Erotica tale part 2, by Pervyworm. No content has been altered from original submission.

My hand trembled as I waited to knock on Mrs. Fuentes door, coffee in hand. I knew her youngest daughter was at volleyball practice.That left the eldest, Liz and Mrs. Fuentes behind the door, waiting for me to bring my doom.

Liz Fuentes was two years older than me, but wanted to act like she was 30. The second she turned 18, she began to dress really feminist and boasted how anti Trump she was. Women were the superior race and men have had there time in the sun. She always cheered whenever another male celebrity fell to a scandal in the media. I would hear her listen to podcasts as she cleaned the house in the summer time. They were about how women really rule the world, with the most valuable thing on Earth, between their legs. Pyramids have been built, wars waged, and armies formed for one purpose: to impress a woman and get her in bed. If a woman controlled a man’s urge, she controlled a man. I didn’t know what urge meant at the time, so I didn’t think twice.

I heard footsteps approach the door. I collected my thoughts and focused on making this as quick as possible, so as to minimize my chance to cross paths with Mrs. Fuentes, the woman who slapped my hand like a 5 year old and ordered me to bring her coffee for no reason other than she felt like it.

The door swung open and Liz looked down at me. She dressed tomboyish today with a Led Zeppellin shirt she purposely cut low, revealing her amazingly nice cleavage and fishnets under torn jeans. The look of contempt clearly couldn’t be hidden, and with a scoff she took my bag of coffee. “So you don’t have coffee, huh? Wait here, peeny-weeny.” Before I could think, she slammed the door in my face. I stood completely dumbfounded, my hands empty and my esteem rock bottom. I thought about knocking and demanding an apology, but what if Mrs. Fuentes answered? I decided to stay put, thinking about what I’d say. I didn’t have much time until the door opened and then, there she stood.

She wore a bathrobe. Or to be clearer, she had the bathrobe on. It was wide open, and there Mrs. Roxanne Fuentes stood in a white spaghetti strap, no bra and light blue, high waisted boyshorts. She was naturally curvy with supple C cups and a slight pudge of a tummy, due to having two kids and no husband. She had knee high volleyball socks on, probably a pair her daughter left behind after a practice that didn’t make the wash, for a whole season. And fluffy purple slippers I remember my family gave her one Christmas, when I was just a boy. She said she loved them, I can still see her slight smile. She said she’d wear them forever and so far she stayed true to that promise. Her hair was in rollers and she had just put on her make-up. I expected her to be angry with me, but quite the contrary she was almost desperately happy to see me.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I need your help! Quick!” Mrs. Fuentes, half-naked, grabbed my hand and pulled me into the house. It stank of cigarettes, solving the mystery I had with myself of whether she smoked in her house or just at work. Liz was on the computer talking to some guy in a mask. He was shirtless, but must have been an online gamer or something because I kept hearing a binging sound from the computer. Liz must have been kicking his ass and enjoying it because she seemed glued to that computer calling him names like loser. I only saw her for a second before Mrs. Fuentes dragged me into her bathroom. She pointed down to the corner, but didn’t enter the bathroom itself, instead choosing to stand and delegate from standing on the bed.

“Kill it! I have a date to go on tonight!” I looked down and saw a daddy long legs. I was the top of my class and excelled in biology especially. I knew daddy long legs didn’t kill. “Hurry up! What are you waiting for, pussy?!” Mrs. Fuentes hopped off the bed and took a few steps closer to me. “Did I fucking stutter?! Take this.” She handed me a napkin and shoved me. “Get on your fucking knees!” She shoved me again. She stood over me to check my progress. “I still see the bug.” She kicked me in the ass with her slipper. The slippers she loved so much. I impulsively smashed the bug, just to please her. Just to make her happy. She laughed gleefully as I threw it away.

“While I have you can you do me a favor and clean the rest of this bathroom for me?” I blinked at her. “Oh, come on. You thought smashing a little bug would get you off the hook for not only forgetting my coffee but avoiding me on top of that? Now that you brought the coffee, you can stay here and make yourself useful.” I asked her why Liz couldn’t do it. “You could try asking her, but you’ve seen how she is with men giving orders. Just be a good boy and clean up.” Mrs. Fuentes simply walked out to continue getting ready as I stood there, once again humiliated by my neighbor, this time in her own house. I cleaned her floors, wiped the faucets and sink. I even cleaned the mirror.

When I finished, Liz was in the TV room, which was shared with the front door. I tried to sneak past her, but I managed to get into her range of sight. “Stop.” She said, very bluntly. “Stay.” She went down the hall towards the bathroom. I sat for a good minute in the TV room, watching the news.

She came back and before I could say anything, she grabbed me by my earlobe and yanked so hard I though my ear would tear off. Down the hall she dragged me by my ear. She threw my head towards the toilet. She began to berate me like I broke her window or something. “What the fuck is this?! Is this how you leave a bathroom at your house, pig? My mother brought you in here to do a simple favor and you try to short change us by leaving our bathroom like this?” Did she not see the sink? The mirror? I was utterly shocked and really angry. I turned to look at Liz, but before I could get a word out, she slapped me square across the face. “Are you just gonna stand there, looking stupid? You have a task. Complete it.” She hands me a rag and stands, waiting. I got onto my knees, almost instinctively. She laughed at that. “You fucking men are all the same. A computer program just waiting to be prompted. You know this is the most useful you’ve been to us? On your knees, cleaning our house. Should I tell my mom that she has a new houseboy?” She laughed again. My ears were burning, and not because she pulled it again as she escorted me out of the house. She didn’t even say thank you for cleaning the bathroom. Twice.

I vowed that day that I would never let them embarrass me like that again. I was a sophomore and the top of my class, I could articulate my feelings to a family friend about how they were treating me. And failing that my parents would surely intervene…..Right?

To Be Continued….

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