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This episode involves Tom only. No Ali. But it does include the loss of his virgin state. For those of you who are waiting for Tom and Ali's relationship to develop, Chapter 4 will bring them back together. For now, enjoy this episode in its own right. And if you can't wait, Chapter 4 will be available almost immediately.
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It was early June and the weather in Denton had settled into a long warm period with light easterly winds bringing the occasional scent of the ocean twenty miles distant. Work was still busy, and Dag had put me on a job on my own for a couple of weeks, landscaping the grounds of a smart single story house on the eastern edge of town, set back in woods just off County Park Road. Dag came out with me the first Saturday, walked the grounds, talked with the couple who owned the place and introduced me.
It seemed it was the woman who wanted to place landscaped, the man who went along with it, and would pay. He looked like he could afford it. A big man, six-four and wide, short black hair, his face the kind that always looked like it needed a shave, even after he'd just come out the bathroom. The woman was a clear foot shorter than her husband, slim and pretty with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He was gruff, answering direct questions only, she was friendly, smiling a lot and animated about the work she wanted done.
Dag explained that I would be carrying out the work on my own, and so it was going to take at least two weeks. The woman said that was fine, the man nodded, looking off into the woods, not too interested.
The weather was just clearing the first day. Rain had fallen overnight and the clouds were breaking up as we arrived, occasional shafts of sun breaking through. The man was Greg Harris and his wife Jennifer. He looked to be about forty, she maybe ten years younger, perhaps even less. I liked her, thought she was attractive and friendly. At the start of the job, Monday morning at seven a.m. I had no expectation of anything other than two weeks hard work in pleasant surroundings.
Dag dropped me off and helped unload the equipment I was going to need. There were two days of preparation, and then stone, topsoil and plants were due for delivery. Dag left me and I looked around at the flat grass, walked up the path and knocked on the front door.
Greg opened it immediately, briefcase in hand.
"Hey, Tom, early riser eh?" He hadn't appeared to be listening Saturday, and I was surprised he remembered my name.
"Always try to be. Dag doesn't let me be anything else."
Greg laughed and slapped me on the shoulder. "See you tonight, maybe. Have fun."
Yeah, I thought: digging, humping soil, stripping grass.
"Jenni, Tom's here. Give him some coffee before you leave, hon!" With that Greg used his remote to open the garage doors and a minute later drove off in a new Mercedes.
Jenni came to the door, sleepy eyed, still dressed in a housecoat, and handed me a steaming mug of coffee. She smiled and went back inside without a word. I took my coffee round the side of the house and sat on a wooden bench while I sipped it, trying not to scald my mouth. From behind me I heard a window open and then the sound of a shower running. I looked back, but any sight of Jenni was obscured behind heavily frosted glass, and I felt bad for hoping I might have copped a look.
Not too bad though, because she would have been worth looking at.
I put my empty mug down beside the front door and started work. I had to remove a large area of lawn in front of the house and then start moving earth. Dag had dropped off a mini-digger, and I started it up and began to strip the grass and pile it neatly. If we didn't re-use it, Dag would be able to sell the turf somewhere else, or use it on one of his other jobs.
Just before nine the front door opened and Jenni came out, dressed for work, neat business suit, skirt just touching the top of her knees, hair pulled back and tied high on the back of her head, no stockings, her bare legs lightly tanned and smooth.
She waved and called, "See you later, Tom," and backed her own smaller car out of the garage and disappeared on the road into town.
I swung the digger around and started removing the next strip of turf.
Just after noon I had finished with the digger and stripped my tee shirt off and went to sit at the bench round the side of the house again, opened my lunch and ate it slowly while I watched the shadows ripple under the trees behind the house. It was quiet this far out of town, the only sound wind in the tree tops and from somewhere far off a tractor working a field.
I drank a lot of the water I had brought, my bottle filled from the tap at home that morning, then walked into the trees to piss. Afterwards I wandered further into the woods. There was no fence marking them off, and it looked like the woods were part of the parcel of land the house was on. It was cooler in the shade and after a while I wished I'd brought my tee shirt with me. I didn't stay long, just looked around, saw fungi growing on wind felled trees, heard birds and insects, and the wind high up in the leaves. It felt good: peaceful and safe and kind of secret.
When I came out I pulled my tee back on and went around the front just as Jenni pulled up and drove into the garage. She came out, her dark jacket slung over an arm, the top three buttons of her white blouse undone. She had nice breasts, pushed high by her bra. They were the kind that sat high anyway, pushed up and together, deep cleavage between their white orbs, and they jiggled when she walked, shivering like jello. I made myself look up and meet her eyes, hoping she hadn't caught me staring.
"How's it going, Tom?" She stopped and looked at the results of my morning's work.
"It's going good, Mrs. Harris," I said.
"Call me Jenni, Tom, please."
I nodded. "It's going to look a mess for a couple of days, I'm afraid, but this is all preparation. Come Wednesday, Thursday at the latest, I'll start putting things back together and it's going to look better then."
She touched me on the arm. "I trust you, Tom. And Dag. He's worked for us before, and we're always pleased with the results." She fanned her face with her hand and blew her cheeks out. "Getting warm out here."
I nodded. My tee was soaked through front and back.
"I'm going to get something to eat," she said. "You want a cold drink, Tom?"
"I'd love one," I said, "But I need to get this finished for you."
"Just a few minutes. It would be nice to have some company over lunch. I usually eat alone."
"Sure," I said.
She turned towards the house. "If you don't mind though, take your boots off."
"Of course."
"I need to change first. I'll call you when its ready."
I went back to work, moving and tidying the piles of turf, then started to dig soil out and move it to where Dag wanted higher patches for the landscaping. They wanted a big water feature off to the side of the front drive, and some larger trees were being brought in next week.
It was probably a half hour before I heard Jenni calling. I shut down the digger and pulled my heavy work boots off, left them on the path in front of the door. I knocked and peered inside.
"Straight through to the kitchen," Jenni called.
I went down along a wide hallway floored with real oak, turned a half corner and entered a large kitchen. Jenni was standing at the central work island. She had changed into shorts and a cream blouse with high cut arms showing her shoulders. Her smooth legs led down to bare feet. She pointed to a large glass of home made lemonade heavy with ice cubes.
"Grab a chair. Sit and talk to me, Tom." She pulled a stool up to the counter and tucked her legs underneath, began to pick at an avocado salad, sipping at her own drink.
"Good lemonade," I said, taking a deep swig.
"Thanks. I think it's better when you make it yourself, don't you?"
"Sure seems that way."
"So how long've you been working for Dag, Tom? I don't think I've seen you around on the other jobs he's done for us."
"Since last summer," I said. "I'm only with him a year before I go to college."
"College," she said, raising her eyebrows. "So this isn't a full time job?"
I laughed. "No way. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but I wouldn't want to make it a career."
"Good for you," she said. "Education is never wasted. What is it you're going to study?"
"Art. Drawing," I said. "History of Art."
