"Then it's done," Janet tells us. "I'll find a stand in for your duties this week, Miss Webber. You'll be shadowing Miss Martin in preparation for the weekend."
I smile.
Sonnie smiles.
Janet smiles too.
I'm a long way away from her office by the time I breathe easily again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Melissa
"Whoa," Sonnie says. "This is some pad."
I swell with pride as I lead the way to Mr Henley's front door. Stupid, I know.
I hand her a piece of paper with the alarm code written down. "The keypad is under the stairs, you have to be quick."
"I'll be like lightning." She nudges me with her elbow as I sort through the keys. "Look at us little scrubbers from floor seven, making it all the way to Mr Henley's place. Did you really do it? Sniff his underpants?"
"Course I do. I wear them on my head while I'm scrubbing." I shoot her a goofy smile, and she laughs as I turn the key in the lock. "You have to be careful of Brutus," I tell her. "Never come here without fish treats. I'll give you a pack."
"Cindy warned me already. Said he's a monster."
I feel strangely protective. "He's not a monster. He's just … misunderstood."
"Like his master, eh? Up to no good sticking his dick in hooker pussy." She grins. "I know Cindy told you. Said you looked damn like you were gonna get yourself down there to Harley's tavern yourself."
"She told me a lot of things," I say, and my cheeks burn as we step inside. Sonnie really does make a dash for it, scooting through the hallway in her bid to deactivate the countdown timer. I'd forgotten how efficient she is.
The alarm stops beeping and she takes a look around the place, jaw open.
"Yep, just as I thought. Swanky as hell."
She hasn't seen anything yet.
And she hasn't seen Brutus yet, either.
He takes her by surprise, his growl crazily intimidating as he checks out the intruder in his house. It's a sound I haven't heard in a while, and I'm dithery as I rustle for the treats in my apron pocket. I toss them to her.
My heart is thumping as she catches them, and she's even more dithery than I was.
Shit.
"Hey boy, good boy," she flusters, but he isn't having any of it. He stalks her with his teeth bared, and she backs away before I can tell her not to. It's a mistake.
He launches himself in her direction, and she tears off with a shriek, heading right back out the front door as he throws himself against the other side.
"Brutus!" I call, but he isn't listening. "Shit, Brutus, no!" I shout, but he's still clawing at the woodwork as she grips the handle tight on the other side.
"Help!" she calls, and my actions are automatic. I just do it.
I put on my bravest voice, just like I heard on that dog whisperer show, and head over calmly to take hold of his collar.
"Stop!" I tell him. "No!"
He's still growling as he turns his head, teeth still bared as he clocks my expression.
"Brutus! No!"
I'm sure he's going to bite me, positive I really will be fired for spilling blood over cream carpets, but the fight in his eyes simmers down, and he grumbles, groans a bit before sitting his ass down on the floor.
"Christ, Lissa. Is it safe? Are you still alive in there?"
I tug Brutus away from the door. "Stay," I tell him, and hope he knows that word. I ease it open just a crack and Sonnie's terrified eyes greet me on the other side. "Sorry about him," I say. "He takes a while to get used to new people."
She's shaking as she eases herself back through the doorway. "Ain't you who's got to be sorry, hon. He ain't your monster."
A tiny pang in my stomach, and I realise why I've been feeling so off since we set off from the office earlier.
Reality. The burst bubble that comes with realising I really am just a cleaner and this isn't my house, or my dog, or my life.
Brutus isn't my monster, and neither is Alexander Henley. Not even if I wash his underwear and smell his sheets.
Or take his beautiful cock in my ass all night long.
Alexander Henley doesn't even know my name.
Sonnie flinches as Brutus drops to the floor, but he's not doing anything other than giving her the eye. "How'd you get him to like you so much?"
I shrug. "Persistence and fish treats." And love.
The addition shoots through my mind, and it gives me a shiver. That's the key, when it really comes down to it. It's all about love. All about putting your heart on the line for someone and trusting they'll see right through to your soul. Like Brutus did with me when I offered him the first fish treat from my fingers and stared him right in the eye.
"Persistence and fish treats," she repeats, and takes a breath. She pulls one from the packet and tosses it between his paws. "There you go, boy. Nice fishy snack. Nom nom."
Brutus nudges it with his muzzle, sniffs but doesn't bite.
He doesn't want it.
He doesn't want her.
I shrug. "Early days," I say. "He'll get used to you. Just give it some time."
But I hope he doesn't.
I hope they can never send another cleaner in here ever again.
Because I belong here now.
Only me.
Sonnie is excited again once the Brutus commotion has died down. She snoops around the kitchen, just as I did first time in here, and she comments on the contents of his fridge, all the things I buy him.
She comments on everything, and as much as I love her, I really don't enjoy the feeling of sharing.
"Cindy told me about his porn habits," she says as we enter the living room. "You gonna show me what he's into?"
I tell her she's welcome to look, just as I was, and she flicks on the screen with twinkling eyes.
But there's barely anything there.
Gem auctions. He's been viewing a lot of gem auctions and very little else.
The revelation makes me tingle.
Sonnie groans. "I was expecting so much more. Cindy's such a bullshitter, she really egged this up." I don't say anything as she flicks the monitor back off again. "Anything else tasty?"
I shrug. "His laundry basket?"
She finishes polishing the mantelpiece and I have to rearrange the pictures of his kids just so.
"His bedroom." She grins. "I wanna see where he sleeps."
I show her where he sleeps, and she dips her head to his pillow and breathes him in. I try to ignore the pang of intrusion, because it's stupid.
"Yum," she says. "Midnight in winter, that's what he smells like."
It makes me smile. "He smells amazing."
She reaches inside the laundry hamper, and my face is on fire as she pulls out his crumpled shirt from Saturday night. And then his trousers.
My heart races as she lifts them to her nose and takes a decent whiff. And then she grimaces. Her eyes screw shut as her nose wrinkles.
She fake retches. Wipes her nose with the back of her hand.
"Hell almighty! Someone got laid this weekend. I can smell pussy all over them."
And she can.
Of course she can.
I came all over them with his thigh pressed right to my clit.
"Ain't gonna be sniffing none of that again," she says and throws them back in the hamper, and even though my face is burning up, I laugh. I can't stop laughing.
And when Sonnie laughs, I laugh harder. I laugh until my eyes are watering with the craziness of it all. With the crazy urge to tell her it was me. That I'm the one who came all over Mr Henley's thigh on Saturday night.
But I don't.
Of course I don't.
"I missed your laugh," she tells me with a giggle.
And I've missed hers, too.
Alexander
I believed a six-month exclusivity arrangement would be more than enough. That a once-weekly session with Amy's tight little body would be enough to keep the cravings at bay.
But it's not enough.
I'd be happy to write this insanity off as pure addiction running wild, but if that were truly the case I'd be happy to stave away the beast with porn or webcam girls, or even a cheaper rut with Elena or Candice in the interim.
But I'm not happy with any of those options.
There is only her. Only her tight little cunt and those big blue eyes. Only the way she takes whatever I give her.
As I cruise through my workday with a distinctly sunnier disposition than the one I've come to know, I wonder whether I'm teetering on the edge of some kind of mental breakdown. Yet, I've been there before and it wasn't like this. I've stared into the abyss of meaningless compulsive paid-for sex and come out the other side unscathed, time after time, and this isn't that.
This feels different.
She feels different.
Different enough that I message Claude on Wednesday morning and order him to book both Delaney's and Amy for this very same evening.
Looming mental breakdown or no, I'll be having that girl's pussy tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Melissa
Even Dean can't hide how impressed he is when I tell him I'm on again for this evening. He makes me dinner as I search through my wardrobe, scouting for something vaguely suitable that Mr Henley hasn't seen me in already.