Story: The Cleaner Returns. Chapters 7-8.

by BigBird74

7.

What was she doing here? The cool, dank room reeked of the lavender scent used to ward off moths. Dahlia only knew of this place as Petra’s expenses had included an invoice for a new uniform from this shop. The shopkeeper looked equally baffled. Dahlia felt antsy as he stared at her, plainly unsure of whether he knew her or not. 

“What did you say you wanted again?” He asked.

“A cleaner’s overalls and the dress that fits underneath,” she replied. “It is for my cleaner….” Dahlia stopped herself, reminding herself she had no reason to justify or explain anything.

“I see,” he nodded as he wandered off to find the attractive woman what she wanted. “And she is your size, you say?” He asked, slightly incredulous.

“Yes, that’s right,” Dahlia replied curtly and a little agitated.

After what seemed half an hour, though in reality little more than a couple of minutes, the shopkeeper returned with a cheap polyester cleaning smock. Long, grey and very drab looking would be how one would charitably describe it. The rough material had fine lines running from top to toe in a failed effort to impart some ‘fun’ into the dress.

Dahlia inspected the uniform. It felt so cheap, so rough. Her thumb and forefinger brushed against the coarse material. She wondered when she last would have worn anything so cheap. Her body lit up as she imagined trying it on, a secret little rush of pleasure rippling through her. The shopkeeper tilted his head to one side, a look of curiosity as the obviously rich woman in front of him pawed at his merchandise.

It had taken some persuasion for Dahlia to come here. She was famous, at least in certain circles, and she usually took great care to shield herself from public view. But as Dr Marc held her hand softly and spoke to her in his soft, calming tone, she felt so at ease and safe. That delightful warmth had returned and she felt so calm and relaxed, not to mention aroused. Normally his idea would have provoked nothing but incredulity. But here she was in the workwear shop buying herself a cleaning smock.

After the fashion show, her nerves had been shredded. The tablet had done just as promised and she was able to tamp down her anxiety, putting herself on an even keel for the rest of the evening. But now she feared an indelible link had been formed, at least in her mind, linking her success to the pills. After expressing her fears, Dr Mark had talked of taking more radical steps, ones he would never normally suggest, but given how “good a patient she was”, he felt she could be ready to try.

Any amount of praise from the handsome doctor was enough to send her into a spin. As she laid back and felt the pleasant warmth creep up her body, he fleshed out his proposal.

“Dahlia, you feel somehow that you do not deserve your success. That somehow it is all just a product of your looks and not your hard work and perseverance. The only way we can tackle our fears is to stand directly in front of them and confront them. You need to do the same.”

His eyes sparkled and she listened closely, almost like his voice were inside her head. “You mentioned that you need a cleaner and that it was causing you a great deal of difficulty between you and Melissa. I know she is heading out of town this weekend. Why not you resolve this issue? You clean the house?”

Dahlia’s reaction was a mixture of reluctance and curiosity. She screwed up her face in a mild show of discomfort. Perhaps left to her own devices, the idea would have evaporated in thin air, but too much preparation had gone into this for that to happen. The doctor had paved the way for the next stage of the conversation. “We both know you will … maybe…. like it?” The observation dripping out slowly and gently, so as not to sound contrived or calculated.

Dahlia turned red. Even now, heavily relaxed and in what might be characterised as a trance, her conscious mind found admitting her excitement too embarrassing. From their very first conversations, he had seen that burning desire within her to almost become invisible. To watch and observe without being noticed herself. A need almost to camouflage herself against the background. 

After so many years in the spotlight, she ached for privacy and quiet. The fact that he had been feeding such thoughts over their weeks together only reinforced that feeling. Fame is great at first, but it can be so draining over time and Dahlia had started to link her desire to fade away with a need for anonymity.

“What could be more anonymous than a cleaner, Dahlia?” He questioned her, before going on to lay out his idea. She would come here next week, after her private weekend of cleaning at home, and they would explore her feelings in greater detail. He wanted to try a little thing on her called ‘hypnotherapy,’ speaking of it as though for the first time in his life. Her interest piqued, he continued to explain that is was a way of experiencing something in the safety of his office. “It only works if the subject is comfortable, relaxed and wants to experience it,” he went on, cajoling her yet further.

With that and in her suggestive state, she simply accepted what he said and dropped in on the workwear store on her way home.

“That will be 25 pounds, please,” the shop assistant asked. Dahlia was amazed at how cheap the new dress was. Paying in cash, she grasped at the bag and hurried out of the shop.

8.

The house was quiet when Dahlia returned. Around this time, Melissa usually contented herself with sunbathing out back by the pool. In spite of the unsightly bulges of fat collecting around her midriff, thighs and chest, Melissa was not one to try and do anything about it. Rather than spending an hour in the gym, she would often try some shortcut to improving her figure. She had tried diet pills. They did not work and left her dizzy. Starving herself for a day at a time had similar effects. It just seemed, try as she might, nothing worked. To the casual observer, the difference between the two sisters was Dahlia’s drive to improve herself, while Melissa was pretty much bone idle.

Dahlia put down her shopping and decided to hunt down her sister. Sneaking around the house, she spied on every place that Melissa liked to hang out, but could not see her. Shrugging her shoulders, she walked back to the kitchen and fixed herself a drink, thinking perhaps Melissa had already left.

What Dahlia did not know was that the timing of Melissa’s trip out of town was no mere happy coincidence. Dr Mark had persuaded Melissa to attend a workshop at a retreat he ran in the mountains. He knew the change of scenery would be good for her; it also gave Dahlia the time alone he knew would be needed for her ‘experience’.

As she sipped her drink, Dahlia eyed the shopping bag and felt that now familiar tremor between her thighs. She thought this moment akin to opening Pandora ’s Box, something that prove hard to close again. It was as she idled for a moment, letting her mind wander that Melissa also returned to the house. She was laden down with shopping of her own, only the labels on the bags were from a few selected boutiques in town.

Rolling her eyes a little, Dahlia moved defensively to screen her dowdy plastic bag, slipping it safely into a cupboard. Her sister seemed to revel in wasting money, Dahlia frowned.

“Been shopping?” She asked with an air of condescension. “I never asked, but where are you going this weekend?”

Normally Melissa would have immediately risen to Dahlia’s bait, but she felt happy to be escaping, at least for the weekend. She lifted her gaze to her sister, dressed immaculately as always. “Just a retreat that Dr Mark suggested I attend.”

A simple enough answer but the effect was to send off waves off jealousy within Dahlia. “He will be there?” She enquired, trying to shield her concern.

“No. It seems more a relaxing getaway than anything else. He thought time away would be good for me.”

Dahlia’s mind turned over rapidly. For the first time she could see the potential hazards in sharing a therapist with her sister. But then, it crossed her mind, maybe there were also benefits. Had the doctor arranged this for Dahlia to have this time alone? She pursued the question further. “How much is this going to cost?”

Melissa had been expecting this line of questioning. As though armed and ready, she swung her heavy body around and gave her answer. “It is complimentary. No cost, so it does not involve you!”

Melissa’s tone was angry again. She hated being questioned on money matters, leading as they normally did to some sort of humiliating conclusion. But this time, she felt in the clear and able to thumb her nose at her sister. Dahlia meanwhile was happy at the answer. It confirmed her hopes that the doctor was acting in her best interests. Like a lovesick teen, her need for affection was clouding her judgement and she was unable to see the woods for the trees. But she was too eager to reach out and grasp the one explanation that fitted her rosy view.

Neither sister seemed to question for a moment whether it was appropriate to let the doctor into their relationship like this, but their differences were substantial enough to blind them to such questions.

Sibling relations can be like that. Closeness followed by great chasms that can last days, weeks or months. When things get truly dysfunctional the months turn to years. Melissa and Dahlia’s relationship was close but bitter. Now their brother had passed away, very little was left to hold them together. He had always take on the role of peacemaker, bringing the bickering sisters together on numerous occasions.

The rest of the day passed by slowly. Dahlia waiting for her sister to go and Melissa waiting for the right time to leave, eager to be out of her sister’s house, if only for a weekend. At around 5pm Melissa’s taxi came and, finally, Dahlia was left alone.

Excitedly, she went to collect her bag, realising she had left it in the kitchen. For a panicked moment, she wondered if Melissa might have seen it! Heart racing, she hurried to the cupboard and the bag dropped out onto the floor. Had Melissa seen it? There was no way of telling. Dahlia’s heart stopped for a dreaded moment, checking the bag’s contents and seeing that it looked undisturbed.

She paused for a while and calmed herself. A moment’s rest and Dahlia felt herself again. Even if Melissa had seen it, Dahlia thought to herself, she could explain it was for a new maid. Maybe the maid just turned the job down? Whatever, there was no reason to panic, she could easily pull the wool over her sister’s eyes if she needed to. And it was highly unlikely she had seen in after all. I mean when was the last time Melissa would have looked in there?

Dahlia shrugged her shoulders and took the bag upstairs. She had work to do!

Subscribe to Lady2Maid Blog Newsletter