Romping With The Maid

There are days when I sit down and reflect on my life and find it almost impossible to believe the things I have been through even when I was observant and diligent.

For many years my beau and I shared a bicoastal life. I never queried any of his decisions and basically went along with the program because to me everything was being handled the way I desired and he was always at the top of his game.

The residences were always immaculate because he hired the household help and assured me they were trustworthy and likeable. All was right with the world until I started noticing little things.

I began to notice his household help went from referring to him formally to a first name basis. I also noted she was quite chummy with his pals when they phoned. I think the straw which broke the camel’s back was when I noticed long strands of raven hair in his shower and on his sheets.

My flight had arrived early and I decided that I would not call him from the airports like I always do. Traffic was good so within a few minutes I had arrived at the premises. Since I had my own set of keys I let myself in.

Upon entering the residence there was an ominous tone almost as if there was the soundtrack of “jaws” playing in the background. As I made my way up the spiral staircase, I heard giggling….I thought, “Surely he’s not home at this hour so who could it be laughing and cavorting in his personal quarters?”

My pumps were a bit noisy as I climbed the metal stairs which may have tipped them off because I heard a whole lot of shuffling and then it became eerily silent.

The last thing on my mind was him fornicating with the help.  By the time I entered his quarters, he was sitting in his robe casually smoking a cigar. In that moment my eyes began scanning the room for tell-tale signs of “foul play”.

As I scanned the room my intuition told me there was someone in his walk-in closet but he quickly embraced me to distract me from looking at the entry way. Although I did hear the patter of feet quietly descending the stairs.

As soon as I tore myself away from his embrace, I peeked covertly downstairs and  I observed he had a new maid. I saw her straightening up her uniform.

He in turn declared he was running out to get me some flowers because he knew how much I loved the scent of roses permeating the place.  I heard them whispering as he was exiting the domicile

As soon as he left, the young helper came upstairs insisting she was going to change the sheets.

I responded, “Didn’t you do that this morning?”

She stammered.

I feigned a cough and asked her if she would mind getting me a glass of water. Reluctantly she agreed.

I peeled back the sheets myself only to find  her hair all over the pillow cases. I then went to peruse his bathroom and  it was a mess and strands of  her hair was stuck to the glass doors.

Needless to say I was not a happy camper. It appeared that while I was away the rat was more than playing. Nonetheless I kept my composure.

I had a flashback of a story my granny had told me about her sister’s husband messing with the help. When she found out, she told him she would not leave him but banish him to Coventry meaning from that moment on they would have separate bedrooms and attend specific social engagements only to keep up appearances.

Her tactic proved to be more painful than if she had carried on and made a spectacle of herself.

When the maid returned with the water I asked her to set it down on the dressing table since I had no intentions of drinking it. I then requested of her to freshen up his quarters a bit since it seemed like a storm had run through it.

I sat patiently waiting for my beau’s return in the same arm chair he had so victoriously sat in when he thought I was still stuck at the airport.

He came back with joy and excitement toting flowers in hand but then he took one look at me and said…”Is it not happiness to see me…..?”

By then he had noticed that Conchita was milling about straightening up. I surmised his instinct told him I was on to his shenanigans. Yet, I decided to prolong the torture. Did I know….Or perhaps I was still in the dark?

As annoyed as I was , it was fun toying with his mind and conscience. I knew he would never admit to anything so I would have to lay my cards on the table. I was going to pull a move from the Jamaican playbook….”Hun, I know you think Conchita is a great worker but my spirit is not fancying her.”

Now, I figured, if he cared about me and his conscience was pricking him enough he would make a change for the better. He responded, “Well, good help is hard to find…”

I said, “Sweetie, I am sure, but may I make a few suggestions? How about just hiring a cleaning company from now on? They’ll come a couple times a week, but on some days you will have to make your own bed.”

I even told him the magic words…”They are more economical.” He was sold and Conchita was history.

I could have waged a tirade but I was not going to give either of them the satisfaction. So, the next day I was busy as a beaver finding cleaning companies. My prerequisites, “No women”, not even grannies because they always have a friend, sister, granddaughter, great-great niece or brother’s sister’s child….No, I wanted an all male cleaning crew.

Therefore, I made the arrangements and ensured he signed the contract which by the way was for a few years. I neglected to tell him one thing though, and that was the fact his new staff were all male….Older ones…Practically geriatric.

Imagine my joy as I boarded my flight the day the crew showed up for work and my cell phone was blazing with ring tones from him….He had finally received my surprise. #LOL 😉