The French Maid

I clean rooms once the guests check out. Yesterday a pair of fuck-hungry newlyweds had the room and they weren’t quiet about it. When I walked in to tidy up, I kept picturing exactly what went down. The sheets were wrecked, the bed still warm, and I couldn’t stop imagining them going at it—fast, loud, and messy. My mind ran wild with every moan we’d heard through the walls, and before I knew it my own hand was down my panties. Brunette hair falling over the pillow, blonde head thrown back, fingers buried deep while I chased the same high I’d just spent the morning cleaning up after.