Mike Fitzgerald surveyed the traffic and tried to estimate what time he would arrive at work. It was a game he played to fill time on his morning commute that could vary from fifty minutes to an hour and a half. The reason for the long drive was the decision he and his wife, Lynsay, had made to live in a small town well past the suburbs of the city where he worked. In the beginning, it had been her idea as she had grown up in a small-town environment and had little interest in the chaos of the city or the blandness of suburbia. So, they had decided to trade off his commute for a better standard of living, and so far, they had been happy with the result.
Their town's population was 13,500 and it had a distinct downtown area with an old courthouse, a square with numerous shops and several restaurants. The city leaders were quite progressive in building a culture and there always seemed to be a function taking place. In addition, there were numerous well-maintained parks that were extensively used.
Mike was twenty-eight years old and worked in finance. They had moved to the area a year ago when he accepted his current job, and at the time, he thought he would occasionally be able to work from home. It had taken longer than he had expected for it to occur, but recently, he had been able operate at least one day every two weeks without going in.
Lynsay was two years younger than her husband and worked as a third-grade teacher in the local school system. She loved her job and got along well with her co-workers and the administration. Even better, she was truly enjoying her current class and felt she was really connecting with them.
Typically, Mike would leave the house just as his wife was stirring and return to find her preparing dinner. She understood the sacrifice her husband was making and did everything she could to make sure he dealt with minimal stress once he crossed the threshold. Since she had at least two hours once school was out, she would handle the family errands, workout to keep herself looking good, and spend time preparing a nice meal. Fortunately, Mike was pleased with her efforts and always made sure he offered sincere compliments.
"What's for dinner?" he asked as he looped an arm around his wife's waist and kissed her neck.
"Lamb chops...mmmmm," she replied, as her body shuddered from his touch.
Mike had worked himself up on the drive home and was hoping that he could entice his wife into some serious lovemaking. His plan was to dote on her to get her into a good frame of mind, see that she had several glasses of wine and then get her to snuggle with him on the sofa. If things went well, he would strip her and perhaps feast on her slit before taking her to bed. Fortunately, he didn't really think his plan would meet with much resistance as his wife enjoyed sex just as much as he did. Normally, she would defer to his desires and let him set the direction, and in all their time together the only thing she had denied him was her rear.
Lynsay Fitzgerald was 5'6" tall and weighed 125 pounds. She had gently-wavy shoulder length light brown hair, dark brown eyes, a medium complexion and pouty lips. On top, she had firm C-cup breasts, and as a result of her work out schedule, a tight behind and flat tummy. Despite her husband's pleas to shave, she kept a neatly trimmed covering of brown hair down below. She loved to dress fashionably, and although they were just starting out, she was able to create a nice ensemble on her limited budget. She had done a fantastic job putting stylish touches on their home, and when she wasn't spending time with Mike, or grading papers, she would work on the house. Recently, she had been focused on the yard, and would do the research on plants and shrubs while he did the planting.
"That was so good! You are so amazing!" the young husband declared when dinner was over.
"I know what you're after," his wife replied with an impish smile, accurately guessing his motives.
"What?" he replied with mock hurt.
"Just put your plate in the sink and pour us some wine," Lynsay laughed.
Mike was waiting on the couch when his wife appeared fifteen minutes later and he handed her the glass as she snuggled in close. Through the opening in her shirt, he could see the beginning of the swell of her breasts, and he had to fight the urge to thrust his hand inside. He truly loved his wife's breasts. They were perfectly proportioned, firm and crowned with small nipples, but the best part was how responsive she became when he played with them.
"What?" she asked with a grin when she saw his devilish stare.
"Just thinking," he replied.
"Of course," she answered sarcastically and pretending indifference, she started inspecting her nails, then added, "My manicurist moved to the city."
"The Vietnamese lady?" Mike asked.
"Korean, and yes, her," she acknowledged.
"Lynsay, I'm so sorry. What are you going to do?" he replied with his own sarcasm.
"There's a local lady I found, but she's not Asian," she answered, and then turned and kissed him passionately.
"I guess the conversation is over," the young husband panted when they finally broke.
"Try to keep up, honey," Lynsay giggled and found his lips once more.
Mike did exactly as he had fantasized on the drive home. Piece by piece, he got his wife naked and after spending some quality time on her breasts, he dove between her legs and feasted on her delicate and now very wet mound. When he had taken her to the peak of arousal, he pulled her the short distance to their bedroom where he took her lovingly and delighted in her passionate sighs.
Lynsay drove slowly down the street looking for the address. Unlike her previous manicurist, that worked out of a strip shopping center, she had been informed by the woman that she had a small studio attached to her house. If she would have known that before, she very well might have looked elsewhere, but here she was on the quiet, although slightly rundown street. Finally, she spotted it and was pleased to see the premises were neatly kept. Parking in the driveway as instructed, she took a few short steps to the outside door that was the entrance.
"Are you Lynsay?" a mid-thirties woman asked when it opened.
She was quite thin with strawberry blonde hair and the raspy voice of a smoker. In addition, she was dressed in jeans and a low-cut blouse that showed the tops of a pair of ample bosoms. In fact, they were disproportionate to her frame which made her suspect they were enhanced.
"Yes, and you're Connie?" she replied.
"Yes, that's me. Come on in," the manicurist said with a disarming smile.
The young wife stepped into the room and with a quick look around got her bearings. The space was small, likely no more than 200 sf., with most of the it filled by a manicure chair, a facial chair and a rolling cart with the equipment. In addition, there was a waist high refrigerator, with a microwave on top, and a full-height bookcase that was stuffed with nick-knacks. It was a legitimate set-up and coupled with Connie's bubbly demeanor, she felt her anxiousness drift away. She was directed into the chair and while the manicurist prepared, she was inundated with non-stop questions.
"No, we aren't from the area. We moved here a little over a year ago?" Lynsay replied to one of her probes.
"What brought you here?" the woman asked in her rough voice as she took the young wife's hand.
Lynsay explained the circumstances, and how, despite her husband's commute, they still felt they had made the right decision. She answered questions about her marriage and family and along the way learned that Connie was on her third marriage and had two teenage children that lived elsewhere. The woman explained that her husband was a carpenter and he had built the annex onto their house.
"We're all done," she suddenly declared.
"Ohhh...okay," Lynsay replied, and then added, "It went by so fast!"
"It's cause we were having fun visiting," Connie responded, joining in the laugh, and then continued with, "I do other things too like pedicures, facials, and waxing. I'm busy today, but next time you come if you want to do some more honey just let me know."
Minutes later, she was driving away pleased with the woman. She could definitely see herself returning and perhaps she would even take her up on her offer concerning other services.
It turned out that's exactly what happened because three weeks later Lynsay was on the phone with her scheduling an appointment that this time included a pedicure. As soon as she arrived, they picked up where they left off, discussing each other's lives, and when that was mostly done, Connie started shamelessly describing all the gossip in the community. In reality, the young wife knew none of the people she was referring too, but it was still entertaining and like the previous visit, they were finished before she knew it.
"The woman I go to for my nails, her husband is a carpenter," Lynsay told her husband as they stood outside inspecting several places that needed work.
"Is he any good?" Mike asked, and when he realized the silliness of the question, he continued before his wife could respond by asking, "Do you know if he works for someone else or for himself?"
"I don't, but I can ask her," she offered.
"Why not?" he said with a shrug.
An hour later, Lynsay extended her hand to her husband as he sat on the sofa watching TV, "Here. He works for himself and this is his number."
"What's his name?" he asked.
"Tucker, I think," she replied as she headed towards the bedroom.
The following Wednesday, Mike called the man and after a brief introduction they agreed that he would come by the couple's house on Saturday morning to see what was needed. He proved to be prompt and for the next half hour, the two men inspected the damaged areas and then moved into the shade of the garage to discuss specifics. Mike wasn't completely sold on the man as he seemed to be quite slow and interacted almost entirely with a flat expression. It didn't help that he had what would best be described as an extended mullet that fell to the middle of his shoulder blades. Also, there was a certain strangeness to his dress, as both his pants and shirt were neatly ironed, the tail was tucked in and his work boots looked to have been recently shined. In total, the medium-build fortyish man seemed almost like a cartoon character. However, despite his concerns, Mike found himself agreeing to the work at what he thought was a very good price.
"That is one odd guy," he told Lynsay when he entered the house.
"Did you give him the work?" she asked, a bit nervous about how a rejection my impact Connie.
"Yes, let's see. The price was good," he explained.
The job was completed in a day. On the following Tuesday, when Mike returned from the office, Lynsay took him out to see and they were both amazed by the quality of the work.
"So, you're happy?" she asked.
"Uh...yeah," he responded enthusiastically and then added, "I think we found a carpenter savant!"
His words made them both laugh and the young wife actually found herself a bit eager to announce her husband's delight to her manicurist.
"Tucker did a great job. My husband is very happy," she announced on her next visit which made the woman beam.
Over the course of four months, Lynsay visited the woman six times, receiving, a mani-pedi on each occasion. Their conversation was always free flowing, although Lynsay was significantly less forthcoming than the older woman, who had shared many personal things including, her breast job, the disaster of her first marriage and her sexless second. During this period, when the subject of Connie had come up with teachers at school, there typically was some chuckling and eye rolling, although no one ever made a truly negative remark.
