Dust & Desire – The Summer Housekeeper

Theo wrote for hours, or tried to. The keys clacked, the wind whispered, and Selene moved like a ghost through the house, visible in flashes, audible in glances.

The click of the vacuum. The low hum of her humming.

She was everywhere without being near him. And somehow, she was all he could think about.

By mid-afternoon, the heat had risen. No air conditioning. No breeze. Just sweat.

Theo peeled off his shirt and tossed it on the back of the couch. His chest glistened in the light, tan from the sun, traced with veins and soft muscle from long days of swimming and solitude.

He stood by the kitchen counter, sipping cold water straight from the bottle, when the door creaked open.

Selene.

She stopped mid-step, eyes dropping instantly to his bare chest. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t apologize.

Her lips parted, and a beat passed, too long to be innocent.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said, voice lower than usual.

“You didn’t,” Theo replied, though his pulse said otherwise.

She walked in slowly, barefoot, like the room belonged to her now.

“You know,” she murmured, “when I clean a space, I always like to feel the energy of who lives in it.”

Theo raised a brow. “Energy?”

She stepped closer. “The way the sheets crease. The dents in the couch. The smell of your skin on the towels.” Her fingers brushed along the kitchen island. “The way you leave your shirt… right there.”

She looked up at him.

“I can’t tell if you’re teasing me,” Theo said, “or just very dedicated to your job.”

Selene smiled. “Why not both?”

She leaned in slightly, close enough for him to smell her skin, sun and dust and a trace of lemon still clinging to her collarbone.

Her hand slid forward and picked up his shirt. “I’ll wash this for you,” she said, casually… but her eyes lingered on the exposed skin it left behind.

And then she turned and walked away.

Theo stood frozen, throat dry, heat blooming beneath his navel.

The only thing louder than the silence was the throbbing ache of want.