Hi folks, thanks to everyone who read and commented on last week's story, especially those of you who took the time to email me. Without your interest I'd probably be doing other things. I'd also like to thank the writers here for inspiring me with their own great stories, especially the ones who bother to read mine. Most of all thanks to mikothebaby for editing this story. The difference between a good story and a piece of crap is often the editor. Here we go.SS06
The rules were there to protect us as well as the customers. They were very simple and so easy that even most of the illegals could understand them. Even the workers who barely spoke English could understand the rules.
The first rule was to always leave or prop the door open when cleaning a room. The second rule was to always leave the cart of cleaning supplies outside of the room, even if it might cost you a few extra steps and a little bit of time.
So when I saw Bertie leave her cart outside of one room and head into another with a customer, I knew that she was heading for trouble of one kind or another. She flashed me a wink and took the guy's hand. She added quite a bit more sashay to her walk, swinging her slim almost boyish hips with an added flair. As I returned to my own cart, I wondered if the extra shake in her ass was for his benefit or if she was just sticking it in my face.
Maybe it was just her way of saying, "Look Grandma, they don't pay us much here. So I'm gonna grab all the extras I can."
Bertie was only about twenty years old. She'd started working in the hotel about a year ago. She's a slim blond pixie type with barely any butt or boobs. She had a boyfriend named Ernie who worshipped the ground she walked on. She also had expensive tastes and a head full of dreams that will never be realized.
Bertie had barely escaped high school. She graduated number 203 in a class of 204. She avoided being last only because of attendance. Another student in the class had the exact same pitiful GPA as Bertie, but she was saved from the bottom because she'd actually attended class far more regularly than he did.
In a way, her performance was even more pitiful when you consider that she got the same grades that he did when he only showed up at school once in a blue moon and she was there every fucking day. Shit, they should have given her points for just attending.
In Bertie's mind, her two best chances of becoming rich or at least getting the things she wanted were A, the lottery and B, fucking the hotel guests for extra money. True, the fucking did cut down on the number of rooms she actually cleaned, but she broke even most days and it was easier to Bertie to make the money on her back. Besides, she couldn't really count on the lottery because she kept forgetting to actually buy the tickets. She did, however, sit there in front of the TV every night when they announced the winner. She was really saddened each time when she didn't win. "Tomorrow I'm going to buy a ticket," she said every time.
I guess I should have expected it. Bertie was, after all, a very stupid girl. That kind of stuff would only lead to Bertie someday being a very old, very lonely woman. I should know. I shook my head and pulled my cart in front of the room I was about to clean myself. I got lucky this time. The guest in the room I was cleaning was very neat. Holy shit, he even made his bed. I went into the bathroom and wiped down all of the surfaces with an antibacterial disinfectant and shook my head again. I could tell he'd been here recently and had showered. But everything, even in the bathroom, was so neat it was incredible. It was almost like he was used to keeping everything neat and clean himself. This was just easy money. I paused before leaving because something about the room felt very familiar though I didn't know what it was. Maybe it was a whiff of cologne, maybe it was just a feeling. I shook my head to clear it and got my mind back on work.
As I headed back for my cart, I could hear Bertie and her guest going at it. Bertie was just stupid. Anyone walking down the hall could hear her moaning and grunting while the guy did her. I was the supervisor for the cleaning staff so she didn't have to worry much about me, but the hotel manager or anyone else could have walked down that hallway.
Then it began to filter through my mind. I guess I'd been so locked into what I was thinking about that it hadn't registered at first. Bertie's moans and grunts had evolved into louder shouts. It took the words, "No, please don't," to launch me into action. Bertie was a fucking idiot alright, but she was my fucking idiot. No one would hurt any of my staff if I could help it regardless of what they were doing.
I used my passkey and entered the room in time to see the guest trying to force his dick into Bertie's asshole. She tried to push him away. "I already told you, I don't do that," she said. He reared back and punched her in the face hard. Bertie slid down the wall into a puddle and started crying.
"Get away from her," I yelled loudly at the man. He turned to face me.
"You already got what you wanted from her anyway," I said.
"She said I could have anything I wanted," he said. His voice was so emotionless that it scared me. He threw a few bills at Bertie and turned to me.
"Now if I'd seen you first, that little tramp wouldn't even be here now," he said smiling at me. "You're more my type. You're older, so you have more experience. You're probably used to a few more uhm ... unusual tastes and can appreciate the differences."
As he walked towards me, I started backing out into the hallway. I hoped that being back in full view of anyone passing would make him more inhibited.
"You're also built better than her," he continued. "You're much more to my liking. Sure you're a little old, but those big titties and that big ass are much better than fucking a bag of bones."
"I don't do that," I said, backing away even faster.
"You will for me," he said. "Remember part of your job is making sure the guests are satisfied. And I want you to make me real satisfied."
"I already told you, I don't do that," I said. "I just clean rooms and nothing else."
"I pay you double what you get," he said. "Shit make it triple, but I'll be expecting for you to do whatever I want for as long as I want it."
"I said no," I said, even louder. I had backed up all the way out into the hallway and against the wall.
"Well, fuck you then you uppity bitch," he said. His face morphed into a mask of hatred and his fist rose again. It was cocked back and ready to strike. I guess I blinked or I flinched, expecting to be hit by a blow that never came.
He was grabbed from behind by someone who pulled him off balance and threw him on the floor with that same arm that he was about to hit me with.
"She said, No," said the man who'd rescued me. He was standing over the asshole as if he was waiting for either a chance or a reason to continue their altercation. I looked up and saw my rescuer and everything froze. My head exploded with recognition. I ducked my head down hoping that he wouldn't see me.
I was saved by Bertie running out of the room. She grabbed my arm and dragged me away from there as our hero still stood over the man. "I'm reporting you to security," said Bertie. Her face was already swelling.
"No you won't," laughed the man. "Because then you'd have to tell them why you were in my room in the first place. The way I see it, they'd throw me out of this shit hole and in less than an hour I'll be in a better hotel with prettier whores ... I mean maids. But you'll be out of a job. So you won't say shit and we both know it. Neither will your curvier friend. Even though she claims not to be a whore, she's already tried to rescue you once. She doesn't want to see you get fired either."
He started laughing. It was a very sick sounding laugh. It was the kind of laugh that only a man who doesn't care about anyone else can give. That kind of man saw most people as being beneath him and only existing for his benefit. It was as if in his own mind he was some twisted version of the chosen one. In his sick little fantasy world we all existed only for his pleasure.
The situation was extremely ironic because I'd been in it before. In fact it's the reason I'm here now doing what I'm doing.
The bastard laughed at us but only for a very brief second, because after the first ha ha, my would-be rescuer kicked him in the side so hard I was sure I heard a rib snap. The bastard got really God damned quiet after that.
"Thanks mister," said Bertie over her shoulder, as she dragged us out of there and onto an elevator. We could come back for our carts later. I was done cleaning the room I was doing anyway.
"What am I going to do Blanche?" asked Bertie, in tears. "What am I going to tell Ernie?"
"What are you going to tell Ernie about what?" I asked. "What are you going to tell Ernie about the bruises on your face? Or did you mean what are you going to tell Ernie about the bruised and tearing on your vagina? Or maybe you meant, what are you going to tell Ernie about the bite marks on your neck and those little pimples you call breasts?"
I know that I was being hard on her but I was pissed. She'd almost gotten herself ass-raped and maybe hurt a lot worse and she'd almost gotten me hurt as well. I knew that someday this was going to catch up to her and God damn it today was it.
Then all of a sudden, in a moment of clarity, I thought about the victim in all of this bullshit. Maybe it was my rescuer who made me think about it. I did the nastiest thing I've ever done ... well, the second nastiest anyway.
.... There is more of this story ...