CLEANER: Chapter Three - Part Nine

DAHLIA

Following Melissa up to her suite was a dark and strangely erotic experience.

It was something like being called to the headmaster’s office at school; that long, slow journey with plenty of time to wonder what was coming. But I could assume to some extent what was waiting for me up there: phase two; the next step in our exchange of lives.

I had come to Melissa’s hotel planning to seize back control but instead it felt like I was relinquishing it further. It was she now who was determining our next course of action; she who refused to concede to my request. I thought about that as I followed her up. We didn’t walk together. We didn’t chat. There seemed to be a barrier between us now; almost a division of class; like she was my superior and I was... I was her inferior.

As I walked silently, my thoughts crackled away and I found myself getting more and more aroused. As we came out of the lift on the penthouse floor I gave a little skip, so eager was I to reach her room and find out what was in store for me. Despite that I followed dutifully and waited while she used her key car to gain entrance.

The suite was grandiose; the kind of place I was used to in my former life but, I realised, was, for now, hopelessly out of reach for me. As long as I stayed Melissa I would never be able to live in such luxurious surroundings. It was made up of several large rooms, elegantly furnished, and the view out over the ocean was spectacular.

“Take a seat Melissa,” she said, gesturing to the twin sofas.

I sat on the edge of one, feeling ill-at-ease and out of place. This was very much her territory and, with our relationship becoming more firmly established, this didn’t feel like somewhere I could relax.

“Tell me about the hotel you work at,” she said, pouring herself a drink from the fridge (she didn’t offer me one).

“It’s, uh, not very nice. Quite rundown. Dirty. And I have to start work so early. It’s so hard. And the other cleaners are cliquey. They treat me like I’m an idiot. It doesn’t matter how much I tell myself that I’m not really a cleaner; that I’m better than them really; it still hurts.”

She smiled a cold smile. “But you are a cleaner Melissa. You aren’t any better than them. If anything you’re worse than them because they have more experience.”

My face fell and my cheeks coloured.

“This is your fantasy, isn’t it?” she said.

I nodded haltingly.

“You wanted to be me. You wanted to have to be a cleaner.”

I nodded again.

“Then you have to accept that that is what you are. You aren’t different from them. You certainly aren’t superior to them. Are you?”

“No.”

“Sorry?”

“No. I’m not better than them.”

She smiled again, this time with more warmth. “What you need to do is get down to their level; become friends with them; do what they do; show interest in their interests. Are there any men there?”

“Some.” I nodded. “There’s a cook and a couple of others. The cook is a bit of a letch. I think he fancies me.”

“Is he young?”

I shrugged. “About our age I guess.”

Her eyes glittered and I suddenly knew what she was going to say. “You should flirt with him. Let him have his fun with you. Kiss him. Maybe even sleep with him. Just a holiday romance with a co-worker; that’s all.”

I turned my nose up. “He really isn’t my type.”

“He wasn’t your type,” she said. “You’re somebody new now; just an ordinary woman; a bit fat; not very good looking. Someone like that is probably the best you can hope for.”

I closed my eyes, remembering what he looked like. My loins were sizzling to imagine sullying myself with somebody like that; following Melissa’s instructions and really doing it; taking on this new persona and really making it my own. The idea that she had the power to order me to do all this was so incredibly tantalising, as was the submission to this new lower station that she was encouraging me to accept.

I chewed my lip, my eyes shining, as I said, “Okay. I will.”

Melissa nodded approvingly. She took a seat opposite me and sipped from her drink. “Are you ready for the next phase in your transformation?” she asked.

“You mean that wasn’t it?”

She laughed. “No. Not at all. That’s just something you have to do if you’re going to really become who you are now. No. Phase two is something more active. It’s the next step we need to take to make this all start to move forward properly.”

“What is it?” I asked, warily.

“I’ll tell you,” she said.