Chapter 1

For the most part my job working on oil heating equipment left me smelling like diesel, all the time. It was something I was habitualized to be unaware. Only when I happened to pinch hit as a tank truck driver and spill some large amount would I note a new nature of the smelly liquid in volume, otherwise defined as “Number 2”, with a different taint, still stinking enormously.

This was my lot in life among other things for over thirty years. And in those days personal safety was never a consideration. We all got soaked in the products -- that’s just the way it was.

So, seldom if ever was I approached by the opposite sex with what seemed like physical interest while attending their heating needs. But I knew my long time business partner, a rather handsome dude was, in fact, as noted by me when we worked together. To my wary eye I watched rather attractive women pretty much throw themselves at him and he smelled as bad as I. Go figure.

I wasn’t a bad looking guy, if “bad” defines looks well enough. I wondered what my partner radiated, that which I didn’t apparently own. But it didn’t matter. I was married to my life’s love, as noted by a good friend, a lady far too good looking for me. And there lies some hint. I owned no great amount of self worth.

I was long conditioned with private schooling in the ethers of faith, 17 years of it. I was strictly cultured in fear of girls. My zealot parents were tough. They believed me a better human to have suffered dangerous work, lots of it. And therefore I accepted undesirable dirty dangerous work as my lot in life. My personal excuse, “It was necessary and man’s work.”

One instance I’ll not forget while working with my partner was a customer, a woman who was a professor at the local university. She was obviously in love with him.

She was quite a large person, a sweet person by nature and when working in the basement on her furnace she would stay close to create conversation with him. She pretty much ignored me and that was okay because I was loathe to carry on small talk. And this one particular time she was busying herself close by at the washing/dryer.

She had a load of underwear to take out of the dryer and each item she would raise up, as if in admiration, to carefully fold and place in a pile. Her panties, ever large, were handled with extra care always making sure she gave my partner plenty of time to note. I noted how he tried to avoid looking. We were retrofitting her furnace with a new high efficiency burner, a good three to four hour job. I don’t remember her leaving us alone for a minute of it.

In my earlier years of work I remember a couple of persons who reminded me very much of my wife. I thought it really interesting how sweet they were and how they seemed to be attentive enough to keep up a conversation with me the entire time. I remember how amazed I was they had more than five minutes to give me. And yet they definitely reminded me of my wife and that made me love her even more.

Then I met a new customer at her house, her husband an attorney, the son of a long time customer who was quite wealthy living in the large home we serviced for years. The new couple had rented a house having arrived home after he served in the Navy as a JAG lawyer. They had just had their first child and she was full of life as a new young mother.

My wife and I now had children in our lives and this was something I could relate to. With that the subject of breast feeding came up as my new customer stood attentively by at the furnace while I worked. Having child birthing classes and related subject matter I jumped right into the conversation while up to my elbows in the stinky oil burner. That didn’t seem to affect her whatsoever. The subject was breast feeding. We’d struck some kind of accord as kindred spirits. As usual I was just naive but it seemed perfectly fine to me. I was impressed with her honesty.

I told my wife later about my experiences with a really nice customer and when I mentioned breast feeding my spouse was all over me teasing for having discussed it with an almost stranger while digging around in her furnace. I tried to explain my way out of her teasing but it was no use. My wife would relate it to as many people as she could while she did her best to make me look like a damn fool. As usual and because I was trained to be meek I would take the abuse in stride.

Some time later after I’d put in a number of years of service work I again met my breast feeding friend at her new home. Her husband was established taking charge in his father’s well known law practice. They had purchased a home with a gorgeous mountain view in one of the swank neighborhoods of the city. She called in a no heat situation even though the weather was quite warm. She was concerned the furnace would not work when needed. I would give her a tune up as well, a summer service. I didn’t realize she had specifically requested me.

This was a giant home with a giant and ancient furnace. The beast resided in her laundry room on the bottom floor. The furnace took up a huge amount of space like a monster of yesteryear. I sighed at the sight of it and upon being asked about its condition explained how old it was, parts not available and how inefficient. I also noted she didn’t seem terribly interested in the condition of it and must have used that segue for conversation in general.

I asked how she had been and she told me about her young teenage sons, in private school of course, and I thought about my own years doing the same. I laughed to myself how maybe I should start a conversation about breast feeding. But I did relate to her how my wife had reacted when I told her about the subject we’d shared during my last visit. I laughed and started checking controls to diagnose a possible problem. There wasn’t any power, electrical, at the furnace.

At the service panel I discovered their old-old fuse box, probably as old as the house. The fuse labeled “Furnace” was loose and upon tightening the burner started up and ran. Further examination showed things were working accordingly. I looked at her and shrugged my shoulders.

I sat down on my tool bucket stool and started taking the oil burner apart hoping not to break anything since parts were not made anymore, not for a long time. Still conversing she started doing her laundry nearby off to one side.

She wore shorts. I noticed how she’d not changed much as she slowly folded items including that which I would assume her underwear. Pretty dainty, there were panties and other things one after the other. She kept up the conversation wanting to know more about my wife in general and also talking about her husband, how he was so very busy with his work, traveling a lot. I sensed her being a little forlorn about that. I kept working; we kept talking. She studied her panties raised in the air as if she was thinking about something else.

I can’t remember how the conversation got around to knitting, of all things. But my wife was a well known knitter and turns out so was my furnace customer. Knitting: Something I knew nothing about but it sparked more interest. She sat down on a turned over bucket right next to me and kept speaking about her love to knit. She was touching close. That was magnetic. “Does your wife knit things for you?”

She exclaimed, “OH!” jumped up and came back with some wool samples from different parts of the world she’d traveled to. Her enthusiasm was amazing. She showed various swatches she’d knitted for samples and rubbed each one of them on my arm exclaiming their wonderful quality. They were so very soft. “You should feel them on your bare skin. They are just addictive I swear.” I chuckled at her zeal.

Having told her I was going to remain and watch the furnace run for a bit she disappeared upstairs and I watched the ancient burner control on the smoke pipe hoping it would hold its own and perform correctly. I thought about what a character she was, so personal and friendly. She returned as I sat on my tool box. She had two beers in her hands and gave me one. “This is to celebrate,” tapping the aluminum cans together. I didn’t ask her what we might be celebrating but just smiled.

I’d had a rough day with some crawl jobs and generally dirty old equipment ill kept needing too much labor to get running again. That was the fare in furnace land with equipment never kept up, never tuned up in the summer, frankly needing replacing because oil heat was the dinosaur of the industry and the bulk of equipment was just too old.

I know I smelled strong like diesel and my clothes were grubby dirty. I couldn’t have been much fun to be around. But we drank the beers and she left to go get another before I was finished with my vigil. Returning she said, “Would you consider telling me a little bit more about your work day? It is fascinating to me.” I looked at her eyes and they were fervent like she really meant it.

“Also I have a favor to ask,” she said. “Do you know anything about plumbing?” “I’m not really a plumber but what have you got?” “The tub in the master is not right. I wonder if you would mind just looking at it. I’d really appreciate it and my husband is no good with tools whatsoever. I’d never ask but as long as you are here?”

“Okay, I can’t promise anything but it won’t hurt to look.”

We finished the beer as she continued talking with enthusiasm which left me to do what I do best, listen. The old furnace was happy making heat which I acknowledged with a smile and she led me up to the upper floor, to their giant spa tub, lots of adornment and towels, a major mountain view out the upper floor expanding windows. It was quite nice to say the least and I enjoyed her shorts as she led the way up.

The handles on the faucets had come loose and the fix was simple which made her really pleased.

“I was so worried something awful was going to happen.” “All good now,” I said. “Oh, I owe you for this,” she said. She put her hand on my arm with firm warmth. “You know I could have your things all cleaned up and dry in just a little while and we could talk more while you wait. That would be fun. Would you please? Tell me more about you? I really want to hear of your adventures. I have more beer or whatever you might like.”

I was certainly surprised at her enthusiasm and I mentioned I was sure I wasn’t much fun to be near in my diesel soaked condition. But I wasn’t at all sure about this taking my clothes off idea. “Uh, where is your family?”

“They are all gone, husband in New York for a week and my sons’ school has taken them to Canada on a summer outing for three days. They are in the choir. I’m all a-l-o-n-e. OH, and hey,” she jumped, “you can take a quick bath too while I take care of your clothes! Really, nice and hot. You know. For fixing the faucets. You can test them out and enjoy yourself.”

I should have said, “No,” right away but I was torn not wanting to refuse her generosity or hurt her feelings. I was sure she was being genuine because she seemed such a good spirit, lots of interest.

“Wow. I have to tell you I’ve never had a job like this before, cold beer and a hot bath?” She winked at me and I had to wonder what my wife would think. She’d really teased me about talking breast feeding in the past and I joked about that with my new host without meaning to make any suggestions. And now my customer was going to have me naked in her home? Yet it was inviting.

My wife had always talked about being jealous because I got to see inside people’s homes, in their most personal places. I would always laugh that off never giving any credence to thinking about it. Mostly I was always down in some dirty old dark basement sometimes surrounded with ill managed dog poop. But now this was indeed different. I wondered what her attorney husband would think of this arrangement.

We’d finished the beer, the old furnace was happy making heat and she had led me up to the upper floor to use their giant spa tub, lots of towels. It was quite nice to say the least. And again there were her nice shorts as she led the way.

“I’ll leave you and I’ll be back after your things in a moment. Relax and take your time.” I hurriedly took everything off to quick get into the tub already filling. I wasn’t sure why the hell I was doing it. Talk about nervous.

I would bathe and then take a thick robe, probably her husbands, to cover up while the clothes waded through their cleansing cycle and my re telling her about me. That would work out great and I would feel so good in the tub plus the furnace was happy, things getting a lot warmer. I would just lay back in the slant and really relax thinking about how I would tell my business partner, “Top this service call dude.” Of course I was also trying to relate the right words to tell my wife about it, first breast feeding and now a bath!

In moments, she, a surprise as I was caught day dreaming, came through the bathroom door and simply started piling up my things to carry them away. She showed no surprise about naked me standing there. I was facing her and didn’t move. She looked up winked, smiled and left. Then in the tub I wasn’t going to get back out to lock the door. That would have seemed kind of rude, distrusting on my part. I relaxed. Wow. That bath was nice. Obviously she had good intentions because she’d not noted anything unusual in naked me. She certainly wasn’t shy like myself. Then in moments she returned.

This time she looked a little more serious, knelt at the edge of the tub looking me over. She also seemed pleased like she had accomplished a goal. She sighed, put her hand on my shoulder and offered to do my back. I was reminded of my dairy job as an 18 year old when the dairy owner’s young wife came into our room to wash Denny and I taking turns in the tub. I told her about it and she laughed, “WOW! More stories you’ll also have to tell me about in the future. I knew you had many more stories to tell me.”

“It scared the heck out of us young guys. Denny didn’t want her to do it but she insisted, took his coverage wash cloth away and got hold of him, you know? She was German, maybe a tradition. Crazy things go through innocent guy’s minds in a situation like that.” I laughed but was presently just about as nervous as those kids. “My GAWD, we had no idea what she wanted really but she seemed pretty horny. She gave Denny a really intimate massage while he struggled to get out of the tub. We resisted, being scared and she left us alone only to come back for another try. We didn’t know what might happen if we got caught doing something with the dairy owner’s wife.”

She put her hand on my back and told me about the French tradition of bathing with one another, helping others in the family to get clean. She pushed to lean me forward and scrubbed my back. This wasn’t anything my wife had done before and I worried about what I was getting myself into. But it felt wonderful and I didn’t give any thought to the fact she could see all of me in the water until some soap bubbles started to accumulate. Then she added some bubble bath to the brew and I laughed. “Remember, I’m just your furnace man, ha ha.”

She did my chest having pushed me back against the slope of the tub and turned on the jets. “You’re going to put me to sleep you know.” She tried to emphasize the legitimacy of doing the bath French style continuing on without hesitation. Okay, I could accept that.

She opened a bottle of wine, poured us each a glass and gave a toast to the dairy owner’s wife, her new favorite subject. She started to light some candles “Oh GAWD,” I laughed. “I’ll just tell you some more about the dairy,” and the wine, the hot water soak, all had an effect on my story telling, getting less inhibited. All the facts in particular which she seemed to love came to light right out of me now - not so shy.

As she whisked her arm down in the water idly kind of feeling me I talked in earnest to keep the subject on cue and she got a pretty good idea of what I was made of. I described the dairy some more and she laughed in disbelief.

“It was really that awful?.” Obviously she’d never worked on a dairy and I laughed about the incredible amounts of manure and smell, cows after birthing, flies thick, sour rotting materials stinking in the hot sun.

“Where did you go to school?” She obviously wanted to change the subject. I told her about Hawaii and how I came to live there while I went to college.

“You went to college in Hawaii?” “Yes.” “How lucky.” I explained about my sister and brother in law living there, his local family, my being accepted into their culture immediately. I’d not had to try to fit in as a Haole, white stranger from the mainland, like most tourists had to. “Yes, I was even luckier than that.”

I told her about my favorite, my job at Repo Auto Center, another dirty job. “I seem to be magnetized to dirty work.” I joked.

“I want to hear more about Hawaii, she urged.” I told her about being a lot boy, my work, the used car local culture Hawaiian style. The location was just up the road from Waikiki close by. There was the nature of the ocean beach right across the highway, a lot of things she was enthralled hearing about. I told her about the car lot owners and their continual trips to bars in Waikiki to pick up ladies they shared in a rented room, a condo in the back streets. “That was back then, years ago when Oahu was quite a different place. I miss that a lot, would not ever have left if it wasn’t for the Vietnam draft.”

I told her about school and girls who were interested in me although I was so shy. “I avoided getting involved because I was a combination of afraid and had to work so much to support myself. I thought a girl friend would mess things up and mostly because I was never comfortable if I thought I would hurt somebody’s feeling. I was kind of sensitive, shy and very naive, actually really very naive.”

In the midst, without a word, my customer stood up and slowly lifted her wet top off. Quite uninhibited she dropped her shorts and panties in one smooth motion to climb into the tub, casually, opposite end. I tried not to look too surprised, to be cool but I felt her smooth skin on my legs. It was some French thing surely. The liquid rose covering us better, both, as her gorgeous form descended. Wow. I wondered who wrote this movie script - was I dreaming?

“Stinking furnace man shares bath with goddess.”

We drank some more wine; she told me to give her my feet which she bathed, massaged. “The French sure know how to do it fine,” I mentioned. “Not kidding. You could put me to sleep so sound.”

I melted in the bath. But I kept reminding myself just who she was and I was married. She was a customer. She could stop traffic with her gorgeous figure and I was her furnace man. What a rush.

I felt her skin as we moved around in the water and I lazily slid down lower, mid section closer to her. I had become the composite of every-thing- dumb, a guy getting himself in trouble, serious trouble. I got a fucking erection.

She took one of my hands and appeared concerned about their condition. They were rough, always rough and dried from exposure to diesel. This was before the common use of gloves made for the work. She didn’t say anything but pulled them to herself and held them under water in her lap for a bit. It seems as though they made her feel sorry for me. “My hands aren’t nearly as rough as those of my partner,” I said not knowing really how to react, what to say. But the placement of my hands only managed to make me more aroused.

I wondered about her true intentions, TRULY. And I wondered about me doing this with her. What a thing for a furnace repair guy. I was taking a bath with one of the sexiest persons I’d ever known, probably, although my wife was as beautiful as any person could be and my girl friends in Hawaii, wow. Oh HELL! What a situation. She was soaping herself all wet in the tub, breasts, singing something. Oh shit.

Usually it was my business partner/ex brother in law who got all the attention of ladies. He was single, really handsome with his easy going Hawaiian style. I didn’t think I was much but she was like moving closer to me, so soft. I was getting a worse erection. No ... NO-o-o-o, Go away! Stop! As I’d slumped in toward her to get further down it rose in the deeper water luckily to keep it from surfacing -I thought.

Unfortunately it was more noticeable. To break the tension I started in again with my story to name some girl friends who I finally connected with. “Siza, my Hawaiian girl friend, called me the Haole with a big one.” Jesus! I wished I’d not told her about that as mine surfaced like an unguided missile. Her interest, my bathing partner, was obvious. It stuck out just enough to beacon its intent. The one eyed snake was staring at the ceiling. “Oh no, I’m sorry. It isn’t very obedient,” I said with a nervous laugh. “You know I don’t mean to...” She laughed and put a hand on my knee. Then she unfolded a big towel after standing up. I hoped my thing hadn’t scared her. “Oh dear. Forgive it for it knows not its own strengths.” I was useless, my apology.

Getting out of the tub and drying herself next to me she was obviously intending to show off and it was keeping me aroused for sure. She laughed at my last statement and reached over to pat my penis on its head. “No worries.” I felt kind of hot and her presence wasn’t quieting my thing especially after her absence caused the water to drop, my penis surfaced proudly and she paid even more attention to it. I didn’t want to over react by jerking around to make waves but she told me to get up too, “So I can dry you off.” “Okay.” “Bring you friend along with you,” she giggled.

I tried not to gawk as I noted most of her beauty with nothing to hide. I suppose this was part of her quoted French tradition as well. I just had to let go of my inhibitions and it was obvious I wasn’t ignoring the situation. I saw myself again with girl friends from the past. I wanted to tell her, make excuses but I had a hard on that wasn’t going away. I wasn’t trying to get her attention. You can control a penis for only so long. Furnace, furnace, think about dirty work, dirty furnace work, a crappy dirty crawl job.

I rose to get out of the tub and stood there pointing at her. She smiled, told me, motioned for me to turn around while staring at my crotch seems in glee. It was so obvious. Drying off the back, even my butt crack, inside my legs, she was methodically slow and it merely helped to make me more aroused, soothing yes yet so stimulating. I couldn’t get my mind off the fact she was the customer. “You are treating me far too much like royalty,” I said. “Turn around now.”

She responded and did the front of me without even a blink hesitation. She squatted to start at my feet and rose staring at my stiffness, my hands extended aside, “whew!” I think she spent time there. Frozen, I stared at the ceiling. Against all hope otherwise I got an erection even bigger and said, “Oh no. I’m so SORRY.” She laughed. “You are definitely a quick guy,” she giggled. “I’m sure it means something like maybe your Hawaiian girls liked to play with you? I’m not surprised Furnace Man.” She really seemed to be enjoying herself. “I think YOU are in heat.” “I am truly embarrassed,” I said. “Please forgive that thing. It means no harm.”

Standing she looked at my eyes as she dried off my penis taking time, smiling, surely wanting me to stay stiff. “To think, I just came to get you some heat.”

“Looks like you have given me the real thing.” She laughed hard as she kept feeling and kind of pushing herself against me smiling into my eyes. “Warm me up,” she said.