The Des

Yet another trip to Home Depot; Paula had been in there so much lately she was about ready to get fitted for an orange apron. Back to the paint section, again, this time with a desk drawer in hand. Along the way, she picked up sandpaper and a hand sander.

Holding the drawer up to the display with the stained wood samples, she searched in vain for the right color.

"You're in here almost as much as I am."

She turned; it was him! They had seen each other many times at the store, but never spoken. It had been so long since she had looked at a man with interest, but she had noticed him. She'd wanted to say something, but she'd always been a little shy. Tall and slim, about her age with wavy hair and gorgeous blue eyes. Always smiling at each other, but never anything more. Until now.

"Hi! I'm refinishing the top of my husband's desk and I'm trying to match the stain color. I don't want to strip the whole thing, but I may have to. This is my second time around—I stained it with what I thought was a good match but it turned out way too dark. Now," holding up the sander for emphasis, "I've got to clean up my mess before I can start over."

"Husband?" he asked, looking at her hand holding the sanding block.

"Past tense. I lost him in a car wreck three years ago."

"I'm so sorry.'

"It's been tough, but I'm getting past it. You never forget, but time does dull the pain."

Switching gears, he said "Let me guess—you tried to match using the color printed on the label, right?"

Feeling dumb, Paula admitted her mistake.

"Don't feel bad—I've done myself; more than once in fact. You'd think I'd learn," he said with a smile.

He took the drawer from her cart. "Let's see if we can get you something that matches." She admired his snug jeans from behind as he walked down the aisle. He held the drawer up to the chips from another brand of stain, finding one that matched perfectly. "When you match stain, you want to match the wood type as well as the stain color. See how they have chips for both oak and pine? Your desk is oak."

Taking a quart from the rack, he put it in her cart. "Are you going to strip the desktop by hand?"

"I don't have a sander. Can you recommend one?"

"I'll tell you what. I've got one you can use; I'd be happy to bring it over if you'd like."

Looking into his eyes again made the decision for her; "If you have time I could really use the help."

Standing in the garage, she was hand sanding when he pulled into the driveway. Something stirred inside her, something she hadn't felt in a long time, as she watched him walk toward the garage, sander in one hand and orange extension cord in the other.

Finding the outlet, he plugged the cord and the sander in. "So this is the desk; beautiful wood. It's going to look great when we're done," he said, smiling.

The sander started whirring and he moved it across the desktop. "Here, want to try?"

"Sure," she said as she took the sander, making small circular movements on the desk.

He moved behind her, her heart quickening as he put his hand on hers. "For the best finish you want long, smooth strokes. Like this." Damn. Who knew woodworking could sound so, so erotic! Their hands moved the sander back and forth on the desk. She felt a quick jolt of pleasure as the dust catcher on the vibrating sander brushed against her. It sent her mind reeling and caused her to jump back against him. Before she knew it, his arms were wrapped around her from behind, his lips gently caressing her neck. Her nipples instantly hard as one hand slipped under her shirt while the other fumbled to open the button on her jeans. She felt him slide his hand into her panties, his finger feeling her wetness as it slipped between her lips.

He pushed her over the desk, wrapping her ponytail around his hand and pulling her pants down and slapping her on the ass with his other. She let out a little moan as he slid himself inside her; more long, smooth strokes. It felt so good. It had been so long since she'd had the attention of a man...

"Paula. Paula?" His voice jerked her out of her reverie, the sander still in her hand, the desktop perfectly clean.

"I've never seen anybody so enthusiastic about sanding a desk!"

"I never knew woodworking could be so enjoyable. What's next?"

"We'll wipe it down and then it looks like it's time for stain."

"I have a bottle of wine and some steaks in the kitchen. Why don't we stain the desk after dinner?" Or breakfast, she said silently to herself...