Maggie was tired and brain-fried after a long week. Her business kept her busy as she tried to please customers, vendors, banks and employees. College had been fun, but applying her business degree for other people was much less so. Four years previously, she launched her own small business with the dream of having it all. Now in her thirties she had something, but it cost her a personal life, sleep at nights, and no vacations in so long she forgot what down time even felt like.
She opened the door to her house and dropped her purse and keys on the table in her entryway. The laptop and mail went with her into the kitchen she loved, but hardly had time to use. She filed the bills in her organizer, dropped the junk mail in the trash and poured herself a glass of wine from the open bottle in the mostly empty fridge. Her shoes came off next and she flexed her toes against the cold tile floor, drinking deeply from the elegant wine glass that only she ever saw.
Picking up her shoes, she wandered into the master bedroom closet and grimaced again at the jumble of clothes and shoes. The dream closet she had wanted for years briefly appeared in her imagination, but then reality returned. She dropped the shoes on the broken shoe rack under her hanging clothes with a sigh. Off came her soft skirt, dropping to puddle at her feet, then she pulled off her blouse without unbuttoning it and dropped it in the dirty clothes bin. The skin on her legs tingled as she rolled down her panty hose and put both it and the skirt into the bin as well.
She walked into the bathroom and slid her thin panties down as she relieved herself with a sigh. Her bush had grown wild and woolly, but why bother with a trim if no one ever got to see it. Wiping quickly, she pulled up her panties before returning to the kitchen to pour another glass of wine. With the wine and laptop in hand, she ventured into the living room to turn on the television to make her feel less lonely. She brought up her email and replied with direction for those employees still at work, then fired up Facebook to see what her friends were up to.
Most of them posted pictures of their families. The kids were mostly cute, the stories amusing, but it was almost surreal to her. Maggie new she was probably the last single friend most of them had at this point, but she always thought she'd have time. The trouble was that most of the decent men had been gobbled up for years and the ones who were left were damaged or only interested in much younger women. Certainly not one with a business and little extra time for a lover.
She saw one of her friends had recently had some work done in her house. Cathy had been complaining for years about her kitchen and finally got someone in to renovate it. The work looked good in the picture, so she clicked the link for the details. As she clicked through the pictures, she saw a link to the web site of the contractor which led to a rather amateurish web site with a long list of available services. One that caught her eye said closet organization. She fired a message to her friend to find out if she would recommend the guy.
An incognito browser displaying Reddit's gonewild subreddit served to make her purr as she browsed through the variety of pictures and sipped her wine. "Who would it be tonight?" she thought with a wicked grin.
She sat her wine glass down and slid her laptop onto the couch. With one foot on the floor, she pushed her hips out and dragging her fingers around her mons. A couple had posted pictures of their penetration that piqued her interest, so slipped her fingers under the edge of her panties. The man was circumcised with a thick shaft. One picture was his head sliding in, so she focused on that and began to rub circles on her nub, imagining being on her knees, of feeling his shaft sliding in. Eyes shut, she continued the scene in her imagination.
He would enter slowly, then begin to thrust with a mechanical precision, lifting her hips with his force. He would push down as he entered, rubbing along her g-spot while she pushed back against him. Her fantasy continued to play as she slid two fingers down and in, out and around, down and in, until the heat began to build. She teased herself toward release, eager for it to come and ease her stress. She was grinding down into her own hand when it broke over her, her mouth open, grunting low sounds as it peaked and a long sigh as it passed.
In that brief tension free moment of afterglow, her laptop notified her of a waiting message with a quiet beep. She slid the laptop back up in her lap, smearing her wet all over the touchpad as she read the message. Her friend highly recommended the contractor and provided a cell phone number to reach him.
It was late, but she called anyway and left a message on his voicemail describing her project. As she sipped her wine, her phone buzzed. The contractor had texted back asking if she would like him to come by and provide a quote. Her text back suggested Saturday morning, he suggested 8:00 AM, which she confirmed with a grin.
Sitting her phone down, her heart rate was finally returning to normal. The alcohol made her sleepy, so she closed her laptop lid and turned off the television. Her empty wine glass was left in the sink as she wandered off to bed. Her last thought before sleep was, "I wonder if he is cute."
The doorbell woke Maggie with a jump. "Shit, shit, shit," she said as she jumped out of bed, grabbing sweat pants and a tee shirt from her drawers. She yelled out, "Just a minute!" as she stepped into her sandals and tried to pull her hair back into a ponytail. After a quick dash to the front door she peeped through the peep hole to see a man with short black hair standing at the door with a perturbed expression on his face.
She opened the door and smiled, "Yes?"
"I'm here to give you a quote on your closet," he said. His voice was low and gravelly.
"Of course, please, come in. My name is Margaret Connor," Maggie said.
"I'm Bill Westerson," he said and extended his hand. She noted the scars and rough skin, his fingers strong, but he had clean, close cut nails. She liked his flannel shirt, it seemed to fit him. He hadn't shaved, but didn't look scruffy, and he smelled of pine trees. He had on clean blue jeans and heavy duty work boots that had been scuffed before, but were polished. She released his hand and led him into her kitchen.
"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Maggie asked. He nodded with a smile and she pulled out two cups and a couple of K-cups. She popped one in her Keurig and pushed start. While the first cup was brewing she said, "I loved what you did with Cathy's kitchen. She complained about it for years."
"She's a nice lady. She gave me some of her ideas and let me run with it a bit. I was pleased with how it came out. It was nice of her to recommend me to you."
She popped open the Keurig, replaced the cup and swapped mugs, handing him the full one. "Do you take anything in your coffee?" she asked.
"No, this is fine, thank you," he said. "You have a lovely home."
"Thank you. It's a work in progress, only I never seem to make any progress. I was hoping to do the closet work myself, but I just never have time. I had a friend help me decorate when I moved in two years ago, but the to do list has only grown since then," Maggie said.
"So tell me what your dream closet looks like," he said, slipping into work mode.
"Oh, I always imagined lots of storage areas, adjustable shelving behind glass doors to keep linens from getting dusty, a shoe rack that isn't broken. I'd love indirect lighting, but bright and natural, with a full length mirror at the back. If I have the room, I'd love a padded bench in the middle to sit on while changing, with a cedar lined interior to store woolens," Maggie almost got hot dreaming about it.
Bill was taking notes in a bound leather notebook as she talked. He took a sip of his coffee and said, "Can we take a look? I need to get some measurements and I'll sit down and do some sketches for you to choose from."
Maggie led him into the closet, suddenly aware of the mess. She resisted the urge to apologize for it as he stepped in behind her. Her master closet was a room unto itself but had the typical white wire shelving that every home improvement store has on display. The clothes were a jumble and the shelves packed high with plastic bins. Bill used a laser measuring tool to get the dimensions and wrote them down in his notebook.
They returned to the kitchen and sat at the table drinking coffee while Bill pulled out three different pencils and began to sketch. He had a deft hand and as Maggie watched, she saw her dream closet appear as if by magic. When he finished the first sketch, she stopped him, "That's it exactly. I don't need to see another sketch. You are amazing!"
Bill smiled and continued to refine the sketch, adding dimensions along the edges and shading on the sketch to give it more depth and character. He pulled the page out of his notebook along its perforations and set it aside while he calculated the amount of wood, glass and hardware he would need. When he was done, he pulled out a calculator and tallied up the total. It was not a small sum, but Maggie could afford to splurge a little.
"When can you start?" she asked.
He smiled and said, "Why not now? Do you need help moving out the clothes and boxes?"
"I need to finish my coffee first," Maggie said with a smile. "Would you like some breakfast?"
"Ordinarily I'd say no, but I left the house this morning without grabbing anything."
.... There is more of this story ...