17. 17
17
DarcyHiggins liked her home in pristine condition. Her walls were gleaming white, from the kitchen cabinets to the glossy stone flooring.
Every time Will walked in, it felt like he was looking at a surgeon’s light or peering straight at Heaven. The starkness of it all often left him with a headache.Plus, she was a flirt, to say the least. The juxtaposition of her dirty mind with her overly sterile environment made his head spin.
Darcy was an attractive thirty-five-year-old. Her husband was allegedly an older,highly sought-after neurosurgeon, though Will had never met him. Darcy’s husband’s trips to medical conventions often left the lonely woman athome…with no children, hobbies, or close friendshipsto occupy her time.
That’s where Will came into play.
Today, he was dressed in a trench coatand a hat with little else, like some male stripper version of Dick Tracy. Though the uniforms were listed on his website, this one was a special request, an option with an exorbitant fee that some women were more than happy to pay. In his arms, he held a handled bucket full of potting soil, a prop unsurprisingly hard to find in the midst of a harsh Wyoming winter.
Darcy was swathed in a pink nightgown beneath a sheer, feather-lined robe, sleek caramel hair framing her face.“Let me see it.”
Will stripped off his jacket, exposing a bare body, save for apair of black Balenciaga boxer briefs that left almost nothing to the imagination. He looked like an underwear model in little more than a pair of combat boots.
“Oh, I love them!I’m so glad they were the right size. Sometimes, these fashion brands run a little small.”
Will nodded as he stretched, loosening up tight muscles. “They fit perfectly.Weirdly enough, I’ve never had a more comfortable pair of underwear in my life.”
“You’re more than welcome,” she cooed.“For five hundred bucks, they better handle your nuts like an angel’s palm.”
Will shook his head and laughed as he breezed past her to the kitchen. He stuck the bucket in the sink and turned the faucet on. After filling it a third of the way up, he mashed the black contents with his hands, lifted the bucket back out, and poured the mud slop all over the floor. As Darcy squealed with joy, stepping back to avoid the dark splatter, Will fought the urge to grimace at how strange he felt her fetish was. He plopped the bucket back in the sink and squished his boots through the mud, doing a model walk down her hallway into the white marble den and back again, tracking black bootprints all throughout the area.
Darcy panted with excitement, aroused. “Yesssssss!”
“Why don’t you take a seat.” He pulled out a chair at the kitchen’s bar and motioned to it. “From right here, you should be able to enjoy the whole show.”
He knew what he was doing. If he could get her to sit, she’d be less likely to try to be frisky and break the no-touch rule, as she had several times before.
She noddedand took a seat. Her eyes werewide, bouncing between his face, chest, the bulge in his underwear, the mud on the floor, and back again.
“I’m going to get the mop. I’ll just be a moment.”
“Hurry back.” She waggled her fingers at him.
Again, he tracked a path of mud across the stone floorout intothe garage. Flicking the high-powered LED lights on, the glare from the vehicles made him squint. He glanced past the Audi, Mercedes, and Bugatti to the far corner beyond. He spotted a red bucket and several vehicle sponges, among other detailing items. He traipsed across the epoxy floor, grabbed what he needed, and left the heated garage.
Once back in the kitchen, he filled the water reservoir, grabbed a sponge,gotdown on his hands and knees,and wiped at the edges of the huge mess, trying his best to angle in a way that would showcase the expensive underwear she’d ordered him.
Nearly done sponging and mopping the mess, Will heard the front door unlock and open. A man in his sixties stared at Will —and then Will’s underwear —with a look of utter shock. Will was afraid the old man was going to have a heart attack on the spot.
“What the hell is going on here?”
“Honey!” There was a note of fear blended with anxiety in Darcy’s voice despite trying to sound chipper. “You’re home… early .”
“Good afternoon, sir.” Will dropped the sponge and stood, dangling his hands in front of his crotch. “You are Mr. Higgins, I presume.”
Silence.
Will cleared his throat. “My name is WillJessup. I’m just here to clean. ”
“Oh, I’m sure ,” the man scoffed.
“It’s true, Hank. He’s just here to clean.”
“In his fucking underwear, Darcy?How stupid do you think I am?!”
“Mr. Higgins, I can grab you one of my cardsif you’d like.” He gestured to the khaki trench coat hanging on the rack beside the older man.
“He doesn’t sleep with clients, Hank. He cleans .” Darcy stared into Hank’s eyes.
“What are you, some kind of sex worker? Are you two fucking when I go out of town?”
Will raised his hands defensively. “No, sir. I’m just a maid.”
“Get out of my fucking house!” Hank spat, pointing at the front door.
Will scrambled to put on his bootsand rushed outin nothing but shoes and underwear, laces still untied. The cold hit him like an icy train crashing into his bare skin. The door slammed shut behind him.
Will turned around, realizing he had left his trench coat inside.The truckkeys were still in his coat pocket.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
He scurried back up the steps, hesitating to knockdespite the freezing temperatures. Inside, he heard Hankscreaming at the top of his lungs .
Will tried the knob, and the door quietly opened.He stepped inside and snatched his coat, tipping the rack overonto the floor. Will swiped atit, but it was too far out of reach.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Hank! He just did what I paid him to do,” she wailed.
Mr. Higgins stormed toward Will.
“I’ll fucking kill you, you son of a bitch!”
Will darted out the door, slipping on the ice and splaying hard across the stoop.Will looked up just as a fist plummeted toward his face. He rolledand heard bones crack hard againstthe stone beneath him.
Hankscreamed, gripping his busted fistin pain.
Will clambered to his booted feet and stepped back out of Hank’s reach. “Jesus, are you alright ?”
“Do I fuckin’ look alright?I think I just fractured my goddamned metacarpal!” Mr. Higgins shouted, slinkingdown onto the cold stone, clutching his trembling hand.
Will stepped down onto the snowy lawn, packed two handfuls together in his hands and returned to Hank’s side. “Here. Put some ice on it..”
Mr. Higgins spiked the snowy lump onto the stone steps with his uninjured handlike a volleyball, flashing Will adevastatingly loathsome gaze.“Get the fuck out of here!”
Will held his hands up and backed awayslowly.From the doorway, Darcy tossed him his trench coat with an apologetic stare.
Will put it on and trudged back to his truck, cinching it shut.He hopped inand slammed the door behind him. Hank yowled like a cat in heat as Darcytried to wrap her arms around him. He shrugged her off and growled something Will couldn’t make out.
Mrs. Higgins looked up at Will and waved goodbye.
Will knew it was for good.
New rule, he thought to himself as he pulled away, always keep a spare set of keysin the glove box…