Alex Becker, ‘This Room Will Take A While’
The next three stories are from an unfinished Alex Becker novel. The original idea was for Alex to fall in love with Betty, try the Pretty Woman thing, get rejected, and then learn what it means to actually respect and cherish someone.
Maybe I’ll get there, but for now, I have these fetish-forward scenes.
‘This Room Will Take A While’
My friend Molly helped me get the job at Miss Handy’s Cleaning. We were talking about weird fantasies—I’d told her I wanted to fuck in a stranger’s house—and she gave me a card. “You might be able to get a job and a fuck here,” she said, flashing a devilish grin. “I know I have.”
The interview was a snap, and training flew by. I got to go to other people’s houses and walk around them with gloves on, and they didn’t bat an eye. I did everything in gloves, as my customers noted. I told them it was because I had delicate hands, but really, it was because I loved gloves. Wearing gloves made me horny. So horny. Even the ugly and uncomfortable yellow gloves we were given for our jobs—whenever I put them on my pussy ached. I figured it was ideal. No fucking yet, until this last week.
Cleaning was simple, when I had to do it—I had a head for it already. I spent undergrad doing jobs like this, trunk full as a janitor’s closet, driving back and forth across the fancy West Austin neighborhoods. Near my senior year, I started turning tricks, because some of the men (and two women—love you Junie, love you Lissa) were "accidentally" getting caught in compromising positions. I’d take off my underwear, sit on their lap, and let them take it from there. I ate better than ramen and meatless chili that year.
Post-grad was fine. I got a teaching cert, working as an English and psych teacher. I did that for about ten years, then I decided to do grad school.
Didn’’t go well. Things fell through, had a breakdown, dropped out, burned a few bridges. Let my cert lapse, didn’t want to do it again, moved in with my parents again at 36.
Fun!
Took some time writing essays for college kids—easy money, easy clients, lots of copy paste.
Started working out again, get my body back in order. Slimmed down, toned, tanned, a little saggier than I used to be, but nothing a bit of creative angles couldn’t fix.
Got back into fucking for money, and started up a little OF. Made me a little cash each month, not a ton of work—feet pics, rubbing one out on camera (no face), trading texts.
But grad school called to me again. An old school colleague told me that there was a vacated spot, set aside for a non-traditional student, which I definitely was. I got in! Little stipend, mostly remote for now, some costs covered, but I’d still need to put up a fair bit up front.
Which meant actual job. Which led me to Miss Handy’s.
Vicky was up front about the actual job: you needed to actually be able to clean a house, but it was secondary to the other part of the service. Fetishes and fixations a plus, past sex work a plus, understanding of consent and bodily needs a major plus, a willingness to look like a fucking dork in the official company outfit required.
It was a good while before the assignment came to me. Scuttlebutt told me that it wasn’t something for the new gals, they needed to get their feet wet before Alex Becker.
I’d heard stories about Mr. Becker. I thought they were just gossip that some of the girls liked to spread around—he tips well, he’s very exacting and specific, he likes to fuck the girls (and guys, depending on his mood), and he’s got fetishes. He was regarded as…eccentric. Made up, I told myself—that’s not true, no one would do that. Felt like something they’d say to make newbies nervous.
Then I was assigned to him. I hope it happens again.
***
His house was huge. I don’t know why I went alone. This would take at least three people to clean. He also specified that I wear my uniform, which most people just assume we do. Some don’t care, and they say so, but unless they’re specific, we wear it.
Mr. Becker insisted that I wear my uniform, that ugly blue dress with white trim. I hated it—no matter how much I washed it, it was still scratchy and uncomfortable. Nothing I liked to wear, and he specified that I had to! Ugh.
Knowing what I knew, I stepped into my manager Vicky’s office. She was looking over spreadsheets at her computer, and didn’t even look up when I walked in.
“I know,” was all she said.
I put my hand on her desk, leaning over. “And this is okay, Vicky?”
Vicky turned from her monitor to look at me. “It’s his preference, Betty,” Vicky told me. “He likes a personal touch. Besides, you’re going to do fine. Just go, work his list, and leave. He’s gonna tip you good, and then you’re done. I’ll even take you off the schedule for the rest of the week, alright?”
“Okay, fine. But just this once,” I said. “I’ve heard about him.”
“I’m sure you have.” She leaned over her desk, looked up at me from it. “He won’t do anything that you don’t like, and he’s very accommodating to newer cleaners. You can trust me,” she said. “You’re gonna be fine.”
Knocking on the door, I took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. I was shaking a little. My supply bucket felt so heavy today.
Seeing no one and hearing nothing, I knocked again and waited twice before I saw the note next to the huge wooden door that said “door unlocked, come on in”. I turned the knob, and pushed the door open.
Inside the foyer, filled with natural light, was another note, this one a little longer. It was his list of tasks.
Nothing out of the ordinary, probably even shorter than the average customer. He had a cleaner come every week, surely he didn’t need that much work done all the time?
Shrugging, I looked at the first item—“unload dishes”. I scoffed. How lazy was this guy? I lugged my bucket over to the kitchen and looked at the dishwasher. There was another note taped to it, along with a pair of yellow gloves sitting on the granite counter above it. “Please put these on,” it said. Suppressing an irritated groan, I did as the note asked, wondering why in the hell I was following these directions. Maybe he had cameras or something, I didn’t know for sure. Better to follow directions, just in case.
They looked brand new, unworn. Super fancy, I guessed. I felt the inside of them—they didn’t have that lining in them that hurt my hands. As I slid them on—they were so smooth, and so tight—I made a mental note to ask if I could keep them. He’d probably say no, but never hurts to ask.
Once the gloves were on, I opened the dishwasher. It was nearly empty. Again, I wondered what the hell was going on here. Was I being pranked? Maybe this was just a thing they did to new employees. I was probably going to get double shifts after I was done here, I knew it—
Someone moved behind me and pulled me close. Before I could scream, his hand was over my mouth. He was wearing gloves, too. I could smell them, taste them against my lips. Of course he was, he broke in to someone’s house. I put my hand to his to try and pry it off, latex to latex. No, I thought, that’s weird. This is weird. This is fucked. Focus.
“Shh,” he said. “You’re going to be fine.”
“Mmf?” I mumbled through his hand.
“You’re Betty, right?”
I nodded.
“Good.” He took his palm off my mouth, and stuck two of his fingers in it. It caught me off guard, I didn’t have time to stop it. But it felt so good. I closed my eyes and sucked on them for a second.
Catching myself, I pulled his hand out and tried to turn around. He pushed me over the counter, bent me over. “Just relax, okay?”
“What’s going on?” I said, terrified, but also a little aroused. Mostly aroused. I mostly just got fucked after cleaning toilets.
This? My role playing was strictly unpaid. Was it role playing?
“You’re on a special job,” he said. He still held me tight. I struggled, but that only made him tighten his grip. “Stop struggling.”
I slowed my breathing and relaxed my body. He was eager, but I Hey, we break kayfabe for a sec?"
"Yeah, what do you need?" His gritty tone was gone, his actual voice smooth and sweet. His hands were drifting around my panty line.
That was unexpected. "So do you want me to be coquettish? Coy, or defiantly resistant, or playfully resistant?"
"Um." He held me so surely, so firmly. He turned me around. "Coquettish is good. You’re allowed to be into it. I’ll roll with however you play. Safe word is chartreuse."
To be honest, I didn’t realize who I was looking at. He was tall, broad shouldered. Wasn’t wearing a shirt, and he was so muscular. His face was clean-shaven, masculine, soft brown eyes. He looked a little nervous. He had on a pair of tight-fitting athletic shorts, which were doing a very poor job of hiding his very substantial manhood. I stared at that for a second, gasping at the sight of it, then looked up at his face. Who was this man?
Then it clicked. “Wait, are you—“
“Yes,” he said, pulling me close. “I’m Alex Becker.” He put his hand over my mouth again, and turned me around. “You weren’t scheduled to come today.”
I got alarmed for a second. “I wasn’t?” my voice was muffled by his glove—it was very long, too. Longer than I’ve seen other black gloves. I’ve seen a lot of them. They smelled fresh. I licked them a little. He clamped his hand down harder, and slapped my ass, grasping a handful of it.
“Not to clean,” he said. “You do, however, have a list of other duties. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you what needs to be done.” He walked me down a hallway, and opened a door into a large bedroom. The curtains were drawn, and lights were on. It felt like the middle of the night when he closed the door.
He led me to the bed and sat me down. The sheets were soft, and his bed had a pleasing bounce to it.
“Open your legs.” I complied, spreading them apart. He reached between them, and in one smooth motion, pulled off my underwear. He then pulled up my uniform, exposing my pussy.
I still had my gloves on, and reached to take them off. He grabbed my wrists again, putting my hands back on the bed. “They stay on, remember? At least that’s what your friend told me.” I nodded.
“Stay right there, I need to make a phone call,” he said. I waited, and leaned back on the bed a little, spreading my legs wider. My hand moved between my legs, and I could feel my clit throbbing. I needed to touch myself right then. I closed my eyes, spread my lips apart, and I pushed down a little—
A hand was at my throat, clamped tight. I opened my eyes and saw him looking over me. He had his phone and a bluetooth earpiece in. He shook his head, and pulled my offending hand out.
“Hi there, Vicky. How are things? Oh, that’s great to hear. Listen,” he said as he fingered the lips outside my wet and achy pussy. I moaned a little. He pressed his hand to my mouth, then pulled away and held a finger to his mouth to shush me. “So I managed to get home while Betty was working, and I’ve given her some very specific instructions.” He nodded as he listened, his other gloved hand squeezing my tit through my uniform. “Yeah, she’s gonna need some extra time to get it done. Yes, yes, I know, I’ll accept the extra charges. Add a bit more for a tip, why don’t you?” His gaze turned back to me, hungry and full of lust. “No, don’t worry, she’ll be leaving with a large tip.” His hand moved from my tit back to my pussy, and I felt a slight bit of pressure as he slid a finger in.
My moan was a little louder this time, and he didn’t have my mouth covered. He fixed that, and squeezed, working his finger in and out, and then putting in another. “Oh, nothing, Vicky. Sometimes they like to fake that stuff—you know what they say about me.” He laughed a little. “She’s doing exactly what I’ve asked, and she’s doing it perfectly so far. I’ll call if I need anything else, alright?” Alex’s two fingers plunged deep, wiggling around while me stroked me. “Thanks, Vicky, you’re the best. No one works like you guys. Tell Bert I said hi. Buh-bye.” He let go of my mouth and turned off the earpiece.
“Uh, uh, unngh, uh, uh, hunngh,” was all I could sputter out.
“Guess you like it,” he said. He pulled out his fingers and stood up. “Sit up,” he commanded, and I obeyed.
He ripped my uniform dress open, making the buttons fly everywhere, and leaving me exposed to him. I was wearing an ugly old white sports bra, the only one that could hold in my tits while I worked—they were too big for something cute. I blushed and looked away.
“What?” He asked, clearly getting harder.
“It’s just, uh—this bra isn’t something I like to show people—“
“Then take it off.”
After shrugging out of my work dress, I fumbled with the bra’s hooks in the back, and pulled it off, tossing it to the floor. I was completely naked before him, with my legs open and gloves on. He pulled off my sneakers, and rubbed his bulge on my stockinged feet. “I’m into a lot of stuff, Betty. Are you ready for that?”
Nodding, I reached up to pull down his pants. He grabbed my wrists again, but let go. “Suck my cock.” The pants came down, and his cock flopped out. It was thick and veiny, standing straight out, hard as rock. I put my hand on it, running the soft latex down his shaft. That made him shake.
A hand grasped the back of my head, taking a handful of hair in it, and pushed my forward. His cock went into my mouth, going all the way back, making me gag a little. “Good,” he said, and pulled out a little before rocking his hips forward again, getting his member all the way in again. I gagged again, but I liked it. His cock was so big, I wanted it in my mouth. My tongue darted out from the bottom of my mouth and grazed his balls.
I put my hands on his thighs to stabilize myself, and started bobbing my head on his member, sucking in my cheeks to give him a little extra. He started breathing a little harder, and I could feel him twitch when I pulled all the way out and danced my tongue around his head, ending it with a kiss. I took it into my hands and started stroking, moving my mouth to his balls, pushing him closer to me, wrapping my other hand around his ass cheek, squeezing it to keep him there. I put his balls into my mouth, sucking on them as I stroked his shaft, looking up at him as I did so. He locked eyes with me, and his free hand grasped mine, latex covered fingers intertwining.
We stayed like that for a couple of minutes, slurping and gasping and moaning, until he pulled my head away and pushed me down on my back. He climbed on top of me, putting my legs in the air. His cock was pressed against my mound, moving up and down my lips, the shaft firm against my clit. Each stroke made me shake a little more. I reached for his hips and pulled them close, trying to get him to enter me.
Alex grabbed me by my wrists, his grip strong and tight. “Not yet, but I appreciate your eagerness.” He pulled away, taking me with him. Roughly, firmly, he put me on my back, and pulled me to the edge of the bed, where my head hung off the side. “I’ll put a load in your throat before your pussy.” He lowered his hips, one hand clamped firmly on my neck. His cock slid back into my mouth in one clean thrust, going even further down my throat. I gagged a little, but closed my eyes and fought through it, breathing in through my nose.
Now I could taste it. He was already starting to cum in my mouth. Hot, salty, sticky spunk. He had been eating well—he tasted good, not the disgusting bitter stuff my other boyfriends had. I eagerly swallowed the steady trickle coming from him. Without thinking, I reached towards my pussy. My hand was swiftly pinned to the bed, and Alex’s other hand made its way to my pussy, slapping my clit. The sharp shock of it made me jump, and the pain resolved into a wave of electric pleasure. “Was that okay? I’m not sure sometimes,” he said.
I gargled something like “uh huh uh huh”, which got an approving grunt from him, and another slap made me moan. After my hips stopped bucking, he spread me apart and put two fingers on my clit, and pressed, rubbing them in a circle. I could feel the pressure building, that dull ache that demanded release, right between my legs. Everything throbbed and pulsed, and, quite suddenly, the pressure spilled over. My whole body tensed, as if waiting for something, and relaxed. My throat let out a deep, low moan, and then something between a pained gasp and cry of ecstasy. The convulsions in my pussy made my legs numb. I flopped around, grabbing handfuls of sheet while he kept working my clit in those rough circles.
He also made a little grunting noises, building in speed and intensity. I could feel the cum flowing harder, and then stop. With a final gasp, a glob of cum burst from his head, coating my throat. I could only gasp and moan while I slurped it down, guttural sounds coming out of both of us as we both spent ourselves. He kept shooting loads into my mouth as he extended my orgasm to the point of pain, at which point I didn’t care anymore.
He rubbed his gloved hand up and down my pussy one more time, and then pulled his softening cock form my mouth. I could only lay still on the bed, my makeup beginning to run from the gagging, a dribble of cum falling from the side of my mouth. Alex kneeled, and looked me in the eye.
“Well done, Betty. I know I promised a more detailed list, but since you did such a good job this time, I’ll definitely have you over again soon.” He peeled off his gloves, balled them up, and put them in my mouth. “Make sure you put those on and touch yourself,” he said. “Bring them back. I’m going to ask. And you’re going to tell me. Don’t lie. I’ll know."
Finally getting the strength back to move, I pulled the sweaty gloves out of my mouth. “What if I don’t?”
“I don’t think you want to find out,” he said, leaning in to kiss me, pushing his tongue through my lips, probing inside. I returned it, cupping my still-gloved hand around his neck.
Pulling away, I rolled onto my stomach. He licked his lips, and moved in for another kiss. I put up my hands, holding him at bay. “Are you sure about that?”
“You saw what happened when you followed directions. Do you want to see what happens if you don’t?”
I twisted around, opening my legs for him, spreading out so he could see my pussy, still juicy pink and aching for more. “Maybe I do,” I said, sucking on one of my fingers. “But I’ll make sure not to lie.” I smiled, a devious grin. “Wouldn’t want to get in too much trouble.” I started to masturbate, and before I laid flat on the bed, he left the room. I swore I could see him getting hard again.
***
“Knock knock,” Alex said later. I’d fallen asleep, butt-ass naked, still gloved. My hands were little sweat furnaces, but goddamn the nap felt good. “Are you decent?” he asked, standing outside the door.
“No,” I said, a little coy, a little sexy, lifting and spreading my legs.
“Oh, okay. I just wanted to check in on you.” He went quiet. I eased one eye open, saw that he wasn’t even looking in the room. I was upset, then I tingled with warmth, a sweetness on my tongue, and not his jizz.
“I have a new uniform for you hanging on the doorknob—I get them wholesale. Vicky got mad at me a few months ago, ladies complaining about having to wear company promo clothes after wrapping up with me.”
Not sitting up yet, I quirked an eyebrow. “This is a regular occurrence for you?”
He laughed, a little nervous. “Not as much as you might think, but if you want wholesale prices, you gotta buy wholesale numbers. I could open a satellite office here if I wanted.”