It was ninety-degrees out today and the blue, Georgia sky promised only more heat to come. Far from where she was sitting on her back porch, Peaches could see the glassy surface of the stream out behind her house. The sound of running water and the silver shine of the stream was almost enough to make Peaches get up from where she was sitting on her front porch and jump into the water.
But Peaches was no fool. She knew that black clouds of mosquitoes would chase her back to the house and she'd spend the rest of the night in a hot bath with chamomile to soothe the itching. While a night spent in a hot bath might have otherwise seemed pleasant, the thought of submerging herself in a tub of hot water when she was already sliding around inside her sweaty clothes seemed too high a price to pay.
Instead of jumping in the water and splashing around like a child, Peaches sat on her front porch and sweated. She sweated and she ate popsicles. She was uncomfortable, she was tired, and she wanted to go inside. However, she had a reason for sitting on her porch. She had a reason for sweating her way through her sundress instead of sipping something cool on her living room sofa.
The air conditioner repairman was now six hours late. What made this all the more infuriating was that this was a Saturday and the office was only open from ten to three. For the past two hours, Peaches had received only two hasty calls from the guy's cell, and the office apparently meant it when they said they closed at three P.M. on a Saturday because they never returned a single one of her calls and the message system now picked up after one ring and asked her to call back during business hours. Then, the message reminded her of those hours (which was becoming more infuriating each time she heard it) and the company's voicemail disconnected the call.
Because he was the only one from the company that called her, the repairman (who said he was "held up at a job that ran long") had received the full brunt of her anger. Even though he apologized, seemed to mean it, and said that he was just a contractor helping out a sick friend for the day, she demanded that he explain why no one answered the phone at the office, how it was that her home wasn't the first job completed for the day, and to disclose his yearly pay.
Of course, he really couldn't answer a single one of her questions, but said that he would absolutely be there today. Peaches told him what she'd have waiting for him when he showed up and he apologized again before she hung up on him.
Just to stay pissed off so she'd have a full head of steam when he arrived, Peaches had been sitting on the porch since his last call, a little over an hour ago. It was absolutely crazy and she realized that, but she was not going to let this guy show up with an "aw shucks" grin and some halfhearted apology after wasting her entire Saturday.
If Lamar had arrived ten minutes later, Peaches would have gone inside, drank a glass of ice water, rolled up a blunt, and as a result of the weed and the temperature change, she would have been considerably less hostile when he knocked on her door.
However, Lamar Perry did not arrive ten minutes later. He arrived exactly when he did, and as a result, Peaches watched his shiny white van pull into her yard and idle for a few moments before the engine went quiet and the driver's door opened. She did not have the calming presence of marijuana to remind her that this was not worth the effort. She did not have a cool glass of ice water in her hand to remind what it was to not be hot and sweaty, discouraging her from working herself into a lather.
What she did have was an ornery pair of white cotton panties working its way inside her, and the smell of her own sweat-soaked dress under her nostrils. She didn't "stink", she'd taken two showers today, and she rubbed oil into her skin every day to keep it fragrant and shiny. However sweat is still a strong smell, pleasant or not, and after an hour on the porch, she started to suspect that she was becoming "intense".
Focused as she was on the face that came out from around the side of that van, Peaches stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the face that came around from the side of that van. After she'd taken in the broad shoulders, gleaming chocolate skin, and easygoing smile of the man under that face, she was leaning against the porch railing to steady her knees.
Goddamn, he was fine. Dark skin glistening under a heavy denim work shirt and jeans. His thighs flexed with each step, bringing his muscles out in sharp definition as his thick legs sawed their way across her yard. She watched him all the way to the bottom of her steps where he put one foot up on the stairs and a bulge made itself known below his belt buckle.
"Sorry about the delay ma'am."
"Uh-huh" Peaches said. She wasn't really listening to him, or answering him for that matter. What she was doing was simply making a sound when his rate of speech and tone of voice told her she should. She did it without noticing because she was too busy staring at Lamar's crotch to notice anything else.
"I know you don't think that I care, but I really am sorry. I didn't learn about this job until it was two hours past due."
Peaches snapped out of it when she realized that he was trying to get her to believe him but that she hadn't been listening to what he was trying to get her to believe. That's when the both of them caught her staring at his dick. Lamar smiled and shifted his weight to make himself less pronounced and Peaches turned and pointed into the living room.
"Oh! Um...it's all right."
Aware that she was pointing into her living room, but having no idea why, Peaches quickly remembered what this man was here for, and told him her air conditioner was blowing hot air.
"All right," Lamar said, stepping into the house and wading through the thick, hot air. "Let's see what we've got here."
When Peaches turned around, Lamar was holding a clipboard out to her. Pinned under the metal blade was a stack of papers with "X" marks in the places where she was supposed to sign, and on top of that, right under the clip itself, was Lamar's identification.
"I've got to ask you to sign this. It's says you asked me to be here and so on and so forth. Basic paperwork."
Peaches might have been smitten for a moment. After all, he did carry himself handsomely across her lawn, but she read each thing she was about to sign thoroughly before signing anything. It took her a minute or so, but she understood enough of the carefully-worded legalese to come to the understanding that this guy was a professional repairman and that he was in her home at her request to fix a problem with her air conditioning. So on and so forth, just like he said.
