The window-boy arrives promptly at 8:30. He is a boy, as it turns out, and not the man they promised when I called for the appointment. An agile boy with an easy smile, mocha eyes, narrow hips and tight buns. I see him and my heart melts; it melts like heating butter in a saucepan. He called me on his cell to let me know he had arrived and now he waits outside on the stoop because my buzzer isn't working, which is how I have the chance to spy on him before he has a chance to spy on me. I rapidly count my blessings as I open the door.
Hi, I say, stretching out my hand. I'm the caretaker; you must be the windows guy. Eddie. His hand is warm and dry and his dark eyes sparkle while he checks me out. Eddie, he says, yes. Mya, I reply. There are some broken windows as I told you on the phone. Follow me and you can take a look. This is not my normal job, he says; normally I do the boarding up, I don't replace the glass. Oh, I say. Well they are around the corner; here, follow me.
But he doesn't follow, he walks beside me so we have to squeeze around the corner of the building between the hedge and wall and when we do, he sets one light hand upon my waist. Only for a second, before removing it. We step into bright sunshine and I gesture at a broken basement window. There's three, I say. Counting this. I was expecting some hairy-assed old guy, not a tight-cheeked boy bulging in his jeans. Not a tight-cheeked flirty boy bulging through his jeans and I can't help myself, I have to look. He's also looking, mainly at my mouth, my eyes, my breasts and legs.
Lovely weather for October. Lovely weather for Thanksgiving weekend. Yes, he says; I should get my tools out of the truck, he says. I have to take these windows out, I need to take them to the shop. The guy who does the glass returns from holiday next week, he'll do them then. There is music in his voice, did I mention that already? He brings his tools and sets them on the gravel, and then he crawls as agile as a cat into the trough around the basement window. He's taller than I thought but he manages to insert his body easily in the small space. He pries the window from its frame, sets it on the ground, he gathers up loose shards of glass and puts them in a gentle pile. The hands that touch the shards are able with tapered slender fingers.
Do you like your job? I say. Till the first time you get cut, he says, big windows are the worst. Store fronts and whatnot. Oh, I say, but you're not wearing gloves. And you're not wearing shoes, he says. He smiles and shrugs, he's smiling up at me. Danger he says. Danger is for me a turn-on. I like risk, he says, plus I have no sense of touch through gloves. I like to feel what I am touching. I like the feel of broken glass.
I realize the way in which I'm crouching reveals my crotch. I realize when I follow where he looks as he's picking up the shards but I don't change position. So what, it will give him something to remember next time he needs to think of reasons why to get up in the morning, reasons why to go to work; it will help him out the next time he needs a little idle fantasy.
I have no panties on beneath my skirt; pubis waxed and powdered from my morning shower. He can see that I'm aroused; clit stiff and standing at attention there, where he is looking. The longer he looks, the stiffer it gets. He licks his lips, hoists himself up onto the gravel of the parking lot. He takes the shards and window to his truck and then returns.
I'll show you the rest I say, standing. He picks up his tools and follows me to the next window where we repeat the process of prying, prodding, crouching, looking. As it turns out, the third window is completely missing. Could you build one at the shop, I say and then recall some windows in the basement, in a storeroom in the basement of the building the old caretaker left behind. Wait, I say, I just, remembered there are windows in the building, we could check them out, see if they are right. Okay he says, I'll just put these in the truck. He takes the second window and his tools, and I take the broken screen for measurement.
I take my keys; prepare my keys for entry. Inside is cool and quiet, and dark as dusk. Tenants are at work or sleeping off their night shifts. Eddie follows me downstairs. I unlock the dented metal door. I step into the storage room, cement floor icy on bare feet. Don't you wear shoes he says, or underwear for that matter. I like to feel I say; I like to touch; I also like bare skin. I like the element of danger too. Shut that door behind you. It locks itself I say.
The room is shadowy; sunlight filtered through the dust of one high dirty window. Here they are I say, handing him the screen. He takes it and leans it against the wall. Then he takes my hand in his, warm and dry. He pulls me close. He licks my lips apart. He tongues my tongue. Danger, he whispers in my mouth. I shudder. Broken things and cobwebs, brick wall, cement floor, tools, abandoned toasters, hydro meters. He pushes me against the brick, he shoves up my skirt. I fumble with his belt and zipper. I tug down his jeans. Both of us are stiff and wet and ready to be fucked. To fuck. Both of us are ready. We had ourforeplay earlier, outside, with broken glass and flashing. He touches me with elegant long fingers. Exquisitely he fingers me. I sense him touching shards of glass; he fingers my clitoris as though it were a shard of glass, sharp-edged, he rubs his slender dick into my cunt.
He doesn't need to ask me if I'm wanting him. He doesn't need permission. He doesn't need to ask a single thing. He breathes sweet heat into my mouth. He pushes his sweet tongue around. He pushes his sweet dick into my cunt. He fingers my clitoris, hard and wet. He is eighteen, he could go on fucking me forever against the bricks like this, my bare feet clenched upon the frigid floor, my bare cunt clenched and hot. I don't need much, I've been waiting far too long. Can I come now I say, I ask, I plead. Oh yes he says, please do. I feel myself release, I feel my pulsing throbbing clit, I feel his fingers tugging it to climax. I feel hard dick in me, not moving, so I can finish first. I shudder, shiver, shudder and I rest my head against his chest gathering my breath, regaining my composure.
He leads me like that. He leads me to the workbench. He shoves aside the tools and light bulbs and all the broken things. He lifts me onto it, splintered wood against my ass. He spreads my trembling legs. Caresses me up and down. Nice he murmurs. Nice and soft. I thrust my pelvis up toward him and he bows his head. He tongues my pussy. Sweet, he whispers. Licking, sucking, nibbling like that, like that he makes me hard again with one firm finger up my ass. There you are I say. Yes he says. He lifts himself onto the workbench, over me. I hold his ready rigid cock, I clasp it with my fist and rub it gently. There you are I say again. Yes he breathes, yes I am. Here I am. He presses into me, his balls are taut, his dick is tense. I push a finger in his asshole and feel his throbbing prick in me, feel his throbbing prick rubbing my clitoris dry and tight. Hear him groan, feel hot cum spurting into me, deep inside, deep inside. Fuck he says. Fuck he groans. I hear the washer starting up across the hall. In the laundry room across the hall, gushing water and footsteps pass this door.
Footsteps stopping and a knock.
Shit I whisper, shhh I say, my hand across his mouth. He bites it but he gets silent. Footsteps moving on and up the stairwell. You should leave I say, you should leave now. Danger he says pushing down my tank top, fondling my tit. I'll go now if you want me to but I'll be back next week. I will be back here with your basement windows. I'll dream about this till then he says. I'll masturbate on Thanksgiving, and I'll think of you. Mya, he says.
He stands. He pulls up his jeans. He lifts me off the table. Bare feet are touching cold cement again. Bare cunt is tight, well-used. I smooth down my skirt. I walk over to the wall, I pick up the screen while he selects a window to replace the other missing. I close the door behind us firmly, I follow him upstairs and out into the sunshine. I walk him to his truck. I set the screen inside it. He rests the broken window right against the screen. He reaches for my hand, he holds it to his lips. I'll call he says, I'll call next week. I'll call when I am ready. To finish up the job I mean, he says. He smiles with sparkling mocha eyes. To finish up this job and you, I haven't had my fill of you. Have an awesome weekend. Yes I will I say, you too. Yes, he says.
He climbs into the truck, he blows a kiss and pulls away. A tenant has just parked her car. She's standing right behind me, watching. Hot, she says. Hmmm I say. The windows guy, he's going to fix those broken basement windows. That's good she says, high time. He'll be back again next week I say, once the holiday is over. Nice, she says, lucky you. Yes I say. Very very nice.
Originally published March 2006 - "Straight Lines and Sexy Curves"