Tibur had been putting off the inevitable. Between his studies and work, he was genuinely stretched thin as he began to prepare for his exams. And yet Michael's apartment was waiting for him to come and clean it. 'Tonight' was the singular command that Michael had issued when he'd finally reached the limit of filth he was willing to withstand. Having taken a sabbatical from work, Michael had nothing but time on his hands. When he wasn't out meeting women, he was staying home and making even more of a mess of things.

Armed with the cleaning supplies he'd rustled up from his student apartment, Tibur headed across the road to the side entrance of the Phoenicia. The guard was quick to stop him and asked him in Modeshi to explain the situation; the man upstairs had told him that a guest was due to arrive, and upon recognizing him as the youth he'd brought home, he was eager to determine their relationship. 

"I'm here to clean" said Tibur, "Nothing more than that." 

The guard shrugged, curious as to why the endless stream of female visitors had come to end, but willing enough to accept Tibur's innocent explanation.

Michael had been watching a soccer match when he caught sight of the time. He was suddenly feeling excited at the prospect of Tibur's arrival, and unconciously started tidying up. The dishes were loaded in the dishwasher, and the piles of clothes strewn across his sofa were swept up into the laundry basket. As he went to wipe down the counter he stopped himself. 

He's coming to clean. The more I do, the less time he'll have to spend here... 

Before the doorbell was rung, the mess was returned to its starting place; underwear thrown beneath the coffee table, and cocktail glasses placed intimately on the sideboard. The bachelor pad was as it should be, a hedonistic dump where the traces of his promiscuity lay littered on every surface.

Despite the labored hum of the air conditioner, the broken door had yet to be fixed, and the stifling heat was difficult to keep out. Having laid around with his shirt off, Michael reached for an almost clean singlet, slipped it on, and immediately took it off again. They were both men, it's not like he needed to preserve his modesty. 

An image of Tibur cleaning popped into his mind; short shorts and an oversized tank top that gaped open as he worked... his large expressive eyes staring up at him as cleaned the floor on his hands and knees... Michael shook it off and returned his focus to the game. As his team were about to score, his visitor arrived and the TV was abruptly switched off.

The maid service was not as scantily dressed as he'd pictured. Tibur was wearing a loose pair of track pants, a light sweatshirt, and a surgical mask. 

"It's hot" said Michael, suddenly feeling ashamed of his half-nakedness, "Are you sure you can work dressed like that?"

"I'm used to the heat" said Tibur, "Besides, I'd rather not touch anything in here with my skin if I can help it. Who knows what stains I might come into contact with when I change your bedsheets."

"Never mind the sheets" said Michael, "it's the shower and the rug in front of the couch that you ought to look out for." 

Tibur grimaced. "Duly noted" he said, donning a pink pair of rubber gloves.

Bucket in hand, Tibur wasn't sure where to start with all the mess. His tiny room was kept in order, but only because there was so little space, and his possessions amounted to a small selection of clothes and a mountain of neatly stacked books. The state of the shared kitchen on his floor was enough to deter him from cooking, so he'd often grab whatever was easiest straight from the supermarket. 

Standing in the middle of Michael's grand and imposing apartment, he was worried it would take the whole night just to get it looking somewhat decent.

"Do you have a plan?" Michael asked him.

"What..?"

"A plan" Michael reiterated, "Like, where would you usually start? I don't know about the maid... she'd come when I was out. I'm not used to being here while someone cleans around me - if you tell me the plan I can keep out of your way."

Tibur had barely scraped together the supplies he might need, he hadn't a clue what to do with them, let alone made a plan of action. 

"This isn't my regular job you know?" he told him, "I don't exactly have experience in this line of work. I guess tell me where you want to be and I'll start elsewhere." 

Michael sat heavily down on the couch and pouted in silence, observing Tibur's dark and angry eyebrows furrowed above his mask. He hadn't meant to cause offense, he'd just thought that maybe Tibur had given as much thought to this visit as he had. Rather than leave the place and let him work alone, he'd decided to stay home just to see him. If anything, he'd been worried about getting in the way.

"I'll start in the bathroom then" said Tibur, collecting his things and searching for the right door.

As he soaked his cloth and wiped down the sink, Tibur scowled at himself in the mirror. Cleaning the grime of that arrogant foreigner was enough to make his blood boil. If nothing else, at least the taps were sparkling as a result of his aggressive scrubbing. The toothbrush was left tidily in its holder, the mouthwash re-capped, and the toothpaste residue polished away.

Opening the medicine cabinet to put things away, Tibur saw something curious. Little blue diamonds in a perforated package. Michael was probably only in his early thirties, why such a self-professed lothario required medical intervention to get it up was clearly an issue between himself and his medical provider. 

Tucking the mouthwash away beside the stack of pills, Tibur closed the cabinet door and saw the satisfied changes to his reflection. His stern eyebrows were unknit; for all his talk about 'manliness', it was clear that Michael was trying to prove something to himself. After chuckling over the man's hypocrisy, it was time to tackle the dreaded shower.

Tibur wretched as he pulled the long strands of hair from the drain. Various colors and lengths, he wondered how many visitors it had taken for such a collection to accumulate. As he tried to stand, the tap got caught on the back of his sweatshirt. 

"Shit!" he cried, as the cold water rained down on his body.

Michael came running into the bathroom at the sound of his cry.

"You're soaked" he noted unhelpfully, before handing him a large white towel from where it was hung on the wall. 

Tibur gladly began to dry himself before hurling it onto the floor like it was made of spiders. 

"Is it clean?!" he asked, unsure of who or what might have dirtied it before it touched his clothes.

"Oh" said Michael, "Should I get you a clean one?"

Tibur's dark eyes flashed daggers at his idiotic employer. 

"I'm going home to shower and change" he told him. 

Michael had only been trying to help. 

"You're going to be cleaning anyway" he said, disgruntled by the lack of gratitude, "What does it matter if it's dirty? It's a towel regardless. It's not like you were going to leave here smelling of roses anyway!"

"But I don't know how many people have used it!" exclaimed Tibur, "It's one thing coming here to clean the messes you've made with your array of ever-changing partners; but it's another thing to willingly rub it on my body!"

Michael was getting pissed off at Tibur's constant digs regarding his personal life. At that age, wasn't he supposed to be impressed by his number of conquests?! 

"You want to get clean?!" he asked him threateningly, reaching across and turning on the faucet to its limit, "Then fine! You can do it here!"

Pelted by the high-pressure of Michael's high-end shower head, Tibur was drenched through in a matter of seconds. Taking it in hand, he directed it back at his assailant.

"If anyone needs to get clean around here, it's you!" shouted Tibur above the sound of the rushing water. 

Michael's naked torso glistened with droplets, his pants adhering to his legs as he tried to wrestle the shower head from Tibur's clutches.

"You wanted me to clean? Look, I'm cleaning! I'll clean the whole fucking place!" 

The water continued to rush in Michael's direction as he desperately tried to reach for the faucet. Tibur's mask had slipped free, and his wet clothes clung tightly to his body as he blocked his attempts to stop him.

Soaked and grappling together in the confined cubicle, Tibur felt something hard pressing up against his leg. Realizing what it must be, he reached behind him and shut off the water. Michael didn't step back.

Rivulets of water ran down Tibur's face from his dripping hair, his lips parted for breath from the frantic struggle, and his body outlined by the clinging fabric. Michael had reacted to their close proximity, his hardened member proof of Tibur's undeniable appeal. He couldn't recall the last time he'd gotten hard without taking a little blue pill, the fact it was a man didn't seem to matter.

"I changed my mind" Michael told him.

Tibur's inquistive eyebrow was raised as his cheeks turned pink, standing stock-still and trying to ignore the erection still awkwardly pressed against his thigh. 

"I don't want you to clean for me as payment. I want you to fuck me."

Tibur pushed him away with force, Michael's back thudding against the frosted glass panel as he winced in pain. 

"What?!" questioned Tibur, incredulous at Michael's audacity, "You're insane! I guess it doesn't matter to you if it's a man or a woman so long as you're getting laid!"

Michael rubbed his bruised shoulder. 

"Is it really so terrible?" he asked him, "The thought of sleeping with me once? I've never had a complaint from any of my partners!"

Tibur stepped out of the shower with no care to his sodden clothes or the debt that remained. 

"Find yourself another maid" he told him flatly, "And what's more, find yourself another whore!"

The student strode out of the bathroom with his dignity intact, slamming the front door as he left. Michael looked down at his crotch, remembering Tibur's face and his own foolish words. It's not like he would have suggested such a thing if it hadn't been for his unexpected and ill-timed arousal. If anything, it was Tibur's fault for confusing him.

It was clear that he was a ladies man, had he not proven it time and again with the beautiful women he'd brought home and thoroughly satisfied? He wasn't interested in men. So what if he'd had a phase of curiosity in his teens? It had long since passed, and he'd cemented his preferences in his twenties; losing his virginity to Paul's friend Anna on the day he got his pilot's license.

Just because he'd got hard, it didn't mean anything. It's just that Tibur was an exception to the rule; one night in bed was all he'd need, and then it would pass. If he wasn't so opposed to the idea, they could even have done it tonight. Thinking of it, Michael's erection swelled beneath the cloying fabric of his pants. With difficulty, he pulled them down and turned the shower back on; rhythmically stroking as he pictured Tibur's blushing face.

Across the street, Tibur's floor was already covered in water, the drenched man sitting by his door as it puddled around him. What the fuck was that asshole foreigner thinking to have suggested such a thing? Michael's words played in his head. 

'I want you to fuck me.' 

What did that even mean..? He wanted to have sex with him..? Or he wanted to be fucked by him? It didn't matter. Either way the answer was simple. Tibur was not about to lose his virginity to a man-whore that would sleep with anyone. Wait. Tibur was not about to lose his virginity to a man, period. That was what he meant... right?