IF I WERE A CARPENTER
The office did the initial paperwork, so I didn't meet her until I arrived at
the door. She answered the door in a bikini. I was stunned. Hell, she must have
been all of 40 years old and she was one of the hottest women I have ever seen.
My God, she was beautiful.
I babbled for a moment and finally told her I was there to refinish her
kitchen, as I stood in front of my truck with a 10 by 20 foot sign advertising
kitchen refinishing. She laughed, then said I could come in. My eyes never left
her body for the first few minutes. She was a fucking beauty. And single! I
expected a Martha Stewart type, not somebody like this.
I worked on that kitchen for three days, and I followed her every move,
when she was in sight. In that time I found she was soft spoken and sweet, she
had a killer ass, and her breasts were absolutely perfect. They looked like
cones of rock. When I wasn't looking at her I was thinking of her, even when I
went home at night to my tiny apartment. She was on my mind constantly.
So the one time when I wasn't thinking of her, and she came up behind me,
startled the hell out of me.
"Almost finished?" her voice came from over my shoulder. I was installing
a hinge with a phillips head screwdriver. She scared me shitless. I stabbed my
thumb with a screwdriver and yelped. The screwdriver went clattering off across
the floor and under the cabinets.
"Fuck," I swore, then gasped and looked at her. "I'm so sorry," I said,
sucking my thumb.
"Forget it. I had a husband who liked to swear."
"I can't believe any man would leave you," I said offhandedly. She paused,
in the act of folding a dishrag. "Thanks," she said with a curious smile. I
wasn't trying to hit on her at the time, I was totally serious. As it turned
out, it was all the invitation she needed.
IN THE MEMBERS SECTION