Keep Agatha on

Her pleading eyes. Her heaving breasts. There’s no fakery about her. She genuinely needs your work.

Look at those breasts, those legs, that face, and your dick imagines how she’ll show her gratitude. No, that’s just a tawdry fantasy. Real life’s not like that. But you can imagine all the same.

No, sensible thoughts. Garden. Are you going to keep it up to the same standard? No. To any standard? Probably not.

Money. Can you afford it? It’ll squeeze your budget, but it won’t break you.

And that ultimately sways your opinion.

“I’ve decided that I can afford to keep you on.”

Is there anything better than watching the trepidation disappear from a woman’s eyes to be replaced by gratitude. Her smile lights every dimple in her cheek, every imperfection in her beauty. You knew she was beautiful. The smile reveals how much.

“Thank you, thank you. You won’t regret this,” she tells you, the words bubbling out of her, her voice cracking with the depth of her emotion.

You chill it with a sense of professionalism.

“Do you need some official contract or anything?”

She pauses and the smile fades, the brightness of her happiness remains. Professionalism can’t wipe the gleam of relief from her eyes. A few deep breaths that make her breasts heave beneath her t-shirt, distracting you when you didn’t need distracting. Then she speaks.

“Depends how you want to do it. I can do the work and send an invoice with my hours, or we can work like your mother did, which was set up a standing order, and I sent an update of the hours I’ve done.”

“The latter sounds better for you, I assume.” She nods. “Then that’s the way I’d want to do it. I trust you.”

There’s more to discuss, but not now. She es you her bank details so you can set up the standing order. But neither of you are in the right frame of mind for contract details just now. You promise to discuss them later.

You do offer her a beer, but she declines. Then she leaves, almost skipping to the doorway, the shake of the hands is completely informal. You watch her wistfully as she heads to the Petersons’ and her mini.