I'm a perfectionist and no, I'm not ashamed. I don't have OCD or any another disorder, thank God, I just like things to be the best they can. That's it.

My mother says I've been like this since I was a small, I don't doubt it because I don't remember ever doing anything half arsed in my life.

Which is why even after I spent over an hour cleaning this bedroom, I feel like it's still not good enough. The bedroom is not dirty or messy, in fact it is always pristine by the time I come in with my cleaning tools but something in me feels the need to scrub and vacuum everything in my sight.

Something in me being the fear of being fired because goodness knows I need this job more than this job needs me.

Anyone could work here, I'm not curing cancer, everyone can keep a place clean. This is just a big favour from one of my college friends who happens to be dating the owner and I know I cannot afford to screw it up.

She hired me through back doors to keep an eye on the man and report to her on everything suspect that I might come across. Not that I'll be doing any of that dumb shit, as I am thankful for the job I definitely will not be spying on her boyfriend for her. I have too much on my plate as it is without being dragged into whatever drama they're having.

I cannot thank my lucky stars enough as it is that I never see the elusive owner. Literally never.

I don't know even what the man looks like, he does not have a single photo of himself or anyone else for that matter in his whole flat. And I am usually long gone before he makes it home, assuming he makes it home seeing as how the place is always spotless when I get here.

I heard he's a business mogul or some shit, those extremely busy ones who spend quite an unhealthy amount of time working. I've also heard that he is just devastatingly glorious, this I heard from his girlfriend who once tried to show me pictures but I was too busy and too disinterested to pay attention.

And honestly, I don't give a shit about anything about the man so long as I find my pay in an envelope on the table every fortnight then we are good, and cash too because you know... taxes.

It doesn't pay much so I cannot afford it taxed. Lord knows the job at the club isn't paying enough to even cover my transport into town let alone take care of my family and pay my student loans off. I need every little bit of this money which is the only reason why I said yes in the first place.

Cleaning this flat is four persons' job, it's that big yet I manage to do it alone, it's never dirty or messy or anything. And even it were, I can handle it.

I usually start in the main bedroom with the en-suite bathroom and this thing is huge.

Everything is black and grey, save for the lush carpet. It's annoyingly white, I don't get why anyone would put something white on the floor where they're just going to step on it and get it dirty but that's just me. The king bed is always covered with black covers, the man has nothing but black covers and the nightstands made out of steel and black glass are bare, no alarm clock, no lamps, nothing.

There are two chairs and a small table by the window and basically nothing else. One of doors leads into a walk-in closet big enough to fit my whole house filled with but men's clothes and not the stuff you find at Makham or Truworths Man.

If there's one thing I know in this world is clothes, and those fabrics, stitching, those seams say everything before you even get to the tags.

Other than his clothes, there's nothing else in the room, nothing personal. It's like man doesn't even live here.

The items in the bathroom are as generic as they come and so is the food in his fridge. Yeah, okay I snooped, sue me.

I was curious, I kind of like it here -- the big open space. Why you wouldn't wanna be here every second of your life is beyond me. I live in a small, cluttered shack so...

And the view.

Thixo, the view is something to live for.

The one wall in the room is a ceiling-to-floor exposed glass, no curtains, no drapes, nothing and you can see the entire city and the outskirts from here.

I have no words for it; I can only imagine what it looks like at night. Must be glorious.

After I am done and satisfied with the room and decide that everything is to the best of my standards, I move to the hallways and then to the living room.

I'm always alone here and it's always too quiet for me, I don't like quiet. I was born and bred in chaos, this just drives me crazy. You think I'd appreciate it given where I live but nope, stillness unsettles me.

I bartend at a club on the not so savoury part of this city and there I soar, this is mindless work in comparison. I'm grateful and bored out of my mind.

There was a party last night there last night, some of the other girls' birthday party, things got a little crazy and today I'm cleaning in sky high heels.

Once again thank God I'm always alone because this cleaner's uniform Brie gave me makes me look like I belong on the poles back at the club.

To be fair, she did give me some ghastly, shapeless thing that I wore for a few days when I first started here and I ended up altering it one day when I had too much time on my hands at home and realized I'll always be alone in this place anyway.

It looks good now, matches the colours I've seen the other cleaners wear so I don't stand out but hugs the hell out of my figure and I get double looks. Didn't think it completely through, was just excited to... sew.. and create..

A throat clears behind me and I almost fall flat on my flat.

What the?

I quickly spin around praying I imagined it but...

I come face to face with a pale, tall woman with long, black hair.

"Who are you?" She has on white suitpant, a grey sheer tank and has these scary gray eyes that seem to just pop out of her face.

"Imani..." I recover rather quickly considering I still can't believe I'm looking at an actual person...

"What are you doing Imani?" She asks as she takes a step towards me.

I fumble a little but quickly straighten up, "Cleaning?" What does it look like I am doing?

"Is this how you normally clean?" She is looking me up and down.

"Pretty much."

I probably shouldn't say anything else.

She nods and looks at me up in a way that might make most people feel self-conscious and intimidated but not me.

She then steps backwards and peers into the kitchen through the arch and returns with a suited, what I can only describe as a masculine masterpiece.

A frown quickly graces his face before he lights up with excitement, "Who hired the hooker?"

Excuse me, the what-ker?

I have a very very short temper, my temper is shorter than Chris Brown's life in Stomp The Yard and I don't like being called names.

I huff sardonically and mumble w, "Yikes," under my breath.

"Come again?" He says.

"I don't know, I still get mildly... shocked when I meet a stereotype," I say with an apologetic smile.

"A stereotype?" Now he's a parrot.

"I am a cleaner," I am stern, not caring once that the guy in front of me might be my boss, "Ironically. But you assuming that I'm a prostitute because I'm black, in heels and wearing a uniform that actually fits me, well..."

"I know what you're implying and I would never--"

"But you kinda did. Prevention is always better than cure as they say."

I know I should shut the hell up before I say something wrong and lose my job, or at least try to be docile and obedient. But he called me a hooker, I'm well within my rights to stand up for myself.

And I know exactly what they're thinking now by the way their eyebrows are crunched. He has some dumb smirk on his face and she looks amused, but they have the exact same thought.

Another man walks in.

I've cleaned this place for weeks and have gone from zero contact with anyone to three people in two minutes.

This one I don't see as much as feel him. He's the whole atmosphere and fills every corner of this room.

He is taller than the first guy with amber eyes but they look exactly alike. The first one has blue eyes but this one's eyes chill me to the spot.

He doesn't have that playful spark that his brother has.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my suite?" He sounds annoyed more than anything.

I gulp nervously but still maintain eye contact, "I'm Imani."

"Well..." He asks with some impatience when he realises that I'm not gonna say anything more, "What the hell do you want in my suite?" He turns to his copy, "I swear to God, Zayn if you called a stripper or a hooker I'm going to kill you."

Zayn, the guy with the laughing blue eyes, just raises his hands in a surrender, with a little smile on his face. For some reason this new guy's, who I'm assuming is my boss, assumptions make me even angrier than Zayn's.

I should've paid attention when Brie tried to show me pictures, or at least Googled him or something. I knew the chicken had to come home to roost at some point but I thought I'd be much more prepared.

"My name... is Imani Enhle Olifant and no I'm neither an exotic dancer nor a sex worker, thank you for that by the way. And I'll let him here explain my inference of your assumptions. Otherwise I'm the cleaner."

He scoffs, "Nice try, I hire my own maids."

"I'm happy for you, but I'm a cleaner," I hate that word, maid. "And as for who hired me, take that up with Brie."

I don't know what's going on here but I'm throwing her under the bus, she should've told me her boyfriend was going to be in town.

"Brie?" The woman snickers and looks at him, "Really Dixon?"

I may have missed something...

Even Zayn laughs a bit and slaps Dixon? on the shoulder, "Brie? Jerry's daughter Brie? " Zayn mocks and I frown at him, Brie is my friend.

"Zayn, Stephanie, please leave us," He says with his eyes still on me, "I'll join you in a bit."

The two walk out but not before Stephani throws me a look that I happily return because I am not the type to stand down for anybody.

Dixon matches my stance and folds his arms under his chest as well, making his arm muscles strain against his shirt, "How do you know Brie?"

"We went to school together."

"School?"

"Varsity, same course," I explain, "Had all our classes together."

"You went to business school?"

I nod even though I feel a little insulted at his disbelieving tone, "Yes and to be honest sir, I had no idea that you didn't know about my employment," I say as politely as I can, hoping to save my job, I suspect that my little rant earlier lost me some major points, "I honestly thought that Brie had discussed it with you."

Lies.

"She didn't and she has no right to hire anyone for me," He says indifferently, "You may leave."

May?

My eyes widen very fast and very wide, "Excuse me?"

Am I fired?

"I said get out. You know what it means, you graduated first grade, your friend Brie has a tendency to overstep, " He snaps before walking away, "I trust you'll find your way out."

He is rude and I understand rudeness, I'm rude sometimes but I'm nice rude not asshole rude like him. What the hell did I do?

I didn't hire me, I don't know him or what the hell is eating him up but I don't deserve to be treated like this, even if I'm just a cleaner.

My inner child sticks her tongue out at his retreating back but he turns and catches me.

Shit.

I freeze.

Eyes widen in panic and his darken in anger I assume.

So I do the only thing I can, I run my tongue all over my lips, hoping he'll think that's all I was doing but clearly he isn't fooled.

His scowl makes me stop and just stare at him as he dismisses my presence and walks away again.

I'm much older than I was when I first wrote this story and too much has changed. Rereading it now, I see how much it needs to be fixed... but you guys like it exactly as it is so I'm torn now.