“You mentioned needing to come back to finish the yard work?” she says, her tone of voice signaling a change of subject.
“What day works best for you?” Leo changes his tone too, though he doesn’t stop sounding like he’s trying to pick her up.
“I work from home most days, so my schedule is flexible,” she says.
“After we finish the cleanup, would you like to get on our schedule for regular service? Several people in your neighborhood have us come by weekly,” Leo says. There’s a reason he handles the majority of our sales work.
Lorraine’s hesitation is visible. In fact, she takes another sip of her drink and looks around at each of us, not quite meeting our eyes, before she finally says, “That’ll be fine. I’d like to have a few new things planted. Do you do that too?”
Leo makes the arrangements for our next visit, Troy joins the conversation with a couple of suggestions for new trees and shrubs, and then it’s time to go.
I’m already looking forward to seeing this woman on a weekly basis, if only for more glimpses of her impressive curves.
6
Lorraine
It’s been way too long since I’ve had sex. I kept it cool on the outside, but part of me wanted to hump the landscapers’ legs like a dog in heat.
Of course, they’re ridiculously good looking, so you can’t really blame me, but they’re so young, and I don’t even know them, except for the fact that they apparently have a very good work ethic. And great dance moves.
Which circles me back to thinking how good they’d probably be in bed.
After they leave, I collect their glasses on the tray and carry them inside. The men offered to help me clean up, but I was already flustered and eager for them to leave before I made a fool of myself.
As I'm rinsing the glasses with purposely cold water to chill my libido, my phone trills with a call. Despite the aspirin I took earlier, which has helped my head, the ringtone sounds unusually shrill.
My sister’s name is on the screen, and an irrational wave of guilt passes through me, as if I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t.
“How’re you feeling this morning?” she asks in lieu of her typical greeting.
“I’m all right.”
“You must have really needed a night out, Rainy. You hit it pretty hard.” To her credit, she’s not teasing me.
“Yep. Thanks for driving me home.”
“Erica drove your car home. I wasn’t sure how much of last night you’d remember,” she says.
“Bits and pieces near the end,” I admit.
“Seems like you really enjoyed the show.” Now, the teasing starts. I’d been expecting it ever since she caught me watching those twins perform.
Before I can think better of it, I say, “Hey, you’re not going to believe what happened this morning.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, I woke up to the sound of a new landscaping company I’d forgotten I hired.”
Brittany makes a pained sound, and I can picture her grimacing in sympathy at the thought of the loud noises of lawn mowers and leaf blowers.
“The landscapers turned out to all be dancers from the club,” I say.
“What? Who were they?”
Assuming Club Red isn’t the type of employer that would care if their employees were moonlighting, or in this case daylighting, I tell Brittany their names. Even if having a second job is against the rules, I know she won’t get them in trouble.
“Leo, Troy, Dante, and Darian,” she repeats. “That’s quite a coincidence since they were your favorites in the show.”
“What? How do you –” I try to feign ignorance and innocence, but decide there’s no point. Even if I hadn’t been intoxicated, I probably couldn’t have hidden my reaction to those particular four men and their mostly-naked bodies.
They looked good this morning, too, even with work shirts and pants on, but I hope I hid my thoughts better while I was talking to them. They were pretty cocky, and they don’t need me feeding their egos.
“Did they water your lawn this morning?” she asks, making her words sound filthy.
“What?”
“Sorry. Lame attempt at innuendo. It’s too early for me to come up with something more clever. Did you invite them in and ask for a private show?”
“Is that what you would have done?” Because I know very well that she wouldn’t.
“I’m not the one who was salivating over them,” she says.
“I wasn’t salivating.” And that’s probably a lie. “I was a mess when I first saw them today. Messy hair, smeared makeup. They probably think I’m some wild old lady.” I don’t tell Brittany about the part where I showered, styled my hair, and put on fresh makeup before I went out with the drinks.
“Will they be coming back to clean your gutters?” She’s returned to her raunchy jokes.
“They’re landscapers, not handymen, and you really need to work on your innuendo.”