he knew about it - inexplicably arousing.

Andrea was so engrossed in her conversation she hadn't heard the door open. When she finally wrapped up her conversation with Tracey and turned to get up, there was a man standing in the doorway looking down at her, expression unreadable. She jumped off of the bed so fast that anyone watching could be forgiven for thinking it had just spontaneously erupted into flames. Worst of all, she had no idea how long he'd been standing there.

The man was devastatingly handsome, in a dangerous brooding sort of way. He was dark, thick black hair that was harshly combed back off his face. Intensely dark, deep set eyes; sullen secretive, dangerous, with irises that seemed almost onyx black. Olive skin, a strong jaw, really great bone structure. He had a powerful, masculine beauty that was breathtaking, just looking at him she noticed her heart rate had started to increase. She wasn't sure how much of it was fear and how much of it was attraction. Even simply acknowledging that he was attractive made her insides clench. Shuffling from foot to foot nervously, she found herself unconsciously twisting the hem of her apron between her fingers.

If her line manager found out she'd been sprawled across a guests bed making a social call on her mobile during work time, well, they would have no sympathy for her friend Tracey's predicament. Chambermaids were a dime a dozen in central London, she'd known people get laid off for much less, and despite working there for over 30 months now she wasn't even on a contract.

He was still just standing there, watching her intently. She managed to stutter out a rushed, nervous apology.

"I-I-I'm sorry s-sir, I thought the room had been vacated. I promise it won't h-happen again."

He didn't reply. She wondered if maybe he hadn't understood, he looked like he could be of Mediterranean origin so she tried again, in Spanish this time.

"Señor lo siento mucho, yo prometo que no volverá a suceder..."

He lifted his hand and she abruptly stopped speaking.

"I understand English."

He did have an accent of some sort but she couldn't make out what it was. It was very faint. He was still watching her. As his eyes travelled up and down the length of her body the old cliché about 'he's undressing with you his eyes' suddenly made perfect sense. The realization made her squirm uncomfortably under his gaze.

"What happens if they find out you were lying on a guests bed chatting on your phone?" he asked, in a voice that seemed quietly menacing

"My line manager would probably sack me; she's a bit of a dragon."

She sighed inwardly. Why on earth did I tell him that?"

"Look, I'm really sorry, I'll get my stuff and I'll get out of your hair."

"Have you finished cleaning my suite?"

"No," She admitted, looking away. She immediately wished she hadn't, cringing as she spotted the imprint of her body on the bed where she'd been lying. "I still need to do the bathroom." She added quietly.

He took a step into the room and towards her; she fought the urge to back away.

"I'd like you to finish."

"Of course sir." She replied nodding slowly.

She'd never cleaned while a guest was there it felt weird. She looked at her rota sheet and realised the bathroom was due a thorough clean. This meant that either he was checking out, or he'd stayed for a week already.

His shrugged off his off his over coat and hung it over the back of a chair. Taking a closer look she could see it was expensive. The shoulders were wet, she glanced at the window, and noticed that it was pouring with rain outside.

"I could take that down to dry cleaning if you like." Andrea offered, hoping to salvage the situation and save her job.

"Thank you. That's very kind but it won't be necessary."

Under the coat he was wearing a suit, at first she'd assumed it was black but actually it was dark grey. It looked like wool and very expensive. He sat down at the table and took out his laptop. When he didn't acknowledge her again she realised she was being dismissed.

Sighing to herself she grabbed the set of clean towels and headed into the bathroom. She began with the shower, taking care to be extra thorough this time. Moving from item to item, she was so involved in what she was doing that she'd almost forgotten he was there. Right about the time that she was on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor behind the loo she felt his presence looming behind her and looked up. He was standing in the doorway, staring her with a penetrating intensity.

"Do you need to use your bathroom? I can leave."

"No." his reply was curt.

Slowly, awkwardly she stood up, feeling horribly self-conscious as she moved over to the cupboard above the sink, aware that he must still be watching her. Opening it she took a brief inventory of its contents so she could restock. She felt her skin prickle. She spun round to face him and found that he was standing right behind her, so close they were almost touching. Belatedly, it dawned on her that she hadn't heard him approach.

He looked down at her face. She was beautiful, but it was an understated beauty that you might not notice if you weren't looking for it. She wasn't wearing any make up and her hair was tied up in a simple bun at the nape of her neck. Some strands had come lose. Her eyes were her most alluring feature he decided, they were large for her face and despite her otherwise dark colouring they were a most striking shade of blue. Her uniform wasn't particularly flattering but he could see the outline of a feminine shapely figure beneath it. He wanted her, badly.

"You're wearing stockings." He stated quietly

She blinked a few times, an unconscious attempt to clear her head. Her skirt must have ridden up and exposed them as she worked. He was so close to her she could feel his breath on her cheek and she could smell him; he had a musky exotic scent with spicy undertones. She pushed the palm of her hand against her solar plexus in a bid to calm her nerves, but it did little to help. It felt like the proverbial butterflies had taken up arms and were having some kind of revolution in there.

Although he hadn't actually asked her a question she felt compelled to give him an explanation anyway.

"Y-yes" She could feel herself blushing furiously as she stammered out a reply. "I don't get on with tights but they're part of the uniform s-so I have to wear something." When she'd first starting working as a chambermaid she'd kept getting thrush. This had never been a problem before. Her friend Connie thought it might be the nylon in the tights and had suggested stockings. At first she'd tried stay ups, but well they didn't really stay up what with all the bending over and stuff she had to do as a cleaner but the thrush stopped, so now she wore a suspender belt when she was at work.

Unexpectedly he dropped to his knees in a surprisingly fluid movement. She was looking at the top of his head. She absently noticed the odd fleck of grey in his hair. He pushed up the hem of her skirt with both hands exposing the tops of her legs and gently pressed his lips against her thigh where her stockings ended and the skin began.

She was trembling, she felt frightened but also aroused. She took a step back but she hit the sink unit almost immediately. He followed his lips never breaking contact with her skin. He was trailing feathery light kisses along her thigh, tracing his lips along the sensitive flesh there, until his nose hit the fabric of her pants, brushing against her clitoris and sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her. She grabbed the edge of the countertop both for support but also not knowing what to do with her hands. She gasped at the unexpected strength of her reaction and she heard what she assumed must be a low snigger in response.

He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled something out. She briefly saw a glint of what must have been metal but he was holding it in the palm of his hand so it was only as he used his thumb to flick the blade open she realised it was a knife. She panicked. Who the hell carries a knife in the pocket of their suit? She couldn't contain the terrified whimper that came out of her mouth.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He sounded impatient, like she should somehow just know that.

She felt cold steel against her skin as he deftly cut through her pants in two places and then roughly pulled them out of the way and flinging them aside. She heard rather than saw the knife clatter to the tiles and released the breath she was unaware she'd been holding. He was gripping her newly exposed hips tightly with both hands. She could feel his hot breath on her as he nuzzled his face gently against her.

She was too stunned to move as he wrapped large hands around her thighs and prized her legs apart so he could better gain access to her womanhood. She felt his tongue flick out and lick her gently, hardly touching her at first, tantalising her. Her head was swimming.

Finding that she was no longer able to process the myriad of emotions sweeping through her, she squeezed her eyes shut in a bid to block the reality of the situation out. He was lathing his tongue against her unrelentingly; the sensations he was causing were indescribably erotic. She felt her legs began to quake so she he put her hands behind her and gripped the sink, clinging to it as she struggled to stay upright.

Andrea was faintly aware of his fingers digging into her thighs as he spread her even further apart, pushing his tongue further into her core before pulling back to her clitoris and moving back and fourth at an increasingly steady pace. Never focusing on one place for long enough to really tip her over the edge, but the sensations he was causing were so pleasurable she felt like she was almost melting. She could feel herself beginning to spiral out of control.

He let go of one of her thighs and gently, so gently he slid two of his fingers into her.

The penetration came as a shock. It grounded her, bringing her back to herself. Her eyes flew open and she shook her head trying to clear her thoughts. Looking around the bathroom, she began to pull herself together. Shit! This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening! She began to struggle against him, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and trying to wrench his face away but he was too strong.

Despite her efforts she couldn't shift him. He responded by wrapping an arm around her hips locking her to him. He pressed his face even further into her crotch and growled, sending delicious vibrations shooting deep to her core. Gasping, she realised he was moving his fingers inside of her, stroking the inside of her vaginal canal and curling his fingers, reaching up. She stopped struggling and concentrated instead on what he was doing. What was he doing? It was almost as though he was searching for something.

And then he found it. Oh God, what was that?! He looked up at her face. Their eyes locked together as he watched her searchingly, she couldn't tear her gaze away as he stroked that same place again. A surprised gasp became an involuntary moan as unfamiliar pressure began to build in her loins, delicious warmth spreading through her body. She was sure she detected smugness in his expression as he bent back down and clamped his mouth back over her sex.

He pulled her clitoris into his mouth and began to drag it between his teeth, gently biting. Her head fell back as she felt another involuntary spasm of pleasure wash over her. She felt like she was drowning in him, she wasn't sure she would still even be standing if he hadn't been holding her up. Whatever that thing was that he was doing with his fingers, combined with what he was doing with his mouth was completely overwhelming. Clinging to his hair with one hand the countertop top with the other she tried desperately to resist, to fight the sensations enveloping her but despite herself she was moaning incoherently, wantonly as she crashed helplessly towards a dizzyingly intense orgasm that tore through her suddenly.

It felt like a while before she felt capable of opening her eyes. He was slowly making his way up her body, his face was pressed in the gap the buttons on her blouse afforded him and he was nuzzling at the crevice between her breasts as he worked his way up her chest and along her neck to trail kisses along her jaw.

Standing up straight he gathered her into his arms. She wrapped her fingers around the lapels of his jacket in a bid to stay up right as he gripped her hair and pulled her head back and tilting her face up towards him as he leaned down and kissed her. His tongue forced its way past her lips, exploring her mouth and she realised she could taste herself there. She closed her eyes again, losing herself in the moment.

Her thoughts were scattered and confused but after what felt like an eternity some sense of reality began to intrude and everything seemed to come back to her. She blinked and looked around; she was in the bathroom of the Houseman's Suite - it was one of the most expensive rooms in the hotel - propped up against the sink with her skirt bunched up around her waist. A strange man was enclosing her in his arms as he gently covered her face in kisses. It felt heavenly but it was very disconcerting. Who was he? What was she doing to her? She realized that she didn't even know his name.

Releasing her from his embrace he stepped back, she felt the sudden physical absence acutely, accented by her racing heartbeat and a sudden feeling like she could hardly breathe. Andrea was afforded the opportunity to take a better look at him. She was fleetingly struck again by how handsome he was. His hair was a disheveled mess and his eyes seemed even darker than before, although she couldn't imagine how that could even be possible. They were filled with some unfathomable emotion as he stared back at her, his lips slightly parted. She shuddered, frightened of what that might mean, when unexpectedly he spoke.

"You need to go."

"Huh?"

"Go."

Burning with embarrassment she stumbled into the room and frantically began to gather up the dirty towels, throwing them into her laundry basket.

"Leave them. Just go. Now." He voice was strained.

She glanced down at her discarded pants and he lunged down and grabbed them, stuffing them into his pocket and meeting her gaze, daring her to question his claim of them. Well he could have his memento she thought, they were beyond repair anyway.

Bewildered, she stumbled out the door and down the stairs, finding her way to the service lift and into the staff room. Fortunately, there was no one else there. She sank down into one of the battered armchairs and buried her face in her hands, struggling to process what exactly had just happened. Why had she let him do that? Why hadn't she tried harder to stop him? Oh God, she'd actually enjoyed it. Crippling shame crept into her consciousness her like an unwelcome, vindictive serpent.

She sat in a daze staring ahead of her, she wasn't sure for how long but slowly reality filtered back in. She realized she needed a plan of action. She needed to finish her job. She needed to figure out what on earth she was going to do. But first, and most importantly, she needed to get some new underwear.

She pulled on her raincoat and slipped out the service entrance of the hotel and into the street beyond. Thankfully there was a Marks and Spencers around the corner, annoyingly it had just gone 12.30 and the streets where packed with office workers looking for lunch. She hurried across the road wishing she had brought a brolly, and dashed around the corner through the torrential rain. Marks wasn't as busy as she'd feared, thankfully. She absently grabbed a multipack of bikini briefs in her size and joined the queue to pay for them.

Connie was in the staff room when she got back. She sat down again, feeling a bit like a drowned rat.

"Andi, are you alright? You look shaken."

She loved Connie. They'd worked together for years, and she was like the older sister Andrea had never had.

"I-I'm okay" she stuttered, she could feel her eyes beginning to fill with tears and struggled desperately to halt the flow.

"You're obviously not okay." Connie replied firmly, "I'm going to put the kettle on and you're going to tell me what's happened"

"Thank you" she mumbled.

She was phenomenally grateful for the mug of strong sweet tea that Connie handed her, but it was only as she was holding it in her hands and gazing down at it that she realised she was still shaking.

"Has something happened Andi?"

"No. I'm fine, really." she answered quickly, shaking her head frantically

"Is Sophia okay?"

"Yes she's fine! It's nothing like that. Look, Connie, I just really don't want to talk about it right now."

Connie frowned but didn't push her any more.

"Okay girl, but you tell me if there's anything I can do alright? You need me to get Sophia from school today?"

The mention of her six year old daughter reminded her of the time, and she realized that she still needed to finish her rooms. Feeling a bit panicky she looked at her watch. It wasn't as late as she feared and luckily Sophia had football club, but it was still getting late. Connie helped her finish the rooms she had left. They loaded the dirty laundry together in silence at the end of the shift. Before they parted company Connie pulled her into a crushing hug.

"Thank you Connie," She whispered, her eyes stinging with unshed tears "thank you for helping me finish, and thank you for understanding when I said I didn't want talk about it."