June was staring at the framed picture hanging in our living room, a large print of a vast Sidney Nolan landscape, an Australian outback dreamscape.
"Do you know what bugs me about this?" she asked, aware that I was standing behind her.
"No?" I responded.
"I know there's an unpainted patch of wall behind that print where your handyman Fabio patched the hole you gouged out. I just can't enjoy looking at this picture knowing there's an unsightly mess behind it."
"So what are you suggesting?" I asked knowing full well what she was suggesting.
"The whole house needs a repaint, it just looks tired," June rejoined as expected. "And those hidden eyesore just bug me, knowing that they're there."
I got the message. So checking through the junkmail from our letterbox later in the day, I took extra notice of a promo card from Clockwork Painters promising reasonable prices, no mess and guaranteed schedules. Naturally the card had the iconic headshot of Alex from the movie, the one with eyelashes and his black bowler hat. Inspired, I got in touch. I negotiated a reasonable price with then to paint the interiors, discussed the colours that June and I wanted, and set a date for them to start.
On the appointed day I was at my usual station, in the front room working on my laptop when their striking orange van pulled up. They carefully backed into our drive so the van's rear doors faced the house, not the street. Two people got out of the front and opened the back of the van which was full of the sort of things I guess you'd expect for painters. As well as stacks of paint cans, I could see ladders and other platform structures as well as what I guessed were groundsheets and such.
The two painters wore blazing white overalls. As they got out of the van, they both donned black bowler hats. Uh huh, I wondered, what had I got myself into now? I noticed as they busied themselves at the back of the van that the tall thin one was female and the shorter, muscular one was male. Soon they were knocking on my front door.
As I let them into the house, the painters politely introduced themselves. "I'm Julie," the tall blonde woman announced.
"And you can call me Gus," the stocky man announced. It was then that I noticed that as well as the spotless white pants and white shirts and suspenders and the bowler hats, they both sported the big black lashes on one eye. Horrorshow, indeed.
I laughed. Gus looked at me. "What's so funny?" he asked as if completely unaware of the provenance of his appearance or its effect on me. Like I should be scared of them or something.
"I've never seen such pristine outfits on workers before," I dissembled. "It's like you only just got them out of the pack."
"Oh," Gus countered, "we keep our uniforms extremely spick. We have our special way of keeping them," he paused and emphasised, "spick." Like it was something I should keep in mind.
For some reason at that moment, I looked over to Julie who was blushing. Well, I thought, whatever way they kept spick suited me if they were careful not to get paint on themselves or on anything else.
I walked them through the house pointing out what we had decided for each room. Julie checked on her tablet to confirm that what I was saying was what they had on the order. She nodded a lot without saying anything. So everything must have been as ordered. After the tour I confirmed that with her. "Oh yes," she smiled seeming a little more comfortable, "everything is as expected. Just dobby," she added with a hint of an eastern accent.
"Dobby," I repeated assuming I sounded stupid for aping her.
"Nice mesto," Gus grunted in a way that suggested he wanted to get the job started and wasn't too fussed with what I might say.
I explained that I would set up my laptop and do my work in the back garden if they needed me for anything. I also told them that my wife June would be home some time although I could not be sure when.
We all nodded about that and then I set myself up on the outdoor furniture in the late spring heat under a bit of shade from our large trees and went back to my work.
Some time later I took a break and went into my kitchen for a glass of water. The noise in the house suggested that the painters had started with the front room. They had their radio on and I could hear some banter between the two of them. I went in to tell them that I did not mind their choice of radio station, and I could pipe it through my house's system if they wanted. When I stepped into the room, the first thing I noticed was that Gus was shirtless. Julie did not seem to be fussed working with the topless man, so I did not point it out, no need to embarrass myself. I told them about the house system and Julie liked the idea, so I went down the hall to sort it out. And then back out into the backyard to get on with my work.
After another short stint at my work, I had finished my water, so I took another break and returned to the kitchen to fill up again. I peeked into the front room. I was almost not surprised that Gus had his shirt back on. But Julie had hers off. She sported a form-fitting white sports bra which pressed her breasts to her chest, suggesting nothing sexual to me, nor it appeared to Gus who was near her but busy preparing the wall along with the mostly topless woman in my front room. Although I did notice that Julie was thin in a healthy way. Her arms and shoulders were impressively muscled, no doubt due to her relatively physical work. Unsure whether they had seen me I retreated to the safety of my back garden and tried to concentrate on an issue that my boss wanted an answer on by the end of the day.
I was drafting a response to my boss when Julie sauntered out into my garden, a medium size bottle of Coke in one hand. She was fully dressed again. "Time to break," she informed me. "Boss requires this. Health and safety, et cetera."
She stood in silence for a moment or two taking the occasional swig from her bottle while I pondered how to deal with my boss. "So this is where your work is done," she smiled again trying for the small talk.
"I hope the work is getting done inside," I mock threatened like I wanted value for the money that I was paying them.
"Oh," Julie laughed, "that's not work, that's filly."
I gestured at my laptop screen. "I wish this was filly," I sighed.
"Maybe you have the wrong job," Julie flatly observed with the confidence of someone who didn't pay a lot of bills. Sensing my alienating look, she backtracked towards the house. "Well, I must get back," she breezed, "can't upset Gus." And she was gone.
Lunchtime was approaching. I was trying to get to a point in my work where I could stop and easily pick it back up after a meal when June sauntered into the backyard. My wife wore a long red dress that closely fitted her figure right down to her ankles; obviously the dress was made of a stretch material.
"What is that?" I asked her.
June gave me the smile of hers that always put me on edge, a warning for something unexpected. "It's my Clockwork Orange dress," she smirked. "Do you like it?" She swivelled around so I could get the full experience of how it clung to her prominent breasts, how it shadowed her crotch, stretching enticingly over her arse and accentuating the contours of her thighs and exaggerated her long thin legs. I guessed that she had nothing on underneath.
"Rather," I agreed verbally along with my transparent gaze of desire. But I was worried. "What are you up to?" I asked her.
"Well, I thought since you have invited the droogies into the house, I may as well play along with the theme and see what happens." She placed one hand on her hip, an invitation to her husband who was distracted by the need to impress his boss with an honest day's work. Definitely no bra or panty lines.
"It's almost lunchtime," I observed probably completely killing what was left of the moment between us. Recognising that, she nodded in agreement.
"I've prepared something," she smiled. "Give me five minutes and then come in."
She had organised the workers. The three of us sat at the kitchen table while June fussed over us with cutlery and plates. She then produced a large wooden board covered with foodstuffs.
"A ploughman's lunch," June announced. "It's all there for you to select and put on your plates. So if you don't like pickled onions or if you don't eat meat there's still plenty for you."
"And who doesn't like pickled onions?" Gus enthused.
"Well I don't for a start," Julie sniffed. "Sorry Mrs Miller but they give me wind."
"Nice to know," Gus smirked while he shovelled meat and onions and eggs and bread onto his plate while taunting Julie and praising June for her generosity in feeding him. June took her place at the table to prepare her own meal.
"He has a cold pie in an esky in the van," Julie revealed. June raised an eyebrow. "He eats them cold," Julie continued. June seemed interested.
I wasn't really paying attention to the chat as my eyes wandered. Julie noticed that I was staring at her breasts, even though they were well concealed. She nudged Gus and gestured at me.
June noticed the change in the mood around the table. "Is something the matter?" she asked Julie who gestured at me.
