I'm a woman in the trades, so I've heard all the jokes. Nobody expects a thick-bodied, 5' 2", curly girl to solve "big boy" problems, but the rest of my crew are a bunch of dipshits, so I'm the one who gets the contracts - almost every single one of them.
Sure, it leads to animosity between coworkers, but that's their problem. My problems start when the animosity comes from clients. Most of the homeowners are women, unaffected by my round thighs, heavy breasts, and blunt demeanor. Men are a little different, either drooling over the stretch to my canvas overalls or endlessly challenging my expertise.
Before those sorts of house calls, I always get into full "dude mode" - you know, shotgun a beer and slap the nearest ass. Which, for me, looks more like my heavy metal playlist and practicing my dead eyes in the rearview mirror. It's security theater, if anything, but it's kept me from getting into trouble. At least... it did until last week.
It was a routine circuit check for a new homeowner, and I arrived as scheduled. I scanned the work order quickly and assembled my bag with my multimeter, a few lengths of grounding wire, the standard plier set, and some switch plates.
I knocked on the door, and was greeted by a tall man. He was clean-shaven with a moderate build, dark brown eyes and rimless glasses. I didn't think anything of him at first, just a standard homeowner. He offered me a cup of coffee, but I declined, having downed my fourth mug before leaving the truck. I asked him, flexing the dead eyes, to show me where the panels are.
He led me to a back bedroom where a recognizable silver door was already open on the wall. A few breakers sat on the desk nearby, giving away an all-too-common occurrence. Without fail, every third or fourth homeowner comes at me with a story about them trying to shove a new part in there and expecting it to "just work." My job is to scratch my head with them for a moment, and then actually fix it.
"So a circuit check for a standard dryer hookup, right?" I said, clearing my throat.
"It's been giving me trouble all week," the homeowner replied, shrugging.
"I see that," I widened my eyes, doing my best to acknowledge his... efforts.
"Liam, by the way," he held his hand out.
"Charlie," I met his gesture, shaking his hand with a strong grip. It's actually Charlotte, but the androgynous name helps maintain the guise.
"I'll... I- ah, I'll be around if you need me to show you anything else." His eyebrows creased deeply, so I guessed that my grip did a number on him. He seemed like such a basic guy at first...
After Liam left, I got to work, running my multimeter through the breakers, and checking the voltage of the nearest outlets. I suspected the issue might be in the laundry room on the other side of the wall, so I left the bedroom and rounded the corner.
I found Liam crouched behind the dryer. He was exactly where I needed to be - another classic homeowner move. I cleared my throat again, "You know, this will work a lot better if you let me do my job."
"Right, right, so sorry about that!" He popped up and backed out of the cramped space, repeating his profuse apology as he retreated. I dismissed him, sliding by and tucking myself into the space. Once I was down there, I saw the problem right away.
"Yep, got it," I was more speaking to myself than anything.
"Wow, that fast, huh?" Liam said, his voice trailing off.
"No big deal. Can you actually grab my tools from around the corner? Thanks." I went back to untangling the ball of wires.
Liam returned quickly, tool bag in hand. He set it on the top of the dryer, and I moved to get up from my crouched position, but I found myself unable. Perfect. Some part of my uniform was stuck on some part of the dryer. While I contemplated ripping myself free, there was a 50/50 chance I'd damage the appliance, so I was forced to do the one thing all trade workers secretly hate... asking for help.
"Liam," I sighed, "I'm stuck on something down here. Any chance you can unhook me?" The first words he said were too muddled to understand, so I was forced to repeat myself. Once I'd received his clumsy agreement, he came over to where I was stuck reaching down over my chest. Halfway down my torso, he stopped, changed directions, reaching over my shoulders instead. Before getting anywhere near the snag, it happened again. He was clearly having a panic-induced episode of choice paralysis, so I gave him some direction, "It feels like the carpenters loop. Can you reach that?"
"Uh..."
Of course he had no idea what a carpenter's loop was. I sighed heavily. "Right thigh... near my knee."
"Your thigh? I can't touch- maybe if I move the dryer?" Liam was getting worked up, that much was clear.
"You can unhook it, or I can tear off whatever part of the dryer I'm stuck on," I said flatly.
"Ok, let's see here..." he moved way too slowly. It would have been sensual if it wasn't so painfully awkward. His hand brushed over the side of my breast as he leaned over me, reaching down across my thigh, and sliding between the side of my knee and the back of the dryer. "I think I feel..."
He popped something, freeing my leg. The release of force sent me tumbling backwards, the crown of my head pressing unmistakably into his crotch. While his lower half softened my fall, the navy blue dress pants he wore weren't nearly thick enough to disguise his erection.
"Oh, hang on!" he yelled. "You were just- and I was-" he pulled back quickly, standing over top me.
I stared at him in surprise, but feeling the hardness of his dick made my pussy clench, and I immediately wanted to feel it again. Liam's eyes were pure panic, but as mine began to spell out my desires, I saw his begin to wander my body.
"Can't do much from the floor, sir," I said, intentionally flattering him with the title. The brain between my thighs was starting to speak a little louder than the brain in my head. I held my hand up, a request for his assistance, letting the back of it sway dangerously close to his bulge.
Snapping out of the short daze, he grabbed my outstretched palm, and offered me the necessary leverage to stand up and back out of the nook. Once I was steady, I turned to face him.
"So, do you want to talk about it, or are you too shy?" I challenged him with a sly smile.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied, blushing visibly.
"Better question: which do you want to discuss first, the way you grabbed my tit while I was stuck, or the hard-on you have for me right now?"
I saw his chest puff up in anger. "I absolutely did not grab your breast!" He held his palms up in surrender, but I know what I felt. "I might've... touched it," his eyes wandered down my body, snapping back up in a jolt of recognition, "... on accident! I would never do that!"
I crossed my arms and settled my weight on one hip, pointing down towards his clearly swelling junk with an outstretched index finger.
"I- I, uh... well," Liam stuttered, shifting uncomfortably. "I should... um, I should get out of your... hair."
I winced as if he's struck me with bad news, sucking in air through the corner of my mouth. "Or," I drew out the first word into a series of sultry notes, "I could drop to my knees, unzip your pants, and put your cock in my mouth." It sounded more crude out loud than in my head, but I'm an electrician - not a poet. What else was I supposed to say? I mean... it was right there.
"H- holy shit..." he gasped. His shyness was becoming a major turn on.
I took that as a yes, swinging one foot in a large arc, planting it in front of me, then swinging the other around in a semi-circle, making my advance toward Liam slow and unassuming, maybe even a little bit dorky. His shocked expression lasted until my knees hit the floor at his feet. Concerned eyebrows softened and his popped-open lips began to pull into a smile. My fingers yank at the button on his pants, maneuvering it through the split in his waistband. With a pull on his zipper, the pants fell from his hips, collecting around his ankles with the muffled thud of a phone or wallet.
The light streaming through a nearby window cast a satisfying shadow over his purple boxer-briefs. Excitement building in my body, I ran the heel of my palm up his hidden erection, admiring its outline. Liam's thumbs hooked into his waistband, intending to pull them off for me, but I denied him. "Mmm, no... you keep these on for now." I said his cock was going to be in my mouth, but I didn't exactly say how.
His groan of frustration went straight to my ego. I decided that I was going to have my fun with this nervous homeowner. I moved the palm of my hand from the tip of his erection, down over his briefs, cupping his balls through the fabric. With my other hand, I barely dragged my fingertips over his shaft, up and down, drawing shapes and lines across his anatomy. I felt him squirming, and I loved it. I tilted my head at an angle, popped my lips open, and pressed them sideways against the base of his shaft. His knees almost buckled at the contact, one of his hands flying out to catch himself on the dryer. I hadn't even touched his skin and he was already twitching. I massaged the base of his dick with my lips: chewing, grinding, and all manner of odd sensations. He was so hard that his cock started to press against the cotton. As a wake-up call to his senses, and a reminder of the position he'd allowed me in, I made sure he felt the gentle pressing of my teeth on the sides of his shaft before pulling back, leaving only a damp oval where my breath had sunk into the fabric.
"Who are you?" he whined, less of a question than a plea. I stand up and step back just out of Liam's reach.
