First Day In The Caribbean Day 10

Fred's clothing was on the coffee table when he awoke about dawn. Anita's bedroom door was closed. He dressed quickly and headed out, not bothering to do more than relieve himself and take a navy shower. He saw a note taped to the front door when he left. It was a phone number.

He got a lot of ribbing at work about hooking up with Anita and his unshaven state, and compliments about the presentation. He smiled a lot and hummed to himself as he worked.

They got the project more than half done, so after work, his buddies talked him into going to Clay's Tap with them, promising not to pressure him into having a beer. When they got there, all of them ordered cokes, which Fred appreciated, even though he had resolved not to get a beer no matter what they did. Suddenly all six of them began to cheer and give wolf whistles, and Fred looked around, puzzled. Anita was walking through the door, a smirk on her face, wearing a thin tight sleeveless white blouse and short shorts.

"Okay, boys," she dismissed them "I have eyes only for our musicologist here. Maybe you'd get lucky with someone if you learned to read." The guys were getting ready to pretend disappointment when she turned to Fred. "You haven't called me!" She pouted, to hoots from the welders.

"Well, uh, I have your number right here," he stammered, "I was gonna wait until I got a shower and cleaned up my apartment a little. I didn't want to be dirty when I called. I almost called you during lunch, but didn't think I'd know what to say," he trailed off.

"Dirty apartment, eh? Maybe you need to have me over to give you some lessons in cleanliness!" She batted her eyelashes at him.

More encouragement from the guys.

Fred ignored them. "Uh, yeah, sure, sure, if you'd like to do that," he stammered. "I could probably use some help. But I warn you, it's a pretty humble place." He started to recover and pulled up a bar stool for her. "Have a seat. Want a coke? That's what we're having. Care for a Reuben? They're tonight's special."

Anita took the seat. "Sounds good. She turned to the bartender. "Clay, what's gonna happen to this place if everyone starts buying soft drinks instead of beer?

Clay had been following the conversation and was putting Anita's drink in front of her. "Well, lemme see. Fewer fights, less vomit to clean up, and the margin on soft drinks is more than for beer. So I think I'd do all right!" He returned a few minutes later with Reubens for everyone.

They all moved to a table and supper turned into a dinner party. Anita admitted that she enjoyed being the only lady at the table, but wouldn't object if next time she had some female companionship.

Brian looked around and walked over to a pair of sweet young things at a table in the corner and invited them to join the group as company for Anita, assuring them that no one would get fresh. They looked at each other with "Why not?" looks and came over. They ended up with soft drinks and Reubens, too.

It turned out that one of the ladies was in the community choir, and they were impressed that several of the guys knew about and were interested in Carmina Burana. Someone blabbed about Fred's talk, and the two started to fawn over him until they figured out that he was Anita's. It took about two seconds, and they smoothly switched their attention to the guys who had been to the talk. Conversation was animated, and by the end of the evening a couple phone numbers had been exchanged.

Fred got nervous again as he and Anita walked to his place. "Uh, look, you can skip this if you want. I've had only about half an hour to do any cleaning since I stopped drinking, and the place really needs work. I don't even own a vacuum cleaner, but I can still do a lot of work myself so you won't have to see it."

Anita squeezed his arm, pressing her breast against him. "Fred, I know what kind of person you are now. Being a slob is the person you were. Let's get rid of the symptoms. In fact I'm honored that you'd let me help."

Fred shook his head. "Okay, you asked for it," and he gave her hand a friendly squeeze.

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She put her hands on her hips as she surveyed the disaster, mentally tallying the tasks ahead. "Okay, here's the basic technique. Pick a wall, any wall. Take everything at that location and dump it in a pile in the middle of the room. Then take items out of the pile one at a time. Put everything that actually goes at that wall where it goes. Have a trash bag handy; everything to throw out goes in the bag; be merciless. Anything that goes somewhere else stays in the pile until you get to that location. It's okay to toss things into the washing machine any time if they need to go there."

Fred sighed and picked the wall with the bookcase. In an hour and a half they had processed several loads of laundry from various rooms, filled two large trash bags, and had the living room fairly presentable. It still needed vacuuming. They discovered that they made a pretty good team. He made quick decisions about what to keep; she had a knack for organizing where things should go.

They tackled the bathroom next. Almost everything went into the trash except underwear and towels. "Got any spray cleaner?" Anita asked. Fred produced two spray bottles from under the kitchen sink, both nearly full. They had the bathroom acceptable in half an hour, except for the shower, which Anita said they'd clean up later.

The bedroom looked pretty good when they were done, and Fred learned that if he put dirty clothes directly into the washing machine—don't bother to worry about whites and coloreds—when it was full he could process a load overnight, throw it in the dryer in the morning, and have clean dry clothes when he got home from work. All he had to do was religiously put the clean clothes away.

They both were starting to perspire from all the activity, and Fred couldn't help admiring the way she filled her now almost transparent blouse. Finally he remarked, "Um, would you like to put on one of my shirts? That one's getting so I can't keep my mind on the task at hand."

She looked up, first in surprise, then with fiendish delight. "Am I being immodest? Can you see too much? Well, we'll just have to take care of that. Bring me one of your shirts."

Anita made him hold the shirt for her while she unbuttoned her blouse right in front of him, looking candidly into his eyes, then she took his shirt and handed him hers. Of course the shirt was several sizes too big, and she left several buttons unbuttoned to boot. "How's that? Any better?"

Fred inhaled a shuddering breath. "I think I died and went to heaven. Never thought cleaning this apartment would be so much fun."

They had more fun doing the dishes. He scraped them fairly clean and did the serious scrubbing while she made up stories about the meals.

By now it was past bed time. Anita had a list of supplies for Fred to pick up the next day and she promised to help him with the final touches, including bringing her vacuum cleaner.

"Now, let's clean the shower!" She said brightly. "Can I borrow some of your clean clothes afterwards?" she asked, unbuttoning the shirt. "Come on, get those filthy duds off. Last task is the shower."

Fred took his clothes off, feeling a bit bashful. Anita winked at him, turned on the shower and tossed her clothes into the washing machine. Fred followed suit and stepped into the shower. Anita joined him. He thought he heard a "clink" as she stepped in, but let it pass.

She smiled at him and took the bar of soap and a washcloth, then stood there smiling at him giving him plenty of chance to look her over while she soaped up the washcloth. Then she handed him the bar and headed for him. "Hold still while I do you," she ordered. She quickly ran the washcloth over her front, then reached around him to scrub his back, making sure there was plenty of body contact. "See? Isn't this efficient?" she said, squirming against him.

Fred finally figured out what he was supposed to do and began to scrub her back with his soapy hands. Meanwhile his involuntary circuitry began to work on his male member. They could both feel it rising between her legs.

"Oo! Are you telling me to wash this part too?" Anita kidded, and she gave his maleness a thorough scrubbing.

Fred moaned at the sensation of her hands sliding, squeezing, and twisting all over him, and he ran his hands over her shoulders, partly to keep scrubbing her, but partly to support himself.

She decided his erection was about full size, and reached around the shower curtain and came back with a ruler. She laid it along his member before he had a chance to react. "Hmm! Nearly nine inches!" I see you're modest, too. She tossed the ruler onto the bathroom floor and grabbed his head to kiss him, making it into a sensual, soapy hug. Then she broke the embrace. "Let's get rinsed off and try out that nice clean bed!"

So they did. Only not quite the way they both expected. Anita decided to be aggressive. "Lie on your back." Fred lay on his back, and Anita snuggled up to him and grabbed his still-hard member and began to work it slowly up and down, gradually getting slower and slower. Pretty soon Fred began to wonder what was going on, and when he looked over, he discovered that she was falling asleep. He sighed softly and let her go. It hadn't been that long ago they had done the deed, and if he wanted a permanent relationship, he better display kindness and consideration from the beginning. He allowed himself to drift off.