The first time I noticed him watching me, it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. It was just another cleaning job, another quiet house, another weekday morning. But he was there. And that was different. I walked in with my usual kit—cleaning supplies in one hand, water bottle in the other—and there he was, sitting at the dining table with his laptop open. He glanced up when I entered, polite and reserved as always, but there was something else in his eyes this time. A flicker, a hesitation. He cleared his throat and said, “Morning, Jenny. I’m working from home today, so just… do your thing. I’ll stay out of your way.” Simple enough. I nodded, set my stuff down, and got to work. I wasn’t dressed for attention—just black leggings and a fitted T-shirt, hair pulled into a loose bun. No bra. It wasn’t a big deal; comfort mattered more than anything else when you’re scrubbing floors and dusting shelves. But as I moved through the living room, crouching to pick up stray socks or wiping down surfaces, I started to feel it—his gaze. At first, I thought I was imagining it. He was bent over his laptop, typing away, but every so often, I’d catch him looking. Just for a second, just a quick glance when I bent over or stretched to reach something. It wasn’t overt, wasn’t creepy—just… there. Then I got down on my hands and knees to scrub under the coffee table, and the air shifted. I could feel it, a quiet tension settling over the room. I glanced over my shoulder, and there he was—still sitting on the couch, laptop long forgotten, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at me. Not just at me. At my ass. His eyes were locked on me like he couldn’t help himself, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. And then I noticed something else—the way he shifted in his seat, adjusting his legs, trying to hide it. But it was too late. I saw the bulge in his pants, the way his jeans strained against it. My cheeks burned, but I didn’t say anything. I just kept cleaning, pretending I hadn’t noticed. But the whole time, I could feel his eyes on me, hot and heavy, like he was memorizing every movement. When I finished and headed for the door, he stood up—unusual for him—and followed me. “Thanks again,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Seriously.” The way he looked at me then, holding eye contact a beat too long, made something inside me stir. I nodded, grabbed my things, and said I’d see him next week. But as I walked to my car, my heart was racing. I couldn’t stop thinking about that look, about the way he’d stared at me like I was something he couldn’t resist. It shouldn’t have mattered. It was just a moment, just a glance. But it lingered, like a spark waiting to catch fire. Two days later, he called me. “Jenny,” his voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a subtle urgency. “Can you come by tomorrow? I know it’s not your usual day, but I’ll pay extra. It’s… a bit of a rush.” I hesitated. He’d just had his house cleaned. But the offer was good, and I wasn’t about to turn down extra money. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll be there.” The next morning, I arrived to find him waiting at the door, a smile on his face that was almost… eager. “Morning,” he said, stepping aside to let me in. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.” I nodded, setting my things down, and got to work. But this time, something was different. He wasn’t at the dining table pretending to work. He was everywhere. Watching me, following me, always just a step behind. And every time I turned around, I caught him looking at me like I was the most interesting thing in the room. It was crazy. But what happened next was even crazier.

I noticed him watching me while I was cleaning his house, his gaze lingering on me in a way that made me feel self-conscious. He called me back two days later for another cleaning job, even though it wasn't my usual day. This time, he followed me around the house, always just a step behind, and looked at me like I was the most interesting thing in the room.

The first time I noticed him watching me, it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. It was just another cleaning job, another quiet house, another weekday morning. But _he_ was there. And that was different.  

I walked in with my usual kit—cleaning supplies in one hand, water bottle in the other—and there he was, sitting at the dining table with his laptop open. He glanced up when I entered, polite and reserved as always, but there was something else in his eyes this time. A flicker, a hesitation. He cleared his throat and said, “Morning, Jenny. I’m working from home today, so just… do your thing. I’ll stay out of your way.”  

Simple enough. I nodded, set my stuff down, and got to work.  

I wasn’t dressed for attention—just black leggings and a fitted T-shirt, hair pulled into a loose bun. No bra. It wasn’t a big deal; comfort mattered more than anything else when you’re scrubbing floors and dusting shelves. But as I moved through the living room, crouching to pick up stray socks or wiping down surfaces, I started to _feel_ it—his gaze.  

At first, I thought I was imagining it. He was bent over his laptop, typing away, but every so often, I’d catch him looking. Just for a second, just a quick glance when I bent over or stretched to reach something. It wasn’t overt, wasn’t creepy—just… there.  

Then I got down on my hands and knees to scrub under the coffee table, and the air shifted. I could feel it, a quiet tension settling over the room. I glanced over my shoulder, and there he was—still sitting on the couch, laptop long forgotten, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at me.  

Not just at me. At my _ass_.  

His eyes were locked on me like he couldn’t help himself, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. And then I noticed something else—the way he shifted in his seat, adjusting his legs, trying to hide it. But it was too late. I saw the bulge in his pants, the way his jeans strained against it.  

My cheeks burned, but I didn’t say anything. I just kept cleaning, pretending I hadn’t noticed. But the whole time, I could feel his eyes on me, hot and heavy, like he was memorizing every movement.  

When I finished and headed for the door, he stood up—unusual for him—and followed me. “Thanks again,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Seriously.”  

The way he looked at me then, holding eye contact a beat too long, made something inside me stir. I nodded, grabbed my things, and said I’d see him next week.  

But as I walked to my car, my heart was racing. I couldn’t stop thinking about that look, about the way he’d stared at me like I was something he couldn’t resist. It shouldn’t have mattered. It was just a moment, just a glance. But it lingered, like a spark waiting to catch fire.  

Two days later, he called me.  

“Jenny,” his voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a subtle urgency. “Can you come by tomorrow? I know it’s not your usual day, but I’ll pay extra. It’s… a bit of a rush.”  

I hesitated. He’d just had his house cleaned. But the offer was good, and I wasn’t about to turn down extra money. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll be there.”  

The next morning, I arrived to find him waiting at the door, a smile on his face that was almost… eager.  

“Morning,” he said, stepping aside to let me in. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”  

I nodded, setting my things down, and got to work. But this time, something was different. He wasn’t at the dining table pretending to work. He was _everywhere_. Watching me, following me, always just a step behind.  

And every time I turned around, I caught him looking at me like I was the most interesting thing in the room.  

It was crazy. But what happened next was even crazier.

Make it Nasty

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Jenny

A reserved, single man hires a part-time house cleaner who catches him stealing glances and finds him aroused by her presence. The cleaner, a woman who typically works unnoticed, must navigate the tension of his unexpected attention and the implications of their new dynamic.

I'm 26. Been doing house cleaning for a couple of years now — part-time, nothing fancy. I’m not some glam model or anything, but I know how I look. Kinda curvy, soft in the hips and thighs, with a chest that tends to attract attention whether I mean to or not. I don’t usually dress to get noticed when I’m working — it’s more about comfort. Leggings, T-shirts, hair up in a messy bun. That day was no different.

People say I’ve got a quiet confidence. I’m not loud, but I notice everything. Especially when someone’s trying not to stare. I don’t usually mess with clients — it’s just work to me. But sometimes… a moment catches you off guard. And you realize you’re not the only one feeling something shift in the air.

Female POV. I do part-time house cleaning, a combination of regulars, nothing unusual. One of them is this guy who is single and has a place in a residential neighborhood. Mid-30s maybe? Mannered, reserved, barely ever says a word. He's usually not around when I clean.

He told me that he was working at home and that I could just do my thing and he would leave me alone. No problem.

I simply put on my go-to, everyday clothes — black leggings and a fitted t-shirt. I wasn't trying to be cute or anything, just something that I could easily move around without issue. No bra.

He sets up at the dining room table with his laptop, and I got to work. I started in the living room. At first, he wasn't really paying attention or maybe I just wasn't noticing, but eventually, I caught him sneaking glances. Not like he was staring, exactly, just little little glances when I'd pass by or pick something up. Every time I crouched down, I could totally feel his eyes.

And there I was, on hands and knees washing under the coffee table. He moved on the couch behind me, still with his open laptop, pretending that he was working, but the time I looked back over my shoulder, I saw him.

He was sort of crouched forward, elbows on knees, just staring at my ass. Then I noticed something. he moved, switched legs, and yeah… he got a boner. You could clearly see it in his pants. He stiffened for a moment like he knew I noticed, but we didn't talk about it. I finished what I was doing, didn't make it weird. Just went through the rest of the house as usual.

So, I was walking out, and he even got to the door, which is totally not like him  and he tells me, "Thanks again… seriously."

He held eye contact a second longer than usual. His voice was a bit deeper. I just smiled, picked up my things, and said I'd see him next week.

But yeah, I couldn't stop thinking about that look and what he was hiding the whole way home.

He usually scheduled his house cleaning weekly, but just after 2 days he called me and asked if I can clean his house tomorrow, which I think was weird because I just cleaned his house 2 days ago. But he said he'll pay more this time because it's a bit rush and not my usual schedule. I accepted his offer then went on his house the next day.

When I got there, he greeted me goodmorning and is all cheered up like dog with a bone. What happened while I was cleaning his house is crazy.

He got hard while I was on my knees cleaning his floor

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He got hard while I was on my knees cleaning his floor

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