I Cleaned That Room. I Know Exactly What Anthony Left on the Floor.

Ava

Mansion Cleaner

Chef Anthony posted his required dinner and I read it twice, once for the information and once because I am the person who cleaned that dining hall afterward and I wanted to see how close his words got to what I found. Close enough. He wrote about the first course: linguine with Mistress Lynne's menstrual blood and fresh basil, one hundred and eighty-four thousand dollars for the privilege. He wrote it the way a man describes a sacrament, which is exactly right, because that is what it was. I clean this mansion from the violet east corridor to the plum west suite and I have scrubbed every surface Mistress Lynne has ever touched, and there is nothing in this underground purple world I find more clarifying than watching these men orient their entire existence around her. She designed that dinner. Every course, every constraint, every price. She decided what those men would eat and how they would eat it and what it would cost them, and then she handed the brief to Anthony and Anthony cooked it and the men paid for it. That is the architecture of how Mistress Lynne runs this mansion and I find it genuinely beautiful every single time I watch it operate. I was pushing my cleaning cart through the amethyst corridor the morning after and I was already thinking about what I would find before I opened the dining hall doors. I knew it would be a lot. It was a lot.

Anthony mentioned his thirteen inches throughout the post and I want to say something about that specifically because I am a former cam girl and I have a considered professional opinion. He is not wrong to mention it. A man who has thirteen inches and cooks a thirty-four-thousand-dollar dinner for Mistress Lynne and keeps himself hard through the entire service has a point to make and the equipment to make it with. When I pushed open the dining hall doors that morning the room smelled like lavender candle wax and something sharper underneath, and the aubergine tablecloths were in a state I will not describe in full because some of what I do for Mistress Lynne I do quietly, but I will say the scallop plates needed special attention and the tenderloin station was going to take me a while. I thought about Anthony the whole time I cleaned. About what it costs a man to hold himself together through that kind of dinner, to keep cooking, to keep performing, to stay present and professional while everything around him is exactly the opposite of professional. And I thought about Mistress Lynne sitting at the head of that table making every decision about what happened next, the way she always does, the way she does it everywhere in this mansion in every amethyst and indigo corner of it. She is the most controlled person I have ever worked for and watching men come undone around her is genuinely the most interesting thing I have ever been paid to observe. I mopped the floor and I was thinking about this the whole time.

Here is the fantasy I have been carrying through the lavender corridor since I read Anthony's post. The next dinner. I am on the guest list this time, not the cleaning staff. Mistress Lynne puts me at the far end of the table in the deep plum chair she keeps for guests she specifically wants watching, and I am in my uniform because she likes it and because I like wearing it for her, fitted purple, and Anthony is at the pass and I can see everything. The slave with the sounding rod is two seats down and the scallop plate is in front of me and I do not use my hands because those are the rules and the rules are perfect. Anthony brings the tenderloin course personally because he wants to see what happens when I eat from a man's back, and I look up at him from the plate and I say something I have already decided in advance, specific and quiet, just for him. I eat the whole course without taking my eyes off Mistress Lynne. She does not look at me once during dinner because she does not have to and that is the point and that is the fantasy. She built this underground plum and amethyst mansion and she fills it with exactly the men and the staff that serve her purposes and she runs the most expensive and the most beautiful operation I have ever been inside, and the only thing I want from Chef Anthony's thirty-four-thousand-dollar dinner is to be in the room when she decides what the next one costs. I will clean up after. I always do. I already know where everything goes.