q life: A NAKED HOUSECLEANER
How I Became a Naked Housecleaner By Gabriel Tabasco
A few months ago I moved from Europe to Australia, for personal reasons and was looking for a job. Back home I had a high-pressured job and upon relocation I realised that I missed the rush of work. In between interviews and sending off CVs I wondered how I could make some pocket money. To stave off boredom I needed to find something quickly.
I scoured temp jobs. All part time jobs wanted experience. One advert asked for ‘three years experience as a Barista.' Wait… did they mean Barista or Barrister?
While cleaning my house an idea came to me: why not be a naked cleaner? I have always been comfortable naked and having mild Obsessive Compulsive Disorder I liked to clean. So why not? I put up an ad online.
Perhaps 75% of the respondents were time-wasters who wanted sexual services that I did not provide. Other men promised me various things such as swimming in their pool, going car racing in the outback, or going for drinks, but they never followed up.
When I arrived at one client's house he told me that he wanted sex, not clean his home. ‘My wife does that.' ‘I don't provide that service' I said, standing there naked. ‘Well what can you do?' he asked. ‘I can clean.'
‘Then please clean quickly… my wife will be back from the hairdressers' any moment now.'
I had a vision of an older lady, returning home with perfectly-coiffed hair finding her husband staring at my bare bottom as I rinsed off the suds from her fine china.
Overwhelming my clients were friendly. One client was a bisexual businessman, open to his wife about trying something new. We spent half an hour talking about business strategy before I mopped his floors in the nude. Another man showed me his collection of Indigenous art and another taught me how to play pool.
There were some embarrassing moments too. ‘Do they touch you?' asked one man. I went to answer but as I did so he rushed around the kitchen counter and cupped the tip of my erect penis. I looked down and saw that my pre-cum was about to drip into his dishwasher, so he rushed over to catch it. Though uncomfortable it was funny.
There were some disappointing moments. One man had a fetish for naked house cleaners (he had three!) and wanted to audition me. If he liked me he'd keep me on. As I cleaned his kitchen and we got on. We arranged to meet for coffee. He kept changing the date and then never replied to me texts. I was hurt more than anything else. I was new in town and thought I'd made a friend.
Most clients' houses were either spotlessly clean or derelict. For the men with clean houses, I felt bad cleaning them. They didn't needed cleaning and I told them so. For men whose houses were dirty… I felt the full force of my compulsion to clean. I told one man, whose house was so filthy it was a health-hazard, that I would do extra cleaning and not charge him. He declined.
As a house cleaner I didn't want new clients; I wanted repeat clients. I did not want to become a cleaning one-hit wonder. However, a nude cleaner is a niche service. Not everyone has the luxury of time to watch me bending over on all fours collecting pennies from under the sofa.
In one case one client had me vacuuming while he sat on the sofa texting barely looking at me. Why have a naked cleaner then? Perhaps I did not measure up… to his cleaning standards?
I took precautions. I had a penknife in my bag and text a friend where I would be going. Although I was in other men's homes providing a service, my clients treated me hospitably. I never felt in harm's way. There was one exception…
Never judge a book by its cover but you can tell a lot about a person from their home. When I arrived at one clients' house I had a sinking feel. The grass on the front lawn withering. The blinds were drawn. The whole house had a sad, forlorn look. It was odd to me because Australians are house-proud.
I rang the bell and was greeted by a young man. He had just moved into his home, hence its unkempt appearance. He had a strict look. I felt I was going to be told off if I missed a spot.
Having a naked cleaner is a scenario people are not used to.
A chat to eases people into it. But in this case as soon as I walked in the client said ‘well, go on then'. I undressed and set to work wearing my usual uniform: white socks, a baseball cap and a silver chain.
‘Just hoovering and ironing please' he said. That would have taken me an hour and he had booked me for two and a half. Clients can change their mind like that. But he was kind. He offered me almost double my hourly rate for one hour's work, saying that he knew what it was like to be looking for a job and wanted to be generous. I guess appearances can be deceitful… just as deceitful as an ambitious ex-career man ironing your sheets in the buff in your front room. If those net curtains could talk…