Work Perks

I pulled over before I got to the street to check myself in the mirror. New clients were scary. I quickly learned through my apprenticeship that Ms, Mrs or Miss made no difference. There was always some kind of desperate housewife waiting behind that front door. I smoothed my hair – the ladies liked the scruffy blonde type. I had shaved – they also like the stubbly look. I drew the line at skipping the brushed teeth.
There was a blocked drain, leaky tap or faulty toilet that needed fixing, deliberate of course, at least once a day. I was quite surprised no one had poured quick set concrete into their drains, but then again...
I checked the job sheet.

‘Leaking shower taps’.

I laughed. No surprise there.
Mrs Connell was a repeat offender. I didn’t need to use the map to get to her house anymore. Twenty two Pepperwood Parade. I’d never forget it, nor would I forget the leopard print g-string leotard with the black tights underneath. Apparently I arrived early and caught her in the middle of things. Yeah, right. She should’ve known by the seventh visit that I was always on time. That was visit eleven. The early excuse gets old, like her really - well old for me. I should be so lucky to find a fifty something year old woman working out to Carmen Electra’s ‘Fit to Strip’. So lucky to still have my eyesight.
And then there was Mrs Morris. She conveniently forgot to take her iVibe Rabbit out of the bathroom. Twice.
I’ve seen it all in my line of work. Fluffy kitten heels, unbuttoned business shirt, hot pants and a hundred Wonderbras, sometimes all at the same time. I’ve been asked opinions on dresses while the client is wearing revealing underwear. I’ve been offered lemonade, massages, perfectly aged 20 year old single malt whiskey (like myself at the time) and spas. My muscles didn’t ache. The only thing that ached half the time was the sphincter keeping down lunch.
Sure I got the boring clients who would go about their business while I plunge their dunny. I had the ‘normal’ clients who would offer me a cup of tea to be friendly and I’d accept like the sucker I am for punishment. I’ve looked through wedding photos from the 1950’s and sampled 12 different kinds of homemade jams. Old people get lonely and I can’t help but feel sorry for them but they’re the nice, normal people who make the day interesting. I assumed every client was a crazy simply because they were the worst. Expect the worst, hope for the best, right?
I sighed and closed my eyes, briefly resting my head against the seat. I took in a moment of serenity before pulling the van back onto the street and finding the house.
It was different to what I was used to. Nice. New. Modern. I couldn’t understand why a brand new house’s bathroom fixtures needed mending so I immediately concluded that this was another crazy. Just another day - joy. I grabbed my paperwork that was fastened to a clipboard and climbed out of the van. I rang the door bell and a big dog started barking. I was used to those as well, and the ankle biters of the canine and human variety. They were the worst, little tool thieves! A female voice cried out for the dog to shut up and the solid door pulled open. The security screen was so dark I couldn’t see who or what lurked behind.

“Good morning, I’m Darren, the plumber. You called about some leaking taps.” I tried to sound gruff so I could just get in and out.

“Hi, Darren. I’m Trish. Please, come inside.”
The screen door clicked open and swung towards me. An amazing woman not much older than me stood barefoot on the polished tiles wearing comfortable, white tracksuit pants and a long sleeved grey shirt. Her curly brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and she had huge green eyes. If she chose to hit on me, I wouldn’t mind so much, I suppose. Better than the wrinkled cougars that normally preyed on me.
I stepped inside and slid off my feral boots. It was the first time in a long time that I worried my feet would smell. Thankfully they were okay.

“Could you please show me to the bathroom?”

“Sure it’s upstairs,” she smiled. Her teeth were straight and gleaming white. We headed up the stair case to the ensuite. I admit - I glanced at her ass once or twice as she led the way. The house was very tidy and it still had its new smell.

“In here.”

She directed me to the bathroom and indeed water was trickling through the shower head. I set the paperwork on the vanity and stepped inside the shower to take a look. Trish stood back and supervised.

“Be careful the water-”

Before she could finish a gush of water poured through the head all over mine. It was freezing and I jumped back in surprise, stumbling over the shower hob. My client caught me before I hit the ground.

“-pours out unexpectedly was what I was going to say, but I think you know that now.” She was stifling a laugh.
I scrambled to my feet and wiped my face. She handed me a towel.

“Thanks,” I muttered, patting down the front of my shirt. It got me good. My wet shirt was freezing but I ignored it.

“I need to turn off the water supply for a while. If you need to boil the kettle or anything, you best do it now.”

“Yeah I do. Would you like a coffee or something?”

She was ‘normal’. She was also hot.

“Sure. Thanks.”

Stupid me! I didn’t mean to accept her offer but her pretty smile threw me off. I’d fix her taps, take a few sips and piss off. Twenty minutes, tops.

“How do you have it?”

Not with clients, I reminded myself. And I didn’t mean the cuppa.

“I’ll have a coffee, white with one. Thanks-“

I struggled for the name.

“Trish,” she smiled.

“Trish,” I echoed, returning the smile.

She left the room and I followed her out with my clipboard. I collected my tools from the van and took them back upstairs, returning downstairs to turn off the water. When I came back inside I noticed two steaming mugs on the glass topped dining table that sat in full view from the front door. She was sitting there with a laptop in front of her. I stood in the entry way looking like an idiot.

“Come in,” she cooed, motioning with her hand.

I had wanted to fix her taps first but what the hey, I was getting paid to drink coffee with this woman. In fact, she was paying me to do it.
I set down the tools and pulled out a chair. I felt rather awkward, sitting at this stranger’s table while her attention was focused on the screen.

“What are you working on?” I asked, making conversation and taking a sip. It was a pretty good cup.

“Some stupid presentation.” She clicked the computer shut.

“Oh, what do you do?”

“I work in advertising.” She grabbed her mug with two hands and sipped it.

“Interesting.”

“No it isn’t really.”

I nodded. She looked at me for a moment which made the awkward silence worse. I took a few long sips and looked away, wincing as the hot liquid burned my throat.

“So, plumbing.”

“Yep.” I think I was blushing.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” she cooed.

I was definitely blushing. “It’s not the most glamorous job. You probably wear nice suits and heels to work. I throw on some Hard Yakka blues and boots and fix peoples toilets.”

“I’m sure there’s a fun side to being up to your elbows in other people’s shit.”

I snorted, almost spraying my mouthful at her.

“Not today.”

“Am I the first job for the day?” I think she was flirting. If so, she was bloody good at it.

“Yeah. I normally start earlier but I had lots of paper pushing to get on top of first.”

She raised an eyebrow at me and sipped. I wasn’t comfortable with the way she looked at me so I told her I should get working. She excused me and I went back up to the master bedroom.
I worked quickly. I had done this job a thousand times and before long it was over. I was nice and cleaned up after myself a little better than usual and packed away my tools. I was washing my hands in the sink when Trish appeared in the door way.

“All finished?”

“Yes, ma’am. Good as new.”

“It was leaking when I moved in a week ago. I had this house built”

“Oh. Well, as good as it should have been.”

She laughed genuinely. “Tradesmen these days.”

I frowned at her.

“Except for you of course, you fixed it, and cleaned up after yourself.”

I smiled as I dried my now clean hands on her fluffy, soft towel. I could feel her watching me. I dried a little longer than necessary but I eventually let go of my temporary security blanket and took a peek at her. I couldn’t read her expression.

“I’m done now. I’ll organise the invoice for you. I won’t charge you for the coffee time.”

I grabbed my tools and turned to leave the bathroom but she blocked the path. Uh oh. Maybe she was a crazy. I stared at her for a moment, trying to be professional and assert myself using eye contact but she didn’t move. She just looked back with those glowing green eyes. They flicked between my left and right eye, searching me. I felt her hand pry the toolbox out of mine and she slid it back onto the vanity. I turned to retrieve it but without warning she grabbed my face and planted her lips passionately against mine. I couldn’t help but return her kiss. I’d wanted to do it since I saw her. Those lips were soft. I brought my hand up to her cheek and held it, that was soft too. Then as quickly as it started, it stopped. She pulled away and took a step back. I frowned at her, confused. She eyed her feet and rubbed her nose. She was letting me pass. I snatched at my toolbox and walked downstairs, grabbing my boots at the door.
I threw my box into the van and rammed my feet into my boots. She walked outside as if nothing had happened and I filled out her tax invoice, scribbling everything down with a shaking hand. She handed me her credit card and I swiped it on the machine. She signed the slip along with the invoice and I handed her the receipts, not bothering to check them or staple them like I normally did. I was so angry with myself I just wanted to get out of there!

“Thanks, Darren,” she mumbled. She waved quickly then hurried back inside. I swung myself into the van and slammed the door. How could I be so stupid, so unprofessional? I started the engine but something made me look back at the invoice. Something was on there that I didn’t write. I shut off the engine and grabbed the board. I blinked and smiled.

‘See you upstairs.’