Bull carefully fed the last board he needed to cut into the blade of his table saw. Making sure his fingers were clear, he reached down to turn it off. As the blade spun to a stop, he could hear the radio he had playing. The overhead doors of the garage were open to provide light and ventilation.
A shadow moved across the back wall, and he turned to see what caused it. In the door, he saw Erika, his next door neighbor. She waved, and he returned the gesture. Her mouth moved, but he couldn't hear her over the radio. He beckoned her in while he reached to lower the volume.
"Is everything OK?" he asked, worried something might be wrong with her husband, or their two young kids.
"Oh, yes. Everything is fine," she replied.
"Good," he said, facing her again.
29 years old -- more than two decades his junior -- Erika stood 5'10", and had an athletic build she'd maintained since her days playing volleyball in college. She had B-cup breasts, and a fantastic ass she often displayed by wearing bike shorts or leggings. Her short brown hair was pulled back, and, as she approached him, he could see her brown eyes sparkling. She wore a white t-shirt, purple nylon running shorts, and sneakers.
"I was just out for a walk, and I heard you working in here," she told him.
"I'm doing some prep work for a few upcoming projects," he explained, grabbing a broom to sweep up the sawdust.
He made a few passes with the broom then turned to look at her. She'd taken a seat on the nose of his riding lawnmower; her long legs spread enough for him to see up her shorts; momentarily admiring her inner thigh, and the glimpse of black panties her position allowed. Afraid he might be staring, he averted his eyes, and turned to sweep another section of the floor.
"How are the kids," he managed to say without choking.
"They're good," she said. "I just need to get out of the house once in a while."
"I can imagine," he allowed, not turning around. "I've never had kids, but I'll bet it can get crazy with two little ones running around non-stop."
"Yeah," she vented. "And, having to make all the decisions. It just gets overwhelming, sometimes."
"Charlie doesn't help?" he questioned.
"He does a lot around the house, and with the kids," she answered. "It's just... I don't know."
Not knowing what to say, Bull continued sweeping.
"I guess, I'd just like someone else to be in control for a while, so I can relax and enjoy the moment," she sighed.
As her comment drifted away, "I Love Rock 'n' Roll" by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts came on the radio. Erika almost squealed in delight, and Bull spun, thinking she'd fallen off the mower or something.
"I love this song," she exclaimed.
He tried to respond, but she interrupted him.
"This was playing the first time I got laid," she revealed. "Back in high school."
"Uh..." he began.
"Sorry," she muttered. "It just always brings back memories."
"Good or bad?" he pressed.
"Well... both," she admitted. "It was a fun night, but he only lasted about a minute."
"Can't blame him for that," Bull teased, studying her.
"What?" she wondered.
"With a woman as beautiful as you," he declared. "Who could blame him for cu... for finishing so fast?"
"Thanks," she chuckled.
They listened to the song for a minute. Bull noticed Erika's right hand sliding between her legs.
"What about you?" he asked.
"Me?" she returned. "What about me?"
"Did you... finish that night?" he pried.
"No; not that night," she admitted. "But, later, I learned how to relax and let it happen."
Her fingers traveled along the front of her shorts as Bull watched. Suddenly, she stopped, as she realized what she'd been doing.
"I'm sorry," she stammered, blushing. "I don't know what came over me."
She hopped to her feet, and his eyes were drawn to her breasts bouncing under her shirt. Her hard nipples pressed against the fabric.
"I should leave," she said, taking a step toward the door.
"It's OK," Bull called out. "You don't have to go."
He took one step toward her, then retreated just as quickly. His heavy, 6'3" frame dwarfed hers, and -- as he always did -- he worried about intimidating people with his size -- unless he wanted to. Erika scampered out into the sunlight and disappeared.
The image of her touching herself remained burned in his mind. Finding it impossible to concentrate on anything else, he went in the house and took a shower. While there, he jerked off thinking about Erika. That night, in bed, Bull came a second time as he recalled the events of the day.
The next afternoon, Bull returned to the garage. He tried to work on one of the myriad projects he had underway, but found it difficult to focus on any particular task. In truth, he knew he was just waiting. It didn't take long before Erika appeared in the doorway. Today, she wore a t-shirt, pleather leggings, and her sneakers.
"Hi," she said, quietly.
"Hey," he replied.
"I..." she began, her eyes on the floor. "I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. That was wrong. And, I shouldn't have done..."
He waited.
"That," she added, finally.
Remaining silent, he glared at her.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, and began to leave.
"Are you?" he challenged.
She stopped, and turned to face him.
"What do you mean?" she countered.
"Are you really sorry?" he demanded. "Or, did you just come over here to tease me, again."
"No..." she blurted. "I swear. I didn't mean to..."
"Sit down," he ordered, pointing toward the lawn mower.
Not knowing what else to do, Erika complied; her eyes still scanning the floor.
"Finish what you started," he said.
"What?" she protested; not sure she'd heard him correctly.
He refused to repeat himself.
"Do you need some music to get in the mood?" he taunted.
Without taking his eyes off her, he backed up, and pushed play on the CD player. The voice of Joan Jett once more filled the garage. Erika's eyes went wide as she realized what Bull wanted. She shook her head.
