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Secret lovers share a tryst in a store's dressing room.
I am house sitting for her," I said.
"Oh," he said quickly. I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he realized his mistake. "My name is Marco and I need to pick something up if that's ok? I left something the last time I was here to fix the dishwasher," he continued with a very subtle accent.
I couldn't acknowledge that I knew who he was so I tried to think of a good response. My anxiety was rising. I felt guilty for breaking into this young man's private life. At the same time, the only interaction I had the last couple of weeks had been to welcome the cleaning lady during her visits. I was lonely and somehow Marco already felt like an acquaintance.
I came up with, "Of course, just let me ring Michelle really quickly to verify ok?"
"Oh yeah, no problem," he said.
I muted the door camera with the little red button on the TV and reached over for my cell phone. The time difference was only a couple of hours so Michelle would be eating or out for an evening appointment. She was the only person I had called the last couple of days so I clicked on my recents and punched her name.
She answered with a background of restaurant noises, "Hey, is everything ok?"
"Yes, I just...you have a visitor. He is a young man, Marco, says he fixed your dishwasher," I responded.
"What? The dishwasher? Oh, Marrrrcooo. Right, yep. He does some things for me around the house." She caught on quickly. She asked, "What is he doing there?"
"He says he forgot something here and needs to pick it up. I just wanted to make sure he was legitimate before I let him in," I said.
There was a long pause. I could hear silverware clanking and snippets of twenty conversations. Somehow I could sense her smiling when she said, "Yes, he is a very polite guy. We should let him pick up whatever it is he needs. Oh, if he has a moment, ask him to check the handle on the master bedroom closet door. It had a little wobble last time I used it and he can probably fix it quickly. I have to get back to this work meal, good luck." The phone call ended. Michelle wasn't one to small talk when the conversation had obviously concluded.
I turned off the TV and headed for the front door. I wished I had time to change, but pajamas and a robe were my work uniform these days. As I walked toward the door I felt the key and key ring in my pocket. It was a constant reminder that I had crossed so many privacy lines...a shame token. I opened the door.
"Marco, come in. Michelle said to grab whatever it is that you left," I said in a timid tone. I was nervous but trying not to let it show.
He looked at me in my robe and grinned. It was a charming grin. "Awesome, thanks so much!"
He walked by me as I closed the door. Oh, my god, did he smell good! He was wearing a musk that added to his allure. I realized that everything he did was part of her plan. He was wearing that cologne because she told him to wear it when he visited. He followed directions. He was even more handsome that I has recognized in the videos. His chiseled features were subtler without the harsh lighting. In person, he looked a bit younger than I had guessed from the videos. I changed my estimate from twenty-six to twenty-one or twenty-two. I didn't normally feel old, but I tried to imagine what I was like the first year or two that I could legally drink.
"I think I left it in the cabinet by the dishwasher," he said as he headed that way. "I will just be a minute if you want to get back to TV or whatever," he said trying to separate.
"Oh, no. I wasn't watching anything. I can help you look," I said.
"Ok, it is just, um...it's a tool I need for my next job," he stammered.
We headed into the kitchen. He went over to the dishwasher and opened the cabinet doors surrounding it making a show of actually looking for something. I knew he wasn't going to find anything so I started enjoying the effort he was putting into this charade. When he bent down, his shirt would pull up and expose his boxer briefs a bit. Michelle must have told him to wear those as well.
He kept glancing