Chapter 5

The next morning's cool sunlight shone on the white clapboard house but instead of everyone in the Lostridge family diving into the day through their own self-absorbed routine, there was studied quiet in the house on Bedlow Street. Rebecca ate quietly and walked to school. Bud was up early but dawdled over his cereal, paddling his corn flakes around the bowl of milk. And when RJ pried himself out of bed and crept into the bathroom, he had had to gently unwrap Harriet's arms from his chest.

Harriet lay in the dappled sunshine, listening to her house grow quiet before she pushed the coverlet back and walked to the shower without bothering with a robe. Climbing into the shower, she turned the knobs but no water came from the tap. The pipes banged and shuddered but she heard only a rush of air. Screwing the knobs closed, Harriet wrapped herself in a towel and retreated to the bedroom.

Throwing on a housecoat, she yelled down the stairs, "Millie. Millie is there any water in the kitchen?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Mistah RJ told me he couldn't git any in the sink and I didn't know you was still at home so I's already called the plumber. He said he'd be right over."

Still in her housecoat, Harriet showed the plumber to the upstairs bathroom. She leaned against the linen closet and admired the way his worn denim shirt stretched across a muscular chest. When he turned around, she could see how his bottom filled out the seat of his dungarees. She especially appreciated the wiry muscles of his back when his shirt rode up. The thought of the rest of his body made her clench her thighs and resist the urge to slip a hand into her tingling snatch.

The plumber unpacked his tools and crawled under the vanity to look at the piping. As he lay on his back under the sink, Harriet found herself staring at the lump in his trousers. His cock, she told herself. It was a word that she hadn't used, hadn't thought about using, in years but after what she'd seen in the kitchen she'd used it last night. Hell, after what she'd done in her bedroom last night, she was ready to call a spade a spade.

He hadn't discovered the problem under the sink, so he moved on to the shower itself. He turned to tell her something but paused when he saw the strange look on her face.

"Uhh. If I can't get at the problem from here, I might have to take down some of the wall to get at the pipes."

"You can take down any walls you want," she said, trying to make a joke. Seeing his puzzled expression, she quickly added, "Whatever it takes to get some hot water."

Hefting his wrench, the young man stepped into the shower stall and set his tool to the base of the shower knobs. It seemed to be stuck and Harriet enjoyed the sight of his muscles bulging as he tried to twist the stubborn nut. All of a sudden the nut gave way, carrying a couple of inches of pipe along with it.

Water sprayed everywhere; soaking them both in the seconds it took him to turn the main valve under the sink. Harriet plucked at her clothes, suddenly aware that she was naked under her thin house dress. The thin cotton outfit molded to her body, displaying her curves to the strapping young man.

"At least we know where the problem was," she laughed.

Stepping sideways, she closed the door behind her. She wet her lips and crossed the small space that separated them. Water dripped off of her chin and made his shirt stick to his well-developed chest. He tried to back away but found himself trapped against the vanity.

"I - I'm really sorry Mrs. Lostridge," he stammered.

Harriet silenced him with a finger placed gently on his lips. Her other hand undid the buttons on her robe.

"We've just got to get out of these wet clothes."

He thought briefly about protesting but the sight of her large breasts, capped with round coral-tinted areolas, stifled any sound he might have made. Her wet clothing hit the floor with a wet slap. She leaned against the vanity and cocked her hip toward him. His eyes roamed over her voluptuous form from her breasts across her softly rounded belly to the strawberry curls that covered her quim.

"Now it's your turn," she purred, idly flicking one of her nipples back and forth. "And then once you've toweled off, you can show me your idea of an apology."