(This is dedicated to my Princess, my encourager and my editoress.)
*
Some people would say that Paul Steele was destined to become a mechanic - or something of a similar nature -- from a very early age. If I tell you about him, you'll see why....
Imagine the horror of his parents when their little three-year-old took the new toy car they had given him as a birthday present - and dismantled it! Actually, it only had four parts and while they were discussing what to do about their offspring, he was putting the parts back together again. To prove that what he had done was no accident, they got him to do it all over again -- and praised him for being 'our clever little boy.'
(His little sister Martha, two years younger than him, turned out to be equally clever in her own right although her skill was of an academic nature, unlike her more manually gifted brother.)
During the years that followed, they often bought their son toys which looked as is if they could be dismantled -- and encouraged friends and relations to do likewise. He just loved to find out how things worked. Word spread around the neighbourhood and before long it became the 'done thing' to bring broken toys to Paul to see if he could fix them. He generally could!
At the age of seven, he was given a broken alarm clock. He took it apart easily enough but found that there was a small piece broken. He showed his father, who promptly took him to his own workshop and showed him a large box. "This is my 'it may come in useful one day' box," he told him.
Paul's eyes lit up as he looked at the collection of 'goodies' inside. His father smiled as he rummaged around in the box and found something that looked surprisingly like the broken piece in the clock. A file soon re-shaped it to make it fit snugly into the clock and lo and behold! - that which was broken worked again.
His parents grew increasingly confident in his skills. Nothing around the house that was broken proved too hard for Paul and his 'magic hands.' Not surprisingly then, when the family car broke down, Paul was given the opportunity to get it going again. Some hours later -- and with grease on his hands, shirt and forehead -- he tossed the car keys to his father. Peter sat in the driver seat, put in the ignition key and gave it a twist. A huge smile spread across his face at the healthy roar which sounded from the engine. His son had come up trumps, again.
By the age of fifteen, it was obvious to everyone (teachers, parents and Paul himself) that his academic achievements -- or rather, lack of them! -- would ensure that he would not reach college or the university. Accordingly, he spent his last year at school concentrating on physics and anything else that might help him in his chosen career. At the age of sixteen, he left school determined to become a car mechanic.
The next day, his Dad took him to the good local garage he used and recommended his son to the owner. Kindly, wise Dean McAbee shrewdly took him on for a week's trial. Paul proved worthy of the confidence placed in him and learned fast, so Mr. McAbee took him on full-time. Paul was a very happy young man.
A few years passed, taking Paul out of his eager teens and into his confident twenties. He learned just about all there was to know about servicing and repairing motor cars and became the liked and respected star amongst 'McAbee's Boys'. He bought himself a cheap old car and soon had it -- to quote a slightly overused saying -- "as good as new."
One day, one of the lads leaned into the boss's office and whispered, "Mrs. Thomas's here!" Dean looked up from his papers, smiled and raised an eyebrow in knowing response. He carried on with his work until the lady in question, well-known to almost everyone in the garage, walked into the office. Dean looked up in feigned surprise and exclaimed, "Why, if it isn't Mrs. Thomas! How good to see you, again. How are you?"
"I'm well, thank you, Mr. Mcabee. I haven't seen you for a little while - I hope business is as good as ever?"
"Oh yes, ticking along nicely, thank you. And how can we help you?" he asked, as if he didn't already know the answer full well.
"I need a service, please," she replied, aware that each of them understood the double entendre of her request, knowing that neither of them would put it into words. "I think my lovely car is making one or two odd noises."
"Of course," he told her. "I have a fine young man, fairly newly with us, who should be able to look after all your requirements. Will you bring the car in here -- or would you prefer to use our 'at home' service, as before?"
"Oh yes, I'd like to have the personal service, please. I've always been treated so well in the past, you know?"
"Oh yes," thought McAbee, "I was the first to 'treat you well'." All he said was, "Always happy to oblige our valued customers." After a little more small talk, he ushered her out then proceeded to make the booking that would change young Paul's life.
In the afternoon of the appointed day, Paul took his box of tools plus a few items he might need as spares and drove over to Mrs. Thomas's house for his last job of the day. She asked his name before taking him around to her garage where she showed him her car and told him what little problems she thought it might have. "Let me know if there's anything you need, Paul" she told him, "otherwise I'll just leave you to do what I'm sure you know best."
2 -- 3 hours later, a slightly grubby young man knocked on her door, told her of the technical things he had done and reported, "Your car is now in excellent running order. Considering the age and general condition of the vehicle, I suggest that a regular, six-monthly service should be enough to keep it going for several more years. Of course, if anything should go wrong before then, I'm sure we'd be most happy to put matters right for you." Dean McAbee always schooled all of his 'Boys' in proper customer relations.
"Thank you, young man, most kind of you. Now, is there anything you'd like before you leave? A bottle of beer? Soft drink? Tea? And I don't mean to be rude -- I'm sure it's inevitable in your line of work to get somewhat dirty -- but you'd be very welcome to take a shower."
Aware that he was thirsty and less than clean, he gratefully accepted both of her offers. She showed him through her impressive house to the kitchen where she took a large pitcher from the refrigerator and poured him a long glass of cool, homemade lemonade. She led him to her bedroom and the shower that was en suite with it. "I'm sure you'll find everything you need. Don't be afraid to use anything you find -- there's no need to ask first. And take your time, there's no hurry."
He thanked her, politely and she walked out of the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind her. He took a long refreshing drink of lemonade and set the glass down on the wash basin in the bathroom. Going into the bedroom, he stripped off and left his shoes and clothes in a fairly tidy heap on the floor near the bed.
In the shower, he pulled the pretty plastic curtain across the doorway and turned on the water. He jumped back at the coldness of it, but was pleasantly surprised that in just a few seconds it was running hot. Turning it to just the right heat, he soaked in the downpour for a few relaxing moments. Then he took a bottle of shampoo and looked approvingly at the label before applying a generous amount to his short brown hair. Soon, lather was coursing down his body, starting the process of washing away the grime of the day. Next, some of her pleasant-smelling soap and a soft wash cloth were put to work to complete the job.
He felt so good as he stood under the spray and let the water wash away the last of the shampoo and soap. He turned off the water, pulled aside the curtain and stepped out to retrieve the bath towel he had seen hanging in a ring on the wall. As he toweled himself dry, he was aware that he smelled faintly of the soap, but it was a pleasing aroma so he didn't worry.
Dry, he slipped the towel into the laundry basket, intending to tell his hostess that he had done so, as soon as he saw her. Walking into the bedroom to get dressed, he was stopped short in his tracks. There was Mrs. Thomas, sitting stark naked on her king-sized bed. Before he could say anything, she stood and embraced him.
He wriggled out of her clutches and took a couple of steps back. "Mrs. Thomas!" he exclaimed. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Oh Paul," she answered, "call me Cheryl. I'm sure you know what I'm doing - I want you! Come here, you beautiful young man," she continued, opening her arms invitingly. "Oh my, you look like a Greek god!"
In the few seconds it took her to say that, he stood as if transfixed, taking in the glorious nakedness of this lovely woman before him. Until then, the only actual naked women he had seen -- apart from a few pictures -- where (were) his mother and little sister. His mother had used her own body to show him where the vital parts where, for his sex education. She told him that although there was nothing wrong with the human body, nakedness was not a thing to be paraded openly. And when he reached that certain age, he and his sister were given their own rooms with the explanation that they each deserved their own place of privacy.
Yet here was a lady flaunting her nakedness -- and he liked what he saw. His eyes were immediately drawn to her breasts which, although they had lost the perkiness of youth and had just begun to sag a little, were still certainly very attractive. And he noticed that her red hair -- the colour of which he had initially guessed to have come out of a bottle -- matched the hair around the top of her legs. His body was evidently impressed because without even a glance at it, he could feel his manhood rising in a silent salute.
Without explaining any further, he protested his innocence saying, "But I've never been with a naked lady!"
"Ah, that's wonderful - a virgin!" Cheryl exclaimed. "You may know the basic facts -- I'm sure all children are taught them, these days -- but you have much to learn. This will be an enjoyable experience for us both."
This time, as she stepped towards him, he did not resist. Rather, he encircled her in his own arms and took her into his first full-on naked embrace. Her breasts were soft against his chest and his hard cock pushed in between the tops of her legs as if already trying to find that special place that lay snuggled behind her hairy patch.
"Oh, Paul!" she sighed. "If you feel this good already....." leaving the sentence unfinished as she day-dreamed of what was to come. She tilted her head saying, "Kiss me, lover."
