This is a story about a sexual FANTASY written for consenting adults. If you're not both of those, don't read it. Characters in a FANTASY don't get sick or die unless I want them to. In real life, people who don't use condoms and other safe-sex techniques do get sick and die. You don't live in a FANTASY so be safe. The fictional characters in my stories are trained and experienced in acts of FANTASY - don't try to do what they do - someone could get hurt.
If you think you know somebody who resembles any of the characters here, congratulations, but you're wrong - any similarity between the characters in this story and any real person is purely coincidental, since all of these characters are figments of my dirty little imagination.
This is my story, not yours. Don't sell it or put it on a pay site. You can keep it and/or give it away with all of this information intact, but if you make money off of it without my permission, you're breaking the law and pissing me off.
"Please, come in."
At first, I thought the door had been opened remotely. It was only after my eyes traveled downward a good distance that the speaker came into view, but what a view! Raven black hair with hints of bronze and copper that fell straight to her waist, china doll face, eyes downcast - everything about this diminutive lady spoke of fragile delicacy, while her manner shouted docility. Despite its slenderness, there was nothing boyish about her figure. The traditional silk, chin-to-floor dress, rather than hiding her charms, served to make one desire more strongly to see them.
"I'm Hank the Handyman, ma'am," I told her as I stepped through the doorway. "You said you needed some work done on your floors?"
"I am Mrs. Chen," she answered, demurely extending her hand. I didn't know whether to shake it or kiss it. "Please call me Fang."
(She pronounced it 'Fahng')
I wrapped the delicate member in one callused hand, briefly, without shaking, afraid it would be crushed in my grip, without my intending it.
"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," I said, and I was. "What seems to be the problem?"
"There is no problem," she replied, eyes still downcast, "but an opportunity. I - that is, my husband and I - wish to remove the carpet in this room, and replace it with hardwood flooring. Bamboo, to be precise."
I nodded my approval. "Good choice. Because the bamboo is bonded together with edges up, it simulates wood grain and is more durable than traditional woods, but I must warn you that I have never installed hardwood flooring before. Are you sure you don't want to get a professional to do this?"
"I have seen the work you did for Mrs. Collins," she replied, eyes still downcast, "and I believe that you are a craftsman who takes pride in his work. That is a quality that is difficult to find."
My cock stirred in my jeans as my mind speculated on how this subservient little sprite might have experienced Courtney's cabinet. (See 'Handyman: Courtney's Counters')
"Very well," I said, "but just so you know, there are certain tricks the pros know that only come with experience. I don't have that experience."
"I - we - do not want 'tricks', sir," she said. "We want quality work. You will do it, yes?"
"I will send you an estimate, and if you still want me to do it, I'll work it into my schedule," I told her, getting out my handy-dandy retractable steel tape measure.
Fang hovered in the background, quiet as a mouse, while I took my measurements. She had already identified the vendor and style of flooring she wanted, so I didn't have to do the leg work. I suggested new hardwood baseboards to replace the white-painted composite ones the builder had installed, and she readily agreed.
The estimate was fairly straightforward but I had to guess at how long it would take me to do the installation, since I had never done such a thing. A little online research, a call to the rental place, and I figured I had it down as close as I could get it.
I got the feeling that for Mrs. Chen, the estimate was a mere formality. She probably would have hired me regardless of what the estimate said, but I didn't try to take advantage of her.
I couldn't get delivery of the flooring for a couple of weeks, so I waited until a couple of days before the scheduled delivery to go in and rip out the carpet, pad and tack strips. I also used construction adhesive and a power hammer put down a good underlayment on the underlying slab to make sure I had a good place to nail the flooring down. Thankfully, Mrs. Chen had errands to run at that point, and I didn't have to provide her with ear protection as the explosive shells of the power hammer 'shot' the nails into the concrete.
Except for that period of errand running, Mrs. Chen hovered like a mouse waiting for a chance at the cheese. She never spoke unless asked a direct question, and in the whole time I was there, I don't recall having seen more than the corners of her eyeballs. The day I ripped out the carpet and put down the underlayment, though, she dressed in tight, 'pedal-pusher' style jeans (yes, I know I'm dating myself, but that's what they were called when they first became fashionable. I think they call them 'capri pants' these days.) and a white, starched shirt with the collar up in back. The top three buttons were unbuttoned, revealing just a hint of cleavage that was well covered with padding. Oh yes, the heels of the little sandals on her feet were at least three inches tall.
The flooring finally arrived, and lo and behold, they got the order right. I hooked up the rented DeWalt flooring nailer to my compressor and started installing flooring. My earlier research paid off, and to my astonishment, it went very well. There were no major hitches and the minor ones were easily solved.
By the end of the first day, once the flooring was delivered, I had completed about two thirds of the floor. My miter saw made good accurate cuts and the puller tool that the guy at the rental place said I needed worked wonders in keeping the seams nice and tight, even around the edges of the walls. The nailer only jammed once, and it was easy to clear, so by noon of the second day I had installed the transition strip at the doorway, between the wood and the carpet. I filled the finishing nail holes in the courses next to the walls that couldn't be nailed through the tongue like most of them. The baseboards, already cut and stained, fit like a precision jigsaw puzzle and looked fabulous, once I had filled the nail holes and sealed the gaps at the top of the board.
The paint touch up took only a few minutes, and I did a final inspection, finding nothing more that needed my attention. I had just turned toward the door when Fang, who had been conspicuously absent, appeared as if called.
Again, she was dressed in chin-to-floor silk, but of a different color than the first time, and the long slit down the side gave me a tantalizing glimpse of a pale, exquisitely formed leg ending in an impossibly high heeled shoe.
"All finished, ma'am," I told her, packing up my tools as I prepared to depart. "Would you care to inspect the work?"
Without a word, she began pacing the new floor, bouncing here and there to test for squeaks, scrutinizing the surface for bad seams or marred boards. My packing completed, I waited patiently while she finished her inspection.
Instead of joining me at the doorway, she returned to the area by the window, gazing intently at an area of the floor there.
"Is there something wrong?" I asked, walking over to her.
"I am not certain," she answered meekly. "Perhaps if you examine this area closely..."
"I'm sorry, ma'am," I answered, giving the indicated section a good hard look. "I don't see anything."
"Perhaps if you lean over and place your hands together upon the window sill, it will shield the area from glare and you can see better..."
I didn't see any glare either, but I didn't want to argue with her - not with a paycheck that size on the line. I leaned forward and did as she asked, still not seeing a problem with the floor.
The next thing I knew, my wrists were cuffed together, and the cuffs, somehow, secured to the window sill. I had not seem them there, bolted to the sill behind the curtains, and now I was well and truly trapped!
"Hey!" I began intelligently, testing the strength of whatever anchored the cuffs. "What the... ?!"
Without a word, Fang knelt beside me and undid my belt, then my jeans. Well, this was interesting enough to still my protests. I decided to wait and see what she had in mind.
What she had in mind, apparently, was me, naked below the waist. She made short work of the laces of my boots, and I didn't argue when her tiny hands urged my feet out of them. My jeans and shorts soon followed, and there I was, chained to Mrs. Chen's window sill, my ass on display for all to see. Clearly, Mrs. Collins had discussed more about my work for her than my carpentry skills.
Delicate hands caressed gently between my legs, bringing me almost instantly to erection. The situation was just so wierd, and the actions of the last few seconds so out of character for the Mrs. Chen I thought I knew, that my mind was screwing with me whether she intended to, or not.
"Did you know that I have a Master's Degree in Computer Engineering from MIT?" Fang said sweetly, but no longer meekly, as her fingers did magic things to my exposed nether regions. "I also have a PhD from Stanford."
As far as I was concerned, she had graduated Magna Cum Laude in foreplay. I was more aroused than I had ever been before, so I grunted encouragingly.
.... There is more of this story ...