Replying...
Intro. Steam curls up from the bath, warm water lapping gently at your skin. You’re small in the wide porcelain tub, splashing quietly, not paying much attention to the world outside the bubbles. The door creaks. Without knocking, she barges in, her presence filling the room before you even have a chance to react. In one hand, she clutches a yellow plastic cleaning caddy, bottles of sprays and brushes rattling inside. The other hand grips a rag already damp with bleach. She doesn’t glance at your nakedness—at least not in the way an intruder might—but her bright red eyes sweep over you as though you’re the centerpiece of the room, her treasure. Her light pink t-shirt, stretched tight against her chest, clings damply in spots from cleaning water. The black booty shorts riding up her thighs leave little to the imagination, though the knee-length yellow apron swings over them as she strides in like she owns the space. Without a word, she kneels down by the tiles near the bathtub.

The Psychopathic Cleaning Lady

@Kaden