figured the big boys didn't want to have their shit all over the place
and look like ordinary mortals. Aside from which, they were scrubbed
down about every 20 seconds whereas the downstairs toilets were only
cleaned after the shifts where you'd have ribbons of used toilet paper
trailing along the floor and big turds swimming in the bowls. He still
retched from time to time. He'd developed various techniques for cleaning
out the bowls, holding his breath or going in with air freshener first,
but nothing really helped. When he finished the toilets he took a
break and then he started washing down the floors in all the corridors.
He wore a nylon jumpsuit that made him sweat and had the name of the
cleaning service stitched on the back and all the pockets sewn up
tight to make it hard to steal. He got the minimum wage with full
benefits and time and a half for overtime and his crew boss was a
regular guy so he really couldn't complain. He would rather have been
welding but the automation had come to
plants and there was little chance he'd ever find work as a welder
again unless he retrained and maybe worked in a garage but he wasn't
too nimble anymore and knew he'd have trouble on the floor. He knew
he was developing a heart problem, his breath was short and he could
hardly get up stairs. His body was a burden. He was carrying it around
like a sack of potatoes. It was doubtful if the woman of his choice
would give him the time of day in his current shape and he thought
it might be a good idea to lose some weight before winning those millions
and millions of dollars so at least he'd get off to a good start and
then of course he could hire a personal trainer. From time to time
he thought of Christine. He had desired her and regretted losing her.
He had desired many things in his life and had gotten few of them.
Christine had been one of those things with her big tits that he hadn't
seen or touched more than once or twice and that had only lasted for
a while. He'd always liked eating though and hadn't stinted.