Présentation de l'éditeur
I agreed and gestured for her to precede me up the stairs. As we walked up, I got a very nice view of her derriere, encased very nicely in her uniform pants. As we reached the top of the stairs, she turned suddenly and caught me staring. Not knowing what to expect, I started to apologize, but stopped when she smiled down at me. I returned the smile, and kept smiling when she turned, very slowly and deliberately, and began to climb the stairs to the kitchen. Once in the sunny room, I asked her where she wanted to start.
“Well,” she said softly, looking me directly in the eye. “I like to start at the top and work my way down. I like to be thorough.” She let the statement hang in the air as she walked through the rooms to the staircase. I felt a dampness at the juncture of my legs and decided to go with the feeling. At the very least, I’d get to tease myself a little and have plenty of material for my fantasies.
We chatted casually as we walked from room to room, watching each other and tossing the sexual innuendo back and forth. It was pretty obvious to me by now that the attraction was going both ways and that this could lead to something considerably more than just a routine job.
Finally, we had worked our way back down to the first floor, and made our way to the back of the house. To my apartment. By this time, we had actually learned quite a bit about each other. I learned that she played softball for the company team, and had a game coming up on Saturday. She asked if I wanted to come watch her play and, of course, I accepted. Not just for the pleasure of watching her in action, although that in itself was worth the trip. I happened to love softball, and played myself, although usually only at informal gatherings, like neighborhood picnics and such. She was a third baseman, I was a catcher. We both smiled. We had a lot in common. I thought to myself, this looks very promising.
She had checked out all the rooms, and discovered the problem in short order. We discussed it over a couple of glasses of iced tea in the kitchen --her lounging on the counter and me sitting on it. We were very close to each other and I could feel the heat emanating from her. I watched the sweat bead on her skin for a moment before handing her a cloth to wipe her face with. Even though I had all the windows and both screen doors open to let in the summer breeze, the heat was still enough to be slightly uncomfortable. I took the cloth from her and wiped my own face, and then the back of my neck and the top of my breasts before dropping the cloth beside me on the counter. I looked back to find that she had been watching me. I swear, I could almost feel it. It was like a caress, the way her eyes traveled over me. By the time she had moved her gaze back to my face, my breath was choppy and my heart felt like it was beating out of my chest. She locked her eyes on mine and held them for a moment before speaking.
“You look good when you sweat. That’s impressive. Most people just look like they’ve been rained on. You have this... I don’t know, it’s almost like a glow.”
“Thank you.” I could hear a tremor in my voice, but I didn’t really care.
She held my gaze with hers for a moment more, then looked away. I watched as she took a deep, unsteady breath. I knew what she was feeling. A moment later, she began telling me that some of my wires had been fused due to the extra current that ran through them, and that she would have to come back another day to fix it. She told me that it was about a two or three day job and gave me a written estimate. I gladly accepted, of course. She asked if I didn’t want to get a second opinion, perhaps from an independent electrician. They might be able to give me a better fee. I told her there was no need.