She rolled her cart through the hallway while looking down on her work sheet. Room number 18 was next. She set her cart against the wall so that people could still pass through the hallway as she was working. She knocked on the door, "Housekeeping!" It was weird for people to request for their room to be cleaned. Usually people stayed only for a few days and the rooms only needed cleaning between guests. "Housekeeping!" She knocked again, but still received no answer from the other side of the door. Assuming the guest was out, she got her master key out of her back jeans pocket and opened the door. Much to her surprise, the room was rather tidy. Clothes were neatly hung into the closet and a laptop and a book laid on the table near the window. She went further into the room and opened the window to let in some fresh air. She leaned with her elbows on the window sill and looked out over the square below. The hotel was situated just outside the city centre of Berlin. It was never truly busy. The hotel had just 25 rooms and it was never fully booked, as it was rather expensive for its location. She turned around, ripping herself from her wandering thoughts, she had work to do. She went back to her cleaning cart and gathered the bathroom cleaning supplies in a bucket. This guest must be staying for a longer period of time. Who takes the times to unpack their suitcase and hang all clothes neatly in the closets only to pack up again a few days later? She finally grabbed a clean set of towels and made her way to the bathroom. She struggled to open the bathroom door with her elbow as both her hands were full with the bucket and towels. But as soon as she stepped in she dropped her bucket at the sight with which she was met. A man was standing at the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth, stark naked. The clattering of the bucket and cleaning supplies startled him and he jumped up and turned around. His eyes grew wide as he saw her and quickly grabbed the hand towel hanging on a hook next to the sink to cover his junk. She stood there, cheeks flushed a crimson red, before she realised it probably would be a good idea to close the door again. She yanked the door closed, her voice coming out high-pitched and panicky "Sorry, sir. Ah- I'll come back later!" She rushed out the room, pulled her cart with her to number 19 and quickly went in to hide her embarrassed face. She sat down on the bed trying to calm herself down, but the image was burned on the inside of her eyelids. He had been quite tall, white skinned and she had vaguely seen the black ink on his arms. He had looked quite fit, as she had seen the faint outline of the muscles on his shoulders and his cheeks had the perfect amount of roundness... Butt cheeks, that is. She cringed, knowing that she had lingered too long when she remembered all those details. She also remembered his shocked face: widened eyes, framed by wet brown curls.
She looked at her watch. Surely he must be finished brushing his teeth by now. It's been half an hour, hopefully he would have gone out and do whatever he does on a Thursday morning. She gathered all the courage she could muster and got back to her cleaning cart in the hallway. She slowly pushed the cart back to door number 18, the squeak of the wheels ringing agonizingly loud in her ears. She knocked on the door and before she could even say anything she heard a "Come in!" from the other side of the door. Her stomach clenched. She had hoped she wouldn't have to see him again. She wanted to hide her embarrassed face from him forever and forget this ever happened. "Door's open!" She slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside. He sat at the table near the window, reading a paper, wearing nothing but a towel. He smiled at her as he put his paper down on the table. What's the use of hanging your clothes in the closet when you're not going to wear them anyway? He stood up and walked towards her. One hand held the towel at the knot and the other stretched out towards her, "Hello, I'm Harry." She looked at his hand, reluctant to touch him after seeing him like that, but before she knew it her hand was in his, "I'm Y/N." She slowly trailed her gaze up from his hand, to his abs, stopping to linger on the big butterfly tattoo on his chest. Are that 4 nipples?! Passing the birds on his collarbones, she looked up at his face, freshly-shaven and smiling, dimples showing on his cheeks... Regular cheeks, that is. She stood there, looking at him and he stood there, looking at her, before she could get a grasp on herself and pull her hand away. "I- uh," she stuttered, "I should get back to work." "S-sure, you- your stuff is still in the bathroom," was stuttering contagious? She got to work: wiping down the mirror, cleaning the toilet, mopping the shower floor, replacing the towels, and stocking the shelf with new bathroom mini's. He pretended to read his paper, but she could feel his gaze burning every time she walked back to her cleaning cart to get something. When she was done he gave her a way too generous tip, and she rushed to the next room.
