Maids With Benefits

Awareness came to me slowly. I’d never been a morning person, even if my job often demanded it. That wasn’t why I woke up today, though. No, it was the weight I felt at my legs on the mattress.

Slowly, it advanced. I was still sleepy, so it wasn’t until the presence gingerly wrapped her lithe fingers around the root of my dick that I reacted. I let out a grunt of surprise, my morning wood twitching at her touch. A giggle came from beneath the covers.

The cool hand around Edward Jr. barely covered a third of him, but that was soon rectified when a rogue tongue gave him a good lick from base to tip, then came back down, engulfing him in the wet, yielding warmth of her mouth.

I groaned as she lazily pumped her head up and down, up and down. Slowly, the motion accelerated. I gripped the sheets for want of anything else to hold but still refused to open my heavy eyelids.

Just as I was about to blow, she stopped, completely hilted on my dick. I tried to thrust my hips to continue the motion, but to no effect. She just followed my movement, stopping any and all friction. She let out a muffled giggle when I gave up with a whine.

After I gave up and unwillingly came down from the edge of ejaculation, she gently removed her mouth inch by agonizing inch, clearing the head with apop. She softly pumped my slick shaft with her hand, keeping me hard without getting me off.

Her weight shifted around, grazing my legs with hers as she repositioned, pumping me all the while. While she prepared herself, an annoying beeping noise started going off. I slapped around the bed, trying to stop it, but to no avail.

I decided to ignore it as soon as I felt her pussy lips graze the tip of my cock. She was dripping wet, the warmth of the liquid making my dick jump with excitement, nearly escaping her grip.

She giggled again. Then she spoke. “You miss this, don’t you, Ed?”

My eyes snapped open. “Jessica!?” I shouted, unable to see anything in the darkness. Then I had a terrible feeling of falling, and I woke up.

I was soaked with sweat and had a piercing headache. My phone alarm was blaring like crazy, and my dick waspainfullyhard. What a great fucking way to start the weekend.

I kicked the stupid washing machine one more time. It did not, in fact, suddenly start working. With a groan, I slammed my fist onto it for good measure and retreated to the living room with an aching hand.

After finally dragging myself out of bed, I had a quick breakfast of whatever the refrigerator had to offer before trying to do my laundry. Today just kept going from bad to worse.

At least this place my boss got me had three air conditioners, so I wasn’t melting. I thought he was fucking with me when he brought that up as the main selling point, but fuck me, that man is a saint to have kept that in mind. Even after a month in the Philippines, I still struggled to deal with two things: the awful traffic and the terrible, stuffy, wet heat.

Going outside was like a foray into hell itself. At least the people were nice—when it wasn’t about traffic, anyway. I sat down on my couch and crouched over my laptop, swiping some takeout boxes out of the way. My neck screamed at me for tilting it at the wrong angle after a poor night’s sleep. Just another sign of age catching up with me at the ripe old age of forty-four.

The closest laundromat was four blocks away, it looked like. It was not worth the car trip. Not with how bad parking was around here. I closed my eyes, pinched the bridge of my nose, and let out a defeated sigh.

It was Saturday, and I had enough clothes for a couple more days. If I stayed in both today and tomorrow, I could keep going until Tuesday. If I could get someone to fix the damn thing before then...

Maybe Mrs. Gallardo could help. The retired businesswoman was something of a busybody, but that made her a pretty attentive landlady. She’d been very helpful during my first couple weeks getting used to the place, even if her English left something to be desired.

She picked up on the second ring, as she always did.

“Mrs. Gallardo, it’s me—”

“Edward! Please, I keep telling! Call me Rosita!”

“Ah, uh. Sorry, Rosita.”

“Is fine. What you need, handsome?”

I rolled my eyes. The old businesswoman was a flirt, but I’d gathered it was just good-natured ribbing. She was happily married and had been for forty years.

“My washing machine’s broken, and I sort of need it working by Tuesday. Do you know someone?”

“Yes! No problem!” she said. “But why Tuesday? Maybe need replace, yeah? If that, Tuesday hard.”

I groaned. “Yeah, I know. It’s just ... I only have clothes until Tuesday. I guess I can just buy more—”

“You no got clean clothes?!” Her voice was shrill with outrage. “What’skasambahaydoing?! Too lazy to take out clean?! So hard to get good help...”

“Uh...” I said sheepishly. Despite the Tagalog, I thought I got the gist of what she meant. “Yeah, it’s ... it’s just a bit too far, you know? I don’t want to take the car and—”

“She tell you take?!” She became even angrier somehow. “She take advantage! You fire that slut, I can get you better!” Her sentence then devolved into what sounded like a stream of Tagalog insults.

“Mrs. Gallardo, sorry, but I don’t—”

“Rosita!”

“Rosita, yes,” I said, suppressing a sigh. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about? Who am I supposed to fire? Do you offer some kind of laundry service in the building?”

She went quiet for a moment—then came a long, dawning ‘Oooooh.’

“Boy, you no do what I tell!” she chided.

“Uh, sorry?”

“You no hirekasambahayeven though Mama Rosita tell you is good, now you in trouble!”

“I, uh...” I didn’t remember that, but to be fair, this whole month had been something of a whirlwind, between getting the apartment in order and getting up to date with everything at the Manila HQ. Honestly, I didn’t even know whatkamehamahayeven was.

“Is no worry, I solveallproblem!” she said. “You home? I going there to help.”

Oh God. “Rosita, thank you so much, but you can just give me the number—”

“Edward, shush! I help, solve problem you know and problem you don’t know. Trust!”

I took a deep breath. I just wanted a relaxed Saturday, but that clearly wasn’t in the cards. “Alright. I guess I’ll be waiting?”

“Yes! See you soon!”

True to her words, Rosita showed up in short order. What I hadn’t expected were the two younger women with her.

The sixty-year-old Mrs. Gallardo looked great as always, and not even just for her age. With glossy black hair and elegantly aged skin, I wouldn’t clock her for older than her late forties at my most uncharitable.

Taller than Mrs. Gallardo, the girl to her right was dressed in baggy, stained overalls and sensible work boots. Her hair was shoulder-length, straight and dark as anyone else’s here, but her facial features were sharper than I’d grown accustomed to, with a long aquiline nose and larger, albeit still dark, eyes. A white sleeveless shirt did little to contain the sports bra straining beneath it. Behind her she dragged a large, wheeled toolbox.

The one to Mrs. Gallardo’s left was far more chic, and about the same height as the old madam. She was leaner than the girl to the right, but shared her straight black hair, if longer and two-thirds of the way down her back, and tan skin, and though I couldn’t see her eyes behind her large sunglasses, I’d bet they were just as dark. he wore a pink spaghetti-strap crop top with a glittery stamp that read “Bitch Rainbow”, denim cutoffs, and platform heels. She was also completely ignoring me while messing with her smartphone.

“Hello...?” The greeting came out more uncertain than I intended.

“Edward!” Mrs. Gallardo shouted. “I come solve all problems! Let us in, let us in!”

Bulldozing right through me, Mrs. Gallardo proved once again that every rule had an exception to prove it. Every other Filipino I’d met so far had been extremely polite, respectful, and conflict averse. Not Mrs. Gallardo. She was loud, proud, and got shit done. Honestly, I was glad for that most of the time. Operative word:most.

Phone girl followed the older woman, but tool girl waited for me to invite her in. I offered to carry her tools, but she politely declined with a very natural English accent. I had a feeling she wasmestiza, a half-Filipina.

“Ayy, boy, you should listen to Mama Rosita when she tell you what’s good!” Mrs. Gallardo said, scanning the admittedly untidy living room.

I usually took the trash out on Sundays, so the room was cluttered with takeout and other assorted trash. My landlady clearly didn’t approve.

“You need help, Edward!” she continued. “A man can no live like this!”

“It’s not that bad Mrs.—Rosita.” Good save. “I just didn’t have time to clean up this week yet. Work’s kept me busy and all.”

“Is why you should listen! You Americans always too proud! Always try do everything himself!” Mrs. Gallardo clicked her tongue.

“This is Luz,” she said, motioning to phone girl, who’d been following her around like an apathetic puppy. The girl didn’t even look up at me. “Is my girl. Very pretty.”

Luz groaned at the description.

“That’s Paz,” Mrs. Gallardo continued, pointing at the tool girl. “Is girl of friend. Very smart.”

“Pleasure, Mr. Sheffield,” Paz said with a nod.

“All mine,” I replied, still somewhat confused.

“Paz, you can do thing now,” Rosita said, vaguely motioning at the toolbox.

“Could you point me to your washing machine, Mr. Sheffield?” Paz asked. “Rosita said it was broken.”

“Oh!” That made sense. I felt silly for not putting two and two together immediately. “It’s at the end of that corridor, last door to the left.”

She nodded again and went on her way, wheeling the toolbox behind her. I followed her for a bit to make sure she didn’t go anywhere she shouldn’t. I did trust Mrs. Gallardo, but I’d been warned too many times about petty theft to fully relax with strangers in the house.

It was easy to watch Paz go, though, with her swinging hips and an ample ass. By the time I managed to take my eyes off her, Mrs. Gallardo had already started touring the apartment without my permission.

I didn’t have anything to hide, but it was kind of annoying. At least Paz seemed like a good kid. She looked like she knew what she was doing, so I figured if there was a way to fix that junk heap of a washer, she’d be able to figure it out. It wasn’t like she could break it even more, anyway.

“Edward, this is no good!” Mrs. Gallardo said, her voice echoing through the penthouse from my room.

I sighed and followed her into the sparse master bedroom. All there was in there was a simple bed frame and mattress. This penthouse was honestly way too big for me. It was a whole-floor unit with three guest bedrooms and one master bed with an office space attached. The kitchen and pantry were also huge, and there was a whole entertainment room with a bar and projection equipment for movies. The outdoor jacuzzi seemed a bit excessive, especially with its optional cover in case of, as I was told, typhoons.

“You got nothing in here, boy,” she complained. “This man room for sure. At least make your bed!”

Only a little furniture had come with the house, and I hadn’t had time to do any decorating myself. The job was keeping me way too busy. In fact, today was the first day I was going to have any time at all to simply lie down and relax. I mourned for my lost Saturday. Damn washing machine.

“I usually make it just before I go to sleep,” I said feeling like my mother had reincarnated just to tut at me disapprovingly. “It’s fine, really.”

“Is fine, he say,” Mrs. Gallardo said with a huff, starting to make the bed herself. “Is fine because you not know better.”

I was about to intervene but thought better of it. She was helping with the washer. I could live with a little badgering.

“You needkasambahay, Edward,” Mrs. Gallardo concluded. “You will be glad you listen to Mama Rosita when you get one, trust.”

“Akasam—what?”

“Kasambahay,” she repeated slowly. “A maid!”

“Oh.” That sounded expensive and it’d be a hassle to make sure nothing got stolen. I might not be able to work from home with sensitive documents on top of that. “I’m not sure—”

“I know what you think,” Mrs. Gallardo said. “You think annoy you, you think expensive, you think steal, and worst, you think not need.”

I mean, I wouldn’t have put it that way, but...

“I know, is hard for foreigners. For Americans most, but! Is normal here. Is cheap. Can be steal, but I know good girl for you. Will help a lot, I promise you won’t know how to live without!”

“Mrs.—Rosita, I know you’re trying to help, but—”

“One week!” she declared. “You try one week, and if you no like, I give up. Yes?”

Mrs. Gallardo looked utterly set on the idea. Honestly, if she knew someone trustworthy, it might be a good idea. I could use someone to take all this housekeeping shit off my plate. Even at something like 200 bucks a visit, it’s not like I couldn’t afford it. Especially not after the promotion that brought me here.

“Sure, I guess a test is fine.”

“Excellent!” Mrs. Gallardo said, nearly jumping with giddiness. “Luz can start today!”

“Mama?!” the girl in question squeaked, looking up from her phone for the first time.