Ann Tiffany

Recently I put an ad in the personal column of the local newspaper which said; "Professional lady will house sit," and followed it with my telephone number. House sitting I had decided, after doing it for several of my friends, was a neat thing to do. I simply stayed in the house, on guard so to speak, while the owners were away. I figured that the chores, such as keeping the place clean and watering a few plants, were a small price to pay for the privilege of keeping a roof over my head. There were no worries about hot water tanks bursting or furnaces refusing to go on, they were not my responsibility. It was, to my way of thinking, a pretty carefree existence.

Having put the ad in the paper, I sat back to wait for a response.

I didn't have long to wait.

The phone rang and the man at the other end of the line said he had read my ad in the paper and would like to meet me.

"Sure," I replied, "and will your wife be with you?" It seemed like an innocent enough remark but the guy gave a sort of gasp and answered in the negative as they say.

We decided to meet in a cozy little restaurant downtown where there were booths so that we could have some privacy. It was odd that he wanted to meet at nine o'clock that night but I agreed, thinking that maybe he couldn't get away during the day.

I decided to dress up a bit; if I was going to look after his house, he would want to know that I was at least clean and tidy and not someone dragged in off the street. I would wear my blue dress; apart from blue being my favourite colour, I look good in it.

"How will I know you?" I had asked and he said not to worry he would recognize me. I thought that sounded a little odd. After all, house sitters don't have any particular kind of look. We are all fairly respectable people. We don't have 'house sitter' engraved on our foreheads or anything like that.

The restaurant, when I arrived, was quiet. A few couples sat around talking over their meals. Some of them seemed to be stretching the rules of propriety a little though. From the corner of my eye I watched a couple sitting in a secluded booth on my right. The man was holding the woman's hand in his and was slowly and seductively sucking her fingertips while staring fixedly into her eyes. Under the table I watched the woman's foot travelling up his leg making little circles and gradually reaching higher and higher. I stopped looking when it reached his groin. What a nice, friendly place I told myself.

A middle-aged waitress approached me with a smile. "The gentleman is waiting in the booth over there," she indicated a booth at the rear of the room and I followed her over.

A little fat man, about my age, started to get up as I arrived. It was a struggle so I told him to sit down again. I didn't want him to have a heart attack before I'd got the job.

He ordered a drink for me. I hoped we wouldn't have to wait long to order the food. My tummy gurgled a little. With luck he would be hard of hearing and wouldn't hear the growls.

The drinks arrived and he held up his glass to me. "Here's to what I hope will be a long and happy association," he declared with a bit of a leer. 'Oh goody,' I thought, he's going to be out of town a lot.

"About the house," he started to say and I shuffled a little closer to hear him better. "It isn't very big but there should be plenty of room." I nodded and he went on to say, "How much do you ,er, charge.?"

I gave a little laugh. "Oh, I don't really charge anything," I replied gaily, "I really enjoy doing it. As long as I have a roof over my head and somewhere to sleep, I'm happy."

At the last words his eyes glittered and he reached out a pudgy hand and put it over mine. Quickly I withdrew. I didn't want him to have any wrong ideas.

"Do you do this often?" was his next question. I guessed that he wanted to have a few references from satisfied customers.

"All the time now," I said. "I love it. No responsibilities, just fun." I gave a lighthearted laugh then decided that maybe I shouldn't appear too lighthearted. He was after all leaving his home in my care.

"I vacuum and wash the floors and generally keep the place tidy, water the plants. You know, the usual thing," He brushed my words aside with an impatient gesture of his hand before going on.

"Do you like doing wild and crazy things?" Was his next surprising question which, coming from him sounded strange to say the least. He certainly didn't look like a wild and crazy person but, what the heck.

"Do I ever," I replied, "I love going down water slides and trail riding. I even went white water rafting once. It was really wild."

This didn't appear to be what he had in mind. His lips compressed a little and his face went red. Maybe I had sounded a little too wild for someone who was going to look after his house in his absence. I had some bridges to mend and quickly. "I also like quiet times," I said. I had read some of the ads in the personal column and people seemed to say things like that a lot, "and candlelight dinners," I hinted looking at the empty table in front of me where I hoped to see some food appear soon. He looked a bit calmer now.

It was getting late and dinner was not forthcoming. I had to get his mind back to the business in hand. I asked him where he lived. He mentioned a street in a fairly seedy part of town and alarm bells began to ring. Was this guy all that he seemed to be? Had I misinterpreted the wording of my ad? I had said 'professional lady.' What if professional meant something entirely different to him than it did to me. My face must have been several different shades of red as I sat there frantically turning over in my mind, ways to get out of there.

Coming to a decision, I clutched my purse to my chest and scrambled to my feet.

"I've just remembered an important appointment," I stuttered. He looked surprised and reached over to clutch my arm but I was too quick for him.

"What about the drinks and the house?" he stammered. But, I was out of there before he could finish what he was saying. I raced for my car and didn't stop until I reached home.

Safely inside I glanced at myself in the hall mirror. My hair was a mess, my eyes looked huge and my lipstick was smudged. I stared at myself for a long moment before the laughter burst inside me like a bubble and I started to laugh. Tears coursed down my cheeks and I slid to the floor unable to stand any longer.

The next morning I was at the newspaper office at 8.30 sharp. "I'd like to put an ad in the paper," I said to the girl behind the counter. I handed her a piece of paper on which I had written down my ad. Respectable older lady will look after your house while you are away, will do light housework and water plants. And, I added, references are required.