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The Maintenance Man

By: Tia3



I knew I wanted him. His name was Manuel and he works for the property I live in. I met him after I moved in but my things were still in boxes. I had just finished my inspection and turned in my results to the property manager. He came to my door less than an hour later to fix the things I had found wrong.

His head shaved in the heat and those cute glasses, they drove me insane. It took all my strength to stop my self from wrapping my legs around his face. He has little crinkles around his eyes when he smiled, he always seemed to smile. His skin, although sun kissed, was dark with his Puerto Rican heritage. He stood quite a few inches above me at I’m guessing six and a half feet. I wanted him.

I didn’t want him like I’ll date him or I’ll talk to him, no I wanted to make whoopi and have loud rough sex with him. What I wanted to do to him was probably beyond my physical capacity. I wanted to touch his every inch of him with my pierced tongue and bite his nipples. I wanted him to suckle me hard, first my left and then my right breast until my cocoa brown skin became red from the abuse.

I could just picture his smiling face as he undid the snaps that held my shirt together. I’d watch him mesmerized as he slowly buried his glasses between my heavy, Nubian globes licking the sweat off the space between them. I’d place my shaking hands on either side of his face to remove the now fogged glasses then hold on for dear life as he roughly lifts me onto the kitchen counter. 

The whole idea of it makes my sex juices flow. Could anything be more fantastic? I wish. I tried to pay attention to the words he said to me about the faucet. I don’t remember what he said. I was thinking of what it would feel like being roughly handled by those capable hands. I almost missed it when he said the he was from my home town. I was too hot and bothered to be home sick at the time.

What would happen if he would place me on that counter and rip my pants, trying to take them off? His strong bronzed arms could do it. He would gasp as the smell of my wetness wafted up to his nostrils. The only thing that would be blocking him from diving into my slick velvety goodness would be some flimsy lace panties. Kneading my breast with both hands he would drink my lips in hungrily and grip my waist close to his body forcing my legs wider apart. There I’d feel the extent of his arousal through his work shorts. The material would feel slightly abrasive against the soft skin of my inner thighs, it would not matter though, I’d be too caught up in the magic he was making taking little bites of my neck.  

I was checking out his backside when he went into the bathroom to fix the seat. I almost drooled when he stooped down to look at the problem with it. I do know he heard me suck in a breath when I imagined my hands grabbing his ass and squeezing my legs together around his hips. I know he did because he looked at me and asked if I was okay. All I could do was nod. I was still in the kitchen being man handled by him.

I was running my hands under his shirt up and down his chest and raking my nails across his back. Every time it hurt he’d grunt a little and bite my ear. My nipples would press though the fabric of my lace bra and scratch the buttons on the pockets of his shirt. I cry out loud because the sensation of the buttons would shoot little hot arrows straight to my honey pot. My loins would burst with pleasure. On cue he would rip the lacey barrier of my panties of with his bare hands and slip one finger into my hot tunnel. My eyes would flicker open just in time to see and feel his index finger withdraw and watch him lick the slickness off of it. I’d feel the need to have that finger in my mouth. 

Blinking back to reality I had to explain what was wrong with the dinning room window screen. My hand brushed his when we opened it together and examined it. There was a blast of hot air that rushed in from outside. It should have brought me to my senses but it felt like his breath on my belly. I stepped back a little, sliding my bare feet on the carpet. I was about to turn and leave but I noticed a golf cart below the window under my apartment. I thought may be if I make some joke he’ll not notice the little ways my body was giving me away. Like the blush I could feel rising from my neck. I asked: “Could I have your Golf Cart?” He said no. His mouth made the perfect little O when he said it and before I could stop myself I said “C’mon… let me ride you.” I did not notice this little slip until he pause to look at me. “It I mean.” I said before he could utter a word, then I hurriedly went to the kitchen to make a drink for myself.

There I visualized that Manuel left my wonton body to get a chunk of ice to cool me down. I pictured him placing the little cube in his mouth and trailing it down my sweating brown skin starting with my swollen lips. There I licked at the ice cube trying to take if from him for I was thirsty and I needed to quench this all powerful thirst. He would trail that ice cube around my neck and shoulders then let the cold water leak down my back. With his teeth he’d break the ice in two and drop one piece in each flimsy cup of my 36D bra. Once deposited, he would gently tug then suck each mini ice cube, snaking his tongue into my bra and playing with my nipples. Meanwhile his hands had been holding me steady began to again to wander to my nether regions. One hand while firmly holding me to the counter nudged my legs a little farther apart. The other hand would gently brush against the area where the outer folds meet then move down to where the inner folds just poked their way out then back up again.

I sighed as the piece of ice I had taken from my lemonade dripped down the side of my face. I rubbed it against my neck and started to enjoy my lustful visions of him. My breathing must have become heavy again because he had come back to the kitchen to ask me another question. He didn’t. He stood there silently watching me as I placed the sweating glass to my forehead to cool my spinning head. I let the melting ice cube in my other hand run down my wrist and arm. I placed the ice cube to my lips, I rubbed it across them. The water ran down my neck into my shirt where he could see the trails the water let behind as it made its descent. I put the ice cube back in my drink, and gulped long draining half the glass. 

I looked directly at him with my most alluring look and asked, “Do you want some?” Not really sure what I was offering him he said no thanks. I just closed my eyes and took a smaller but slower sip. I then placed the glass down on the counter and walked passed him. I whispered to him even though we were the only people in the apartment: “When you do get thirsty let me know.” I brushed my wet shirt against his arm when I passed. I moved to another room and I turned on some music. He followed me into the room rubbing his arm as he talked. When I turned to look at him I saw him put his hand down. He said he needed to replace a few things and that he had to go to his cart to get a tool. I nodded and licked the left over lemonade off my lips. I closed the door to my bedroom and leaned against it. I was well into my fantasy again when he returned.

He was plunging two fingers into my vagina now each time he would pause right at the opening and wiggle his fingers. I moaned in ecstasy I wanted more I wanted him naked I became frustrated with this tease he was giving me. I took control in my fantasy. I grabbed his belt and tried to undo it, It did not budge. I began to claw at his shirt trying to remove it. In my haste I’d pop the bottom button off. I was not thinking straight. It was not fair that he was still clothed and I was ready for him. Taking off his clothes would take up more time than I wanted to spare. I moaned in frustration. 

Once the shirt was off, I attempted the belt again. This time I got it. Right when it I loosened it, he inserted a third finger. My hands stop their workings. My hips of their own accord bucked forward. I wanted to bite him, something anything to stop the agony of waiting for him to enter me. I bit his bottom lip, his neck the fingers on his other hand. I tried to scoot down off the counter to bite his nipples. He was in total control of my body. I was paralyzed but aching for release. To calm me he grabbed my face with both hands and smiled at me. A most teasing and sensual smile it was. He would kiss me long and slow and gentle.

Then after I would be calmed he sank to his knees. He extended my legs and beginning at my ankles he would alternate between squeezing and biting them. When he got to my inner thighs he began to make little circles that wound closer and closer to my steaming crevice. He had arrived. There he repeated the same movement he had done earlier with his fingers. He flicked his tongue up and down my wet soaking pussy. He teased me into a frenzy of kicking limbs with his tongue never truly entering me but leaving just enough of an impression to want him to. Then he did it, he rolled his tongue into a circle and darted inward.  He did it several times and then spread his tongue wide inside and wiggled it up and down right over my clitoris.

Back in reality we had begun talking through a door. I was in my room furiously rubbing my pussy through my pants while he was trying to talk to tell me about the stuff he was fixing. I know he could hear me gasping, and I’m sure he was trying to remain professional about the whole situation. I could not help it he was so sexy with those glasses, that narrow waist, that dark tanned skin and those broad shoulders. When I finally came out of the bed room I appeared flushed and my brown skin had a thin layer of sweat on it. My fantasy had finally played out. I had this heavily sated look about me as if it had really happened. It went down like this:

After he would finish eating my sex juices he’d rise off his knees and make me taste my own cum. He’d wipe his dripping face all over mine. Then his loosen short would fall to the floor and his stiff member would poke into my stomach. His heavy sack would brush up against my waiting pussy it softness strangely contrasting with the stiffness of his turgid cock. Realizing he was taller than me even on the counter he moved me to the dinning room floor. We slowly fell to it with a loud thump. After much giggling he then spread my legs and slid his hands over my body stopping to possessively grip my center. He left his hand there, occasionally letting his thumb wander into my cunt while efficiently pinning me to that spot. I wanted to move but he would not let me. I pleaded to him, making small sounds and whimpers. I wanted satisfaction, I wanted penetration, I wanted everything he was going to give me and I wanted it now.

He waited until I began to squirm under him then in one swift move he entered me. Forcing my legs wide and impaling me with a suddenness that I cried out not in pain but in surprise. The pain came later. May be he wanted me semi wet so that it could be uncomfortable, maybe he wanted me to not feel the entire length of him just yet. Either, way his cock would be long, thick and it would demand my full attention. He let his cock be still snuggly wrapped in my vaginal walls. Thinking that his girth would be all I could handle he used his muscles to make his cock twitch inside. Instantly my legs fell open and he slid further into my welcoming cocoon.

He began to pound into me raising my temperature with every thrust. I’d scream obscenities at him to urge him on faster and harder. I was driven mad by the strength of his grip on my hips. I began my ascension into my second orgasm that day. Just as I reached the peak and was about to fall into pure white bliss he stopped. After a while I would start to look up at him questioningly, his eyes closed. I could feel his still rigid prick inside me like he was waiting for something. All at once his muscle expanded and jumped again much stronger than before, I felt my own muscles contract around him. 

With out any warning he pulled out turned me over as if I weighed an ounce and placed me in my hands and knees. He put a hand on the small of my back to push my abused twat in the air. He resurged into me pushing out any air that had accumulated with his vacancy. The sound that came was like rubber being dragged over wet rubber. I wanted to laugh but there was no pause in Manuel. He began to ram himself into me in earnest at the same time keeping his hand on the small of my back. I wanted to arch my back in ecstasy but I was held in place. His other hand had found its way to my clitoris and he had begun to squeeze it gently then tug it between his two fingers.

He let go of me to take my hips, I arched my back immediately. His pace slowed a little and then faster again and harder this time, then slower yet again to only this time push his entire length into me in one rough thrust. I closed my eyes and screamed in pain, little white flowers blossomed behind them. Stars shaped like daises floated around the corners when I finally opened my eyes. 

He had begun to rub my clitoris faster wanting me to not feel any pain. He was taking long strokes in and out pulling all but his head and then letting me slowly fill up on him over and over it was torment. My muscles were squeezing him I could not stop that any more. I could feel our mixed juices running down my legs. We had begun to make wet squashing noises along with the grunts and the yowls from our mouths. I felt him struggling to control himself inside me the pace getting more and more erratic. I was thrusting back on him by now chasing his member as it tried to leave. He started to grow bigger inside me.

I put my head down and rounded my back I was getting tired I had had three orgasms my body was covered in sweat I could feel another one building with in me. I sank down to my elbows. I stopped moaning. I was breathing out of my nose and mouth I had gone horse. I thought I was done, Manuel would not have that. He sensed my fatigued and wanted to make sure I finished with him. I was not done to him.

He leaned over me and kissed my shoulders and asked if I wanted more. I said I can’t take any more. He kissed the top of my spine and asked again I begged and pleaded no more. I imagined that site of me on my knees with this man inside me actually turned me on. I felt my juices give him more. He then said “your body wants more darlin, I want more. Tell me you want more” all the while he had snaked his hand around my waist to play with my nipples squeezing and twisting them. His other hand had started rubbing the top of my mound right above my clit. He had wrapped his body around me like a cocoon. He was pumping slow enough to talk to me but he started to move again and I moaned. I wanted more now.

As one we sat back on our haunches with him squeezing my breast. I had tried to wrap one hand behind us and work with him my head was leaning on his shoulder. I felt him grow larger inside so I squeezed him tighter. He started a deep growl in his stomach I felt it reverberate though his body. In a moment of clarity I put my hand on his sac and rubbed it in little circles it was hard and almost ready to burst. I began chanting yes over and over. We lost control together he squeezed my breast so hard I thought he might pull it off but it was forgotten when I felt him break loose a volley of hot seed into me in one big thrust after another. I heard him give a throaty yell then throw his head back all the while still filling me with his liquid. I was melting into mush before him shaking and gasping for air. I had let out my own scream to match his, we sounded like two large animals in rut. 

He last thrust into me sent the last of his arsenal inside and then we both fell to our sides on the carpet. Still engaged he planted kissed on my neck and shoulders and finally let go of my breast to rub my stomach.

When his now flaccid penis slid out of me it made a satisfying plop noise and that noise was what made me decide that I had better change my clothes before the Manuel in reality got back with the all the things he needed to fix my apartment.

The end

The Maintenance Man



I'd like to thank fdk262 for all of his help and insights in developing this story; it was invaluable to me. 

******

Love (understood as the desire of good for another) is in fact so unnatural a phenomenon that it can scarcely repeat itself, the soul being unable to become virgin again and not having energy enough to cast itself out again into the ocean of another's soul. (James Joyce)

******

My name is Charlie Flowers, and yes I was teased about it a lot in high school. Until I met my wife to be, more about her a little later, I had never considered it, but I think my name may have had something to do with the way I turned out psychologically and emotionally, even socially. If you remember that old Johnny Cash song, A Boy Named Sioux you'll have some idea of what I'm talking about.

I never went to college, never learned how to drive a car let alone owned one, never played football in high school, never gave my slightly less than five inch dick a second thought, and never worried much about what other people thought or said about me. I was and remain my own person; Jack Kerouac could have written a book about me. I was a physical clone of my dad: five-seven, 148 pounds, unruly brown hair, a fast smile, and a steel hard body.

We never had much money, but dad made sure there was always food on the table, clothes on our backs, new shoes every Christmas, and a loving home.

Dad worked for Ardmore Building Materials: rock, sand, hollow block et cetera. He always worked hard, too hard as it turned out; he died of a heart attack brought on by overwork at the age of forty-three. His death made life hard for mom and me. There was some insurance from the company he worked for, but mom did have to get a job. One upshot of his death was my mom's determination to see to it that I didn't die young like my dad did. There would be no second generation working for ABM.

In high school I dated some, I was fairly good looking. Got serious with Betty Biggler—and she sure was. But upon graduation I had to get a job, and they were scarce at the time. My mom helped out there though. The building she worked in as a receptionist had openings on its maintenance crew. I was hired three weeks after graduating; my nineteenth birthday was only a week away.

Being on the crew was rewarding for me. Jack Spires, the crew boss, knew everything there was to know about keeping a high rise office building operating at maximum efficiency. Our job, as one of the four full time maintenance crews, was to keep our floors of the building clean and running smoothly, and, as unobtrusively as possible. I was a quick study and learned as much as I could from Jack and that was a lot: carpentry, electrics, welding, plumbing, and yes how to swing a mop and make the building's bathrooms shine. Oh, there were other floor crews, mostly women, who took care of the office cleaning and the like; but none of them handled electrics, plumbing, carpentry and stuff like that; that was our job.

I may not have gone to college, but I sure as hell "twernt" no ignoramus. My lineage may have been one hundred percent blue collar, but I saw that as a plus.

My interests outside of work included girls, reading, music, and Okinawan martial arts. I learned the latter from a neighbor who took pleasure in teaching a few of us neighborhood boys what he knew, and it was a helluva lot. My love of good books and classical music came from my mom. My success with girls was a direct hand-me-down from my dad; he got hit on more than my mom did, and she was a mighty nice lookin' lady for damn sure.

After my thirteenth year on the job at the Hobbes building Jack retired, and I took over as crew chief. I was thirty-one and making forty grand annual; times were good. 

******

I was sitting in the fifth row at the Cultural Center behind a bunch of men dressed like undertakers most of whom were escorting women too young for them. I didn't own a tux, but I was wearing my best dockers, long sleeved white shirt and tie, and my corduroy sports coat. I looked pretty good, I thought, but I did stand out.

It wasn't so much that I noticed her; it was more that she noticed me. Like I said, I kinda stood out dressed as I was. It was intermission as I recall now, and I had just gotten a cup of joe from the refreshment table in the foyer. I had stepped out onto the adjacent patio and was sipping it when she came up to me. She had laughing eyes that were absolutely captivating. Her dark, two-inches above the knee evening dress had to have been created to go with her hair and complexion. She was gorgeous.

"Hi, my name's Marylou, Marylou Keynes," she said extending her hand. I took it.

"Mine's Charlie," I said. Suddenly I was FFT, flustered, flattered, and turgid. This was a very high tone gal, I thought to myself, way out of my league economically and sure as hell socially. Hell even I could see her dress was worth more than all of the furniture in my living room—including my new sound system.

"You enjoy opera?" she said.

"It's not opera," I said. "It's a concert featuring operatic arias sung by some pretty good performers. I love the music, but not so much the operas per se."

"You know a lot about this kind of music?" she said.

"A little. I was raised on it. My mom liked it," I said. "I guess I got my taste for it from her."

"Your mom? What's she do?" said Marylou.

"She died last year," I said.

"Oh, I'm sorry, really." I nodded and shrugged. "Can I ask? What do you do for a living?" she said.

"I'm a crew chief at the Hobbes building downtown," I said.

"Sounds impressive. What kind of crew?"

"Janitorial," I said.

"Yeah right," she laughed.

I just smiled. I was used to it. 

"What do you do?" I said.

"I'm a lawyer. As it happens, our firm's offices are in the Hobbes Building too: Hartfield and Lomb, H&L. How weird is that," she said.

That stopped me. This gorgeous gal worked where I worked.

We talked for the fifteen minutes of intermission, and she challenged me to call her. She handed me her business card after pulling a pen from her purse and writing her home number on the back. I'd never call her of course; it was clear that we traveled in totally different circles and "...never the twain shall meet," as Kipling had said. Or, a least that is what I thought at the time. I was wrong and wrong on a lot of levels.

******

Brody and I had just finished scrubbing down the woman's head on the fourteenth floor one day. I was just collecting the yellow caution standard when she walked by on her way to an underwriter's office on that floor. My back was to her. I was yelling at Brody to get his freakin' butt moving when I heard a female voice call my name. "Charlie?" said a very soft female voice.

I turned and Brody was standing there staring at the woman as though mesmerized. She was wearing a tan power suit and a beautiful necklace of what had to be real pearls. Her three inch heels were oh so damn feminine.

"Marylou," I said. "Surprise, surprise." I smiled at her obvious discomfort.

"You—you really are a janitor," she said quietly, as though still not quite believing it.

"You betcha," I said, still smiling, "and proud of it."

"Of course—I mean—well, of course." She offered me her hand and I took it. We shook. "You haven't called me."

I started to laugh. "Now, what would your big shot friends on the 20th say if you went out with a lowly janitor," I said.

"Wha—I—"

"Exactly," I said. "Marylou, you are one hot female, but it wouldn't work. Just let it be."

She looked pensive. 

"Charlie, call me. I want to go out with you."

"You wanna go out with me. A charity date maybe? Be kind to riffraff week maybe? Brody, did you get the memo? Is it be kind to the riffraff week do you know?" I said.

She looked as if she was about to cry. "Charlie, I admit, I did think that way about you when I saw you in here cleaning—but, I'm really not like that. Call me, I mean it," she said. "Or—or—or I'll sue you."

"Okay, don't cry for chrissakes. You wanna go out. I will meet you out in front of this building at 5:30 tomorrow evening. You get off at five right?" I said. "If you don't show don't sweat it; I'll understand."

"Okay. But, why don't you pick me up at my place?"

"I don't drive. And I don't wanna know where you live, not yet. Or you where I live. Here in front of the building at 5:30. That'll give you a chance to freshen up in those fancy quarters you've got up there. Oh, by the way, jeans, heels, and a shirt or blouse or something—bra optional," I said grinning broadly.

Her eyes bulged at my boldness. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"You'll see; it'll be fun. That much I can promise you," I said.

******

She was on time. In fact she was there before I was. She looked around thinking I might have stood her up. I had seen her when I came down the stairs of the mezzanine. She heard my hello from behind her. She turned. "Hi," she said.

"You look good," I said.

"You're still in your working clothes."

"I'm gonna change shirts and clean up when we get there," I said. "I go there a lot, I got clothes there. It ain't fancy dancy, but it's convenient for me. You know, a lot of cowboys and blue collar types just getting off shift. Like I say, it ain't the Ritz, but it's loud and fun."

"Whatever," she said, not knowing what else she could say. A taxi pulled up to the curb.

"I called it," I said. "It's too far to walk."

She shrugged. On the ride over I could see she was thinking. This had to be a first for her. I had the feeling she'd never even met anybody from the working class before let alone dated any such.

"Feel okay?" I asked.

"Truthfully, a little strange. I hope you will cut me some slack tonight," she said.

"More like I will work with you to cut a rug," I said laughing. She laughed too, banishing her nerves, I hoped.

We arrived at the Dirty Dozen at around 6:15. The DD was a sawdust joint catering to country western wannabes. The dancing had already started and I pulled her out into the line dance even before we found a table or ordered drinks. I was still in my work clothes, but the song was mine, I'd change and clean up when it was over. She was a little messed up at first with the footwork, but she was soon into it. 

The dance ended and everybody yahoo'd and returned to their tables while a slow dance was played for the romantically inclined. I led her over to a table near the back. I wanted to be able to talk to her, and that would have been impossible near the bandstand. 

I sat her down, and before I settled in, I signaled to Lorilei, my favorite supplier of yellow pepsi, to bring a pitcher while I ran into the back room to make myself presentable. I returned in minutes: I think it was a record in terms of time elapsed.

'You did good out there," I said, returning to the table. "You looked like a good 'ole country girl."

"Not really, 'fraid I'm a city girl," she said. "But this is nice. Glad you brought me."

"Well, I'm glad you're glad."

The rest of the evening we danced and hoorah'd with the crowd and then it was time to go home.

I walked her to her door; I now knew where she lived, and she didn't wait for me to initiate things. She wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a serious kiss. I returned it.

"Wow!" I said, "and on our first date too."

"Just wanted to make sure you'd ask me out again, mister. I really did enjoy myself," she said.

"Next Friday night?" I said. "Pick up at the Hobbes same as tonight."

"You got it. Can I choose the place?" she said.

"Seems fair to me," I said.

"Good, seven o'clock," she said. I nodded. She disengaged herself. "Oh, and I'll drive next time. Okay?"

"Okay, if it will make you happy," I said. She smiled and blew me a kiss goodbye.

The next several days was work, work, work same as always. Marylou had gotten under my skin. But, I hadn't seen or heard from her at all since our previous date. But, on Thursday, the day before our next date, that changed.

Brody and I were again cleaning the heads on the fourteenth when I heard a familiar female giggle. I saw Marylou with a man in a small alcove a little ways down the corridor. A potted plant outside of the men's room we'd just cleaned hid me from view pretty completely. Brody was still inside the washroom reloading our cart and dumping the mop bucket before joining me to do the women's restroom.

"So you stood me up to go out with a janitor? Is that what you're telling me, Marylou?" The man was tall, maybe six-five. Hell he was almost a foot taller than me. The suit he was wearing was expensive, probably some big shot lawyer, I thought. The suit made it hard to gauge his weight, but he was definitely a super heavyweight.

"Yeah, and so what! You don't own me Brad. He made me laugh. He might not be much, but he was interesting: a change of pace, if you know what I mean."

"Did you fuck him? That would piss me off," said Brad.

"No. I felt his cock through his pants a few times though. He's just a little guy when it comes to his equipment. Still, I might try him out just to see what it's like," she said. "But, don't sweat it, big boy, you still have first dibs."

They laughed and moved off toward the elevators at the other end.

As they waited for the elevator to arrive, I heard Brad make one more comment. "A fucking janitor for chrissakes! Stood up for a fucking nothing janitor!" They both laughed. She took his arm and let him lead her into the elevator that would rocket them to the 20th.

Brody finally showed up with the cart. "Okay, lets' do the other one," he said.

"Yeah, let's get it done," I said, as he pushed the cart toward the little girl's room.

I had a lot to think about. I wondered, having heard what I'd heard, if she'd even show up for our date the next day. But then, I decided that I wasn't going to go out with her anyway. I could give a rat's ass what people thought of me. But, a guy likes to date girls that at least respect him, and she clearly didn't respect me. She was just slumming. I wasn't in to being a slum. Still, I was curious to see if she'd show up. I figured out what I would do and how I would handle the situation.

*******

She was a few minutes late. She pulled up in her Mercedes and motioned me to come on and get in. I just stood there. She wrinkled her brow and looked me askance. I just remained still and waited to see what she would do. She turned off the engine, got out and walked around to me as I leaned against the building. She was clearly confused.

"Do you want me to help you to the car and hold the door for you? " she said, sounding a little miffed.

At first I didn't say anything. Then she started to flush, I could see she was getting angry.

"I decided not to go," I said.

"What! Why?" she said.

"Well, I might not be much, and my little guy ain't exactly a cruise missile; but I ain't into being somebody's change of pace."

"Huh? What are you talking about," she said, raising her voice.

"Oh, I suppose I should be flattered that you stood up Brad to date a janitor; but frankly I require at least a little respect from the girls I date. No matter what Brad thinks, or you either, I ain't no joke lady. Anyway, I ain't goin'. Call him, the night's still young. You can both have a real good laugh tellin' your high brow friends all about it," I said.

Her face paled. Clearly her memory was kicking in. "Oh my gawd!"

I turned and walked off. I felt pretty good. It was only later that I began to feel—well, not good. I had no reason to feel bad; I knew that. I hadn't done anything wrong, and it made no sense for me to be down. But—the woman—she wasn't just a woman—she could have been "the" woman. Ah hell, it made no sense any of it!

******

The next few days were hard on me, and Brody and the boys on the crew noticed it.

"Okay, sport," said Brody, "what's goin' on? You're clearly out of it, and it's affecting our work," he said.

"Nothing, I can't handle," I said. "I'm just not feelin' too good."

"Yeah, I get it. You're not feelin' too good. Women'll do that to a man," he said.

"Shut the hell up, Brody. I'll handle it my way, okay?" I said.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "Charlie, I asked around. Yeah, I know it's none of my business, but I asked around anyway. That broad sleeps around. And I mean with almost anybody. If it's got a cock attached to it, she's probably tried it."

Brody backed off and held up his hands in mock defense when he saw my look. Oh, I knew he probably was right, but hell, I weren't exactly no virgin either. So what if she got her rocks off with a variety of men. I really didn't give a damn, at least not at that moment.

It was later that day that I got a call to come to the boss's office in the basement. I knew we were scheduled to get some new equipment, and we sure needed it. I figured the boss wanted to see me about that. I was wrong. 

I looked at my watch: 3:00. I was on time. I went in. The boss's chair was turned backwards facing the wall. When I coughed, he swung around to face me. But Cass Walters had changed. He was now a beautiful woman!

"Ms. Keynes," I said, somewhat flustered.

"Ms. Keynes? We've kissed, Charlie. You can call me Marylou."

"I was called down here to talk to Mr. Walters," I said. "But, it looks like I was set up. I was wasn't I?"

"'Fraid so, Charlie. I had to speak with you, but I know you wouldn't have come up to the office or to my apartment; so I asked Cass, Mr. Walters, to help me out."

"You know Cass?" I said.

"Oh yes, Charlie. He and my father were in the army together, Vietnam actually. Our two families have been friends forever," she said.

"Charlie," she began, "obviously you overheard me and Brad Carlson in the corridor last week. I can't tell you how bad I feel about the things we—I—said. They were inexcusable. Horrid, actually. I can't believe that I was such an asshole. Brad on the other hand is a professional asshole."

I couldn't help laughing at her way of expressing herself.

She looked down, a serious expression painting her face. "I am here to beg you to forgive me for what I said. I have no excuse. I have felt so bad since that afternoon that I haven't been able to work effectively. I really like you Charlie. If you are good enough to do that, to forgive me, I promise to make it up to you."

I looked at her. Hell, I thought, she's a human being; she makes mistakes too. I could list more than a few of my own for damn sure. My problem was that I knew that I really wasn't in her league. If I did go out with her again, sooner or later, as sure as the sun rose in the east, we'd come up against that stone wall of class-ism that I saw exhibited in the corridor that day. Even if it wasn't expressed outwardly the whispers would be there, about that there was no goddamn doubt.

What I couldn't figure out was why she had picked me, why she wanted to fool around with me in the first place. For sure I was not into assuaging her guilt only to be dumped, gently of course, somewhere down the line when she realized that it wasn't going to work.

"Marylou, I do forgive you. I've done and said stuff I wish I hadn't too. But, it's more than that. One, I don't have all that big an ego, but I absolutely demand respect from my dates, really from anybody. Your friends—well—they are never going to be my friends; they don't respect guys like me. And, I hear you sayin' that you're sorry and didn't mean the things you said about me, and maybe that's so; but really, I don't think you ever could really respect a guy who swabs out toilets; it just ain't you, and it's obvious.

"Girl, we don't move in the same circles, and for the record, I like my circles better than yours. I'm not going to ever fit in with the crepes and caviar set. I think you know it too. Sometime in the future you'd have to choose, and you'd choose what you're used to, and that wouldn't me and mine," I said.




The Maintenance Man



"Charlie," a trace of upset had crept into her voice, "I came here today to beg your forgiveness. You can have mercy on this poor soul of mine, or you can kick my pretty pink ass the hell outta here. But Charlie, don't you ever presume tell me what I think or predict how I will act. You don't know me that well, Charlie. And, in spite of my acting the way I did last week, I am really not like that. I only ask that you give me the chance to prove it. Will you do that, Charlie? One chance. If I blow it well"—she looked at my shoes—"you'll still have those size eight boots to kick me to the curb with. What do you say?

"Charlie, I take it back, maybe I am a snob. I don't know. And I know I'm not making any sense. What I can tell you is, if I am a snob, I don't want to be one anymore; the cost is much too high, and I am not willing to pay a price that high."

I hesitated then I spoke, "Marylou, I have a bad feeling that I'm going to regret this, but okay. You're right. I don't have the right to presume whatever the hell it is that you will or will not do in the future."

She spun out of the chair and came quickly around to me. She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me so hard on the lips I was afraid my recently completely dental work might be compromised.

"That was nice," I said. "Now, it's my turn." I kissed her gently and lovingly.

"Hmm, I liked that," she said. "Tomorrow, a party, I think it is still my turn to choose where we go. As I recall you stood me up last time. I intend to show you off."

"What kind of party," I said.

Her face showed some concern. "Hmm, yes, it is going to be formal. I assume you don't have a tux," she said.

"You assume correctly," I said.

"No problem, I'll rent you one," she said airily. "I know a place."

"Marylou, I don't..."

"Let me handle this one, okay. You're my handsome guy. I want to show you off. I especially want Brad to wish he were you. Just leave it up to me. Okay?"

"Okay, it's against my better judgment. But, okay." I had a bad feeling about this, but it was her show.

******

I arrived at her apartment early as she had requested. When she opened the door in response to my knocking my entire body turned to stone except for my little man; he turned to tungsten alloy.

She was totally naked except for her high heels and her stockings. Her shaved pussy completely stunned me. Her smile brought me back to the present. "Geezsus, you're beautiful," I think I said.

"Come in, Charlie, unless you want to share me with the community," she laughed.

Closing the door behind me, she marched across the room and posed for me. I couldn't take my eyes off of her slit. She was amazing. In her heels, she was three inches taller than me. She looked like Hippolyta reborn.

Recovering from my near coma experience, I asked, "I thought we were going to a party?"

"We are, but we're going to have our own little party here first, if you don't mind," she said.

"Mind? I don't mind. Why would I mind?" I said, my voice actually squeaking.

Marylou giggled. "Good, because I need you tonight," she said. She crooked her finger at me, "Come here sailor."

My rubber legs somehow got me to her. She placed her hands under my chin and looked into my eyes. She kissed me. Our bodies had not touched. They did now. She leaned forward and wrapped two of the softest arms imaginable around me. We kissed again. I had to lean my head back a little to kiss her; she looked down at me, into my eyes.

She stepped back and took my hand. She led me into her bedroom.

The room was large. A queen size bed covered with a yellow comforter dominated the center of the room against the far wall. A vanity stood across from the foot of it. There was a walk-in closet, the door to it partially closed. A divider wall cut off the view to the bath on the right. And a large bay window, with the curtains pulled closed, filled the remaining wall.

We embraced once more and she beckoned me to follow her to the bed. She lay on it and waited smiling up at me. She was so beautiful. Her dark brown hair splayed out from around her face. Her lips were cherry red. Her eyes were dark and indescribably perfect. Her breasts stood out from her, small and perfect and firm. She smelled wonderful.

I stopped a few feet from the bed and undressed. I had to feel her naked body against my naked body. Disrobed, I stood for a moment and gazed at her. My cock stuck straight out from my body and pointed directly at her. She reached for it as I stepped closer. She grasped it and pulled me to her mouth. I knelt above her, over her face. She licked the glans and then let the shaft slip between her lips and into her mouth; the warmth of it affected my mental processes like few things I had ever experienced in my entire life. The woman was not merely human; she was something else, something on a higher plane; it was intense.

I felt myself building to a climax. I started to pull out, but she denied me and I spurted inside her warm mouth; she swallowed it all.

"Your turn," she said. I didn't have to be told twice. I slid down her body and she splayed her legs for me. I stared at her most secret place and moved close to it, not ready to touch it yet; I wanted to experience being close to it smelling her musk, gazing at her pinkest place. I licked her slit from base to clit. My tongue played with her clit and she began to squirm: she was clearly very sensitive. It was some minutes before she began to stiffen and jerk. 

"Yes—yes—oh my yes!" she said in a guttural voice totally alien to anything I had ever heard her utter up to that moment. She screamed her orgasm and it swept over her; juices poured from her pussy and smeared themselves on my face; I made no attempt to wipe them from me; I wanted her smell to remain as long as possible. Gawd! how I loved this woman. Yes, loved!

We lay gathering ourselves for the next round. The party was forgotten for the moment; there was only the two of us bathed in sweat. We existed in a different and timeless reality. I coaxed her onto her belly. For a minute I massaged her back; then, gently forcing her legs apart I knelt once again between them and lowered my face to her anus. I buried my face in her.

She attempted to look around: I had surprised her, but then she relaxed and I had my way with her. I licked and kissed her butt hole until she started to wiggle her fanny in impatience.

My cock was dancing over her just as I slid it into her pussy as she lay passive under me. I drilled my whole almost five inches into her and she oohed and ahhed as it passed from her labia into the walled muscle of her vagina. I began pushing and pulling in a studied rhythm. I could see her grasping the sheets above her head as she reacted to me. Soon I was punishing her loins pounding her relentlessly. She stiffened yet again as she orgasmed just before I did. I emptied what seemed a quart of semen inside of her. I collapsed on top of her and after a moment rolled off and onto my back. She rolled over and looked at me.

"It seems you know what to do with that little fellow of yours," she said. 

She had not realized that she had just belittled the size of my penis. I took no offense since none had been intended. My cock was what it was, and it certainly wasn't anything in terms of size, but I had brought her to orgasm; that was enough for me; I felt good.

I looked at the clock. She saw me and looked too. "I guess we should be getting ready to go," she said. She actually sounded disappointed.

I watched her get up and stride toward the bathroom, her butt swaying from side to side as only the female butt can. She returned in some minutes; she hadn't showered. She seemed to read my mind, 

"I want the smell of sex on me when we go to the party," she said. "I want that asshole, Brad Carlson, to know I've been fucked and to eat his heart out because of it. I'm proud you are my boyfriend, and I want him and everyone else to know it."

"Boyfriend?" I was conflicted. Why was she so interested in teasing—perhaps torturing Brad—was I really her boyfriend or just an instrument to punish an ex-boyfriend. I decided to believe that the cup was half full.

"Of course. You don't imagine that I let every animal with a dick do me do you? You have responsibilities now, young man, I'm your woman to love and protect—and—obey." She laughed. "But, we'll talk more about that later. Right now you have to get your clothes on. They're hanging in the closet there." She pointed to the walk-in. "Anyway, hurry up."

I thought about what Brody had said, about her being the town slut. Maybe it wasn't true. I pushed such thoughts from my mind. "Yes, ma'am," I said, gladly obeying her. I was as happy at that moment as I had ever been.

There were no fewer than a hundred cars and limos parked in the secure and reserved parking area of the R.P. Standard: a hotel and convention center favored by the upper crust of the city's professional community. Tonight's gala was an annual affair meant to bring together the powers of legaldom to share and be shared among each other. Sharing what was a question. Some cynics would have said each other's spouses and significant others.

Marylou had gotten me a tux to wear. How she had guessed my size and preferences was a mystery only she could have answered, and I didn't ask.

Herb Gilchrist, a guy I knew from the Hobbes, met us as we meandered among the tables looking for a place to settle in. Herb was a stock broker who did his thing on the twelfth floor; he was also an honored member of the bar, though inactive in that capacity since turning moneyman. We'd talked some over the last couple of years and he'd steered me into investing a few bucks in the market, nothing big, just some safe stuff suitable for a guy watching the pennies. 

I liked Herb. He'd advised me to just leave my investment alone, through good times and bad, and I'd so far followed his advice. I was looking forward to using it to help with my retirement someday. That my "someday" was more than thirty years off would work for me, he'd said.

"Hey, Charlie, I see you've come to join us snobs and hypocrites," he said in a voice that only the three of us could hear.

"Wouldn't have missed it," I said. "Let me introduce you to my date. Herb, This lovely lady is Marylou Keynes. She's a refugee from the 20th," I said.

The look on Herb's faced was one of surprise—or something else. He seemed to catch himself.

"Nice to meet you, Marylou," he said. "You a receptionist up there with the barracudas?"

"No, 'fraid not. I'm one of the barracudas," she said, smiling like a tigress on the prowl.

"Oops! Blew it again, didn't I," he said.

Marylou just laughed, "No, Herb, in fact that's one of the nicer things people say about us these days."

"Look you two, come sit with us. Been saving a couple of seats for some good people. And Charlie, you and anyone with you qualifies," he said.

Jane Gilchrist was a card. She knew more off color jokes than Redd Foxx. In between bouts of laughter, some pretty fun dancing, and quite a bit of serious drinking I found myself introduced to at least half a hundred lawyers, including Brad Carlson who exploited the opportunity to ask Marylou to dance.

I had danced with her for several numbers, but I soon found that I had to share time with her with several other men, more than one of which knew who and what I was and clearly held me in controlled contempt as a result. That I didn't give a damn probably showed through. The good news was that I was a better dancer than any of them—I mean a lot better. These guys had to get out more.

Herb and I were on a drinks run for our little group and just returning when Marylou was escorted back to the table by a youngish lawyer named Rick something.

"Short, poor, uneducated, and a janitor, Marylou? You have got to be kidding! You should've been my date tonight," laughed Rick. He looked up to see me standing two feet away with the drinks in my hand.

"Oops," he said, as he slipped away unembarrassed, but definitely amused. I held his gaze for a moment as he retreated. I wasn't at all offended. I was used to assholes, who didn't know me, assuming a lot; he was definitely one of those.

Marylou looked up at me and smiled. She turned in the direction of Rick who was yards away already and flipped him the bird. We all laughed. We otherwise didn't even mention him or his manners.

The evening was going well, that is until about 11:00, when an incident occurred that was going to have instant ramifications.

"You are a wonderful dancer, you know that boyfriend," said Marylou.

I had to blush. Five other people heard her and they all looked at me. "Thanks," I said. "I try."

Looking to my left I saw a commotion at a nearby table. A server, an older man, maybe sixtyish and Mexican by the look of him, was obviously frightened and was trying to apologize to—Brad Carlson!

Brad was standing in front of the man thrusting his finger repeatedly into his chest. "Marylou, excuse me. I'll be back in a second," I said, and strode off the few yards to the scene of the action.

I came up slightly to the rear and to the right of the big man. Reaching, I shoved his hand away from the waiter's chest. "You're drunk man. Let the guy go. He ain't doin' you no harm," I said. My hackles were raised, but I had made no offensive action to that point.

Brad turned to me and smiled. "This is not the concern of the cleanup crew," said Brad. "I'll be sure to let you know when it is."

I moved directly in front of him interdicting his assault on the Mexican. He continued to smile at me and used the same finger he had been poking into the old man to poke me in the chest.

I heard later that he had gotten two or three pokes in before I smothered him in a storm of punches that left him lying semiconscious and babbling on the floor.

Marylou was cut off from me by the crowd as a dozen hands held me back, restraining me from doing anything further to the helpless law dog.

The police eventually arrived, cuffed me, and led me off. I didn't see Marylou till the next morning.

My jailer, a woman, had put me in a cell by myself. She'd heard I'd flattened a lawyer and for some reason that had bought me some credibility with the badges. I even got a cup of coffee late into the night as I sat in that lonely box wondering how I had gotten myself into such a mess.

I was hauled into a small room reserved for inmates and their lawyers sometime early in the morning. I was wearing a yellow inmate jumpsuit when Marylou arrived. I had no idea where the tux I had been wearing was.

"Well, that was an exciting evening," said Marylou. "Brad actually has to see a plastic surgeon today. It seems his face has several serious fractures. I had no idea you were such a tough guy."

"I grew up where it was a good idea to be able to fight," I said. "Listen, I'm sorry for embarrassing you like that. But—I just couldn't let that asshole intimidate the Mexican. I could see..."

"Charlie, shut the hell up. I have posted your bail; that's why I'm a little late. You won't have any trouble with Brad about the fight. His poking you and the old man in the chest was actually illegal; it bordered on assault, and he doesn't need the bad press he'd get for going after you, and neither does the firm.

"On another note, I'll be representing you at your arraignment tomorrow. It should be just a formality. I think I can get you off with minimal damage, but you are not to talk to anybody from the D.A's office. Refer everything to me at my office at the Hobbes. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am, completely," I said.

"Watching you handle the asshole was actually kind of exciting," she said. "Nobody could believe it. He's a pretty big guy."

"Try very big," I said.

******

I was wearing my trademark jeans and three-button Henley. "Not guilty, your Honor," I said, at the prompting of my lawyer.

"Your Honor, motion to dismiss," said Marylou.

"Grounds?"

"No contestant, your Honor. The correspondent declines to press charges."

"Declines? You're telling me that Brad Carlson declines to press charges?"

"Yes, your Honor."

"Wonder of wonders. But, I hear he needed cosmetic surgery?"

"Yes, your Honor," intoned Marylou.

"Costs of the surgery and a hundred hours," he said. "Next case."

"What did he say," I said.

"You have to pay for Brad's surgery and do an hundred hours of community service," she said.

"Geezsus!" I said. "How much is the surgery gonna cost me?"

"Don't know, but at least you're out of the slammer."

"What's the community service part?" I said.

"I'll submit a proposal and get back to you on that," said Marylou. "You might have to help out at a shelter or something, but I'll get you something near your work so it will impact your job as little as possible."

"Thanks for everything, Marylou. I know this could have been a lot worse."

"Damn straight it could. Next time stop after the fiftieth punch; you damn near killed the guy," she said. "Anyway, you're welcome."

"Marylou, I gotta tell yuh, I ain't going to any more of those galas; they're just not for guys like me."

"Charlie, one bad experience does not mean you don't belong, you do. You just..."

"I don't just anything, Marylou. I'm not one of them. I like real people," I said.

"And I'm not real people?" she said. "You don't like me?"

"No, I don't like you," I said.

"Wha..."

"I love you. Marylou. I know this is going to be kind of weird, but I usually get right to something when I feel the need. I feel the need now. Marylou, will you marry me?"

She looked at me with a stunned expression. "Huh?"

"I'll give you the ring tomorrow," I said. "But for gawd's sake say yes to me!"

I was a nervous wreck. I had been planning this since the fight. It's all I could think of while I was behind bars. We'd been out only a couple of times, only spoken at length a few more, and here I was proposing."

"Yes."

"Huh?"

"Yes, I'll marry you," she said.

The words of Christopher Marlowe came to me at that moment. "When both deliberate loves is slight; whoever loved that loved not at first sight."

*******

It was a neighborhood wedding, my neighborhood. Some, a few, of her lawyer buds were there, but only a few; I was glad of that. I, on the other hand had near a hundred supporters.

The ceremony was held in the little Baptist church down the block. The reception was held at Brody's house: he had a yard that was big enough for the event. Eats were potluck and they were great, but I paid Luigi's bakery $200 for the cake, and it was good too. I think our people impressed my new wife and even some of her people. We are a friendly crowd, and we could drink every bit as well as the rich and arrogant. Marylou and I slipped out about two hours into the reception and headed out on our honeymoon.

Marylou had at first pressured me to take her to Vegas; she'd said she would foot the bill. That was our first disagreement; it did not turn into a tiff however. She realized that this was gonna be my decision, and that there was no way I was going to let her pay for it, nor any chance of us going to another big city, even Vegas, for a week's time. We went camping up at Rock Creek. I wanted to be alone with her, and I wanted for us to commune with nature. It turned out to be a good choice; the both of us enjoyed the time away from the helter-skelter world of the big city. We fucked like bunnies on crack!

******

It felt a little strange being back after the honeymoon. I had moved into her condo because it was larger, and things went well for a time. We were in love, and each of us was considerate of the other in terms of our jobs. I was a little uneasy about all of the travel that Marylou's job required, but I knew it was part of the package, so I didn't complain.




The Maintenance Man



She for her part made an effort to respect my job and the work it entailed, though every single one of her peers thought it was way beneath her and certainly any of them. Still, all was well with us.

I was a realist. I knew that even though we were married, she was going to get pressured by many on the twentieth, by many, I mean by the men. All of them thought that they were better than I was because they had gone to college. I chuckled at that. I'd heard them talking in the caf on a million occasions, and apart from the—how shall I say it—the mechanical stuff related to lawyering most of them had about as much culture as a fist full of sand.

During the first year of our marriage the two of us attended any number of luncheons. I still adamantly refused to go to any of the big formal soirees' that the firm committed to; one stint in jail had queered me on them. Luncheons didn't have the same bad aura for me. There was less drinking and less sexual harassment of my wife, and I could live with the inane conversations.

I figured out that Marylou's not being available for all of the company events was making things tough for her. Her friends weren't exactly shunning her, but they weren't cozy with her either. She never complained, but I could see it in her face whenever I knew the 20th was going to be partying. I knew she missed the camaraderie. But I didn't waver: no major galas for us!

There were moments though, when I sensed something was amiss. I couldn't finger it, so I let it slide, but it was always there always in the back of my mind.

She knew my feelings on the matter of the big nighttime parties and she respected them. Or, at least she did until a particular Saturday night.

Marylou had just gotten promoted to junior partner in spite of not playing the game. She was actually proud of the fact that her sex and good looks had evidently not been the only things that she was recognized for. The new position meant more money, and more prestigious clients and less paperwork—paperwork was always the worst for her. She now had a crew of two paralegals who worked solely for her. Her boss, Christopher Mandel, asked her to attend the dinner that would honor her and two others who had been promoted.

When she got home she laid it on me. "Charlie, we have to go to the dinner. We just have to. It's for me, well, for me and Brad and Henry. They were promoted too."

At the mention of Brad's name, my hackles bristled. "No," I said. "I will not subject myself to the stares and asshole remarks of those people."

"Charlie, it's just a dinner," she said.

"Just a dinner? Will there be music? Will there be dancing? Will there be heavy drinking?" I'd asked the series of questions that we both knew the answers to.

"Well—yes, but it's not about that," she said. "It's about me. It's my job. Surely just this once."

She was pressuring me and I didn't like it. Still, I had to admit that even I thought that I was being unreasonable. She'd sure as hell earned her party. But, what had kept me from giving even an inch was the suspicion that if I gave in our marriage would become vulnerable, and the thought scared me. So, I said so.

"Marylou, you know how those people are. I am just afraid that if we start partying with them that our marriage could become a casualty. How many of your associates have been divorced?" I asked.

"Charlie, that's ridiculous," she said. "What do they have to do with us?"

"Answer me," I pressed.

"Okay, all of them," she answered. "But, Charlie they are not us."

"And I don't want to be them.

"Okay," I said, "I'll go this far. You can go without me. Get yourself honored, and then come home. Please don't stay out late. If you do I'll be worried sick. Can you do that? Is that enough? I just can't go to any more of those things; I just can't."

She looked at me. She was obviously exasperated. "Okay," she said, "I guess I understand. I do have to go. The dinner really is for me. I will be home early, but early I mean maybe 10:00 or so. I'll call you if things look like they'll take longer."

"Thank you," I said.

I didn't say any more about it, but Saturday came too soon for me. As she was getting ready I noted that she was dressing especially nicely. The fact is she was stunning. The black chiffon dress she had chosen was a little too short and the neckline a little too plunging to suit me, but I kept my mouth shut. As it turned out, I probably should have said something to her about my concerns. But I didn't.

"How do I look, baby," she said and she twirled in front of me.

"Gorgeous," I said, and she did.

She giggled, and placed a kiss on my cheek in appreciation. "I'll be home early," she said. Five minutes later she pulled out of the driveway and was gone. I had an uneasy feeling, but I suppressed it.

I was watching the news, the 10:00 news. She still wasn't home. I wasn't worried, not much anyway. I figured she'd be coming home later than she'd said. How right I was. But 3:00 o'clock in the morning was not what I'd figured at all. I was asleep on the couch when she came in.

I awoke when I heard the door to the kitchen open and close. She came in and saw me trying to shake the sleep out of my eyes.

"Honey, I'm sorry. I know it's late..." she stopped. She could see me looking at the clock.

"Late? Yeah, it's late. How come?" I said.

"Everyone was talking and dancing and drinking and time just got away from me," she said.

I noticed the disarray of her clothes. There was white spatter near the hem of her dress; it was dried. I tried to not believe what I thought that it surely was.

"Time got away from you?" I said not quite sarcastically.

"Yes I..."

"I'm going up. Coming?" I said.

"Uh-yes, I'll be there in a minute," she said.

I was sick. I knew, or thought I knew, what had gone down. Somebody had been banging her. I knew I had to find out for sure, and who might be involved.

I readied for bed, brushed my teeth and got undressed. I noted that Marylou was taking a long time coming up. I went back downstairs. The shower was on in the downstairs bathroom. I wondered why she would be showering down there, and at 3:00 in the morning in any event. The obvious was not acceptable. She was destroying the evidence!

It was not time for confrontation, and anyway, I had nothing concrete with which to confront her. I went back upstairs and waited for her to come up. It was maybe twenty minutes later that I felt her slipping in bed beside me. She spooned me, and I let her. I needed to sleep and I am sure she did too. Tomorrow would be another day, and maybe a day of reckoning.

Just before my eyes closed for the night, I thought I felt her sob, but I couldn't be sure. Then, I slept the sleep of the weary.

******

I awoke Sunday morning to the sun filling our bedroom window; it was 6:35. The place beside me was empty. I went into the bathroom and splashed water on my face. The events of the previous night came back to me. I wondered where she was. Still in my boxers, I went downstairs. I could smell the bacon; it was mildly comforting.

"Good morning," she said. "Sleep well, I hope?"

"Okay, I guess," I said. She was evidently avoiding the fact that she had come in so late. I had to decide if I was going to let it slide. I'd eat first and then decide. Decisions on an empty stomach were seldom well made.

We ate and talked. She said that they'd complimented the three honorees and each had been asked to speak. Then, the party had begun and the booze had flowed and the clock had gotten away from her. She defended herself.

"I know I said I'd be back by 10:00," she said; "but it was my night and I was so happy and it was—good.

"Will you forgive me for being so late, Charlie? Please?"

I breathed deeply and nodded. "I guess if all you did was have a little fun I can't be angry with you," I said. "But, I was worried. You could have called."

"I know, I should have, but—"

"Okay, we'll just drop it, but no more of these things, okay?"

"Okay. I understand," she said.

I still suspected that there was more to the evening at the Sands than she was telling me, but I wasn't sure that I still really wanted to know. Part of me did, but part of me was afraid.

"Good," I said.

******

The next day I was finishing up organizing our cart after cleaning the women's head on the fourteenth when Brody approached. He motioned me to follow and to be quiet. We were just outside the men's room. I heard voices. My face went dark; one of them was Brad Carlson.

"We gotta back to the office," said Brad. "We can't stay down here and argue with them forever. We'll call in Broderick tomorrow and see if these buttheads can be brought to heel. We need those records and we need them now."

Two men were talking about business, their voices were kinda faint: records or something. Then, the topic changed.

They must have moved closer to the entrance because their voices were clearer now. "I gotta tell yuh, Henry, that was one helluva party Saturday night," said Brad.

"Yeah, I know. Did you get into her pants?" said Henry.

"No, not exactly. She let me feel her up though. And I did get to finger her down there. Is that getting into her pants? I did finally get her to get me off with her hand under the table; but, she cut me off after that. Feeling guilty, I guess. But, I haven't given up. I am going to get some of that sooner or later. That asshole janitor husband of hers ain't gonna be able to stop me." They laughed.

"Sorry, Charlie," said Brody. I just nodded.

We pushed the cart back into the Ladies head, and took a break on the ground floor. I didn't want to be seen by Mr. Carlson. I had to think.

******

I got home at the usual time. Marylou was already there. I wanted to confront her, but I was chicken. I made myself a drink, straight vodka and got myself a beer to chase it with. I finished it, and got me another. An hour later I wasn't chicken anymore.

She'd been watching me drink, something I rarely did when I was at home, at least not during the work week.

"Honey, don't you think you've had enough," she said. It was clear she was concerned, and not just about the amount of booze I was putting away.

I just smiled and made me another. I was getting downright courageous. "No, not yet, but close," I said, finally.

"Honey, is something wrong?" she said.

"Well, now that you mention it. Today I ran into Brad, and he was saying..."

"Oh my gawd! No!" She burst into tears and ran up the stairs. I could hear the bedroom door slam behind her.

Suddenly I was as sober as a Tibetan monk. I sat and waited. I knew, if nothing else, sooner or later hunger and thirst would force her to come down. The sticky part was, I didn't know how I was going to handle it. The only thing I was certain of was that I could not let it go. Something had to happen; I had to do something. It wasn't just a matter of male ego either; it was a matter of self respect.

It was about two hours later that I heard the door to the upstairs bedroom open. She appeared at the bottom of the stairs and looked over at me. 

"I'm sorry. I know I don't deserve forgiveness, but I am begging you to forgive me anyway. But, if you kick me out, I'll understand," she said.

I looked over at her. "Do you love me? I mean only me?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Then I'm not going to kick you out."

"Really?" she said. The hope in her voice was palpable.

"Really," I said.

"I don't understand. Why aren't you mad at me? Why aren't you looking for revenge?" she said.

"Because I love you; it's that simple. What I am going to do is to let you tell me what 'you' are going to do about it?"

"Huh?" she said.

"Yes. You get to engineer your own punishment. Or do nothing. It's up to you," I said. I was surprised at my own brilliance. She on the other hand was stupefied. I knew that she would be harder on herself than I would ever be, than I ever could be.

"But, I don't know..."

"It's up to you. Just let me know what you decide," I said. "Now, let's go to bed. I'm feeling frisky."

"It's the middle of the day!"

"Can't fool you," I said. "But, I'm still frisky."

The next three hours weren't punishment in the truest sense of the word, but I punished the hell out of her pussy, and that was a blood mortal fact.

******

It was three days later that I saw Marylou talking to Brody. He pointed toward the end of the hall where I was messing with a shorted out light fixture. She came toward me.

"You here on the 10th in the middle of the day?" I said.

"I wanted to see you. I've been thinking about what I did, and what I intend to do about it," she said.

"'kay," I said.

"Can we get coffee or something," she said.

"Okay, but it'll be a minute. I can't just leave these wires hanging here. Tell you what, head on down to the caf, and I will meet you there in ten. Okay?" I said.

"Okay, in ten then," she said.

I tied off the wires, screwed the fixture back into the wall, put the tools away into my leather belt rack, and headed back down the corridor to the elevators.

I stopped momentarily to inform Brody that I was taking a break. He just smiled at me.

"If I had a beautiful chick like her waiting for me, I'd be taking a break too," he said. I grimaced and punched him in the arm.

Brody was the only guy who could get away with making jokes laced with innuendo about my wife. I was pretty sensitive when it came to her, but Brody was my best friend; he got some latitude.

******

I saw her sitting at a table along the far wall. She already had a coffee cup that she was sipping from. She motioned me to get mine. I headed for the bank of nearby urns.

I got me a cup and joined her. "So, and what's the deal," I said. "You know, I told you, and I meant it, that you didn't have to do anything. I'd have been okay with that. I just wanted to make the point that I know people make mistakes, and so long as you really mean that you love me and only me..."

"Charlie, shut up. I'm a lawyer, and a damn good one. I know perfectly well that you knew I could never live with my guilt for betraying you. You did the worst thing you could to me: you left my punishment up to me!" she said. "Now, I am ready to sentence myself for my wrongdoing." I nodded for her to go on.

"You know, all of the shit they, my so called peers pile on you, is meaningless. You're smarter than any ten of them. The interesting thing is none of those educated assholes is aware of it. You should have been a lawyer."

"Not a chance, I have to sleep at night," I said. "In my job, nobody hates me. I like having real friends."

She frowned at him. "You're saying I don't have any friends?"

"You have Brody and me. But up there? Probably not," I said.

I could see she was not pleased with my assessment. "Charlie, I promise you I will never cheat again. That night—well—never again. I also promise, no more parties that you don't escort me to and stay with me at. Of course Brad is history; I have told the boss that I cannot work with Brad anymore and to not even ask. He understood.

"Finally, I am done with road trips unless you're with me. There must not even be the slightest doubt in your mind about where I'm at. There may be times when I have to work late, but if so you will get a call, and you will know it; and you can pop in on me any time. I worked that one out with the boss too." She paused. "I guess that's about it."

"Marylou, that's fine. All of those things will make it easier on me mentally, I guess. But, I love you, and the thought of living without you is not an option for me. You really have me completely pussywhipped and I love it, I think" I said.

She cradled my cheeks in her hand and kissed me. "I love you too my strong man," she said. "A boatload of Brads could never be your equal." I restrained myself from telling my latest "boatload of lawyers" joke; the timing was bad.

******

For the next several months everything was more or less back to normal between me and Marylou. Eventually Cass Walters changed the shifts as was done periodically. My team, except for Brody were shifted to swing; I now worked 3:00-mindnight. This was good for me in terms of workload, but bad for my relationship with Marylou. 

Brody was happy, he had been promoted to crew boss, and got the day shift that I had just been pulled from. I was glad for him, it meant another ten grand annual; he and his wife, Merle, were expecting, and the extra money was a godsend—Merle's words—at a time when the need would be there.

The upshot of Brody being on days and me being on nights was that he talked to Marylou more often than I did during the day, and in fact saw her damn near every day, which made me jealous as hell. Still...

Even with good 'ole Brad still around and panting after her, I no longer thought that I had anything to worry about. That was a mistake. With a wife like mine there is always the threat of infidelity; the pressure on her to spread her legs would always be enormous. It was this reality that would come back to bite me in my wishful thinking ass.

One night late in May Marylou came home looking down and depressed. I asked her about it, but she just said she'd had a tough day. I let it pass, but whatever it was that was affecting her seemed to me to be more than just a long day at the office. Several days later we were sitting out on the back porch watching the sun go down. We nursed our drinks.

"Charlie, I have to go down to San Diego for a few days. A big deal, a potential client is insisting on personalized service. There's a million dollar annual retainer for the firm on the line. I'm liaison for the account," she said.

I looked at her. She knew what I was thinking.

"I was the one who sought the account out and got them to commit—almost. Anyway, I have to go down there and finalize things. Would that be okay? I mean this once to go out of town without you?" 

Even I was impressed. "A million bucks! What kind of client pays a million bucks as a retainer for goodness sakes?" I said. I thought about maybe going down with her. But, then I thought about the kinds of people she would be dealing with and the stress and all and didn't want to go. 

"A labor union, The Retail Clerks Union," she said.

"Oh. Well, how long is a few days?" I asked. I wasn't feeling good about her going out of town, but I sensed that this was really important to her. I decided not to make an issue of it sick stomach or not.

"I'll be leaving Thursday. I will be flying back Sunday night. Don't bother picking me up though; I'll just get a cab back here," she said.

"Okay, but I don't mind picking you up if you change your mind," I said.

"Thanks, hon, I love you," she said.

"I love you too," I said, my stomach was churning as we touched glasses across the space between our chaise lounge chairs.

"Charlie—"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for not holding me to my promise not to go out of town without you. If you had said no, I wouldn't have gone. It would have been bad for me on the job—probably—but I would not have gone," she said.

"I know," I said. "That's why I didn't object. Just take care."

"I will. And, please try not to worry, okay?"

"Okay." I said.

San Diego was five hundred miles away. I had a shitload of vacation time. I was torn. I'd half made up mind to follow her down. It said something that I still wasn't sure enough about her to trust her on a trip out of town.

"Where you gonna be staying?" I said.

She looked me askance. "The Royal," she said. "It's downtown. The union has its offices nearby."

I nodded.

Thursday morning I went to see Cass. "Mr. Walters?"

"Yes," he said, turning towards me. "Oh, Charlie, how yuh doin' young man," he said.

"Good, Mr. Walters. But, I would like to take some time off if you could spare me for a few days," I said.




The Maintenance Man



"Oh, when?" he said.

Well, actually I'd like to take off today. If it's all right. I'd be back Monday though ready to work," I said.

"Kinda short notice, Charlie. Something wrong?" said Cass.

"No, no just something I have to do. It's pretty important," I said.

We talked for some minutes, and in the end I got the time off.

I decided to take the train down. It was cheaper, and it was something that appealed to me. And besides, I wasn't in a hurry. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to go. No, I was sure. I was sure I didn't. But, I was equally sure that I had to if only for my peace of mind.

I got into town at almost 6:00PM. I caught a cab to the Royal. I was cautious entering; Marylou could be anywhere.

I had taken the precaution of wearing a suit and tie and dark glasses, not my usual raiment. It was still light out, so I could justify the glasses. I definitely did not look like me, at least not to me I didn't. I entered the lobby and looked around. No Marylou.

I went up to the desk and asked for Mrs. Flowers' room.

"Hmm, sir, we don't give out that information," the clerk said.

"It's okay, I said. "I'm Mr. Flowers." I hoisted my ID in front of him and he relented.

"That'd be room 612, sir. Shall I announce you?"

"No, I want to surprise her," I said. I realized that I hadn't a clue as to what I wanted to do. 

I was just interested in seeing if she was playing it straight or not. I thought about getting a room, but I had already told him it was my wife in 612, so why would I need a room.

I began to walk toward the bank of elevators I'd seen on the way in. I was about half way to my goal when I saw her. My blood ran cold. She was in the arms of some big guy and she was kissing him—hard! They had just gotten off the elevator. I ducked back behind a column. I prayed she hadn't seen me. I peeked around the other side and saw them heading for the entrance. I decided to follow them. The marriage was over, but I wanted to get it all. My cell was a camera, and I knew how to use it.

Outside, they walked like lovers, arm-in-arm down the street. I wondered where they were headed. Maybe a restaurant I surmised.

They turned the corner. I hurried to catch up. I almost gave myself away. I was only ten feet away from them, when I rounded the corner. They had stopped to kiss yet again. The motherfucker had his hands all over her ass.

Just as I was sure I was about to be spotted they turned to cross the street. They were oblivious to all around them. The dark van came at them at what had to have been sixty miles an hour. I had no choice. I ran full tilt tackling them and shoving them out of the way just before they would have been hit.

I heard a scream and what sounded like someone yelling my name; then, all was black.

******

The light was very bright, I thought. I wondered why I hadn't turned it off when I went to bed. 

But, then...

"Doctor, doctor!" I heard someone yell.

It could not have been more than a minute and I was surrounded by a corps of white clad and very interested men and women.

One, who seemed an authority figure, shined a small light into my eyes one at a time, like I needed another light shining in my eyes. "You hear me Mr. Flowers?" said the man with the light.

"Yes—I think so—yes—I do," said.

"Mr. Flowers, you had us worried. That car hit you pretty good. But, I think that you are out of the woods now. Your wife is here, Mr. Flowers. I'll let her in, but only for a few minutes. You're still pretty weak from the operation."

My brow wrinkled. "Huh?" I said.

The doctor looked serious. "We had to take your leg Mr. Flowers, it was just too messed up to save. I'm sorry."

The news stunned me. I vomited.

"Nurse!"

Two nurses came in and tended to my nausea. A minute later, still nauseous, I saw her. She came in and held my hand.

"Charlie. What? Why? Charlie, I will never be able to forgive myself."

"Do you love him, Marylou?" I said. My conscious memory had returned. The image of them embracing and kissing and being lovey-dovey tortured my heart.

"Charlie, I..."

"I guess that's all the answer I need. Please leave me, Marylou. Please, before I embarrass myself. Please!"

I could see she was crying. But the last thing I needed was an unfaithful wife hanging around feeling guilty and sorry for me. My dancing days might be over, but I still had my pride, and I wasn't going to give it up to her and her lover. Hell, I'd already given up my leg; that was enough.

She backed out, turned, and left. I had never been so low in my life. I likely would never be this low again.

******

I didn't see Marylou the next day or the next or the next. I had left instructions that she was not to be allowed near me. When flowers arrived, I almost threw them out, but then I decided to read the card first. They weren't from her. They were from the boys at the Hobbs. I smiled at that. At least I still had my friends—my real friends.

It was a month later that I was released, and Brody and Kilpatrick were there to meet me.

With the help of my new fiberglass and aluminum leg, I was able to return to work after some six months and a heckuva lot of physical therapy. I was slower, but I could still get it done.

I was concerned that I would be bumping into her when I started back, but what the hell; it was my place of work too. I needn't have worried. She had evidently had the same thoughts. She had transferred to San Diego. I still missed her, but what could I do; she loved someone else. I guessed I was old news as far as she was concerned.

******

About three months after returning to work, I filed for divorce. Six months after that it was final. I did not go in for the final chapter. I had my lawyer do it for me. I heard she was there with her new fiancé. Well, life goes on, right?

I settled into my old routine. Things weren't too bad, except late at night. She was always on my mind then, damn her for it too.

Life did indeed go on.

******

Several years passed since the blow up in my life. My fortieth birthday was a day to celebrate for sure. My salary had almost doubled a couple of weeks before when I inherited Cass' old job. I was the boss now. He'd been almost seventy. The party for him had been a pretty good affair. Even old Brad Carlson was there for that one. He pulled me aside for a minute. He'd changed. "Charlie, you got a minute?" he said.

"Yeah, I guess," I said. "Whatcha got, Brad. I was wary, but not worried, if that makes any sense.

"You know we haven't spoken in years. I've seen you every now and then, but we've not spoken since forever."

"And, so—" I said.

"Well, I just want you to know I envy you and admire you," he said. "Hokey, okay, but it's the truth."

I looked around to see if anyone was snickering behind my back. They weren't. "Okay, I'll bite, Brad, what gives?"

"Nothing. It's just what I said. I'd be glad to call a man like you a friend," he said.

"Okay," I said. I was still suspicious, but I was getting the feeling that he was not pulling a fast one. He offered me his hand, and we shook.

"You know, you saved their lives that day: the both of them. I heard all about it," he said.

"Yeah, well that's old news," I said.

"Well, maybe, but the two of them never could live it down," said Brad. "I hear that she wanted to come and see you, try to get back with you, but the guy; well..."

"No biggee, it wouldn't have made any difference. I saw them. It was clear to me that I was old news," I said.

"Anyway, the way I heard it, every time they looked at each other they realized it was only because of your sacrifice that they were able to look at anything but dirt covering their faces.

"They got married though, finally. But, I guess Marylou's heart wasn't in it. They divorced within a year," said Brad.

"How do you know all of this?" I asked.

He looked at me like I was a dummy. "I see her from time to time. We work for the same firm, just different branches. We talk a little. She doesn't date a lot, not like she used to. You know, there was the divorce from you. Then, there was the divorce from that other guy. She's come to be a little bit skittish, I guess. She hasn't turned into a nun exactly, but she's definitely more—how shall I say it—more conservative given all that happened and how she used to be and do and all. 

"All that may be true, Brad. Hell, I'll even grant that it makes sense on some level, but what really makes me wonder the most is you, not her. I'm surprised you haven't picked up with her. I know you had the hots for her in the old days," I said.

He snickered. "Yeah, I guess. I had an epiphany of sorts."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you really don't know much about me. I lost my dad when I was young. It was just my mom and me. He, my dad, died in 'Nam; he was a tunnel rat. One day he—well—he didn't come out of the tunnel. My mom couldn't, at least didn't, talk about him much. She just said he'd been a hero; and I should always remember him that way. And I did. Until last year."

"Oh?" I said.

"My mom was dying; it was cancer. One day she called me in to the kitchen while I was visiting. The cancer was under control at the time; you know, with all the meds. She made me sit down. She poured me some coffee, and handed me a letter. And a small box."

I leaned back against the wall and waited to hear him out.

"I opened the box first; it was his posthumously awarded silver star. There was a letter from the Secretary of the Army with the details. That was a pretty tough moment for me. But it was only the beginning, as I soon found out.

"My mom waited for me to open the letter. I did. It took me a while to read it. It was a dear Jane letter written the week before my dad was killed. He had written mom saying that he was leaving her for a Vietnamese girl and that she, my mom, should start divorce proceedings. He said he wasn't going to be coming home. Oh, and he had a paragraph in there for me. He told me to always be honest and to work hard and love my mother. There was more, but you get the idea.

"My mom told me that dad was always chasing the skirts; he was very handsome she told me. This Viet girl was just the last in a long string of them. I realized then that I had become what I guess my dad always was, a philanderer. Anyway, that made me take stock of my life and the things I did and the way I thought. So, now, I am what I am—different." 

I nodded. "Sorry, something like that could change a person for sure."

"It did me. Anyway, I'm not the asshole I once was," he laughed.

"Well, there might be two schools of thought on that one," I said, and we both laughed.

"Yeah, maybe. You ever think of trying to see her again, talk to her? I mean Marylou?" he said.

"Naw, not really. I mean I miss her, guess I always will. I think about her lot especially at night. But, she didn't love me. The thing about it was that I knew it would never work. She was way out of my class, and I fucking knew it. I guess I just fell under her spell. I believed her when she said she could love me and only me. I guess I wanted to believe it. Well, she burned me in the end didn't she," I said.

"I suppose. Well, in case you change your mind. You know—you should maybe give her a chance to talk to you," he said.

"She wouldn't talk to me, not really. She might think she had to because of—well you know. But, I don't need sympathy or gratitude. I needed her love. I thought I'd had it, but, well, life is full of nasty surprises," I said.

"I'd talk to you, Charlie, and not out of pity or gratitude, but out of love."

I spun around. I looked back at Brad.

"Sorry, Charlie, I thought you needed to hear the truth," he said. "It ain't pretty, but it's not as unpretty as you thought it was either. Hear her out."

I turned back to the woman. "Hello, Marylou. You look—well."

"You look good too, Charlie. I know it sounds weird, but Brad is responsible for me being here. He seems to think we should talk. Or, more accurately that I should talk to you, tell you the whole of it." She turned and started walking. It was clear to me that she was heading for the elevators, and she wanted me to follow her. I guessed it would be going down and to the cafeteria.

******

"I'm sorry, Charlie. Let me start with that. I'm sorry for a million things. I'm sorry for betraying you; it was not planned, not really. Ronald was an old flame. When he kissed me hello, I don't know, it touched something off inside of me.

"You never knew, but before we hooked up, I was quite the girl about town. Fact was I was everyman's favorite date. Never anything serious, just a lot of sex and restaurant food. By serious I mean none of my dates were ever going to get a ring on my finger; you were the only one until our divorce to do that.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you while you were recuperating. I'm sorry, for not being home to take care of you and love you and feed you and bathe you when you were having your hardest days with your leg. And well...

"When I ran into Ronald in San Diego that day; again, it was like old times. I wasn't thinking. I guess I really was ready for a fling and he was there, and he was a known quantity, and we did it. The biggest mistake of my life. I know that now."

I listened. I couldn't think of anything to say. I loved her and hated her and admired her—the last for her candor. I nodded.

She started to cry. Geezsus these women, always crying. 

"Then all of a sudden you saved me. You saved him. And you—"

"Yes, yes I know I was damaged goods," I said. "Well, I get along just fine thank you very much. I don't dance anymore, but I do okay otherwise.

"Marylou, the last fucking thing I need is sympathy, okay. Just don't do it! That I could not deal with!" My voice had been rising. It was beginning to look like the exact conversation that I always feared would happen, and I was not going to stand for it.

She nodded her understanding. "I know," she said. "You are far too much of a man to put up with any emotional female nonsense. I was just going to say, that the guilt; well, it was overwhelming.

"That day in the hospital, when you asked if I loved him, I wanted to tell you I didn't. And, I really didn't. What I did not want though was to be with you and have to feel the guilt day in and day out for the rest of our lives. That would have done neither of us any good, and I knew it. So—I misled you. Let you think I loved him. It would be easier, so I thought, for the both of us."

"But you married him," I said. "Why did you marry him?"

"I had to, sort of. That day at the hotel, he'd knocked me up. I just took the easy path. But it didn't last. We were divorced within a year."

"How about the baby?" I asked.

"I miscarried five months into the pregnancy. It hurt me real bad. I have to tell you. I almost came back and threw myself on the ground at your feet, Charlie. I needed you so bad then. Selfish of me huh."

She was sobbing now big time. Her chest was heaving and never had I seen a forty year old woman look so like a fourteen year-old who'd been stood up by her first boyfriend.

I was about to take the biggest risk a man could take. I reached out and placed my hand gently on her shoulder. I knew then that I was lost. The feel of her, quivering like that, was more than I could bear.

The power of a woman in trouble was beyond my power to resist. Add to that the fact that I had never stopped loving her; and well, dear reader, I might be the first citizen of wimp city, but that's just the way it is, so deal with it.

We were remarried within three months of that day.



The Maintenance Man



The day I moved to the Villas, had been such a hectic day. The movers weren't on time and the truck I was provided broke down. My intention was to hire these big strong men and have them do all the work, but that's not what took place. I had three movers, two of them old and one able bodied man who reeked of alcohol. A job that should have took three hours ended up being six. This was going to be my first apartment and I didn't want any mix ups.

The Villas were townhouses in a gated community of ten. The posh neighborhood around us was a happening place to be in Virginia Beach. I had the newest and last unit in the complex. As I pulled up to my new place I was greeted by Mr. Adams, the maintenance man. He led me through the new home and pointed out the new amenities. He seemed to know about everything in the home and outside the home. Mr. Adams knew everyone's business. As we talked, about who was clean and dirty, whose husband is cheating with whom in the complex, I noticed his hands; he was wearing a wedding ring. I quickly excuse myself from Mr. Adams because the movers had arrived. 

"Those are the guys that are supposed to help you?" He asked as they got off the truck. I hated to admit it but I confessed. He laughed as he joked how old they looked. I laughed as I said that one of movers is fifty years old. Mr. Adams didn't laugh, "I'm fifty." I was quiet embarrassed and tried to apologize but I had to admit he looked good for his age and his body was tight. His work suit hung on him perfectly, complimenting him.

"Look baby girl, I'm a help you out. I ain't doing anything right now," He insisted. I told him I would be grateful for his help but I couldn't pay him right now. He looked at me and told me I didn't need any money, he could think of other ways for me to repay him as he headed toward the truck. 

As the men unloaded, I watched Mr. Adams direct the help, he took over the show. I like a man who is direct and knows how to get things done. Our eyes met every time he brought an item in the house. He flirted with me, playfully winking at me, sticking out his tongue or licking his lips. I could not believe I was flirting back. He was old enough to be my father but he was sexy in his own way. After the job was done and I paid the movers, it was time to relax. I would do the unpacking tomorrow. 

Mr. Adams had left and vowed he would be back. I believed I made his day, a young woman flirting with him. I decided to try out my new Jacuzzi tub, I was exhausted. I ran myself a bubble bath with the works; candles and a CD. I admired my body as sat in my 72 x 72 Jacuzzi for two. The bubbles lather my body as I lay still. My body was tense and in need of some healing. Only one thing could remedy this feeling; I pulled my pussy teaser out of its bag and turn the dial on. I needed to cum.

I opened my legs and swirled my vibrator around my pussy. The warm water intensified the feeling. I felt like a kitten that needed to be licked. I caressed my skin; I put my teaser on my nipples as they expanded with each stroke. I felt my legs stiffening with each pulsating jerk of my pussy, but I didn't want to come yet. I imagined Mr. Adams here with me, finger fucking me. I fantasized that with each stroke, he made my body boil over as we pleasured each other. I was hot with fever. I couldn't believe the feeling; I was high from squeezing my hips together. Oh mama, I was going to blow. I lay motionless as I was released.

"Good Morning baby girl." I looked up to see Mr. Adams, he was getting ready to weed whack the spacious lawn. I waved hello, as I entered my car. I started it up and looked through my rearview mirror and saw Mr. Adams winking at me. I thought to myself, he needed to be careful before he gets some of this pussy. At work, I found myself daydreaming about him. His ripping chest, his sweaty brown skin, and those honey brown eyes. I wanted his arms wrapped around me, clawing at me like I was raw meat and he had been starving for months.

It has been two months since I moved in, and that me and Mr. Adams have been flirting. I have played with my pussy envisioning him fucking my brains out but today of all days felt different, I was feeling hoe-ish.

"You sure look good," he expressed. I smiled and winked at Mr. Adams as I empty my trash. He was watching me walk away, licking and puckering his lips. I watched him as well, with his work suit down around his waist and his amazing chest exposed. I know that I am flirting with a married man but it felt so right. He wanted me and I definitely wanted him. 

"Let me help you with that," he said as he open the door for me. As I entered, he smacked my ass and told me how firm it was and he would love to put his tongue in it. I looked back at him and poked it out, giving him permission to do so. I couldn't believe Mr. Adams was nasty, ooh I liked. 

"Do you want to fuck me?" I asked. His eyes brightened up. I moved toward my kitchen island, jumping on it. 

"Yes I do, bad," he expressed. I licked my fingers and motioned for him to come closer. His sexy eyes watched me as I kicked my shoes off, and unbutton my blouse. I wrapped my legs around Mr. Adams and he began kissing my lips, and neck. He licked my ears, playfully teasing them as I kissed him all over his face. He moaned, "Don't stop baby girl," he whispered as he unbuttoned my bra, pulling my titties out, sucking them vigorously. I moaned as he pushed me down on the island. He had his lips attached to my breast as if he was breastfeeding. He took his fingers and slid my panties over and began massaging my pussy, I moaned even louder. I helped him and slid them down to the floor. I wanted to feel his dick inside of me. I lay back on the island as he twisted his tongue around my pussy. He held my clit in his mouth as he sucked my juices. I caressed his bald head as I shoved his face deeper into my pussy.

Marvin opened my legs wider and stuck them in the air as he inserted his fingers into my ass. He begged me to say I loved it. I was willing and an eager participant. I was cuming as he shoved his fingers in deeper as he ate my pussy. Mr. Adams pulled his fingers out licking them and then shoving them into my mouth. I tasted good. He pulled me down by my hair ordering me to suck his dick. I pulled his jumpsuit down to reveal he was naked underneath. I spit on his big dick and devoured it. He moaned my name over and over as swallowed deeper. He had the tastiest dick I have ever had. I let my saliva drip down his dick as I licked it up with each swallow.

I order him to fuck me. He pushed me up against my counter as he entered me raw. We both moaned at the same time. His dick felt like heaven to my pussy. With each stroke we rode a rhythm of ecstasy. Slow then fast, faster and when the ride was over, he came all over my pussy; and like a big cat, he ate his own cum. The maintenance man always gets the job done.



The Maintenance Man



The toilet runs, the faucet drips, the lights are out in the hall. It was always something.

Dad said I needed to learn responsibility, so he got his friend to hire me as Handy Man for his 24 unit building in the Village.

College wasn't working out, I liked working with my hands, the pay wasn't bad, and I got an apartment for the summer, with use of the pool and facilities when I wasn't working. Which wasn't too often.

I had hoped for some challenges, but all the jobs were mundane, things these people didn't want to do, not couldn't do. 

So, half-way through June, I had met every occupant, except three. I figured either they didn't complain, or were away for the summer.

Some just wanted company, some liked having someone to boss around. And with most of them older, they had nothing but time.

The office phone rang. "Maintenance Man," I answered.

"Yes, are you married?" a female voice asked.

"I'm sorry, do you have a wrong number?"

"No, it's simple question that requires a simple answer."

Feeling about to be mistreated, I put on my best impression of someone who didn't care for games. "No, Ma'am, I am not, now is there a problem?"

"No, my husband will be down shortly." 

She hung up, and I looked at the receiver. "Woop-De-Doo!" What was that all about?

Ten minutes later, my door bell rang. Good, I thought, let's see if the husband is anything like her! At least him, I can tell where to go!

In the sunlight, behind big sunglasses, stood a man. He wasn't very big, in height or stature. Maybe 5'5, and 140. He wore a jacket which appeared to be too large, and long pants, unusual for 85 degrees. His voice was hushed, soft, as he said, "May I come in?"

I stepped back, and he came through. The front room of my apartment was actually an office of sorts, for whoever was the maintenance man, with a desk, chairs, inventories, and work orders scattered about. Not many people actually came here, they just called and I'd do the job if it wasn't Union-regulated, like Electricity or HVAC.

He had been here before, he took his seat, and I took mine, at the desk. He folded his hands. They were small and thin, and I guessed he was fairly old, from the age spots and sagging skin.

"What can I do for you?" I asked, professionally. He cleared his throat, still wearing those wrap-around shades that old folks wear, hiding half his face. My name is Reynolds, Unit 16, in the back?" I nodded and he continued. "My wife and I... we keep to ourselves pretty much, we try not to... attract too much attention. We have noticed you, around the grounds, and want to say you do a first rate job, and are quite pleased with everything."

I stared at him, thinking, your wife just spoke to me like I'm dirt, and it was all so you could compliment me on my work? "Well, thank you, Mr. Reynolds, was it? Is there anything else?" 

He hesitated. "My wife wants you to come for dinner, or just drinks, whatever is convenient."

Huh? "Excuse me, sir, but did you hear your wife's call to me? She didn't sound like someone who wanted to socialize."

"I'm terribly sorry about that, she's been... brusque lately, I'm sure she didn't mean anything."

"Okay, what's this about? If you need something done, just tell me. No song and dance needed."

"It's something we'd like to discuss with you together, outside the office, a special project which we would pay you quite handsomely for, I might add." He could see that he struck a chord.

But I was suspicious, too, although he hardly struck me as a druggie or killer. "Why me?"

"Elaine and I... This is best left for dinner, I think. If you decide not to do the project, I'll still pay you 20, no $50 for your time. Deal?"

"Let's just keep it at drinks, and we'll talk."

He was clearly happy. "Tonight then? Sevenish?"

For the rest of the day, I thought about it. A chance to show off my talents, real work, creativity, maybe some designing, like a stereo center, or shelves! Whenever I passed Unit 16, I swore I was being watched, but never saw movement.

Freshly showered, in clean jeans and Hendrix tee, I rang their bell at exactly seven. It's good to make first impressions.

Mr. Reynolds opened the door to their 2 bedroom Condo. I had been in other models, so I knew the layout. "Tom! Thanks for being so punctual," he announced, and I'm sure it was for her benefit.

He was hatless and mostly bald. Age: Up there! Maybe 70! He seemed much more relaxed in his own surroundings and he led me into the living room. "What can I get for you, Tom?" He recited the choices, which covered just about everything, but I'm a beer guy, and said so.

He got a cold mug from the freezer and a bottle of Heinie, along with his cocktail, something sweet, I bet. He sat on the couch, across from me. "Elaine will be with us in a minute, sorry, but you know how women are," he shrugged. I sat back and took in the place, everything top-shelf, only the best shelving and stereos, a big screen Hi-Def TV, very modern, and expensive. 

"Nice place," I said. 

"Oh, thank you, yes, we're happy here."

I kept looking to where I knew the bedrooms were, waiting for Mrs. Reynolds. Finally, we heard, "Richard?" from a distance.

"Yes, Darling, I'm coming." And he was gone.

Relax, Tommy, I thought, even if she's a Bitch, do the job, you can make some money!

I heard stirring, and he came out, like he was presenting the Queen to Her Court. "Tom, this is my wife, Elaine!"

She stepped passed him, tall and regal. My eyes took in the whole picture and, man, was I impressed! From the top, she had long black hair, really long, like Morticia Addams. As a matter of fact, that's who she could have been imitating! She had modernized the look, with a track suit, instead of a gown, but it was black! 

She had high cheek bones, long lashes, deep brown eyes, bright red lips. Not gorgeous, but damned fine anyway!

Down the long slim body, I saw the heels, a good 3 inches, maybe more. She stopped as if posing and I realized they were probably the same height without her heels. She didn't smile, but made eye-contact, then looked me up and down. She stepped forward, her hand extended, long thin fingers with bright red nails, finely manicured.

"Mr. Peters, thank you for coming, please, sit. Richard, I'll take a Cosmo. Make sure there is ample Vodka this time! And get Mr. Peters another, too."

I sat as she did across from me. "Please, everyone calls me Tom. Mr. Peters sounds like a private part." Oops! What did I say?

This brought a smile, ever so slight. "I'd hate to call you that at our first meeting! And I'm Elaine, please."

She was much nicer than I expected, but I could tell she was demanding, at least with Richard. He came hurrying back with her drink. He sat next to her, too close and she shifted away a bit.

"So, Mr... I mean, Tom, I'm sure you are wondering why we asked you here," She said."We have a very unusual situation here. I hope I can speak bluntly." She stared through those lashes and I felt drawn to her. 

"Please do," I replied, trying to sound as professional as she did.

"My husband has... medical problems. And as I'm sure you guessed, I am quite a bit younger than he." (By about 20 years,or more) "His ailments keep him from having sex. And we both feel badly about this." She affectionately patted his hand, the first sign she actually cared for him.

I nodded, trying to follow her train of thought.

"I, on the other hand, have no such restrictions and I have a very active libido. Do you see what I'm saying?"

"Yes, no, oh, wait...I think so." This had nothing to do with my handy man status, although I guess I would be the Handy Man! My eyes must have been wide, and she smiled again, nodding at me as she saw it sink in. I looked to him, and he grinned in support.

"I'm flattered, I think, if I follow your gist." 

"You follow it. This is not something we broadcast for general knowledge, and whether you accept or not, you hope you will be discreet."

"Let me get this perfectly straight. We're talking about sex." They nodded. "Me and you?" They nodded. "Can I ask? How did you choose me?"

"Richard and I have an agreement. When I feel the urge, I tell him. He had seen you working here, and pointed you out to me. I appreciate his input, he knows the type of man I favor. When you didn't cave in during my phone call, I thought you had the right temperament, too."

To him, I said, "And you are alright with this?"

"Tom, I love my wife very much. She's still a vibrant young lady and could have any man, but she chose to stay with me. When I could have sex, it was wonderful, so why should I deprive her of the joy?"

I took a long drink, and she went on. "If you have any problems with this, morally, religiously, or if you're just not attracted to me, don't hesitate to say so, and we will pay you what was agreed upon."

"Mrs. Reynolds..."

"Elaine..."

"Okay, Elaine, I've never done anything like this before. Morally, etc, I have no problem. Being attracted to you? Have you looked in the mirror? If I saw you walking down the street, I'd wrench my neck, turning so fast."

They both laughed. 

"I just don't know if I could perform, I mean, there's nothing wrong with me, but..."

"Tom," she said, softly. "You're a young man, how old? Twenty-five? If you can't perform as you say, then I'm not doing something right. I won't hold it against you, but trust me, if you are willing, I'm sure we will do just fine."

I smiled, "If truth be told, it's been a while for me, so I imagine the problem will be me finishing before you."

"It's not a race, Tom." 

"Just joking. When would this take place?"

"Now if you're available."

"And, Richard?"

"There's a new Sci Fi I've been dying to see," Richard said. "I might still make the 7:45 show." He kissed Elaine on the cheek, and said, "Have fun," then to me, "You too!" and he was gone.

I looked across at her, and said, "Now, what?"

"Would you find a strip tease enticing."

"Yes, enticing. Are you comfortable with it?"

I'm very rarely comfortable with these things, but thanks for asking. Is music necessary?"

"Not for me."

She stood in those heels, and she seemed regimented, like this is what was required. The top had one long zipper, she stood with her chest out, and stared at me as she slowly drew it down, glancing at her own chest as she did it.

It was a matching black bra, half-cup, lacey, and her white flesh contrasted it, as I could see her breathing, wondering how often they played this game. She seemed nervous, but tried to hide it.

She turned her back, and slowly draped the jacket on her shoulders, then slid it down to the small of her back. She was much younger than Richard, but all her makeup hid it. Now, seeing how taut her flesh was, I changed my estimation to forty-something. She kept a frozen smile as she dramatically turned back to face me, her breasts were spectacular.

"Wait," I said, cutting her performance off. I stood, finished my beer, and said, "Not like this, you're going through the motions, but not enjoying it. Let me catch up." I pulled the tee over my head, and she seemed to like my suntanned body. I kicked off my shoes and walked over to her. "Now, how about a little of me touching you?"

My hand went out and cupped her tit, and she honestly smiled. "There, now I know you're a real person. Anything you want to touch?" and I felt her hand caressing my growing bulge. I smiled. "This is better, isn't it? Is kissing allowed?"

She smiled. "It's optional."

"Then lets add that option." I bent my head and kissed her softly, letting her relax some more. I felt her shell melting away, and she kissed back, with eyes wide, then I felt her tongue, probing, and I took it in.

Still holding her tit while she rubbed me harder, I sent my other hand in search of the bra hook, which was in the back corner. As we stared at each other, I opened it and it sagged from the weight of her breasts. I lifted the cup and they fell out, and my hands held them like melons. They weren't huge, but more than a mouthful, and I heard air escape from her when I found the nipple. When I squeezed it, she gasped, very nicely, and I knew it was real. I wanted her to enjoy herself. 

Our eyes were still locked when I lowered my head, taking the nipple in my lips, my tongue flicking across the tip. "Oh, Tommy."

My other hand wrapped around her waist and I slowly slid it into the elastic waistband, and I felt her ass, firm from exercise. She wiggled her pelvis against me from the squeeze, and our kisses were hotter. I slid the matching track slacks down, feeling how firm her ass felt, and ground my crotch into her.

I felt her hands at my belt, so I stepped back to help, and I saw, atop those heels which were about 4 inches after all, was the most beautiful, shaved pussy ever. I just said "wow" and she said, "Does that mean you like it?"

When I nodded, she added, "It was Richard's idea."

"Well, my compliments to his fine taste!" She liked that, then I dipped my finger into her, and she was surprised. She was very wet, so I injected a finger and she squirmed. Then another. She was dancing like a puppet now.

We kissed again. Elaine said nothing as she got my jeans off. She eyes showed excitement when she reached in and found my seven inches hard. Mt fears about not performing were, apparently, unnecessary. She kissed me again as she stroked the full length and i could feel her smiling as we kissed. 

I moved us to the couch, still together in a body-clench, and I eased her down, slowly, carefully, kissing my way, from her lips, past her neck, to those breasts, then down, further and she said, "You don't have to do that."

Between kisses, I replied, "I don't have to do anything. If you want me to stop..."

"Oh, Noooo..."

Her shaved skin was so smooth and her fragrance filled me. This woman is so hot! And now I get to taste her! I spread her legs, and she moaned again, signalling approval, I imagined. I looked down, at the pink flesh, glistening with moisture, it was moving, she was twitching, and the clit was swollen and darker, almost red.

I went for it, turning my head to catch it between my teeth, gently pulling at it, sucking, feeling it throb. The deep sound rattled through her chest, into her throat, then out those lips. "Ooooooohhhhhhhh!"

I kissed and bit, rubbed my nose against it, enjoyed feeling how she reacted to each move, and then she was tugging at my head. "No, No more, Please, I can't stand it!"

I moved up and she kissed me firmly, and her juices were smeared across that perfect makeup and Morticia was anything but the unfeeling character from TV and movies!

She stayed spread as she pulled me on top. "Now, Tom, put it in me now!"

Glad to oblige. By now, I was throbbing, too. "Yeah, Ma'am," I replied officially, then she took my head and held it to her entrance. I thought about teasing her some more, but thought she couldn't stand my joking, so I pressed on, my thick pink head passing through the walls, feeling her give way. Her tightness surprised me as I pushed onward, and her eyes stared, wide in delight. 

I didn't want to make her uncomfortable, so I backed off, before moving further, and she must have thought I was giving up. "More, Tom, I need it all the way! Now? Please?"

And I did! This time not concerned about form, she wanted function. I raised over her and thrust my hips, and rammed all the way, so that her eyes bulged, and she groaned from the force.

"Yes! Yes! Hard! Like that!" and with each order, I thrust, making her emphasis her words, her head was rolling as if disconnected from her neck, and she was wailing. I could feel her nails digging into my back. That was gonna leave marks, but fuck it!

"Oh! God! Oh! God!", she stammered, "Gonna Come! Gonna! Come!" and she did, she squealing as her body shook beneath me, jerking and twisting. I felt my cock give way, and release streams of hot sperm into her depths. Each thrust sent another shot until my gun was empty. I slumped on top of her and we laid there panting. I felt her kisses on my neck and that was good: it meant she really enjoyed it, and had lost some of that Boss/Worker attitude. 

I eased out of her and when my cock fell limp, she just whispered, "oooh", as if disappointed that we were done.

I tried to get up but she held me. "Just stay for a minute, okay?" she whispered, softly.

"Sure, I thought I was crushing you." We kissed again, this a more personal kiss between lovers not some paid concubine. 

"You are, but it's a good crush, I hope you don't mind placating me."

"Heck, I'm in no rush, how long was that movie?"

She smiled. "He's such a dear, probably at the Library, reading. I call him at the appropriate time to return." 

"Good deal you got there."

"Tom, I really do love my husband. Mostly, we do this on vacation with a stranger we meet, makes it less risky, but Richard had a good feeling about you. I'm glad he did."

I smiled. "Me, too!" 



The Maintenance Man: Apt 2G



Earning your way through college has never been an easy task, especially for a scholarship student attending NYU full time, with little time to hold down a job and pay for room and board. That's why I jumped at the opportunity my uncle had hooked up for me at this semi-luxurious apartment complex on the west side of town. He had a good friend that was into the property management business and he let me in on the opportunity for free housing in a ten story 40 apartment/condominium complex. 

The building was pretty high end and well beyond my means if it weren't for the fact that I was offered housing and utilities in exchange for providing building maintenance for the condo owners. They needed someone on hand 24/7 to handle emergency calls and routine maintenance and repairs around the building. I had plenty of experience working on electrical, carpentry and plumbing growing up with my old man around. This was like a golden opportunity for me that I could not pass up on. I got myself a bad ass apartment in exchange for doing some chores around the building as I saw it, no-brainer.

I moved in immediately and got my self situated with the building and the passageways, etc. I familiarized myself with the systems in the building and found everything to be in pretty decent shape and didn't anticipate any major problems around here, besides I was authorized to hire any help for major repairs/emergencies as needed. Anyway, I learned some interesting things about the building such as the crawl spaces between the walls of the apartments were big enough to walk through to allow access to plumbing and wiring features. Pretty cool, I thought as I passed through the spaces and I realized that I could hear through the walls in some of the apartments. "Hmmm..." pretty interesting.

On my second day I received a list of all the problems that had been stacked up and waiting for my arrival. Leaking toilet-apt 2G, A/C not working apt-3D, etc. etc. damn I knew this was too good to be true there had to be about half of the apartments in the building with existing problems waiting to be serviced. No problem, that's why I'm here let me knock this out of the way and get going so I can study and get some sleep for class in the morning. So I made my way to apt-2G to meet Ms Kiniski who turned out to be a very attractive Russian lady in her 30's with sexy red hair and green eyes that pierced through me when I introduced myself to her. 

She elegantly invited me in to her apartment and lead me to the master bathroom where she explained that there was a problem with her toilet. I couldn't help but check out her figure as I walked behind her towards the seclusion of her bedroom and watched her sachet that little sexy ass of hers down the hall. She was about 5'6" with stockings and no shoes on wearing a tight black skirt and matching business jacket covering a pair of breasts about 36C if I had to guess. Pretty damn hot I thought as she explained the problem she was having and I kept asking questions of her just to hear that incredibly hot accent of hers in my ears. 

Wow, this job is not half bad for a pervert like myself, I thought. I got treated well by sexy ladies and invited into the privacy of their bedrooms and check out where and how they sleep, and my imagination will just do the rest for me. Ms. Kiniski begged my forgiveness but informed me that she had to leave me to my work as she was due in shortly and told me to use my master key to lock up and return as needed to complete my work. I thanked her for the politeness and told her I would have her problems worked out in no time flat, however I might need some parts and would have to reenter her place again by myself. This was not a problem for her and she told me I was welcome to whatever I needed. As she said that I couldn't help but wonder if she had actually given me a little wink or was it my imagination getting carried away with me?

Anyway off to work she went to the hustle and bustle of midtown Manhattan and here I was alone in the bedroom of a hot European woman that may or may not have been given me the eye. Hey I'm starting to like this job even more now, I thought. Her problem with her toilet was not a big deal, just needed some new parts that would have me run down to my supply room in the basement and see what I had in stock and I could be outta here in a minute. As I started to exit the bathroom I noticed something that caught my eye and I froze in my tracks. The dirty clothes hamper, and sticking out of it on one side was a piece of see-through white material. I reached over and opened the hamper to find not just a pair of sexy thong panties, but a whole set of lingerie. 

I took them out to examine them and began to imagine the sexy Ms. Kiniski wearing such a hot outfit with her flowing red hair and penetrating green eyes and soon I was standing there with a bulging hard on at the mere thought of seeing her this way. I examined the brasserie and what do you know I was right on target-36C, but it was the woman's panties that got my attention and I brought them up to my nose and inhaled her sexy aroma that was still moist to the touch and smelled of sweet honey and sugar. I began rubbing my cock through my jeans as I imagined having face between her sexy thighs and taking in the erotic smell of her womanhood with my eyes closed and I could hear her calling my name out as I licked her panty's crotch and tasted her imaging it was the real thing.

"Carlos," she exclaimed as my tongue glistened across her outer lips. "Vut do you zink you're Doing?" she called out to me as I nearly jumped out of my clothes when I realized that she was standing behind me watching me rub my cock and lick her goddamn panties. What the fuck do I do now? "Are you tasting my panties? I cannot believe zis. How could you do zat to me? All you had to do was ask to zmell my puzzy and I vould let you, you dirty boy. You like the Natasha's puzzy zmell?"

Holy shit I thought to myself, she's not mad at me. She began to remove her jacket and unzip her skirt from the back as she approached me and let her clothing drop to the floor. She was wearing a similar outfit beneath her professional business attire. Black stockings with garters, see though black panties and a strapless bra holding those ample breasts up at attention for me. 

I sat stunned and moitionless as she approached me and slapped me across the face and told me I was a bad, dirty young man and she was gonna teach me a lesson about sniffing panties. She ordered me to get on my knees and put my face in her crotch and I complied, still half in fear of getting in trouble for what I was doing when she walked in. She sat herself on the edge of her queen size bed and pushed my head into her pussy and asked me if I wanted to sniff the panties that she had on and of course I did, so I began by rubbing my nose up and down her extremely chunky and moist pussy. She was already wet and the stain on the front of her panties was enough to prove that. I continued to rub my nose in circles budging and prodding her pussy and feeling the juices build up inside of her and releasing more of that lovely Russian aroma into the air. 

She called out to me, "Taste it, you bad boy - taste Natasha's puzzy."

With that command I decided to give her an introduction to the world of Puerto Rican pussy eating like she had never seen. I began by curling my tongue into a tubular-shaped device that I like to call the straw tongue and drinking the juices already sitting in the crevice at the edge of her pussy. The louder I made my slurping sounds the wilder she reacted, encouraging me on with yells of 'yes 'and 'more'. I took my tongue and turned it sideways and traced the opening of her vagina up and down slowly along her opening gently brushing against her clitoris, knowing she wasn't quite ready for that sort of stimulation just yet. 

Opening my mouth wide I placed her entire vagina in my mouth and began sucking on it's entirety gently at first and building up pressure gradually. Spreading her pussy with my left hand I exposed the hood of her clitoris and gave her one light stroke with my tongue as I began to suck and pull and nibble on her lips exposing her glorious opening and watching her lips and clit engorge with blood as I knew she would be reaching her first orgasm momentarily. I spread her lips open with my right hand and began working on her honey hole reaching inside deeply to lick and stroke her inner walls and that was when she realized her first of several orgasms and as she shook and trembled strongly she pulled on my ears, pulling my further into her hole, just the way I loved it. 

I entered her with one finger and pulled her open from the lower end of her pussy opening her hole to allow me to enter my tongue more deeply inside of her and I began swirling my tongue around and around her gorgeous pussy feeling her expand and open to my touch. I knew I was in command of her at this point and my little Russian sex pot was and my whim. Just then I entered her with two fingers thrusting upwards and finding her g-spot and making my introduction to her clitoris. 

The second I placed my tongue on her erect hard clitoris she was in the throes of another orgasm, instantly. I attacked her clit lick a mad man sucking and rubbing with my tongue, all the while taking in the lovely aroma of sex emanating from the deepest parts of her body. Wave after wave of orgasm flushed through her body as she finally rolled over screaming in Russian. I had no clue what she was saying except that the smile she had on her face said she was happy with what she received. 

She asked me to lay next to her and asked me if I preferred the real thing over sniffing her dirty panties. She told me that she was not sorry that she had to return home because she had forgotten her folder but that she needed a shower and was going to be very late for work now. I apologized for making her late and informed her that he repair would be completed by the time she arrived home that evening. She gave me a long passionate kiss and I showed my self out of her place to get the parts I needed to complete the original job I was there for in the first place. 

When I returned to apt 2G to complete the repair I found a note on her bed that read: 

Dear Carlos, 

Thank you for your excellent work and effort. I will be sure to inform the property manager and my neighbors of your work ethic. You have no idea how badly I needed that leak taken care of. Please accept this token of my appreciation. 

Sincerely, 
Ms. Natasha Kiniski

Sitting next to the note was her pair of white panties and a $100 bill. Smiling I thought that I was gonna really enjoy this job and meeting Natasha's friends if they're anything like her. I finished my repairs and left a few of my cards in the place where I found her note. It read: