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.
The lawn was overgrown, but it wasn't very large, and twenty minutes later Thompson's Lawn Care Services had officially completed its first job. He knocked again on the door. Still no answer.
Johnny headed home, cleaned up, and got dressed for his shift at the supermarket. When he returned home that afternoon his mother told him, "Mrs. Roberts called."
"Who?" he asked.
"Your client, Mrs. Roberts. She said that she was sorry she missed you. She's home now if you want to go by and collect your money."
Johnny was so excited to collect the first payment from his new business venture that he didn't bother to change from his work clothes: black trousers, white shirt, black bow tie. The plan was to frame the five dollar bill and hang it on his bedroom wall for inspiration and motivation. He raced over to Mrs. Roberts' house and knocked on the front door. "Come in," a woman's voice beckoned from inside.
When he entered the house, Johnny saw dozens of unpacked cardboard boxes stacked up haphazardly on the lime-green shag carpeting. "Mrs. Roberts?" he called out.
"I'm upstairs," a female voice answered. Johnny closed the front door behind him and headed up the creaky wooden staircase.
"I'm in here, at the end of the hall," her voice continued. Johnny followed the siren sound to end of the hallway, where a bedroom door was slightly ajar. He tapped softly on it. "Come in," Mrs. Roberts said.
Johnny pushed the bedroom door open and saw Mrs. Roberts lying on her bed, her body concealed beneath the covers, only her arms and bare shoulders were visible. She held a cigarette in one hand and a cocktail in the other. Any man, Johnny included, would consider her to be an attractive woman. She looked a lot like Annette Funicello, with shoulder-length black hair and olive skin. Johnny guessed she was in her late forties, roughly the same age as his mother.
"Are you here for the money?" Mrs. Roberts asked.
"Yes, ma'am."
"What's your name?"
"My name is Johnny."
"Good, you've come to the right place. I have something for you, Johnny." Mrs. Roberts put her cigarette and drink down, and pulled back the covers, revealing her completely naked body. Her legs were spread apart and in between them, laying on the bed, just below her pussy, was a ten dollar bill.
Johnny was awestruck. He had never seen a naked woman before. The closest he had ever got was the Ladies Underwear section of the Sears catalog. He desperately wanted to keep staring at her body, but out of respect, Johnny turned his head away.
"Well, don't just stand there. Johhny, come and get it."
"I . . . I . . ."
"What's wrong?"
