Mr Handyman Ch 01

The doorbell buzzed as I was rinsing off the shampoo in my hair. "Damn it," I grumbed. If it wasn't the phone with a telemarketer on the other end, it was the doorbell with a false cheery pain-in-my-ass door to door salesman.

I decided to ignore it, reaching for the conditioner, but not even a few seconds passed before that damned bell went off again and again, one after the other. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" I yelled, hoping whoever it was would hear that and at least stop ringing the stupid bell.

I turned off the water and dried my hair enough so it wasn't dripping everywhere, then quickly patted most of the water off my body before I threw on a bathrobe.

The bell went off again as I stomped down the stairs. Maybe I should just put one of those beware of dog signs out, at least that would reduce the amount of people who decided to come and visit to sell me random crap.

I yanked the door open, hoping I looked as mad as I felt (maybe they would just run away screaming in fear), and a young man was standing on my porch, a handful of fliers in his hand. My eyes went from his face, to the papers in his hand, to his ratty, beat up Chevy outside on my driveway.

I looked a little longer at his face, and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. The guy was probably fresh out of high school and barely in college. I figured I shouldn't make his life worse by ripping his head off.

By the look of him, he was probably trying to earn a little extra spending money, something he didn't have to use to pay off his college, or maybe it was for helping to pay off his college, I thought, shrugging mentally.

He was so caught up in looking me over he didn't notice I had paused myself to do the same, although he wasn't looking at me the same way as I looked at him. I cleared my throat, put my hands on my hips, and cocked an eyebrow at him.

He jumped a little, startled, then looked quickly at my face and blushed, but kept his gaze steady. Brave boy.

"Um, I was just going through the neighborhood passing out these fliers, and I didn't leave them on the door 'cause most of them fly off before they can be collected, and it usually saves me a little gas money to get an answer right away instead of having to come back and talk out the details."

He said this all very quickly, like he'd had to answer questions about his fliers before and didn't want to wait for the questions this time. I sighed. I was kind of hoping he'd be put off by the bathrobe, and maybe feel a little bad about dragging me out of my shower.

I couldn't bring myself to turn him away after his little speech and all the apparent trouble he had gone through to get his flier to me, so I resolutely held my hand out for the paper. He meekly handed me a paper, and I quickly scanned over it.

It was something about mowing lawns and tending gardens, along with handyman fix-ups around inside and outside of your house, among other things. Literally, it said he'd do pretty much anything even if it wasn't on the list, as long as you asked.

Poor kid, he must really be broke, I thought to myself. I gave in to another sigh. The kid must have thought I was a bad job and started to turn away, but I brought him up short, grabbing his arm to keep him from walking away.

"Why don't you come inside, we can talk it over. I think there's plenty of stuff for you to do around here." I told him, pulling him through the door. I tried to look a little more friendly now; I think I might have actually scared him a little.

I closed the door as I got him in the foyer, then let go of his arm. "Look, I'm sorry if I was a little crabby earlier. I just got off work and was in the middle of a nice relaxing shower when the doorbell rang. Why don't you just take a seat in the living room, I'm just gonna pop back up there real fast to finish my shower, if that's ok with you." It better be ok, I grumbled to myself a little.

It took him a few seconds to remember how to speak, then he just gave up and nodded, and walked towards the sofa. I rushed back up the steps, my robe flapping a little. Whoops, well, if he got an eyeful, so what, I'm sure it wasn't his first time seeing a naked woman.

Tossing the robe on the counter, I flipped the water back on and scrubbed some conditioner in my hair, poured some soap on my loofah and quickly soaped myself up, then washed it all off.

I smacked the nozzle of the water to turn it off, then hopped back out of the shower, grabbed my towel and dried off, and left it in a corner on the floor.

I peeked outside to make sure my unwanted visitor didn't decide to sneak up and get himself a view, then sprinted to my room and quickly threw on a summer dress and some underwear.

* * * * *

I rang the bell, hoping this time I wasn't going to get bitched out again just for trying to get some money together for myself. After all, I was trying to work for it. It wasn't my fault jobs were hard to get in this part of town.

I bounced up and down on my toes a few times, waiting. I looked at my watch. It was a little after six. Shouldn't people be home by then? I jabbed at the button a few more times. Maybe they didn't hear it.

I thought I heard someone yelling, but wasn't completely sure. I waited another minute, then decided I didn't hear anyone, and pressed the doorbell again, just once more.

Not even five seconds later the door was yanked open, and a pretty and somewhat pissed looking woman in what looked like only a bathrobe answered the door. I gaped a little, my eyes roaming her barely covered and somewhat wet body.

She cleared her throat, and I jumped a little. That jerked me back to my senses, and I looked back up at her, knowing I was blushing, but keeping my eyes steadily on hers. I quickly told her why I was there, knowing I was probably on the threshold of being thrown out on my ass without so much as a 'thanks, but no thanks'.

She sighed a little, apparently put off at my intrusion, but held her hand out and I passed her a flier. I waited while she looked it over and heard her sigh again. Figuring she was about to hand it back to me (or maybe just drop it on the ground), I turned away to head back to my truck.

Before I could get too far, she grabbed my arm and told me to come inside, saying she might have something for me to do, and almost dragged me through the door. As she closed the door behind me, she explained her bad mood and said she was going to finish her interrupted shower.

As she walked towards the stairs, she told me to have a seat, and she'd be right back down. I shuffled over to the overstuffed sofa, dropped my bag and fliers, and looked back up in time to catch a view of her bare bottom and flashes of her inner thighs and a peek of pink lips as she raced up the stairs.

I sat down on the sofa, a little dazed. Hormones were being pumped into my bloodstream, and filling up my previously dormant cock. I heard the shower being turned on. I leaned back a little to give my growing erection a little room to breathe, thinking of what I just saw.

She had a nice firm butt, and I bet it would look great in a pair of tight jeans. From what I could see she looked like she shaved, but it was hard to tell if she was completely bare or not. Her thighs were nicely muscled, and I could easily imagine them wrapped around me.

I tried to shake the image off, but it was a little late for that now. Belatedly, I realized it would look bad if she came down the stairs and saw me on her sofa with a full blown erection, and I would most assuredly get thrown out on my ass, and maybe have the cops called on me, to boot. I grabbed my bag and put it in my lap.

I fidgeted around on the sofa a bit, having a little internal and completely unhelpful (to my current state) conflicting decision as to whether or not I should take my chances to see the rest of her body uncovered (and dripping wet), but the decision was made for me as she walked down the stairs in a flimsy looking yellow, flowery sundress.

She looked amazing in it. It hugged every curve of her body, but was somehow still modest. This was definitely better than jeans. I tried not to drool.

* * * * *

I went down the stairs, feeling a little better now that I had finally finished my shower, even though it was rushed. Mr. Handyman was waiting on the couch, trying and failing not to goggle at me.

I smiled a little at him as I reached the sofa. He had his bag on his lap. I leaned over him a bit. "I didn't get your name?" I asked him. "Oh, sorry, it's Jacob. Jacob Goldman." He held out his hand.

My smile grew a little wider and I shook it briefly. "I'm Isabella Sawan, but I prefer Bella." I sat down on the sofa with him, my body facing towards him a little.

"Now I've got plenty of odd jobs you could do around here, but I'd like to know how much time you have devoted to other customers before we agree on anything. I don't want to ask you to do something and then you won't be able to get around to it for a few weeks." I told him upfront.

He looked a little embarrassed, pausing a moment before answering, and ruffling his hair distractedly.

"Well, actually, you'd be the first customer I had in a while. Most people around here do their own work, and the few that don't either get their kids to do it, or have professional people to do it. I am pretty experienced in doing lawn and garden stuff, and household jobs, too. I'm just not what someone would call a professional." He finished lamely.

I tried not to laugh. He looked so down, he probably thought I wouldn't give him a first chance, let alone a second, at swinging a hammer anywhere near my house, or a rake or shovel, for that matter.

Instead I surprised him with my answer. "I guess I'm lucky then, I get you all to myself!" I laughed a little at his expression. "Are you available Saturday?" I inquired, and he nodded his head.

"Good, then you can come over then. Say around noon. We'll start with my lawn. It's getting a bit shaggy, especially in the back. I used to have the neighbor's kid do it, but I guess he's gotten himself a better gig than that to do, so I've had to do it myself. I work long hours, and I'm pretty busy, so as you can see I kind of don't get around to all the everyday upkeep."

She waved her hand to the window that gave a view of the front yard and the sliding glass doors of the back.

He perked up a little at that. Then he gave me a sheepish look and asked, "Er...the only other thing I was wondering was how much I'll be getting paid?" I really laughed that time.

"Ah, well, how about we'll start out with twenty for the front and back, each, and then I'll give you an extra five to rake up the clippings and throw them in my compost pile. From there I'll see how good you are at the yard work, and determine how much to pay you for other jobs, if you're still interested by then. How's that sound?"

He said that sounded just fine. I gave him my number and wrote my address and name down for him to make it easier on him, and he gave me his business card with all his information. It was just one of those do-it-yourself print jobs you can make at home, but at least he had one for himself.

I let him out the door and he thanked me, saying he would see me tomorrow. I closed the door and was heading up the stairs to my bedroom when I really got a good look at his little business card.

The title line read 'Mr. Handyman. I'll do all the work for you!' As I got ready for bed, I put the card on my nightstand, still laughing.