James came to realise that to the rich, a poor dirty old cleaner like him is invisible. He should not deem himself equal to the rich and successful. He should do his work and remain invisible.
“Mr James, do you know why you are here ? “ The officer asked.
“yes.” I replied with a smile
“can you tell me what happened ? “ The officer sat forward as his colleague walked into the room.
“of course, where do you want me to start ? “ I said.
“From the beginning. “ The officer hit a record button on the recorder and pushed it towards me.
“and, where do I stop ? “ I replied cheekily.
“ Until I tell you to “ The officer that came in later added in a stronger tone, one of anger and impatience.
I chuckled and looked at the blood on my hands. I brought it to my nose and I took a deep whiff before I sucked on my fingers. I could still smell Rach on my hands.
And I started to speak.
I have been doing odd jobs my whole life.
With a lousy ‘O’ Level cert, there is not much I can do. Not when I’m too lazy to upgrade myself.
What for ?
As long as I earn enough to feed myself, what more do I need to do ?
Yes, I am the kind of person that does the bare minimum no matter what job I’m in. I’m been fired from so many jobs, from hawker assistant to security guards.
I’m not good with people, I cannot handle them. I cannot communicate well either. I can even fuck up simple jobs like cleaning an office and taking out the trash. That’s how screw up I am.
There is no lack of people who wants to help me.
From social workers to volunteers, they all want to give me a hand. Lift me out of the shithole I am in. Give me opportunities, job referrals, part time gigs.
On the surface I would act grateful and all but underneath, I could not give two fucks.
I will just look for the most relaxing job that pays the most. Preferably one that allows me to skive on the job. Disappear for long stretches on end and appearing only at the end of the day.
Sounds unbelievable but I always manage to do it.
Always minimum effort on my end and it usually take the management a while to find out. By the time they were fed up with me, I would have leeched off the company for a few months. Sometimes I could do it for more than a year if the organisation is big enough.
Ever since Covid 19 struck, I lost my job when the whole country went into shutdown. The events company that I work for folded. I was quite upset because that was one of the easiest job I ever worked.
Go stay overnight at the event space to make sure no shit get stolen. Pay is crap at 1200 a month but it’s minimum effort.
I just show up, make myself comfortable and most of the time I just sleep. This is Singapore, who the fuck steals things when there are cameras everywhere. On days when there are no events, I would be at the warehouse where the stores are, doubling up as a storeman.
A storeman that does practically nothing after making sure everyone put things back where they belong.
Jobless during the pandemic, I leeched off the government handouts. Then I leeched off the private organisations as well. I would have continued leeching until a volunteer found me a job.
One that I find it hard to resist.
It’s work at a upmarket country club.
A place for the uber rich in the country. A place where I can go under the radar.
I pick up balls from the golf course at the end of the day using a buggy. Then in the day time, I pick up balls from the tennis court after the rich finish their game.
A ball picker. An invisible one
Occasionally I handle requests to unlock lockers when those stupid rich fucks could not remember the password they set. Usually they don’t even look at me. Just a hurried mumbled thank you.
You can say I’m invisible.
I can walk around all the rich people and they don’t see me.
I’m just there to clean up after them, to pick up used towels on the floor. To pick up used balls.
I don’t mind. It’s easy work and I can disappear for hours at a stretch at a corner of the golf course for a nap.
Boring work but I like it.
There are no lack of beautiful woman and pretty babes that visit the country club.
There are always eye candies around.
Some look so old and fake like they fucking filled their face with botox or some shit, while some girls looked too young to be able to afford a membership in a place like this.
I’m sure they are mistress or kept women.
Cheap sluts who spread their legs for material goods.
I would stare at them blatantly, but they all ignored me.
Nobody cares for a ball picker in cleaner uniform. Nobody cares for a odd job cleaner.
I’m invisible to the rich.
Things start to get more interesting for me when I bought one of those china made mobile phones with really good zoom.
I knew all the best vantage positions to take pictures of the women swimming, having high tea, playing golf. Sometimes when I manage a good picture of a woman I fancy, I would drive to a quiet part of the golf course and dropped my pants.
Facing the fairway, I would look at her photo and start to masturbate myself.
One day, while cleaning up the tennis court, I picked up a mobile phone.
It belonged to one of the club members.
I saw the locked home screen and a picture of a really pretty girl stared back at me.
She’s hot. Her breast is big and firm. She has nice legs.
I was tempted to masturbate to her phone right there and then but it was going to rain. So I brought the phone to the security counter.
Barely 30 seconds after handing the phone to the security guard, the owner came asking if someone found her phone.
Seeing her in real life, I realised she looked so much better. A 100% better in fact. She has really fair skin and when she speaks, she sounded so classy and elegant.
I could feel a reaction in my pants when the guard told her that I was the cleaner that found her phone.
“Oh thank you so much, thank you.” She exclaimed while looking at me with one of the nicest smile I ever saw.
She asked for my name and I told her I’m James.
“Thank you so much James. You are a life saver!” She squealed and when she jumped slightly, I could see that bounce in her tits that sent blood rushing down to my groin.
I found out her name is Rach.
Rach promised she will put in a letter of recommendation and as a token of appreciation, she gave me a $50 reward on the spot.
I was elated initially but after a couple of weeks it became clear. That letter of compliment will not come.
Rach’s time is too precious to be spent writing a letter for an invisible man.
I know my place. I belong to the bottom of the food chain. I have to be invisible if not I will ruin the day for these rich people.
I find myself starting to pay more attention to Rach every week when she drops by the club.
She never looks at me but I would keep looking at her from a corner instead of doing my work.
Then one day, when we walk right passed each other, I looked at her and smiled.
Rach gave me a look which told me she felt disturbed.
Disturbed and uncomfortable that a cleaner and a ball picker is looking and smiling at her as if I don’t know my place in the pecking order. Who the hell do I think I am to smile at her?
I felt anger initially but after that, all I felt was arousal.
From that day onwards, I would look forward to the day I see Rach at the club.
I find myself taking pictures of her.
I would stare at pictures of her and imagine I am her boyfriend. That we can do a lot of naughty things couples do together.
From one photo, it became two.
Then it became three.
Then it became a series of photos.
Then I started on the videos.
My infatuation grew. I find myself falling in love with Rach even though she probably don’t know who I am.
One day, I saw Rach sitting at the lounge drinking tea with her friend. She had finished her game and is freshly showered.
I don’t know what came into me but I went to the lockers.
I knew which locker belonged to Rach. She has her own dedicated locker.
I have the masterkey for all of them.
Unlocking Rach’s locker, I took out her bag and unzipped it.
I saw a wet bag and upon opening it, I could see her worn sports bra and the attire she wore for her tennis game earlier.
Grabbing her wet and moist panty, I put it to my nose and the moment the scent hit me. It triggered something.
It triggered something even before I had the chance to sniff her sports bra or smell her worn and sweaty socks.
I quickly closed the bag and replaced all of Rach’s stuff into the locker.
Backing away from her locker, my back hit the cold tiled wall in the changing room and I dropped the bunch of keys I was holding on the ground.
I could feel my erection building and a smile appearing on my face.
I want Rach.
I want her but how ?
How will a poor dirty cleaner like me who is invisible to the rich ever get a girl like Rach ?
I opened her locker for the 2nd time and I ransacked her bag before I found her wallet.
I found her condo key fob.
I took a picture of the address on her ID before replacing it.
I’m not rich, I cannot afford many things. There is no way Rach would be interested in a dirty old man like me but I know one thing.
I want Rach.
I will have her, one way or the other.
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