Chapter 3 Maid Life

Lydia sucked in a deep, clean breath as she pushed open the balcony doors and tried to focus on the beauty of the ocean rather than the chaos behind her. She turned back and grimaced, wishing that she had a better mask because she could still smell the musk of sex, sweat, and alcohol through this one.

She’d need hours of airing out and at least three candles to get it gone. The Stanley Cup sat in a place of pride as a hanging stand for a few pairs of dainty lace panties, including a hot purple thong, she could smell from across the room. Though maybe that was the pair on the floor in a suspicious-looking puddle. She really hoped that wasn’t urine. She was not paid enough to deal with that.

If she had to go over the scheduled time, this was going to suck. She aimed the tablet at the living room after turning on the light, then swept it over the kitchen and uploaded it to Resort’s platform. She’d have to get the other videos later.

A moment later, she had her bicep-length gloves on, an empty trash bag, and a cloth laundry bag in hand. The puddle smelled like beer, but that was only slightly better since it also smelled terrible.

Red cups, beer bottles, snack bags, and a lot of different sizes of clothes littered the floor. There was a puddle of beer on one of the side tables, several stains on the couches, something sticky on the floor, and several used condoms lying around.

Lydia charged forward, stuffing anything that wasn’t clothes or worth keeping in the trash. She stuffed the clothing in the laundry bag, dragging it behind her. When she reached the cup, the scent of alcohol grew stronger. A long straw had fallen behind it.

Were they fucking children? 

She turned away, grunting and dragging as she went. There were a few glasses on a few surfaces, a few on the floor, luckily still intact. Half-empty bags with enough weed for at least a small bowl and a few pipes, too. 

One of them was a cock and balls.

“Charming.”

It was only slightly better than the one with a tiny woman of pale glass on the bowl, bent over with a sultry come-hither look over her shoulder. She set the pipes on the corner table and used a pair of boxers to sop up most of the beer.

Leaving the bag of clothes in the center of the room, she grabbed the glasses and followed the trail of trash into the kitchen. A bong full of murky water sat on the bar. The sink was full of plates and more glasses. All the counter space was covered in half-full, half-eaten, and mostly empty serving trays the Resort used for take-out. Her stomach grumbled, and she scowled at all the wasted food. She wished she’d had time and cash for more than coffee.

After a quick trash sweep in the kitchen, she headed back into the living room. Another lacy thong, a few shirts, a hot purple dress, and a pair of lacy boy shorts later, she was mostly through the clothes. 

Her phone chimed. She snatched it out of her pocket, shifting her weight as she flicked through the PIN to get to her email. She opened the email she’d been waiting for and went still. 

We, regretfully, inform you—

She huffed—another rejection. 

Just when she’d been so sure that she’d be able to leave her shift tonight, knowing that it would be one of her last… With her luck, all of her recent applications would end the same way. Another email popped up from Aegis’ Staff Pool list serve, and she smiled. 

There were jobs for the work-study staff pool for the summer. She shoved her phone back in her pocket and went on, gathering the stupid jocks’ clothes and their sex-crazed bimbos’ panties. The faster she was out of here, the faster she could get to campus and hope that a counselor could get her into a position that could replace her Bar job, if not at least supplement it. She’d be happy with fewer hours, avoiding grimy paws multiple nights a week.

Dragging the bag to lean against the wall, she hustled back toward the hallway where she’d left the vacuum. A door opened up the stairs. She whirled around as a woman with a dark bob, clutching a glittering clutch to her chest, came thudding down the stairs, bare-assed and swiping a towel over her body. She nearly bit it on the last stair and stumbled forward. 

There were people here? Shit!

She turned to get the tablet to report it.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Where my— hey, you saw a hot purple dress, right? Matching panties, built-in bra, a little shimmery?”

Lydia pointed at the laundry bag. “If it was in the living room, it’s in there.”

She darted to the bag and upended it into a heap. “Maids make coffee, right?”

Lydia pretended not to hear her and stamped down her irritation as she typed. As soon as the note was in, she rounded the corner to drag the vacuum down the hallway and turned it to the proper, bare floor setting.

“Coffee?” The woman hissed, struggling to hop into the lacy purple thong Lydia had pulled off the Cup.

Lydia grimaced, imagining the itch of the hardened fabric against her crotch, let alone the smell. Did the hotshot athlete not even let his one-night stands shower and wash their clothes? Didn’t he have a stash of women’s underwear for situations like this?

She’d heard that at least one of the villas kept a stash of spare clothing. Black villa, she was sure, but who knew how true that was? They didn’t hire staff from the Resort for anything.

The woman rushed into the kitchen, but no water ran, and no cabinets creaked open. A frustrated hiss slithered out, followed by the opening of the refrigerator. 

“Where’s the water filter?” She called loudly. “Don’t the villas all have one?”

Lydia didn’t know what she was talking about and wasn’t about to pretend that she did. Another set of footsteps thudded down the stairs as Lydia plugged in the vacuum and unwound the extension cord.

“What are you looking for?” A raspy baritone rang out.

Lydia lifted her head as he came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and turned to her. Her mouth went dry, and an unfamiliar and uncomfortable ache settled in her lower gut. Her eyes widened as their eyes met.

His eyes were filled with the early morning light. They flicked quickly over her, and his eyebrow twitched up. Gorgeous with a sharp jaw, dusted with hair, and light brown, maybe hazel eyes. She followed the center line of his chest over a scar across his rib. Her own side throbbed in sympathy. He was much bulkier than she expected for a hockey player.

Thin red fabric stretched taut over his muscular thighs, dusted with hair. Barefoot and only in a tiny pair of boxer briefs, he looked smug as fuck.

This couldn’t get any worse, could it?