My last day at home, kind of a hazy day and I was feeling kind of sad and lonely so I went for a walk and strolled through the cemetery and out the other side where it’s kind of wild. I heard this clanking sound and it was this workman. He was up on some scaffolding at the side of a house hammering in some siding or something. I watched him for a while and I realized it was the dad of one of my high school friends. Ed. Ed was the boy but he was Ed Junior so I guess this guy was Ed, though that was never explained. Back in high school I thought he was kind of hot. The dad more than the boy. I never did more than kiss Ed Junior. He still looked in pretty good shape even though he was completely bald. The dad, I mean. Actually he looked pretty good bald, and I remembered someone back then saying bald men were more virile. I’d never made love with a bald guy.

I was standing behind this stanchion watching, and without realizing it at first I was kind of swaying against the iron of it, which came up right to my mound. So if I pressed forward while squeezing, it was a little like sex. Maybe even more than a little. And the guy kept hammering and I kept squeezing and wouldn’t you know it. I don’t think I made any real noise, but just then the guy, Ed, turned around. “Hey,” he said. “Hey, what are you doing there?”

“Picking flowers,” I said, but real soft, less than a whisper.

“What?” he said. “What did you say?”

I walked around the stanchion, which was actually part of a gate or fence or something, and I walked up to the house.

“Hey,” he said. “You can’t...”

“What?” I said, and I climbed up the ladder. It was a little tricky with my heels but I got up to the first level.

“You gotta get outta here, c’mon,” he said, looking down at me.

“Why, cuz I don’t have a hardhat?” I said. That made him pause. “You don’t have a hardhat,” I said.

The guy, Ed, touched his bald head.

“What, did it fall off?” I said.

“You’re somethin’ else,” he said.

“I know,” I said, “And in answer to your question, I was masturbating. I was pressing against that stanchion and squeezing my cunt until I came. You should try it.”

“What you need is a good spanking,” he said.

“I know,” I said.

We stared at each other for a bit and then I said, “Well, I guess I’ll be going now,” and I climbed down the ladder, losing one of my shoes in the process. At the bottom I took off my other shoe and left it beside the first, and then I walked back to the stanchion and picked the two flowers and took them home and put them in some water for my mom. Then I found Ed Junior’s last name in my old yearbook. The number was in an old phone book. Ed Senior answered. That evening we hooked up in that house he was renovating. Only one chair in the whole place.

The spanking was good.

The fuck was even better.