The Happy Housekeeper

By Ron Dawes

When Emily is asked by a neighbor to help him find a housekeeper, she decides to apply for the job herself. Since she'd lost her job to the Covid virus, she had little to do, and felt she could use the money. After accidentally discovering her employer's secret fantasies, she soon becomes embroiled in a web of lust, deceit and sinful pleasures. Another gem by the master of faithless wives stories, Ron Dawes

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ron Dawes
• Release date: Feb 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005633714

Ron Dawes

Writing these stories provides me an outlet to express my innermost fantasies. I love hearing from readers who have been moved by my stories. Feel free to drop me a note anytime. Many of my stories are based on my fantasies. Some of the stories are based on the fantasies of others that have contacted me. But all of them are fantasies. We have no control over our fantasies, and many of them will always be just that; fantasies, not real. I don't necessarily condone the behavior of my characters; some of them are a bit lecherous, I'm afraid. Some are rowdy. And some might just be a little nasty. But it takes all kinds. I believe that men, deep down, have a strong need to worship and adore their lover. I believe that women, deep down, have a strong need to be worshiped and adored by their lover. Most of my stories reflect those beliefs.

Book preview

The Happy Housekeeper

By Ron Dawes

Text Copyright 2021

Cover image by Pexels from Pixaby

Mrs. Harrington’s death came as no surprise. Even though she’d first been diagnosed with cancer only three months previously, she quickly became very sick. Some of the neighbor women agreed to rotate taking meals to Mr. Harrington, and Emily was one of them. It wasn’t much trouble for her. She enjoyed cooking, and cooking for three people, rather than two was very little extra effort or expense. Plus, since this damned corona virus had hit, there was little else to do. They could no longer go out to eat, so she was cooking every meal at home. Plus, she’d lost her job, due to the virus, so there was little else to do, anyway.

There was a sign, near the door, that said, Thank you for removing your shoes. Stepping out of her sandals, she rang the bell. She suddenly realized that she didn’t even know his name. Though she spoke to Mrs. Harrington often, before her illness, she’d probably not exchanged a dozen words with Mr. Harrington over the months that she had lived in the neighborhood. Mr. Harrington went to work early and stayed late, and Emily and Frank both worked, and were busy with their own lives.

He answered the door, wearing a mask, and Emily suddenly realized she’d forgotten hers.

Oh, I’m sorry, she said. I forgot to bring my mask.

Come on in, he said, as he removed his. It doesn’t matter. Please, set that dish over there, he said, nodding at the kitchen countertop. Won’t you sit for a moment?

Yes, I will, she said. I’m Emily.

Yes, I know. Your husband is Frank, and you have a cat. You moved in almost exactly a year ago, and this is the first home you’ve owned. I’m John, by the way.

Wow, you have a good memory, John, Emily said. She didn’t remember ever having told him any of that information, and she was certain that Frank had spoken to him even less.

No, it’s not my memory, he said, smiling. My wife was very interested in all our neighbors, and she filled me in. We’ve lived here almost twenty-five years. This was also our first house, and Mary loved this house, and this neighborhood.

Well, we love this neighborhood, as well. We feel lucky that we were able to afford it, so soon after graduating from college. I just hope that we can find a way to keep it.

Why do you say that?

Never mind, she said. I feel silly, worrying about my problems in front of you. I’m so sorry for your loss.

Thank you, he said. But please, tell me what you meant.

I lost my job, due to the virus. We barely qualified for a first-time homeowner loan, and we need two incomes to make the payments. I don’t know what we’ll do if this drags out for an extended time. I’ve got unemployment for now, but it isn’t much.

I’m sorry to hear that, John said. This damned virus is hurting a lot of families. It’s a shame.

I’m sorry I brought it up. I was supposed to be helping to cheer you up, not bring you down. Let’s forget it.

Well, thank you for bringing food, he said, as he lifted the top. Hey, this looks good, and smells delicious. But it’s enough for three meals. You girls are bringing me enough food for an army of people. It’s been a week, and I have enough leftovers for another week. You can tell everyone that I appreciate all their thoughts, but they can stop bringing food now.

You’re sure?

Yes. It’s time for everyone, including myself, to get on with our lives, and try to get back to normal. Whatever that means, these days.

What are you going to do?

"I think I’m going to try to go back to work. I took an early retirement when Mary got ill, and got a severance package, so I can’t go back there. But I feel too young to retire altogether, so I want to find something productive to do.

Well, good luck to both of us, on our job search. You’re certain you want me to tell the neighbors to stop bringing meals?

Yes. What I could really use is a housekeeper. I took over, after Mary became too ill to manage it, but I don’t like it, and I’m no good at it. Mary kept an impeccably clean house, and would never allow anyone else to come in to clean, even when she was so sick.

I don’t know any housekeepers. We couldn’t afford one.

Well, if you hear of anyone, please let me know. Maybe one of the other neighbors have someone they use.

I’ll let you know.

Thanks for coming over. And thanks for the meal. By the way, I must say, you have very lovely feet.

Oh, thank you, she said, a little disconcerted. Nobody had ever commented on her feet before. She had seen him staring at them often, as they talked.

Just before reaching the door, she had a thought. Turning, she said, Hey, John. I just had a thought. I don’t have much else to do. Perhaps I could clean your house, at least until I find another job. I’ve never cleaned anybody’s house before, but I clean my own, so there’s no reason I couldn’t. I’m willing to try, if you’re willing to have me.

I’d be delighted, he said, smiling. I would pay you cash, so nobody ever has to find out. We wouldn’t want to jeopardize your unemployment payments.

So, how much is he going to pay you? Frank asked.

I have no idea. I don’t know what the going rate is. I guess we’ll figure it out.

Slipping off her shoes, she rang the bell. He opened it and looked down. Oh, he said, unaware he’d said it out loud.

Huh?

What?

"You