Working as a housekeeper in a house this big should give me some things to take my mind off and make me forget about everything else. But the sad truth is, when I'm sweeping the floor, I'm thinking about Adrian. When I'm wiping the dust, I'm thinking about Adrian. When I'm on my knees in the bathroom, cleaning the toilets, I'm thinking about him, too.
Not particularly because the things would remind me of him – well, when I dropped down on my knees in the bathroom, I got a déja-vu moment – but the tasks aren't something that would make me think about them and be so engrossed in them.
They're boring everyday tasks that make me think about other things even more. And it's exhausting. Because I'm battling with fear and lust, they're fighting. Let's not even talk about my morals because it seems like I don't have them anymore.
I'm kind of pissed at Adrian. And somehow disappointed. He fucked me and dismissed me right after with 'I want dinner at 9'. Although I shouldn't expect some cuddling and talking from him. This is not a relationship. This is him cheating on his wife, I'm the side chick. Puta as they call it.
Thank God this job doesn't require working and talking with other people because right now, my mood is somewhere 'I'll throw a plate at your head if you so much look at me'.
I got two amazing orgasms, three if I count the one this morning, and I'm pissy. Because his slam bam thank you ma'am really pissed me off. And I'm having an argument with myself whether if what I'm doing is actually what I should be doing.
I know it's wrong, I know if I were ever married and my man would be fucking others behind my back, I'd cut his dick off in his sleep and feed it to him for breakfast.
But the attraction I feel towards Adrian ... I'm willing to be that woman. I'm a nobody, anyway. When this is all over, I'll pack and go and no one will ever see me again.
In the evening, I take Adrian his dinner upstairs and 9.15. He said around 9, anyway, so I hope he doesn't get too mad, but I still had some other stuff to do before I could go serve the king.
When I stand in front of the now familiar door, I mentally prepare myself for whatever is going to come. I never know what he has planned for me.
When I knock, that familiar reply doesn't come. And I'm in a dilemma. Should I enter? Or should I just go and come back later and try again? Maybe he's asleep already.
I try knocking again. And then I think, fuck it, he said to bring him dinner at 9, so here's here dinner he ordered. I try to knob and the door opens. The room is dark and I wait if I hear anything. Either he's sleeping or he's not even in it.
I turn on the light and I finally let out the breath I've been holding this whole time. The room is empty. Gracias a Dios.
I go put the tray on Adrian's nightstand and want to get out of the room as soon as possible, but then the bathroom door opens and I stop like a deer in the highlights. Not only because I hoped he wouldn't see me, but because he's only wearing a towel around his waist, coming just out of the shower, his hands running through his wet hair. And I can do nothing but stare.
YOU ARE READING
ʻʻWhat's forbidden is always the sweetest.ʼʼ This is a story where you're going to hate him. You might even hate her. The two people who are doing something very wrong in other people's eyes, but to them it's the most right thing they've ever done...