>After a long day of hard work, you finally come home to your couch.  Your sweet, sweet couch.  With a sigh of exhaustion, you collapse onto the faux leather and crack open a cold one.
>Shit, you must've been elbow deep in at least 20 cars today.  Just another day's work in the junkyard.
>You've been running your granddad's old salvage yard since he retired a few years back, nabbing parts off of old cars and shit, then selling them off to folks too cheap to order the new stuff.
>Dirty, hot work, but it's a living.  Besides, sometimes you find some neat stuff out there.  Your apartment is full of knickknacks you've collected from the yard, some of it cleaned up, some of it left rusty and dirty.
>Beyond that, your place is pretty much minimal.  You get by with just the necessities furniture-wise.
>That said, you've had a problem with not keeping this place clean.  Hell, you've got better things to do than housework.  You only close the yard two days a week, you're not spending your weekend sweeping.
>Ah well.  No sense dwelling on a little grime.  You knock back your drink, then sink further into the couch, eventually rising with a grunt.
>Tomorrow's Saturday, at least, so you can get some much needed sleep.  You head off to get ready for bed, grumbling as you scrub the grease off your hands with some industrial soap.  Bored and a bit out of it from exhaustion, you idly draw shapes in your sink with the orange soap, eventually making some complex series of triangles.  Rather than wash it away, you shrug and leave it be.
>It's just soap, what harm could come of it?
>With that, you head off to bed, looking forward to an uneventful weekend.

>You are awakened first thing in the morning by the sound of a plate shattering in the kitchen.
>Confused, you hop out of bed and creep towards the source of the sound.  You see an odd shadow cast from within the kitchen, and hear a voice... a woman's voice.
>"Oh my!  I hope he wasn't attached to that one..."
>Her voice is bright and upbeat, but rather low for a woman; she has the vaguest hint of a French accent.
>...who the hell could it be?
>You barge into the kitchen.
>"Hey, what's going on in-"
>You blink a few times, caught off guard by what you see before you.
>Standing in your kitchen, above a broken plate, is what seems to be a raccoon woman.
>Her fur is grey with a light blue tint, reminding you vaguely of those generic "clean" candles your grandmother used to burn all the time.  Crimson eyes stare at you, pupils narrowed to slits.  Where a striped tail would be on a normal raccoon is instead what seems to be a long, thin tail that culminates in a feather duster.  Alongside her ears, two small, bone-colored horns jut straight out to either side.
>On top of all this, she wears a stereotypical maid outfit, with it fitting her lithe, tall figure rather well... albeit, the skirt is rather dangerously short.  She also wears a pair of long gloves that come up to her elbows. 
>The woman grimaces slightly, revealing a mouthful of fangs.
>"Ah, you must be the one who summoned me, yes?  What fresh hell have you brought me into, sir?  I've not seen a hovel this filthy since the Dark Ages!"
>"Hey!  My house isn't that dirty... besides, what the hell do you mean 'summoned?' Who are you?"
>She sighs impatiently and curtsies.
>"Tergea, Demon of Cleanliness, at your service.  Unfortunately.  You summoned me here by drawing my rune in an appropriate medium.  Do you not remember?"
>"Drew your- wait, that soap doodle?"
>"Indeed, sir.  Judging by your reaction, I presume it was accidental?  Even so, I am bound by law to cleanse this place.  Lucky you."
>She shrugs and grabs her tail, dusting off a shelf of knickknacks with it.  They seem to become clean unnaturally fast, with the rusty ones even looking a bit less aged.
>Confusion floods your mind.  Surely this is just some kinda dream, right?  Right.  There's no way in hell a raccoon woman dressed as a French maid is cleaning your kitchen.
>You pinch yourself hard, willing yourself out of this stupid fantasy.  Once you close and open your eyes, you find yourself alone in the kitchen.  Sigh, just as you expected.
>You turn to leave, only to see the same woman again, now dusting a picture frame behind where you were once standing.  She rolls a red eye towards you.
>"Mm?  Oh, it's not a dream.  I'm real, sir, I assure you.  I'll just get your home cleaned and be on my way."
>She casually bends down to clean something on the bottom shelf, giving you a very nice view under her skirt.  Seems that her uniform came without any sort of underwear...
>Half-distracted, you mutter:
>"What's your hurry?"

>She perks up and turns back towards you.
>"My hurry is I'd rather not linger in such a filthy abode.  I'm rather fond of cleanliness, sir, and I'm not very comfortable amongst all this dirt and rust."
>She puts on a polite smile and curtsies again.
>"But, alas, it's my duty to do this."
>"Well, if you don't want to do it, don't.  I don't care, Tergea."
>She narrows her eyes harshly, huffing indignantly.
>"With all due respect, it's painfully obvious you don't care about the condition of your home.  You've certainly let it fall into a destitute state.  I daresay you're the messiest client I've ever had, Mister..."
>"Hm?  Oh, uh, call me Jim, no sir or Mister needed."
>She sighs and smiles patiently.
>"Jim, then.  I'd love to chat, but I'd love more to be finished with this."
>With that, she dashes off to another spot, cleaning it up as well.  She leans in to another picture frame, then seems to... "spit" cleaning spray on it, wiping it clean with a gloved finger.  Once it's polished, she nods, satisfied.
>As she works, you unload some questions on her.
>"Didn't you say you were a demon?  Why are you helping me?"
>She never looks up from her work.
>"Think of it like... eternal community service.  But I don't mind, really.  I enjoy properly cleaning up places like this.  It's so rare that humans put in enough effort into cleanliness..."
>"Community service, huh."
>"Yes, yes... it was a long time ago, I'd rather not talk about it.  Long story short, I went from a simple Greater Demon to... this.  Again, I don't mind, though."
>"Hm.  What happens when you get this place cleaned up?"
>"I return to the underworld, and wait to be summoned once again."
>"I see.  Let me help you a little."
>She blinks in shock.
>"Really...?  I appreciate it, but I'll handle this.  Thank you for offering, anyway."
>She quickly polishes off what she's working on, then steps down to the next target.
>"Besides, I'm a rather fast worker."
>The demon giggles happily as she polishes up some tchotchkes.

>"How long have you been working on my apartment?"
>"Since... 2 AM?"
>"Yeesh.  Why don't you take a break?"
>She hesitates.
>"...well... that is tempting... but I'm sure you don't want me lingering longer than necessary."
>You glance down at her modest cleavage.
>"Nah, you're not bothering me."
>"Well, alright.  I might have a quick drink, then."
>She strolls over to your cabinet and grabs a freshly-polished glass.  She then fills it wit water... and adds a generous dose of your dish soap to it.
>Tergea takes a seat at your kitchen table, sipping her sudsy water with a demure smile.
>She downs her glass, then hiccups, sending a few soap bubbles wafting across the room.
>"Oh my."

>The bubbles float gently around the room, shimmering in the light.  Eventually, one drifts over to a dusty window and pops; suddenly, the window is enveloped in a shower of suds the same color as Tergea's fur.  She smirks mischievously.
>"Ooh, I should've thought of that sooner."
>She quickly fills and downs another glass of soapy water, then hiccups again, more bubbles escaping her mouth.  She giggles happily... until one of them pops on you.
>You quickly find yourself soaking wet, covered in suds.  She gasps and runs over to you, wiping you dry with her tail, which now more closely resembles a towel than a duster.
>"Oh dear, oh my.  Sorry, Jim."
>Once she's dried you off, you realize your clothes look freshly washed.
>"Hm!  Not bad, Tergea.  No need to apologize for a job well done."
>She surprises you by blushing slightly, through her fur.
>"E-eh?  Well, thank you very much, Jim.  I'm glad you enjoy my work."
>She grins, then clears her throat awkwardly.
>"W-well, I should get backs to cleaning."
>With a dash, she sets off to work once more, casting a few glances your way, smiling bashfully each time.

>After about half an hour, she finishes the kitchen.  Nodding happily, she turns to you.
>"Okay, where do I go next?"
>"Uhhh... the laundry...?"
>"Hm.  That works."
>Tergea sets off to your laundry basket, only to let out a gasp of horror.
>"Fire and brimstone! J-just look at all this oil and grease!  I-I'll be scrubbing for weeks..."
>She grabs a shirt off the top of the pile, then shudders violently when the oil stains her white gloves.
>"ACK!  I've been tainted!"
>She waves her hand as if it were on fire, struggling to remove her glove.  Eventually, she frees her hand, revealing sharp, black claws on her hand.
>A small flame, the color of motor oil, burns where her glove was stained.
>"Jim, could you please fetch me something to get this spot out?"
>You run off, confused, to fetch some bleach.  When you return, she dumps some of it on her glove, somehow extinguishing the flame.  She sighs in relief.
>"Whew.  Much better, thank you."
>Without thinking, she plants a kiss on your cheek.  You feel tiny soap bubbles linger on your face, popping and tickling you.  She blushes and covers her mouth.
>"O-oh my, sorry about that, Ji-"
>You interrupt her by returning the favor.  Flustered, she "spits" some cleaning spray on her hand and wipes where you kissed, face aglow with a red blush.
>"Th-th-that..."
>She giggles, blushing madly and practically steaming from the ears.
>You smile and wrap an arm around her.
>"How about I help you clean up, huh?"

>The two of you work together and get everything but the laundry done over a few hours.
>The whole time, Tergea slowly grows more comfortable with hugging you and occasionally smooching your cheek, only to melt into a giggling mess if you kiss her back.
>By the end, she stands over the laundry basket , face dripping with her cleaning spray.
>"Well, this is all that's left, Jim.  Once we get this done, I'll have to head home..."
>She sighs sadly.
>"...I know we've only been together for a day, but... I've actually rather enjoyed my time with you, Jim."
>"Me too.  Isn't there anything we can do?"
>A mischievous spark glints in her eye.
>"Well... I only have to leave if the house is fully cleaned..."
>She winks knowingly, and casually rubs one of your oily shirts all over the wall.
>She gasps in kick horror and covers her mouth.
>"Oh my!  How ever did we miss that spot?  I daresay it'll take days to get that out~!"
>She giggles and hugs you tightly, her uniform remaining remarkably clean despite how much she's been doing.
>You were always alright with this place being a pigsty...
>but hell, maybe it won't be so bad to clean up a little.