Copyright© obohobo 2007

"Why don't you ask Ernie in stores to have a look at it Mickey? You saw that beautiful box he made for Mrs. Gooch when she retired last year and the photos in the paper of the case he made for the ceremonial mace for the Mayor's Parlour." Sally Meacham suggested to her friend Michelle as they sat in the canteen of Brindle Enterprises at lunchtime.

"Oh I don't know Sal, he's a strange man. Always seems scared shitless when near a woman and doesn't even stand close to the counter when we go to get stuff from the stores."

"Get Ken to go with you then."

"There's the problem of trying to ask questions that only require a yes or no answer. I know he can't help not being able to talk but it does make things difficult."

"Look at it this way Mickey. You've bought a wall unit bookcase and you can't understand the assembly instructions. Ken's more useless at that sort of thing than you are so he's no help to you. You paid a fair amount for it so what have you got to lose by asking Ernie? Go now. There's still twenty minutes of lunch break left, Ken's only outside having a fag and Ernie always stays in the storeroom to have his lunch. Now's as good a time as any." Sally pressed her point. Mickey nodded, went to find Ken and they made their way together to the basement.

Ernie looked up from drinking his tea and reading the latest issue of 'The Woodworker' when he heard the footsteps approaching and through the two-way mirrored panels across the hatch, saw the couple stop and read the notice he always displayed. They'd read it many times before but this time it was more because she was hesitant to ask.

I am sorry but I literally cannot speak.
Please try and ask your questions in a way
that I can give you a yes or no nod to answer.
If that is not practical,
please watch the computer screen for my reply
Ernie

Mickey knew that Ken wouldn't be of much use in this situation but his presence reassured her. Ken might know computers from the inside out but on practical work, he was worse than useless. Gently she tapped o the glass. When Ernie opened the hatchway, Mickey explained about her flat-pack bookcase problem and asked if he would mind looking at it for her. <Cannot Ken do it?> came up on the screen although Ernie guessed the answer from the experience he had of him when he installed the storeroom's new computer system.

"He's useless at anything that doesn't have a keyboard and a mouse," laughed Mickey, "But he can be there when you come if you like." Eventually he agreed to call on his way home from work.

"You think that it is rubbish then Ernie?" After pointing out a number of defects, he'd indicated that she should put it all in her wheelie bin.

"Return it. Get your money back." He wrote on a pad. "Come to mine after tea. I have something much better. Needs a bit of fixing." For ever afterwards he was amazed that he wrote that. "I wanted to get it out of my workshop, ' he answered himself, knowing full well that wasn't the real reason. He seemed very shocked and worried when she turned up without Ken.

"I'm sorry Ernie, but Ken wanted to work on a computer he's building for a client so he went home. I know you're not keen on women so I'll go home again and come back when Ken is available if you wish. I'm quite harmless really." Ernie shook his head and indicated she should follow him to a converted barn close to the house. Inside he showed her what had once been a grand bookcase bureau with a tambour roll top desk and leaded glass doors enclosing the bookshelves above. Now though, it was very dilapidated and in a sorry state. It had been stored in a damp garage and now the joins gaped apart, the doors were only held by one hinge and the drawers stood alongside because they had swollen and now wouldn't fit in their openings. It was also obvious that canvas of the roll top desk had rotted because the tambour slats were in disarray and the pigeon holes behind it were loose or missing. "How can this be much better?" Mickey asked herself, "Its just firewood."

Ernie saw her disappointment and knew she couldn't see what he could see. His mind's eye saw the item restored to its full glory. Realising she would now be trying to think of a way out of the situation without offending him, he pointed out the price tag from the sale yard. £10. The wood alone was worth far more than that. "Solid Cuban mahogany," he wrote on the back of a scrap of sandpaper and his knuckles rapped the wood, "£10 + £300 if I repair." He waited a few moments and added, "£10 + about £20 for materials if you repair it." "Why did I add that?" Ernie again asked himself afterwards.

"I could never repair it!" Mickey looked aghast and then, after a pause, hesitatingly went on, "Could I?" so that he could answer.

"Yes," he nodded and then wrote, "I show you how. Take some time. Worth it." He spent an hour showing her the various parts and how they should go together but Michelle was still not overly impressed.

She followed him into the old farm cottage when he indicated, and from a bookshelf took down a book on antique furniture. After thumbing through a few pages he showed her a picture of an almost identical piece but in good condition with a price range £3000 - £4000. The price was for a sale several years previously and Michelle guessed that it might well have risen since. "Would your one look like that when repaired?" she asked, "Even if I did it?" Ernie nodded yes to both questions and then pointed to a teapot and looked questioningly at her. "Yes, please." Michelle realised she would have to find out more before she decided to commit herself to doing the work and that any conversation with Ernie would be difficult. "He doesn't seem quite so afraid of me now," she thought. "He's standing quite close to me. I wonder why he's so against women?"

While Ernie fussed about making tea, she sat and looked around the kitchen. Only one dirty mug by the sink, the rest of the crockery was stacked in the drainer to dry, the counters were fairly clear except for the pile of mail, probably just from today, the floor had a couple of spots but was otherwise clean. "The kitchen's no worse than mine!" Mickey smiled to herself and wondered what she could say to open up a conversation when Ernie couldn't reply. She could not think of anything and sat in an uneasy silence until Ernie beckoned her into the lounge. A computer stood on the table and he turned the screen to face Michelle sitting on the settee while he positioned himself at the keyboard. After pouring the tea he typed, <Okay, we talk now. Do you want me to repair the bookcase or you thinking about trying to do it? >

"I don't know, Ernie. I ordered the flat pack because it was affordable, or at least I thought it was." Mickey laughed and Ernie seemed to warm to her. "£300 plus isn't really within my budget at the moment even if I was to end up with something worth far more. I've just bought a new car and the payments on that take a good slice of my wages. On the other hand, I've no idea on repairing a thing like that. I've done nothing like it before except I did woodwork at school for a couple of years when we had to take it. Only made a pencil box and a small stool. I still have both."

<You made them because you had a teacher and were shown how. I can show you but there's a lot of work and it would take many of your weekends. > Michelle marvelled at the speed at which Ernie could type. The words appeared almost as fast as she could speak them. <The £300 was a special price if I did it as a hospital job; a job that I could fit in between other work. If I did the work to order for a client, it would be nearer £1500. >

"What would be involved?" Michelle asked not really wanting to commit herself at this time, although in the back of her mind, she quite fancied the notion of restoring that wreck of a bookcase to its full glory. "Could I do it?" Ernie patiently explained that the whole thing would have to be taken apart completely, each piece stripped of the old polish, any repairs done and then the whole thing rebuilt and re-finished.

During her questions and the explanations Ernie provided on screen, Michelle felt he was becoming more at ease with her presence and her conversation with him was almost normal. That is until she re-crossed her legs at a time when he was looking at her. Suddenly his face changed, the look of fear returned, and it was some time before he relaxed again. Towards the end of the evening, she was still undecided. The amount of work involved would mean she'd spend a good few of her weekends and evenings in his workshop and in the meantime she would still have nowhere to keep her books. However, the picture of the beautiful bookcase in the book kept flashing into her mind. "I would like to do it Ernie," she told him sincerely, "But my main problem is knowing if I could do it and if I started, whether or not I would keep at it until it was finished. There's also Ken. I don't know how he would take to my coming and spending a lot of time with you. Mind you, our relationship isn't too steady at the moment with all the time he spends doing his computer stuff." She paused and had a sudden thought. "Would it be possible to have a 'taster' weekend like they do for some college courses where you can try something before committing yourself?"

<Yes, are you free next weekend? >

"I can be. I was going shopping with Sally on Saturday morning but I can easily cancel that and get what I need on Friday night."

<Okay. See you at 9 >

Michelle nodded and after a few moments smiled and asked, "Will you be a strict teacher? My woodwork teacher used to carry a three-foot steel rule or a piece of doweling and either whacked the bench alongside you or your backside if you weren't doing things right. He wasn't supposed to but he didn't hit hard and it usually caused a laugh so he seemed to get away with it."

<I'm very fussy with my work and the way my tools are used. I'll expect you to be the same. >

Michelle lay awake a long time that night listening to the traffic noise and musing on the evening. "He really seemed frightened of me when he saw a bit of my thigh. Towards the end though he kinda lost some of his fear and even seemed to want me near him. I wonder what caused him to be like that? Strange man. So very shy. Keeps his cottage reasonably tidy, far tidier than Ken's. His workshop is well equipped. All those machines I doubt he'll let me use. Will I really be able to turn that heap of firewood into a super bureau? Can't see myself getting much done in a weekend. And he wants to photograph each stage so I can write an article on it and get back the costs and more. Wonder what Ken will say? Wonder if Ernie will be a strict teacher like old Mr. Casey? Doubt he would bare my bum and spank it if just seeing a bit of thigh flesh got him worried. Wonder what his prick is like? Giggle, giggle. Perhaps he's still a virgin. Amazing how fast he can type. Faster than I can or any of the girls in the office for that matter. Wonder why he invited me over when he could just as easily have told me that mine was rubbish and to look for a better one? Why when he's got this aversion to girls? Don't think he's gay either." Finally she drifted off to sleep without resolving any of her questions.

Several miles away in an ex-farm cottage, in a much quieter neighbourhood, Ernie too was lying awake, thinking about Michelle and gently masturbating. "What made you suggest she try and repair that bookcase? You know you'll have to do most of the work. It'll get it out of the way. Did she deliberately flash herself to me? Why does the sight of a girl's thighs make me go cold after all this time? Mickey seemed upset when she saw me cringe. She thought she'd upset me. Seems quite a nice woman. Got a boyfriend who can talk though. Still we got on well enough even if she did have to watch the screen all the time. Will I ever be able to take a girl like her to bed and fuck her? Probably not. I'll never have enough courage to even ask her out. Wonder what she's like with nothing on? She's not as posh looking as her friend Sally..."

"I don't believe it! You've just got to be joking. You spent the evening round Ernie's and are giving up shopping on Saturday to go there and mess about repairing a grotty bit of old furniture. You'll be alone with him and he's a woman hater. This is a wind-up surely?" Sally looked in disbelief at her friend.

"Yes, that's about it. I keep wondering why I agreed as well but I am going to give it a go at the weekend to see how I get on."

"Or if you can get it on," joked Sally.

"No I don't think there will be any of that. He seemed genuinely afraid of me when I crossed my legs in front of him. Something happened in the past that caused it and I was afraid to ask. I'll wear trousers though and my overall coat. " Michelle tried to explain her thoughts but Sally interrupted.

"How were you able to have a conversation with him? How will he give you instructions on what you're supposed to do? It'll be very laborious to keep reading notes or rephrasing questions to get a yes or no answer."

"It was easy last night. Just like being in a chat room except I didn't have to do any typing and his fingers go at the speed of light, and he types whole words and not texting abbreviations. You'd lose in a speed typing competition and I doubt if even Angela would keep up. Anyway I am going. If I get on okay, then I shall treat it like a woodwork class and it will be much cheaper than if I enrol for an evening class at the college. You can phone my mobile if you are worried about my safety or anything. That's if you can tear yourself away from Graeme." Lunch break ended and the two separated to go to their own cubicles.

"How did it go then?" Sally enquired on Monday lunchtime. "You look knackered."

"You're so charming!"

"Well either the work was harder than you thought or you spent all your time on your back!" Sally laughed.

"It was bloody hard work. See the blisters!" Michelle showed the red places on her hands.

"It must have been hard to make your hands that sore," Sally joked.

"Yes the WOOD was hard, very hard. But do you want to hear what happened or are you just wanting to make more innuendoes?"

"Go on, I'll try and refrain."

"When I got there at nine, Ernie had cleared a bench and the area around the bookcase bureau and set up a laptop so he could give me instructions. He made me put my hair into a ponytail and then he tucked it into the back of my overalls. He actually did that himself which surprised me. For most of the morning he helped me because it needed two pairs of hands to hold the work while the other undid the screws and whatnot. Most of the time he made me do the work while he held the pieces. Then the joins that weren't already loose, I had to warm with a heat gun to melt the old glue until everything was just a heap of pieces. By then it was lunchtime and we went into the kitchen and he made sandwiches and tea for both of us. For the rest of the time I was laboriously scraping and sanding the pieces for the carcase. Yeah, I'm beginning to learn some of the jargon too. The scraping and sanding was the hard work and that's what caused my blisters. He put my instructions up on the laptop and after showing me, got on with making a round topped blanket chest. All the while I knew he was keeping an eye on me and every so often came over to show me what I was doing wrong or to sharpen the scraper or to take a photograph. When I finished each piece I had to stain it with some chemical called potassium dichromate, - see I said I learned the jargon, and leave it to dry. It was a real messy job but the colour of the mahogany came out beautifully. My fingers were stained like I'd been smoking. Sunday afternoon, I used a pad, which he called a rubber, to put on a coat of French polish to keep the pieces clean. It was tiring work but it was satisfying to see how the yukky looking wood came up like new."

"But he didn't satisfy you between your legs!"

"No but he seemed to get less nervous of being close to me as the day went on. One time I thought he might use a piece of dowel on my bum. When I'd talked about doing woodwork at school I'd mentioned how the teacher used to go around with a length of dowel. Ernie did the same, and when I almost deliberately tried to take a short cut, he picked up the rod and pointed to the instructions on the screen and then waved it as though he would hit me with it. I don't think he was serious."

"Sounds as if you might be getting serious over this woodwork thing. Or is it over the Ernie thing?"

"Not really either at the moment but I did take some food in and cooked a meal for us both on Sunday. Ken's in a huff now. I was too tired Sunday evening even to have him round. Just soaked myself in the bath for an hour and then dozed off watching the telly."

"How did it go this weekend? Have you put it all together yet or are you hanging the job out to be with him?"

"I got the cane. Bare bum."

"Ooooh, do tell. Can I see?"

"No. The marks have faded now. He didn't hit all that hard but they stung at the time. And you're not going see the photo either if it comes out."

"Well go on, tell all," Sally urged.

"I had to fit a piece of new wood into where a piece had broken from the door frame. He'd have done it in two minutes but when my second attempt failed after I had spent ages on it, I lost my patience and threw the piece across the room and swore. Ernie picked up the dowel and came for me. Thinking it was all a bit of a joke like last week I ran round the other side of the bench and bent down and pushed my arse out. As soon as he came close, I moved away and laughed at him. I did this three times and then made a false move and he was able to grab my arm. Still believing it all to be a charade, I didn't resist much until his arm was around my waist and my overall coat was pulled up. Then I felt his hand reach around and undo the button of my jeans and in a short while they and my knickers were down by my knees. I was now getting afraid, more like shit scared. I knew I'd gone too far and wondered if this had anything to do with why he seems to hate most women or if he wanted to get his revenge for something that happened years ago. I had no idea if he really was going to hit me, and if he did, how many times or how hard. I started pleading with him until I heard the hiss of the rod and felt the sharp sting as it bit into my bum. I cried out, more I think in surprise rather than serious pain although it did hurt. Of course I struggled and kicked but he held me tight. Five more times I felt the cane. God, was I relieved when he put it on the bench and he started to rub and knead by bottom. For all I knew, he could have thrashed me until I couldn't stand. It seemed more like a joke to him. Then he made me keep still while he took a picture. He's been taking pictures with his digital all the time."

"He didn't fuck you afterwards? Is he going to post the picture on the net?"

"No, but he must have seen my slit and he had an erection when he let me up. I deliberately rubbed myself against it but he didn't take the hint. At least I know he is a man. And I doubt he'll post any pictures of my striped arse for you to see."

"Did you run home after that?"

"No, he gave me a few minutes to dry my eyes and then again showed me what to do. It was all a matter of the way I held the chisel. I got it right the next time. That was before lunch on Sunday and when winced as I sat on the kitchen chair, he just smiled and I had to grin back. I didn't dare let Ken round that evening although we'd had a bit of fun together on Saturday evening."

"I think Michelle Causton fancies Ernie Wilson and maybe he returns the favour." Sally gave her friend a knowing look. "When I went to stores for more copy paper on Friday, Ernie still seemed afraid of me..."

"Not surprising," Mickey interjected.