Gray city. This little gray city. In appearance it seems battered and aged. But it is worth plunging into his life, as you know, that he is still very young. The city where the buildings do not exceed the height of three floors. He, like a small source, which is trying to break through the thickness of the earth, is fighting for existence in a country that has forgotten it.

Due to the fact that very few people live in the city, the rumors spread quickly, and everyone values ​​their reputation. It is very difficult not to adhere to the majority opinion, and therefore there is no such inhabitant who would not conceal secrets in the depths of his soul that had never touched the ears of others.

I worked as a maid in one of the local motels. She worked more than her colleagues, lingered until late at night, and sometimes even stayed overnight. I was allocated a separate small room, where a tiny narrow couch was located, opposite which there is a wardrobe with drawers and a TV. There was not even a window here.

During the six months that I worked, I met different clients. They became more and more, but they were all passing through, traveling by train to cities where there are no airports. However, this evening was special.

On the second floor in the room under the mysterious number "thirteen" settled like the devil himself. He was a dark man of about thirty, short and of strong build. His black hair touched his shoulders, his face was covered with thick bristles, and his brown eyes were burning. He appeared in the motel at lightning speed, no one noticed how he entered. Everyone just heard the piercing confident voice of an imperative tone:

- I will live with you for a week. Maybe more. Set me up in the thirteenth room.

I went down the stairs when he was climbing. He poked a key at me and said:

- Only you will serve me.

Downstairs at the stairs was the owner of the motel.

“Serve him properly,” he said quietly and straightened my apron. - I'll pay you twice as much.

A new customer called me into the room. His belongings were scattered on the bed and on the floor.

- What's your name? - He asked.

“Leticia,” I replied modestly.

- Letitia? Beautiful name, Letitia. My name is Petros.

- Nice to meet you.

- Leticia, I was going in a hurry and could not find a razor in my suitcases. I had to scatter things to find it. Hang them in the closet.

There were a lot of things for a person who stayed in a motel for a week. While I was hanging them in the closet, Petros was taking a shower.

In the room they rolled dinner. Petros came out of the shower naked and sat in the chair.

“Letitia, I see you did a good job.” Set a table for me and sit opposite.

I obediently fulfilled his wishes. It was unusual for me to see a naked man, completely free from embarrassment, in front of me, when she herself was embarrassed so that her eyes ran around the surrounding objects, avoiding him. Petros noticed this.

- Look in my eyes. Are you blushing? Are you confused by my appearance?

- A little ... Shackles ...

Suddenly he hit me on the cheek:

- You should not be embarrassed by anything, as for my convenience!

My cheeks were hot, I almost burst into tears, but pulled myself together.

- If you shed at least one tear, I will complain that you do not want to serve me. And you get fired.

Petros ate, but I sat in fear and did not move from the tension.

- Take the cakes. I ordered them for you. Little women should love cake.

I reached out to take the cake, but Petros hit me on the arm.

- One condition! During the meal, you should look here - and pointed to his penis.

“As you say,” I said meekly.

The cakes were extremely tasty. I did not take my eyes off that place, and felt like Petros was looking at me. His cock stiffened.

“The kind of dependent, submissive woman turns me on,” he said, and straightened my battered apron.

I was afraid that Petros would insist on intimacy, but the excitement was in vain.He let me go, giving a tip, and said that he would call at any time, as I needed.

I walked through the other rooms, where my presence was needed, and returned to my little room. A client who looked like a devil didn’t leave my thoughts. I was afraid of him, and at the same time, he possessed some extraordinarily attractive force. He was like a magnet attracted to himself all that he wanted.

“He probably also attracts money with the same ease as all the rest. And these curls on the head? Two raised strands of hair on both sides resemble horns. No. I wind myself up in vain. Petros is the same as all men. The burning Spaniard who settled in the thirteenth room, ”I reassured myself.

Barely gathering the remnants of power over the past day, I went to the shower. In connection with the latest events inside it was restless and even scary. I washed my head and sang a children's Spanish song that my mother taught me to sing when I was a little girl. A large black shadow appeared behind the pockmarked glass of the shower stall. I paused, rubbed my eyes and looked again - there was nothing.

“It was a dream,” I assured myself.

And yet hurried back to the room. I felt like a little child who first stayed at home on his own. She lay under a blanket with her head, did not move and could not sleep for a long time.

In the morning I went to the room to one of the tenants of the motel. He knocked over his breakfast, and I had to clean up. This tenant was very harmful and grumbling. He stayed several times a month at our motel, but during these short periods of time he exhausted everyone with his presence. But he was a profitable client, and we had to tiptoe before him.

- What - is it difficult to tear off my dried breakfast?

I did not answer.

- It was necessary to get up earlier to get out here while the dirt is fresh.

“Why didn't you wake me up?”

- Do not wake up? I do not have the habit of waking women. A woman should sleep a lot to look good.

- Is anyone wondering what the maid looks like? I'm a servant.

“You think it's nice to stay in a motel where maids look bad?” Yes, the servant! But I want to see a pretty servant.

I coped with the task of laundering the floor and took off my gloves. The tenant passed by and dropped the keys.

“Lift it,” he said.

I stooped to pick up the keys, when he suddenly grabbed my hips, and the front door opened in front, and a man entered the room, very similar in appearance to the owner of the motel.

“What kind of mystic is going on here?” I thought.

The man in front unbuttoned the width and grabbed my neck.

- What are you doing??! - I shouted.

- Shut up!

- We are forbidden to enter sex with customers! I'll be fired!

The man in front inserted a member into my mouth, and the one from behind pulled my panties down and entered me. They held me tight and moved. I pulled my hands, and they twisted behind my back. At first she moaned, but she understood that there was no point, no one would pull me out of here, and I fell silent.

I always wanted to experience violence, I fantasized about it many times. But so? Unusual feeling. It's nice, but at the same time it is a pleasure that you don’t want to receive. It is not mutual. I felt that the hands of the rapists had loosened slightly, relaxed my legs, dropped to my knees and crawled to the door.

- We will pay you! - shouted the one who was behind.

I stopped. He called the amount for which the mother could buy medicine. I knew that nothing would save her, that she herself was not happy to live, exhausted by the disease, but I so wanted to extend the days that I could cling to her chest ... And crawled back. Men took me ...