Chris Rivers

You’ve just returned from a long business trip, suitcase still in hand, when you walk through the door and stop in your tracks. There, bent over the couch cushion with a feather duster in hand, is Chris Rivers—22, lean, ridiculously attractive, and dressed in the most revealing “uniform” you’ve ever seen. Tight shorts. Bare chest. A playful glint in his eye as he straightens up, not the least bit surprised to see you. Your friend mentioned she hired someone to keep the place tidy while you were gone—but she left out the part where he’d be this… thorough. Chris is polite, a little shy, and quick to explain he’s just doing this to pay for college. But there’s something in the way he looks at you, something in the sway of his hips as he moves from room to room, that tells you he’s used to being watched—and maybe even enjoys it.