I’d been divorced for six months. I still had this feeling of floating, being untethered—like I was a balloon on a string and the person holding onto the string had let go. That person of course was my wife. She was the one on the ground. I found an apartment in Somerville and moved in. I have to admit that I kind of let things go. I wasn’t a sloppy person but my wife had done most of the cleaning. So when I saw this ad in craigslist for a house bunny I thought, why not give it a try? Here’s the ad:
House Bunny: compensation: roon & bathroom & minimal weekly wages
I am a nice, fun & pretty woman who is looking for a nice live in position short or long term for being a house bunny to someone nice & who would love to have a friend & personal masseuse. I can be available to be your personal masseuse, personal great cook, laundry, errands & tydying for you for my own room & bath & minimal wages. I can offer this because most of my friends have boyfriends & I am single. I love massage however working in a spa is so boring & impersonal & i don’t like wearing the uniforms. I like wearing high heels alot & dressing pretty & casual & I can’t do massages all day long for so many people. I am sweet, very fit & healthy no drugs or smoking, never have & would like a non smoking household too please although I do enjoy sipping wine or cocktails:). Also I am allergic to cats, i geuess that means i should be the only kitty kat in the house:) I can be around hypoallergenic dogs although I love animals very much especially dogs & horses. Please call to say hi so I can come by so we can meet & hopefully make our plans to be together for a short or long term arrangement. I travel for personal in home massage too:) Call so we can say hi & start our friendship. Please know you can date & see as many you would like in addition to our friendship. I can be available to you for great soothing & relaxing massages daytime & bedtime & anytime you would like in exchange for a room & bath to use:) i love watching sports together & going to games together if you like:) smiles:) Kathy
Ok, so she couldn’t spell. A lot of people can’t. What did I have to lose? I loved dogs and horses too although I didn’t have either one. I pictured us riding horses together and then coming back to the ranch, hopping down and throwing the reins over the railing. I’d rub my neck and she’d smile and say, “You look like you could use a massage.” “You bet,” I’d say and we’d head on in.
I responded to her ad and said I’d like to meet at Starbucks and see if we got along. She said she’d have a pink Red Sox hat on.
The Starbucks in Davis Square is always pretty crowded. Mostly there are young people–Tufts students and a few geeks from the local start-ups manning the window seats. No one talks to each other. It’s funny because I read that Starbucks set up their cafes to be like a second home with bench seating so people would meet up like on Friends, but no one seems to do that. They all just stare at their Mac screens. Anyway, I picked Kathy the Kitty Kat out right away in her pink Red Sox hat.
She was standing with her back to me at the cash register. She was wearing Pink yoga pants—not pink in color but the ones made by Victoria secret. She had a nice round butt. She had red converse high tops on and a white leather jacket with fringe. It was kind of a confusing outfit. I was wondering just how young she was when she turned around. In her thirties I was thinking—crows feet tracked her eyes and her make-up didn’t quite eliminate the pock marks. She wore bright red lipstick and heavy eyeliner top and bottom with purple eye shadow above. Her hair was bright blond, pulled back in a ponytail that came out the back of the cap.
“Hey,” I said, “Kathy?”
She was looking in her bag for money.
“Let me get it,” I said.
“Are you Dave?” she asked looking up at me. She had high-pitched little girl voice. I moved a little closer. She could be forty.
“Yeah,” I smiled. I ordered the coffee of the day, Guatemalan, and paid for her medium vanilla latté.
“I’ll go grab a seat,” she said.
I watched her walk. There was a lot of motion going on in the caboose. She could go right off the tracks if she didn’t watch her step. Then I noticed her looking at a guy sitting by himself in the corner. He was a tall, skinny dude with stringy hair and tattoos on his neck. He seemed to nod at her.
I pulled up a chair beside her. “Do you know that dude?” I asked.
“No, he just looks familiar,” she said. She stared at me with her eyebrows raised as if she was waiting to see if I went for that.
“Like someone you went to school with?” I asked. I took a sip of the Guatemalan. I’d forgotten how strong the coffee was at Starbucks.
She nodded. “I’d love to go back to school,” she said. “I want to be a hair dresser or a nurse maybe so I could take care of my mother.” When she sipped her latté, a swath of foam stuck to her upper lip and the end of her nose.”
I started to tell her but then I thought, what for? Instead I asked “Is your mom sick?”
She sniffed, turned her head and wiped an imaginary tear from her eye, smudging her eyeliner. “She has the cancer,” she said.
“What kind of cancer does she have?” I asked.
“The bad kind,” she said.
I nodded and finished my coffee. “Would you like to see my apartment?” I asked her. “It’s not far from here.” I pushed the chair back and stood.
“I’d love too,” she said and smiled.
Her smile was kind of cute except for the red lipstick on her front teeth.
She glanced at the skinny guy. I looked at him too and he stared down into his coffee cup.
As we walked up Elm Street, I checked over my shoulder to see if he was following us but I couldn’t spot him. The streets were full of college students and elderly locals doing their shopping. A well-dressed, older drunk dude asked for spare change. “No liquor,” he quipped. His eyes were rheumy. His speech was slurred. I have to admit I am always confused about whether to give money to panhandlers. On the one hand, they could just be down on their luck or homeless or a runaway. On the other hand, they could just be scamming people. My brother-in-law once told me he used to panhandle for drug money when he was in college.
My place was just off a bike path. It was a one bedroom in a small two family owned by an old guy. I walked up the stairs and Kathy followed me. When I opened the door I said, “sorry about the mess.”
Kathy stepped in and surveyed the room.
I walked over to the couch and picked up my Patriots sweatshirt and my Brew-through jersey and hung them over my arm. I grabbed the empty Harpoon bottles. I tossed the clothes onto the unmade bed in my room and went into the kitchen and put the bottles on the counter.
When I returned to the living room, I said, “the couch folds out into a bed. You could sleep in here.”
“Did you want a massage now?” she asked.
“Uh, ok, yeah, why not?”
She was examining the apartment. Looking to se if there was anything worth any money I guess.
“Why don’t we use my bedroom,” I said.
“Sure,” she said. Go ahead and get undressed. Do you want some privacy?” As I walked into my bedroom she closed the door behind me. She wasn’t going to find much of value. My wife kept all the art and the silverware and, of course, her jewelry. I was trying to think if there was anything out there worth taking. I could hear her going through the drawers and the cabinets.
I pushed my clothes on the floor and lay down on the bed on my stomach. She knocked on the door.
“Come in,” I said.
She came in and stripped down to a black bra and red panties—lots of curves. She climbed on top of me and started rubbing my back. It actually felt pretty good. It’s nice to have a woman in her panties sit on your butt and rub your back. I was beginning to relax. She ran the tips of her fingers lightly over my back and then she began grinding into me as she massaged my shoulders. I felt myself getting hard and pushed back against her.
“Do you want to turn over, hon?” She reached between my legs and laughed.
I turned over and she slid down and gave me a blowjob. Just before I came, she took me out of her mouth and finished me with her hand. She knew what she was doing. “Oh yeah,” she said as I spurted.
She hopped up. “Can I use the bathroom?”
I pointed to it. “Sure.”
I heard her turn on the water. She left the door ajar. “So, Dave,” she called. “Can you give me a little spending money? I’m a little short right now.” She turned off the water and came out and picked up her yoga pants off the floor. I watched her pull them on.
“You bet,” I said. “Is fifty ok?”
“I usually get a hundred for a massage, Dave.” She stepped into her Chuck Taylor’s and shimmed her top on.
I nodded. “So Cathy,” I said, “that’s your name, right?”
She hesitated and looked at me. “Yeah, what do you mean?”
“I mean, Cathy, this is a scam. This “house bunny” deal, right? Who is that guy that was in Starbucks? Is he waiting outside now?”
Cathy, or whatever her name was, sat back in the chair and looked out the window. She suddenly looked older and she slumped in the chair. “Ok, yeah, you’re right. It’s a scam, but you knew that. And you got what you wanted out of it, right? All I want is a hundred bucks.”
“How much goes to your friend?”
“Lincoln?”
“That’s his name? I laughed.
“Yeah, that’s his name. Lincoln and me met in rehab. This was his idea. Now he’s waiting out there and I need to show up soon with some money.”
“Or what?” I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, grabbed my clothes and got dressed.
“Oh, he won’t do anything to you, don’t worry. He’ll take it out on me.”
I tied my shoes and stood up. “I could take care of him,” I said.
She cocked her head and looked at me confused. “Really? Wait, does that mean you’re not gonna pay me?”
I laughed. I took fifty out of my wallet and handed it to her. “Your house bunny ad needs some work,” I said. “Lots of spelling errors.”
She nodded. “Lincoln wrote it. I didn’t even see it.”
“Sit tight,” I said. “I’ll be back in a few.” I take my black leather jacket out of the front hall closet and reach up on the shelf to get the gun behind the hats.
I found Lincoln sitting on a bench in a little park across the street.
“Don’t get up,” I said to him.
He started to get up and I pushed him back down.
“Where’s Nadia?” he asked.
“It’s Cathy,” I say. “It’s Cathy now, remember? You wrote the ad.”
He looks up at me through the wiry black hair. “He smiles. He’s missing a couple of teeth. “What do you want?” he says.
I pull my jacket open and show him the gun in my pants. It’s a Walther 32 semi-automatic. It’s not registered. I took it from a guy years ago before I was married. I was hitchhiking down in Florida. This guy picked me up in a nice red Mustang convertible. He stopped at a truck stop for gas and got out to use the Men’s Room. When he was gone, I popped open the glove compartment and there’s this nice Walther sitting there. I took it, closed the glove compartment, got out of the car and went into the diner. Never saw the guy again.
“I want you to leave Cathy, or Nadia, whatever her name is, alone. Don’t bother her anymore. She doesn’t like you.”
That’s when Lincoln did something I didn’t expect. He tackled me! He got me down and we wrestled. He pulled my gun out but I grabbed his wrist and the gun went off. Thank God it was pointed up; the bullet just grazed my finger. We rolled around in the park and people were screaming and in no time at all there was a cop car and one of the cops was yanking Lincoln off of me. Lincoln had the gun in his hand and the cop twisted his arms to put the handcuffs on and the gun clattered to the pavement.
“Are you all right, sir?” another cop asked, helping me to my feet. I wiped some blood off my mouth and pointed. “He jumped me,” I said.
By then another cop car had shown up and they took us separately to the Somerville police station. They fingerprinted Lincoln and locked him up. I heard him say he wasn’t talking till his lawyer showed.
Meanwhile I made a statement about how I saw this guy sitting on a bench and he looked a little off so I asked him if he was ok and next thing I know, he jumps me and pulls the gun. I wrestled with him, I say, and got my hands on the gun, almost snatched it away from him. That’s when it went off and grazed my finger.
At first the cops were a little suspicious but it turned out that Lincoln had a long record. Possession of drugs, dealing drugs, B&E’s, armed robbery. His lawyer arranged a deal for him. Eighteen months at MCI Walpole for assault with a dangerous weapon. Apparently the people at the park backed my story although I’m sure there was some confusion about what really happened.
I didn’t even have to show up in court. My lawyer appeared for me. Talk about luck. I did lose a nice gun, but hey, you can always get another gun in America, right?
Nadia stayed with me for about a month. She confessed there was nothing wrong with her mother. I got her a job as a waitress at Five Horses where I bartend. Things went ok for a while. I was saving a little money. I kept it in a sock in my bureau. I cut back on the drinking and started going to a sports club and doing a little jogging on the bike path. Nadia kept the place pretty clean and she really wasn’t such a bad cook. Her specialty was Mexican food. She made great burritos. Then she was caught stealing tips by the manager at the bar and was fired on the spot. That night I came home to no Nadia and a note on my bureau.
“I’m sorry hun. Its just not gunna work out. I’m lookin for someone more ambisious than you. Nuthin personal. I took the cash you kep in the sock in your burro. I hope that’s ok. Luv: Nadia.”
That kind of brought me down to earth. I still check the ads on craigslist. You never know what you’ll find there. I saw an ad for snuggle bunnies today and I think I’ll check it out. Maybe it is exactly what it sounds like.
[Image Credit : Photo by Alexander Jawfox on Unsplash ]
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Ed Meek
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