The Naed Cleaning Company

Rachel was preparing the evening meal. Her mother, Jane, had joined them for the evening and sat at the breakfast bar, sipping wine. She lived a few streets away, but generally kept herself to herself, so Rachel insisted on checking in regularly, making sure she was eating properly and keeping healthy. From Jane's point of view it was all a bit too much fuss. She'd managed fine on her own for ten years since her beloved husband had passed. She wasn't ready to be cared for by her daughter yet. And besides, Rachel seemed to be having enough problems of her own!

"Mum, it's fine. Everything's fine. We're just going through a rough patch," said Rachel.

"You could've done better you know? That young man from Oxford?" replied Jane.

"Mother, we are NOT having that conversation again!"

"I'm just saying. Tony has no money, no prospects, no job!" Jane had never really taken to Tony and disapproved of her daughter's choice of fiance. She appreciated he was a handsome young man and what girl can't resist a charmer, but in her humble opinion, he was a wastrel. Her daughter deserved better.

"Actually Tony does have a job. He's set up a cleaning business. The Naked Cleaning Company."

"He cleans in the nude?!" Jane almost choked on her chardonnay.

"No, of course not," laughed Rachel. "It's a metaphor. Naked Cleaning. Like... bringing a home back to it's original natural beauty."

"Sounds kinky to me. Is he kinky? Is that why you like him?"

"Mother!"

At that moment Tony piled through the door. He'd just finished with yet another new client, the third this week, and was, understandably, a little flushed.

"Just gonna jump in the shower, babe," he blurted, heading for the staircase. Then he noticed Jane perched in the corner. 'Trouble,' he thought. "Oh, hi Jane," he nodded and made a quick exit.

"Dinner in 15," called Rachel as he trotted up the staircase.

"Those his work clothes?" grunted Jane with a snarl.

"They're just overalls, Mother."

"Definitely kinky," muttered Jane, mostly to herself.

**

"Great lasagne, babe. Thanks," said Tony appreciatively as they tucked in.

"No. Thank you. For buying it," Rachel replied with a smile. "Groceries have miraculously appeared in the kitchen."

"Three new clients this week. Money coming in. It's going well."

"I know, I spoke to Clare Anderson today."

Tony paused mid-chew, a look of dread descending across his face.

"Oh. You know her," he blurted, trying to remain calm.

"Who's Clare Anderson?" barked Jane from across the table.

"At number 23, Mother. Old school friend." Rachel turned back to Tony. "She sounded very satisfied, although she's surprised I let you do this kind of work."

"Um. Really?" mumbled Tony, frozen in fear. A bit of pasta fell out of his mouth.

"Don't worry. I'm not complaining," chirped Rachel happily. "I told her you do such a thorough job at home it would be churlish not to share your skills with our neighbours."

Tony was speechless and remained silent, inwardly sighing with relief.

"Cleaning. That's not a career. Any idiot can do that," moaned Jane.

"Apparently not as well as my Tony. Said she wouldn't have anyone else now," said Rachel proudly. Tony swallowed guiltily.

"I've cleaned our house every day for 40 years straight. Even after my Bill passed over. Always kept it spotless," said Jane.

"You don't have to go to work every day, Mother. Ladies like me need a man like Tony. I'm proud of you darling."

Rachel leaned across and whispered lasciviously. "Keep this up and maybe I'll find some other ways of thanking you."

The two ladies stared at him. Rachel with appreciation, Jane with suspicion. Tony just stayed silent, awkwardly swallowing a mouthful of lasagne.

**

Tony rang the bell at 189. Another new client. He was a little dismayed when an elderly lady opened the door.

"Hello M'am. I'm looking for Ann," he said.

"That's me. Is it insurance? Don't want no insurance," replied Ann, suspiciously.

Slightly taken aback, Tony checked the note in his hand. It clearly showed '189 Ann'. He looked at the old lady and shrugged inwardly. 'Probably in her 70s at least,' he thought with a sigh. 'Not quite my niche clientele. But I guess they still have a libido, even at this age.'

"I'm the cleaner. Tammy recommended me."

Ann seemed momentarily confused. "Tammy from bingo?"

Tony wasn't 100% certain.

"Er. Yea, I guess so," he replied. Bingo didn't sound like Tammy's thing, but what did he know. It had all been a blur this last week.

"Oh, well come on in then," she said, allowing him through the door.

"Front room there. Cupboard. Diner. Do you offer a full service?" she grumbled as he followed her through the house.

"Always, M'am," Tony chirped enthusiastically. "I go as deep as you want. In every nook and cranny, if you know what I mean?" He grinned mischievously, but she ignored him. They reached the kitchen.

"Well, I guess you can start in here," she mumbled. "I'll just get my specs."

Tony was a little confused by the whole situation and slightly disgusted, but a job's a job, he thought, so he quickly undressed. As Ann returned to the room, Tony turned to face her in his little black pinny, and waved his feather duster.

"I'm ready for you, Ann," he squealed and pulled away the pinny.

Ann stared at his crotch and screamed.

"What?" exclaimed Tony, looking down at his johnson. "Is it too big?"

Ann turned and grabbed a short, black taser out of a basket on the kitchen table, pointing it at him.

"Oh, shit," said Tony, covering his crotch. He grabbed his clothes and turned towards the door but she zapped him anyway. Right on the arse.

**

Tony slowly returned to consciousness, spluttering a little. An attractive woman was bending over him.

"Are you OK?" she said, clearly concerned.

He was lying on a sofa in just a robe. As he cleared his head his vision came into focus, and he saw Ann sitting opposite, nursing a glass of sherry. Tony sat up abruptly.

"She zapped me!" he squealed.

"Well, you were naked in her kitchen!" said the woman, grinning. Memories flooded back.

"I. Er. Um," mumbled Tony.

The woman leaned down and whispered. "It's OK. I'm Ann from one eighty seven. Tammy's friend." She showed him the paper he was clutching earlier. Tony realised that it was entirely possibly that what looked like 189 was, in fact, 187.

"I heard the screaming and came round to check on my neighbour, also called Ann," continued the younger Ann. She was giggling but Tony wasn't seeing the funny side. Neither was the older Ann, who scowled at him from across the room.

"I still think we should call the Police," Old Ann muttered, clutching her sherry glass.

"It's all right, Mrs Turner. I can assure you he's harmless. Just playing tricks," said Young Ann.

"He flashed his whatsit," said Old Ann.

"Sorry Mrs Turner," Tony blurted. "I thought you were someone else. Trick or Treat?" He grinned nervously but Old Ann just scowled again.

"Don't you worry, I'll take care of it. Come on you. Let's grab your stuff and we'll pop next door," said Young Ann, dragging him off the sofa.

"Are you calling the cops?" said the old lady.

"No need. I can assure you he'll be thoroughly punished."

**

Twenty minutes later, Tony was face down, strapped to Young Ann's bed. She'd blindfolded and gagged him and stood towering over him in a red basque, suspenders and stockings.

"Oh dear, you have been a bad boy today," she whispered firmly, bringing the cane sharply down on his buttocks with a thwack!