Billy Is Bac Billy Meets Beth

1st Note: I finally finished a story after years of trying to write one. I'm very happy that I could finally grind one of these out. I plan on it being a longer series, so there is a lot of character-building I plan to use later.

2ed Note. Yeah, wow, I didn't plan on this story getting this long. So, if you want to fast-forward to the kinky bit, go to Chapter 3. If you like story-driven kink writing, this has a lot of character-building you may enjoy.

3ed note: This is a work of utter fiction and is a story of consenting adults having fun in a BDSM setting. Enjoy and be kind to others (especially when it's difficult).

I am a 40-year-old single male, recently divorced, and I live & work in a large North-Eastern town. I run my own landscaping & street maintenance business (40+ employees and I'd hire more if I could find them). And 95% of our work keeps us in the same 3-4 sq mile sized area of town. (We mainly work with the HOAs in the area). I'm really proud of what I have built and take more than a little pride in being the "go-to" guy in the area when people need something.

So because of my work, I am always running around the neighborhood in/on a truck, skid loader, snow plows, or an ATV returning from a job. Been doing it for years, and most people in the area know me or at least recognize me. And my house and shop are in this area as well.

Early this spring, a new woman appeared in the area. 30-40 ish, a good-looking blonde, average boobs, medium-length hair, and usually wearing short running shorts/sports bra. And she was always out for a run or at least a fast paced walk or bike ride. Sometimes 2-3 times a day. And from what I could see, these had to be 3-5 mile runs, minimum, each time. Rain, snow, or sun; it didn't matter. She would be out there. It was clear she was serious about staying in shape. She was very pretty in her own right, but her sheer amount of running clearly impacted her body. I don't think she was maintaining more than 20% body fat. She wasn't super ripped, but clearly someone into fitness and nutrition. And because I am always out and about working, I would see her many times throughout the week. From her body language and stuff, I think she had begun to recognize me as well? But she never acknowledged or even changed the expression on her face when she did see me. (or anyone from what I knew)

The guys on my crews started calling her "Taylor Swift", partly due to her killer blonde looks as much as how fast she ran. And partly because nobody knew what else to call her. I heard some guys tried to hit on her or chat her up, but she would never even acknowledge them. Even other women in the area I knew said she never talked to anyone and seemed to keep to herself.

And I had no problem with that at all. Whoever she was, she had the right to wear what she wanted, run as much as she wanted, and talk (or not talk) to whomever she chose. I made no value judgment on how she looked or how she acted. I hoped she was having a good time, and nothing she did caused me any trouble, so I really didn't care.

And I wasn't really worried about it on another level. I don't feel like I am that handsome of a man. I mean, I'm not a troll or anything. I was on the college swim team and had been into working out. But after a knee injury in my early 30's, I couldn't run anymore. So, I developed a little bit of a gut. And I wear Carhartt work clothes 90% of the time because of work. I still work out (lift) some and watch what I eat (while working outside 1/2 the time). But hilariously, I didn't even think I was the same species of human, much less the same league, compared to the blond Adonia sprinting through the neighborhoods.

So, one day, I was cruising around in my pickup when I saw Taylor Swift in one of the HOA flowerbeds weeding and watering the plants. Most HOAs typically hire a college-aged kid to manage the flowers and mow during the summer. Usually, it's one of the HOA members' kids who need something to do. But when I saw Taylor Swift doing that job, I had to ask the HOA manager what the deal was.

"Oh, Beth," he said. "Yeah, she applied about 10 minutes after we posted the notice. She said she 'needed something to do"

"Really," I replied, "Don't you normally hire somebody's kid for that?"

"Yeah, normally," he said. "But she said she worked in a greenhouse part-time before she moved here. She likes the work and said she would work hours over the winter when we needed her. So that's a win for us in the long term"

"Ohh, I bet. And if she's OCD about the flowers as she is about her running, you'll be on the front cover of one of those HOA-style magazines by the end of the summer," I said jokingly.

"No shit, I'll take the press. But no, really. She seems like good people." he said.

"Any reason why she is out running so much?" I asked.

"No idea. She doesn't say much. I know she is single, but that's about it?" He said. His voice turned the last part of the sentence into question as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Fair enough," I replied, and we then talked about whatever I came into the office for.

But as I left the office, I thought of saying something to her. Not to hit on her or anything. Just as she was working in my area now, I felt it would be at least polite to introduce myself.

So a couple of days later, I'm driving around while working, and I see Beth working in a flower bed. I slowed down, rolled down my window, stuck my head out, and said, "Excuse me, Beth?"

She stands there, a beautiful blond dressed in short black running shorts and a colorful sports bra, and her blonde hair up in a high ponytail. She stands up in this picturesque bed of summer flowers, squares her shoulders, looks at me from behind mirrored sunglasses, and tells me in a loud, clear voice: "Fuck off!"

The guy in the truck with me busts out laughing. And I turn to him and loudly tell him to "shut up".

I turn back to her and say, "Apologies, sorry to bother you when you are working. Have a nice day." Her expression doesn't change; she barely moves or appears to register what I said. I rolled my window up and drove away.

My guy starts laughing again, and I bust out a little chuckle myself, saying, "Well, that escalated quickly."

"Dude, she thought you were hitting on her. She ain't letting anyone shoot that shot". He said.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm sure she gets plenty of street harassment. Don't blame her; really, I just wanted to be polite. That was it," I replied, laughing a bit.

"Yea, well, she said fuck that," my employee said back.

And it really didn't bother me. I felt I had to extend her the courtesy, but she was not obligated to accept it. And after a few minutes, the whole situation was forgotten about. Working with homeowners and HOAs, I get yelled at. Not a lot, but enough that I have learned not to let it bother me and to walk away. 99% of the time, it's not something I need to stress about. I got enough to do.

A few months pass, and a drunk driver goes off the road, hits a fire hydrant, and blows through a brick wall: Kool-aid Man style. The city finally got there, shut the water off, and repaired the hydrant. Then we got to work on the lawn, sidewalks, and brick wall that still needed repair. The lawn and the sidewalk were easy. We had that fixed before lunch. But the brick wall was going to take more work. The ground was still soaked, and it would really mess up the lawns to get the equipment in to fix the wall. It was going to take almost a week to dry up enough. And that was if the homeowners shut off their sprinklers.

The brick wall in question was a shared wall between two houses, so I had to go to both homeowners to ask them to shut the sprinklers off. The first homeowners were home and were happy to help. They knew where the sprinkler controls were and understood how to shut the specific sprinklers off. So that one was easy. The second home was, you guessed it, Taylor Swift's. She answered the door, dressed normally in jeans and shirt. And answered the door with a simple "Yes?"

I explained the situation and asked if she could shut off her sprinklers. She replied yes. But said it was a new house, and she didn't know where the controls were even located, much less how to turn anything off.

I told her the controls were in the garage (All the HOA houses in this neighborhood had the controls in the garage), and if she opened the garage door, I could meet her there & show her. She agreed, and after meeting her in the garage, I could show her how the controls worked.

"And in a week or so, when the wall is finished, you can turn them on with *this* swich. Just don't forget to turn them back on." I said.

"Won't the grass die without water for a week?" she asked.

"No, I don't think so. The grass is pretty soaked already, so it needs time to dry out anyway. The wall will only take a day to fix, the grass shouldn't even notice." I replied.

"ohh, sure, makes sense. Thank you for explaining everything," she said, looking at me. "And what was your name again?"

"No worries, ma'am. That's my job. And my name is Billy." I said as I started to head out of the garage. While heading out, I saw a US Marine Corps flag hanging on the wall. Huh, I thought to myself....well, that may explain some things.

Next week came around, and the ground was dry enough to get equipment on. My crew had already done the cleanup. All that was really left to do was build the wall. And I really like doing masonry work, but I don't get to do it often. So when I do, I jump at the chance. This also was a relatively small job that I could knock out myself. It was a cool, shady summer day, I was working outside and doing a job I enjoyed. I was a happy camper.

As I am working Taylor Swift....I mean, Beth ran by. Now, I had made a point not to stare at her when I had seen her out running. But I'm not blind. She is seriously, almost elegantly, beautiful and had the (and this is a rare time I use the word) CUTEST butt I had ever seen. Two little fat loaves of French bread start just below her waistline. But again, I made a point not to stare and kept working. A little while later, Beth walked out of her house towards me and asked if I would be finished by the end of the day.

I said yes, and turning on her sprinklers tonight wouldn't harm anything.

She noticed the plywood sheets we laid on the ground and asked if that would hurt the grass. I said no, and by tomorrow night, that grass would spring right back up.

We chatted a little bit more. She asked if I worked for her HOA. I said no, we contract out to a bunch of the HOAs in the area, bla bla. That kind of stuff. Then I asked her about the flag I saw in the garage

"Were you a Marine? I saw the flag."

"Yes," she replied, "and thank you for not asking if it's my husband. But why? Were you in the Military?"

"Ohh, no worries. And, no, I was never in. My dad was before I was born. But growing up, he took me to the local league Ball every year, and he had a lot of Marine friends that were always around."

She nodded, and I then asked how long she had been out.

"One year next month"

"Glad to be out?" I asked.

Her body language finally softened a bit. A smile broke across her face. "Yes, very much."

"Well, good for you." I said. "But, I'm sorry, I have to get back to work. I want to finish this before you turn the sprinklers back on."

She chuckled. "I'll wait till you're done," she said, putting her hands up. "But won't the water mess up stuff in between the bricks?"

"The mortar?" I said, "Normally, yes. You'd have to wait a day or two to let it set. But this stuff we found sets really quickly. Perfect for little jobs like this."

She nodded as I turned to put some equipment in the back of my pickup, and as I turned around, my hip bumped the big bungee cord holding the orange water cooler on the bumper of my truck. The cord snapped around like a rubber band and struck my ass right around the bottom of my cheeks. I let out a yelp with a little jump. "Yiyeee, that got me good."

Beth looked at me, tilting her head to the side. "If I didn't know better, that almost sounded like you liked that..."

I intentionally failed to hide a smirk and deflected by overplaying my denials. "Ohh, what? no, I just...I just was surprised by it,.... that's all.

"Whatever," she said, finally breaking a smile and shaking her head. "I'm going to let you get back to work and try not to enjoy yourself too much."

"Thanks," I replied. "You have a good rest of your day."

She nodded and walked back to her house. I got back to work, and within half an hour, I was starting to pack everything up and call it for the day. I was in a great mood. I got to talk to a beautiful woman, work outside on an excellent summer day, and look proud at my work. And now my mind started to drift to what I might do tonight.......

See, despite my polite, professional, and hard-working outward appearance, I was something of a perv.

Let me explain. In my late teens, I found a rolled-up gay BDSM magazine in a ditch on a fateful day. The gay part was, of course, shocking to me at the time. But the BDSM side of that mag instantly set the hooks into me. So, later in life, when I started college, I made a point to find a kink community to explore. I found a great group of people (well, most of them) and found a fun world that made me so happy while exploring it. While I wasn't gay, I discovered I had a bi side when the circumstances were right. I didn't really identify as a Dom or a Sub. I found Switching could be much more rewarding, depending on the people you were with. And pretty much all through my 20's, I bounced around in the community. Dating some and still finding out a lot about myself. I dated a sub and collared her off and on for a couple of years. And I spent a summer serving an extremely fun/kind/cruel married couple in NYC.

Then I met my wife. We got along great when we were dating, and I felt a solid relationship. Early on, I tried to introduce her to the kink world. And at first, she was open-minded about it. She seemed to like it; as much fun for me as for her ( I hopped). But after we got married, her interest in kink diminished, as well as our vanilla sex life. I accepted that; I figured it was normal. I put away my interest in kink and almost completely forgot about it. Work and life kept us busy enough, so I told myself I didn't miss it.

There were bigger problems that were affecting our marriage. We had moved to a new city for her work, and I had started my contracting company. But she found she hated her career field but was too stubborn to quit. And there were other things, too. I was more than happy to support her if she wanted to return to school or try anything else. But to no avail. She was unhappy, and frankly, so was I. So, after 12 years of marriage, we both called it splits. Gratefully, the divorce was amicable. She moved away to Florida after the divorce. (Which I thought was a terrible place for her, but it was her choice).

So then, at 40, I found myself single again. And like a salmon to the headwaters of a stream, I went out again to explore my long-repressed interest in the kink & fetish world. But that world had changed so much in my absence. Gone were the early days of the Yahoo chat rooms and meet-ups in busy bars. Or the munches in the back of a dingy sex shop. This bewildering array of new roles, self-identities, and 1000 different apps/websites instantly cater to them. Insta Dommes and cash app trolls seemingly dominated these apps. Clearly, those options were not going to go anywhere.

I had changed, too, and the crux of my problem lay there. On one hand, I wanted to get back into the kink side of things, but I didn't want to try to find a play partner in my area. I live and work more conservative and upper-class area. This isn't college again. I have a lot of work and time invested in my business and, to some extent, my community. I didn't want to lose that because of a sudden outburst of Puritan disdain or take crap from employees. If I made sure "not to shit where I live" (i.e., play around in my area), I was sure my interest in kink would not spill over into my vanilla life. I was a sane, practical guy with good instincts for people.

So, there was my dilemma. I very much wanted to get back out there, but I was anchored to this place with restrictions I had to navigate. So I thought maybe try hiring a pro for a real-life session? Not really confrontable trying to hire a professional sub, I didn't think there were many really out there anyway. So I figured trying a Dominatrix for the first time? Granted, it may be a weird choice for a post-divorce treat to myself. But I had a long-repressed itch I needed to scratch.

So, after a lot more work than I would have anticipated, I finally connected with a pro online. I had taken my time to ensure it was all legit, and with a date set, I booked a flight out to Vegas for a fun weekend. And it wasn't bad (that may be another story later). I had fun. She was fun to be around and good at her trade. But still, it was a paid-for experience in a hotel. It was one-dimensional and not really what I was looking for.

So that's where I was at. I knew what I wanted to do but struggled to put it together. Summer had kicked off (my busy season), and I was stuck on what to do next. I wasn't even signed up for so much as a dating site at that point.

Chapter 2.

The HoA that Beth worked at, like most HoAs, was connected to a golf course. And that particular golf course had a fundraiser every August. My friend Carolyn was a realtor in the area and made a point to go to those kinds of meet-and-greets. She and her husband Dave were good friends of mine. (Both my wife and I had met them when we moved to town. And after the divorce, they and I stayed good friends.) So, as she did have a lot of clients that frequented the golf course and I worked with that HoA, we were going to go together. (Dave was out of town. But he knew, and everything was on the up and up)

I'd been there for an hour or so. It was OK, but who doesn't get bored at those kinds of events? Carolyn and I had made a deal beforehand to leave after 2 hours. So, with an hour to kill, I looked for someone new to talk to. I saw Beth looking a little bored over by the drinks, so I decided to try to talk to her. After walking up, she turned to me, and I noticed for the first time I saw her eyes. Every time I had seen her up to this point, she had been wearing sunglasses--silver aviators. But now, I saw her brilliant green eyes for the first time. They were stunning and took me back for a second.

"I suppose nobody is used to seeing me like this," Beth said, looking at her long yellow dress.

"Well, maybe. You could do a couple of laps around the room and see if they remember you then?" I replied, "But I just noticed you have the greeeeenest eyes without the sunglasses on."

"Smartass. and thank you. Also, I've felt bad about this, but sorry for the 'Fuck You' earlier." Beth said with a slow tilt of her head.

"Ha, yeah, I remember. But I think it was a 'Fuck Of'." I replied.

"Yes, haha," she said, tossing her head back laughing. "How could I forget?"

"No worries, really. I do understand." I said, accepting her apology.

She leaned in slightly and lowered her voice to ask, "And the welts on your ass? Heal up nicely, I hope?"

I was a little taken aback. We were in a crowded golf course conference room, around many of my clients and many of the area's movers and shakers. And this beautiful, intriguing woman asked indirectly if I have a predilection to getting birched. I was stunned for a moment before my kink drive pushed me on.

"Sadly, no welts. Jeans must have blocked the worst of it..." I said with a shrug of my shoulders. Sensing an opportunity and taking a brave pill, I said, "Don't know when I'll get the opportunity again."