Author's note: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious and are eighteen years of age or older. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Please vote and leave comments if you enjoyed the story and would like to see it continue.
Suburban Teenage Gigolo
Chapter One
Satisfaction Guaranteed
His mother answered the phone. "It's for you, Johnny."
"Who is it?" Johnny Thompson asked.
"It's about the flyer." The flyer was his mother's idea―an eight-and-half by eleven inch piece of paper that read:
Thompson's Landscape Services
No Job Too Big or Too Small
Satisfaction Guaranteed
At the bottom of the flyer were pull-off tabs with the Thompson home phone number hand-written on them. Johnny had posted the flyer on the community bulletin board at the supermarket where he worked part-time. He hoped it would help him earn enough money to get his car running before he started community college in the fall. Two weeks had gone by since he pinned up the ad on the board, and each day that he was scheduled to work, Johnny would check to see if any of the tabs had been removed. As of yesterday, all of the tabs were still attached.
Johnny lowered his voice, trying to sound more professional, and said into the handset of the phone, which hung on the floral wall-papered wall next to the kitchen, "Thompson's Landscape Services."
"I'm calling about your flyer," a woman's voice responded. "What sort of services do you provide?"
"Mowing, edging, trimming, weeding―whatever you need."
"Whatever I need?" the woman asked; her voice sounded smoky and sultry. "Is that right?"
"Yes, ma'am. You name it, I'll do it."
"Hmm," she said. "May I ask you something, do you have the proper equipment to get the job done?"
"Yes, ma'am. I think I do."
"I see, well let's hope so. How much do you charge?"
Johnny paused. He hadn't thought this part all the way through yet. "It depends on the job."
"How does five dollars sound?" the woman asked.
Five dollars was double the minimum wage and nearly as much as he made in an hour working at the supermarket. "That would be fine."
"How soon can you come by and provide me with your services, Mr. Thompson?"
"Tomorrow morning, if you want."
"How does nine o'clock sound?"
"Sound's great. What's your address?" Johnny scribbled it down on a piece of paper. "I'll see you then. Thanks for calling. You won't be disappointed."
"I certainly hope not," the woman said. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye, ma'am," Johnny said and then hung up the phone.
"Did you get the job?" his mother asked.
"Yes, and she's paying me five bucks."
"Wow, you better make sure you do a good job."
"I will," he promised.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Johnny's first client turned out to be his new neighbor who had just moved into the house where the Martins used to live. It was just two doors down the street from his house. He knocked on the front door. No answer. He tried again. Once again, no answer.
Pulling hard on the drawstring of the mower sparked the two-stroke, gasoline powered mower roaring to life, shattering the tranquility of the quiet suburban neighborhood. As Johnny started cutting the grass he had the strange feeling that he was being watched. He glanced up at one of the upstairs bedroom windows where a shadow appeared then quickly disappeared.
