“Sal at number seven said you needed a plumber,” he told her. “I was round there fixing her dishwasher.”
Sal was a neighbour and she had sounded off to her in the supermarket the day before about Jo, her husband, blocking her sink up. She looked him up and down. He seemed genuine enough. He was wearing work clothes and carrying a tool bag. She spotted his van on the roadside at the end of the drive. ‘Stan the Handyman’ said the sign.
“Yes I do. My husband blocked up my sink three weeks ago and he hasn’t got round to fixing it properly yet,” she responded, sounding as angrily as she looked.
He smiled. “Well, let’s have a look it then”
“How... how much will it cost?” she asked him. “I don’t have much cash on me at the moment.”
“Let me have a look first and I can give you a quote.”
Carla stepped aside and let him in. He was tall and slim and looked to be of West Indian origin. She guessed his age to be late forties or early fifties. She led him into the kitchen and to the sink. It was half full of water. “It does go down but very slowly,” she told him. “My husband insists on emptying his teapot down the sink. He prefers leaf tea to tea bags.”
“I see,” he told her as he put down his bag and opened the cupboard underneath.
She watched him clear away everything from under the u-bend pipe. “Got a bucket?” he asked her.
Carla fetched one and then looked on as he uncoupled the pipe. Five minutes later he had it cleared and back in place. She smiled as she felt a wave of jubilation. It was so simple a job. Jo may have been a good banker but when it came to DIY he was completely useless.
“Job done,” he told her.
“How much do I owe you, Stan?”
He shook his head. “It’s okay,” he told her. “It’s not even worth writing out a receipt. And it’s Tom, not Stan. I just use the name because it sounds poetic.”
Carla laughed. “Look, I must give you something,” she told him.
He looked her over. His eyes fixed on her breasts. Though she wore a t-shirt, it was tight fitting and her nipples were erect. She felt conscious of them. Usually she got annoyed at being ogled at in that way but she didn’t feel it this time. She looked back at him. She would not describe him as an attractive man but he did have a nice smile. She also noticed that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. She looked him up and down again and noticed his arousal.
Carla looked away. She felt warmth toward him. It had been a long time. She and Jo were going through one of those patches again. Those taken for granted ones. Those boring, same old, same old patches. Jo seemed absorbed with his job and she had recently lost her part time one.
It was nice to be wanted but she also wondered if Sal had not had something to do with it as well. Sal liked to flirt. She liked to wear very tight jeans or skirts of a shortish length. “I like giving men a boner,” she had told her once.
She looked up at him again. Perhaps he was thinking about Sal.
“Well, I had better get along.”
“W... would you like a cup of tea or something. Maybe even a cold drink?”
He shook his head.
“It would be no trouble,” she told him glancing up at the clock on the wall. The children wouldn’t be home for another hour. She got bored very easily sitting around the house all day.
“Okay, go on then.”
Carla made tea and they chatted. Sal came up in the conversation and she warned him about her. “She likes to flirt,” Carla told him. “I don’t think she means anything by it but... but it sends out the wrong signals. I’ve told her it will get her into trouble one day.”
Tom smiled and asked her if she was married.
“Yes, and you?” she replied wondering why he hadn’t noticed her wedding ring.
He shook his head. “I was once and had a girlfriend a while back but... it gets a bit lonely sometimes.”
She looked at him again from her seat at the kitchen table. He was stood by the kitchen work tops and leaning against them as he drank his tea. He was aroused again. She wondered when he last had sex and reckoned that it would have been some time ago. Her mind flashed back to her college days when she had lots of boyfriends. Most of them were only guys that she went out to bars and nightclubs with; very few were serious ones. All the same, she would take care of them with a hand job. Back at their place, and occasionally at home if her parents were out, she would take care of them. It not only saved all the hassle of fighting them off when they tried it on but it also satisfied her in a strange kind of way.
Carla liked the power of control. She had what they wanted; what they craved for and what was reserved for a very special few. But she enjoyed giving them hand relief. She loved to look them in the eye as she unzipped their pants; she loved to see that pleading look. She liked to tease them. Squeeze them gently; tease their rigid cocks. She always played with them slowly. She liked to feel the texture of their flesh. It always amazed her how men’s cocks were so different. Some big, some small; some thick, some thin. Some straight and some with a bend in them. There were also the ones that were circumcised and those that were not. Carla liked the circumcised ones best. She liked to see the exposed slit at the tip; loved to see the precum slowly oozing out as she toyed with them.
Most of all she liked to see them cum. She always knew when a man got close to orgasm. It wasn’t just the sounds but also the body jerks; the twitching of their cocks and the stiffening of their testicles. Then there was the look on their faces at that point of no return. Faces with that screwed up look as if they were in agony followed by the look of pleasure as their seed was released. Carla liked that control. She could take as long as she wanted or give them quick release; it was always down to her when the streams of cum would flow.