Men For Hire

by Tina Donahue, Bella Settarra, Michelle Roth, Jennifeer Denys

  Will the client be in residence during the period of work?: Most definitely.

  Is there a particular employee you would prefer to undertake these duties?: Yes, Mr. R Fletcher, of the above address, email below.

  In the event of this employee not being available will you consider an alternative?

  She stopped and made a face. “Well, in the event of Mr. Fletcher refusing his husbandly duties I will consider divorce and then I may well need an alternative.” Laughing at her joke, Jennifer mused—but not someone from her firm as she wasn’t running an escort agency.

  Jennifer signed the sheet with a flourish and put her pen down, chuckling. Shaking her head at the imp that had got into her, she stood up and walked out. There would be time in the morning to throw the sheet away, but for now she felt a sense of satisfaction.

  * * * *

  When she arrived at work the next day, her first task was to take the job form and put it in the shredder. Only the form wasn’t where she had left it!

  “Gemma,’ she called out to her assistant. “Where’s the new job form I left on my desk last night?”

  A voice shouted from the other room, “I saw it there this morning so I typed it up and emailed out the request. I have to say, I worry about any marriage where the wife has to pay her husband for sex!”

  Jennifer’s jaw dropped.

  Oh shit!

  Gemma stuck her fair curly head around the corner. She had a big grin on her face. “I thought we weren’t selling sex at this agency. Ha-ha!! I’d love to have seen that man’s face when he reads his email. We’ve had some funny requests lately, but that one’s the best.”

  The phone rang in the other room and before Jennifer got the chance to berate her, Gemma left the room. Her assistant was on a three-month trial and Jennifer wasn’t sure it was working out, but she knew she could hardly tell her off for something that was actually her own fault.

  She stood there debating whether to phone her husband and tell him it was all a joke or send him a text. Or would he actually be in his office? Chances are he would never see the email.

  “There’s an urgent call,” shouted Gemma.

  Jennifer jumped.

  Dammit! He’s read it already. How dare he read his emails? Her heart beat furiously as she picked up the receiver, her hand shaking as she furiously thought how she could get out of that one.

  She deliberately put on her professional voice. “Hello, Jennifer Archer speaking. How may I help you?”

  Thankfully, it was a client instead and she breathed a huge sigh of relief, slumping back into her seat. Her calmness didn’t last long. The man they had hired for this customer had not turned up and a torrent of abuse came down the phone. Mrs. Glenn had four dogs that needed walking. Quite why she didn’t do it herself, Jennifer had no idea. The woman wasn’t housebound or anything like that. But that was the nature of her business.

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Glenn. I’ll sort something out. Yes, I’ll get on to it immediately.”

  She put the phone down and yelled for Gemma to bring in the list of available men.

  Jennifer never got the chance to contact her husband that day.

  Chapter Two

  Rob relaxed into his office chair and dipped his digestive biscuit into his mug of tea, quickly eating the soggy morsel before it dropped into his drink. Leaning his head back against the headrest he closed his eyes. He didn’t often get a chance to sit down without any interruptions and do paperwork. Not that he particularly liked doing paperwork, it was just nice to have some peace and quiet. He loved his job, but it had become very stressful lately, and he was looking forward to the nice break that he’d just booked off. He nodded his head to himself and a dark curl fell forward. He pushed it out of the way, irritated, glad that he’d have the opportunity to get it cut now.

  Jennifer would be very surprised at his decision to book a holiday. Usually, she had to persuade him. He hoped she’d be able to take some leave as well, although he knew how busy her firm kept her.

  His computer bleeped and he frowned. Clicking on his inbox he saw that he had a mountain of emails to answer and sighed deeply. Just as he was about to close it down, one caught his eye. It was from Jennifer’s Men for Hire firm.

  “Why would Jennifer be emailing me?” She tended to text or phone him if she needed to speak to him.

  Intrigued he clicked on the email.

  Dear Mr. Fletcher

  Men for Hire has been commissioned by Mrs. J Fletcher of Glebe House, Rosevine Road. She is in need of someone to undertake a job at the above address and has requested you.

  What job? And why on earth would she request him to do anything at their home when she was perfectly capable of any task around the house—more so than him. He winced knowing DIY was not his forte. He could put his hand to cooking and gardening but rarely had the time. He glanced at the screen once more.

  Please see attached job description. If you are willing to accept this job contract, then complete the attached form and return it. The client requests that you arrive at the address stated no later than 7 p.m.

  He was puzzled and opened the attachment. His eyes went immediately to the ‘job required.’

  Marital duties!

  Staring at the words, Rob couldn’t believe what he was reading.

  “What the hell is she playing at?”

  Rob sat back and re-read the email, which he swiftly realized had come from her new assistant, Gemma. Someone he had yet to meet.

  Was this intended as a joke? Did she mean sex?

  He knew that Jennifer’s firm was asked to provide people for a whole range of jobs, some more mundane than others, and that it was extremely successful. But he also knew that she had to make it clear she wasn’t running a brothel, despite some clients trying to book her ‘men’ for sexual duties.

  So why had she broken her rule and sent him this? The more he thought about it, the more amused he was, knowing exactly what marital duties Jennifer was referring to—she was desperate for sex. He had just been so tired lately that he couldn’t get it up.

  “Okay, so this must be a ploy to get me to talk to her. I can do that.”

  He reached for the phone to ring her mobile. It went to voicemail. Tapping his phone against his lips, Rob pondered his next move and decided to phone the agency’s reception.

  “Men for Hire agency, Gemma speaking. How may I help you?”

  “May I speak to Jennifer, please?”

  “I’m afraid she is out on urgent business at the moment. Can I assist in any way?”

  He made a face. If her plan was to get him to talk to her, it wasn’t working.

  “Umm. My name is Mr. Fletcher. I’ve just seen your email.”

  “What email is that?” There was a pause as Gemma clearly checked her computer to ascertain which job he referred to. “Oh, yes. The one I sent first thing this morning.” The assistant seemed to be struggling not to laugh and Rob became even more convinced that he was the butt of their joke and wasn’t best pleased after the day he’d had.

  About to snap at the girl to tell his wife that he’d talk to her when they got home, he didn’t get a chance to say anything when Gemma continued with a giggle. “Your wife must be very lonely to have requested our services.”

  Rob was taken aback.

  Your wife … our services?

  “It’s not often we get requests of this sort and usually we turn them down.”

  He was even more confused.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  “She must have given the form to the owner of the firm directly. I’m afraid I didn’t see or speak to your wife—Mrs. Fletcher. But I saw her job request form on Jennifer’s desk this morning before she arrived and so I typed it up and sent it to you.”

  Comprehension dawned and Rob started to relax, sitting back in his chair, a slight smile on his face. He guessed that Jennifer had completed the form for her own satisfaction, not intending it to be seen by anyone else. It now
made perfect sense.

  Rob started to chuckle, then something else occurred to him. Why didn’t Jennifer phone me after she had discovered the form had been emailed? Or maybe the ‘business’ she was attending to was more urgent than he thought.

  “I was rather hoping Jennifer—Ms. Archer—would be in touch to give me more details about what the job entails. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

  “Oh, Mr. Fletcher. I’m afraid she’s been dealing with an emergency at a client’s house.”

  “Never mind. I’ll talk to her later.”

  Gemma giggled. “But isn’t it obvious, Mr. Fletcher?”

  Rob straightened up in his chair. “I beg your pardon?”

  “What the job entails. Your wife clearly wants—oh, I’m not allowed to say. Well, let’s call it ‘husbandly duties’—the sort that a man agrees to when he gets married.”

  “You mean, sex.” He wasn’t afraid to say.

  He got a burst of loud girlish laughter in his ear, held the phone away for a moment, and wondered how Jennifer could stand her.

  “Yes, but I don’t know why we took this job. We’re not an escort agency.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “For heaven’s sake, don’t tell anyone.”

  Rob raised his eyebrows. “So, Gemma, what do you suggest I do?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, someone has just come through the door. Do phone again. I’m dying to know how this job turns out.”

  Dropping the receiver back on the handset, Rob sighed. “I’ll bet you’re curious, little madam.” He would have to have words with Jennifer about her latest assistant. In the meantime, what was he going to do about the ridiculous job his wife had requested he undertake? He was annoyed that her silly little assistant was now party to the fact that they hardly ever had sex. Not that she seemed to be aware that Jennifer was ‘Mrs. Fletcher.’

  He rested his elbows on the desk as he considered this—and how to get his own back on his wife. His eyes alighted on the remaining biscuits and that gave him an idea.

  Okay, my love. I’m going to play you at your own game. I’ll do ‘husbandly tasks’ for you—just not the sort you think.

  Chapter Three

  When Jennifer walked wearily through her front door later that evening, she started. There was a smell of food coming from the kitchen.

  What on earth?

  Usually, she came home to an empty house. She was lucky if Rob managed to make it home before she went to bed.

  “Is that you, Jen?”

  Oh my God. I forgot to contact Rob.

  She suddenly felt faint and leaned back against the door until her vision cleared. It had been her intention to call him immediately after that idiot, Gemma, had told her she sent the email, but it went clean out of her head when a very demanding client had phoned to complain about the man they requested not turning up. Jennifer winced. It had probably been because the client was the bitch from hell, but she was a regular client, so Jennifer couldn’t afford to turn her custom down and had spent the rest of the morning ringing around trying to find someone who was available immediately to walk Mrs. Glenn’s four dogs. To her frustration, everyone was booked up—or, at least, unwilling to do the job!

  In the end, Jennifer had dashed out of the office and did the job herself, leaving Gemma to try to find a replacement for the following day. The dogs had been very unruly, causing her to trip over at one point and ladder her tights—which were now in the bin. Of course, a tight skirt suit and high heels were not the best clothes in which to walk dogs, but she did as needs must.

  Hesitantly walking down the corridor, she summoned up the courage to confront her husband and apologize. Well, grovel.

  Rob was standing at the counter wearing a frilly apron. Jennifer drank in the sight of her own husband—tall, if slender, dark-haired, with a wicked sense of humor. She then noticed the state of the kitchen. There were dishes everywhere as if he had used every piece of crockery and cutlery they owned, not to mention every pan. He turned with a smile on his face holding plates of steaming food. It looked like a risotto of some sort.

  “Excellent, you’re home on time. As requested, I have taken a week’s leave, although I was due some anyway, and have made you a delicious meal. That’s what you meant by ‘marital duties,’ isn’t it?” He moved away to put the plates on the table and sat down, still wearing the apron.

  Jennifer stood for a moment unable to comprehend the situation. Was he not angry after all? She frowned staring at the back of his head, curious about his rather innocent tone of voice. Well, he was home early. From the sound of it, he had taken some time off. And, quite amazingly, he had even cooked her a meal.

  He waved her to her seat. “Come on, darling. Eat it before it gets cold.”

  She smiled and sauntered slowly to the table, undoing her top two blouse buttons as she moved. Jennifer stroked Rob’s neck as she passed, lingering on his shoulder, hoping he would snake an arm out to hug her close, slightly disappointed when he didn’t. She sat down. “So, you’re not upset about the email my assistant sent? Which was a mistake, by the way. I never meant her to actually send it—or even to see it. It was a silly joke.”

  Rob leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the lips. Nothing more than one would get from a family member and certainly nothing to arouse her, before he went back to his own meal. She narrowed her eyes. He seemed to be avoiding her eyes.

  “Of course, I wasn’t angry. I quite understand. I’ve been neglecting things around the house lately. This gives me the perfect opportunity to do them.”

  She considered him a moment. His smile seemed a little too bright. Noticing that she was not eating, he gestured at her food.

  “Eat, eat. It’s delicious, even if I say so myself.”

  She ignored the voice in her head that said, “He’s up to something,” and leant her elbows on the table. It rocked a little.

  “Ah. Sorry about that. I was going to mend it, but I couldn’t find the tools.”

  Jennifer chuckled. In all the time she’d known him, she couldn’t remember Rob ever using a screwdriver. She stood up, reaching into a drawer to pull out the tool and quickly tightened the loose screw, pushing at the table to affirm its steadiness.

  “There. All done.” She sat down again.

  “Terrific. Now, what do you think of the sauce on this dish? I used the recipe book your mother gave us last Christmas after she complained that we always seemed to buy ready-made meals.”

  She made a face at that memory, even if it was true. Cooking a meal from scratch wasn’t something either of them did very often. Probably because they were so busy, they didn’t want to spend the evening a slave to the kitchen.

  Taking a mouthful, there was one thing for sure. It certainly was wonderful. She wondered how long he’d been home.

  They spent the rest of the meal calmly chatting about the food. Whenever she got the chance, Jennifer stroked her hand over his arm or face, brushing away a crumb from his lips, even squeezing his thigh at one stage, and got an enigmatic smile from him every time she did. She was soooo looking forward to that evening.

  As they finished their meal and Jennifer stood up, her excitement rising within her at what the rest of the evening would bring.

  “No, leave the dishes. I’ll do them.” He started to usher her out of the kitchen. It startled her. It hadn’t been her intention to do them at all but leave them until the next day.

  Jennifer wrapped her arms around his waist. “Shall we ignore them and clean up in the morning?”

  He unwrapped her arms and pushed her upright. “Absolutely not. You wanted me to do more jobs around the house, so go and rest in the lounge while I clear away.”

  Well, that wasn’t exactly what she wanted him to do at all, but she grinned and grabbing their wine glasses, Jennifer took them into the other room. Throwing her jacket onto the chair, she slipped her shoes off, undid a few more buttons and lay full-length on the sofa. Pulling her skirt further up her thighs, she tried to appear entic
ing as she listened to Rob humming in the kitchen, as he clattered about cleaning up as he said he would.

  She closed her eyes, finally beginning to relax, glad that he wasn’t angry about the ‘job.’

  * * * *

  When she woke up some hours later, her neck was stiff.

  “Ouch.” It was dark outside. The only light was from the table lamp. Stumbling to the door, she looked up and down the hall corridor. Where was Rob?

  A quick glance showed her the kitchen was in darkness so Jennifer swiftly climbed the stairs and frowned when the upstairs rooms appeared to be equally dark.

  “Where the hell is he?”

  Walking into their bedroom, she came to a sudden halt. Rob was fast asleep—and snoring—in their bed!

  Jennifer groaned.

  Damn him!

  She bit her lip as she debated waking him up but knew he never ‘got it up’ when he was awoken by someone or something, so she sighed and walked wearily into the bathroom.

  “Never mind,” she said to herself in the mirror. “There is still the rest of the week. I’ll take tomorrow off and we can have a lie-in.” Waving her toothbrush at her reflection, she continued, “And I don’t mean lie-in as ‘get more sleep.’”

  Chapter Four

  Rob grinned. All week he had watched Jennifer get more and more frustrated going to bed before him as he finished off his household duties.

  He thought back to his activities earlier in the week and idly rubbed his backside. The day after he’d been sent the job contract, he had to persuade her to go to work saying he intended to clean the house from top to bottom. The look on her face when he escorted her to the bathroom to get ready for work, closing the door in her face, had been a picture of astonishment. So much so, he’d had to hold back the belly-aching laughter that came over him.

  She clearly didn’t believe him as she had a suspicious look on her face throughout breakfast and only when he pulled the vacuum cleaner out of the cupboard did she give a huff and stomp out of the house.