"Now, listen," he said to me, in a very serious tone of voice. "I'm in and out of town a lot in my business, so I'm relying on you to use your best judgment when it comes to construction details. Anything else, my wife can probably handle, or she can contact me." I shook his hand and said, "That's why you hired me. I'll make sure it's built right. You just make sure the check doesn't bounce!"
Old Mr. Tightass loosened up a little at that, and we both laughed. It was obvious I wouldn't have to worry about the money. The house, as it stood, was worth 3 to 4 hundred grand, he owned his own insurance agency, and there were two Lexus' in the garage. The addition I was to build would add almost 3,000 square feet to the total. As I watched him drive away, I envied him immensely. I was also glad I wouldn't have him looking over my shoulder all the time, questioning every detail. I could tell he was a control freak. His wife, who I had already met, seemed a lot less controlling, not to mention being a whole lot better looking!
I got my crew to work, setting up temporary dimension lines and laying out batter boards, asking them to keep the noise to a minimum until after around 8:00, the time the owner had said his wife would be awake. Sure enough, at about 7:55, Mrs. Weldon made the scene. She stopped work immediately, as my crew caught their first sight of her.
She was already dressed, but casually, in little shorts and a tank top, and she looked incredible! Tall and slim, with long, tanned legs and a tiny waist, she looked like a life-sized Barbie. That tank top clearly defined her breasts, which were very respectable. They stood out proudly, the nipples making little tents in the front of her top. She had long honey-blonde hair, which she had pulled up and clipped on top of her head, leaving little blonde strands framing either side of her gorgeous face, and fiercely blue eyes. She could have been a model.
"Hi, Brad," she called, and I walked over to her. My crew was watching her intently, unwilling to let me have her to myself.
"Good morning," I said. "I hope we didn't wake you too early." She just laughed softly, and shook her head.
"Actually," she finally said, "I've been watching you out here for almost an hour. Quite impressive, I might add." Her eyes roamed over the rapidly changing back yard, then she fixed me in her gaze. "Has my husband asked you how long the construction will take?"
I laughed. "Yes, of course," I answered. "And he's already trying to get me to beat that deadline!" She held me steadily in those blue eyes as I spoke, then smiled broadly.
"Well,..." she began, and paused, letting her smile turn kind of sly. "Don't get finished too soon. I don't like men who rush through things. And I kind of like the company." With that, she turned to walk back into the house, and 5 pairs of eyes watched her little behind as she went. I don't know if anybody else was sporting a woody, but I was beginning to!
We settled into our work after that, beginning the digging of the footers and tearing into the siding on the house, where our framing would join the old construction. At noon we broke for lunch. It was getting hot.
I was getting into my truck, preparing to head down to a nearby Subway, when I heard my name being called. I looked toward the house, and Mrs. Weldon was standing just outside her back door. She had changed into a pair of tight white jeans and a low-cut red blouse. As usual, she looked very striking. Great, I thought! Now I'll miss most of lunch, explaining to her what we were doing, and how the work was going! Rather reluctantly, I followed her into the house.
Once inside, I saw she had laid out a complete lunch for two! There was bread, salad, and piles of sliced roast beef, ham, turkey, and Swiss cheese.
"Wow," I said. "I hope you didn't go to all this trouble for me." She was already pulling two cokes from the refrigerator, and she laughed.
"Not at all," she said. "I have to make sure my daughter eats anyway, so I thought I might as well feed you, too! Besides, I don't think you've met her." I looked around, and she said, "Oh, she'll be along. You know teenagers!"
As if on cue, into the kitchen walked a younger, carbon copy of her mom. Blonde hair pulled up, the little wisps hanging down, with the same intense blue eyes, the same perky breasts, and even white jeans and a similar top! "You're talking about me, I can tell," she said to her mother. Then she noticed me, and walked over to me. "Hi, I'm Jennifer," she offered, and I shook her hand.
"I'm Brad," I said, and Jennifer giggled.
"No shit," she said, turning to give her mother a thumbs-up signal. "You're right, mom. He is cute!"
Mrs. Weldon's face went crimson immediately, and she looked away, muttering to her daughter. "God, Jen," she said softly. When she finally looked again at me, she nodded toward her daughter, who was enjoying her mother's embarrassment immensely. "That's what I get, for bringing her into this world?" We all laughed, and she invited me to sit down and make a sandwich for myself.
I did, and we had a nice lunch, though Mrs. Weldon ("Marlene, please," she insisted) didn't eat, just sipped on a water with lemon. Jennifer ate like only an 18-year old can, eating some of everything, and guzzling a coke and a half. She kept her eyes on me the whole time, and I began to feel uncomfortable until I felt her foot against my leg. It began stroking up and down my calf slowly. When I looked at her, she just smiled dreamily. I began to get hard for the second time that day.
We ate, Jennifer stroked my leg all the way up into my lap, and I tried to keep up a normal conversation. Marlene busied herself in the kitchen as we talked, bending over the countertop as she wiped it clean, and I couldn't help but fantasize about her as her teenage daughter got closer and closer to my hard-on with her foot. I don't think I even tasted my sandwich!
"Jennifer, what are you doing?" She had just reached the hardness of my cock when her mother noticed her, slouching lower and lower into her chair. "I've told you: don't slouch! It makes your back weak." Jennifer looked knowingly at me, sighed, and slid back up.
"God, mom, don't have a kitten," she whined. "It's not like I do it all the time." Then she looked at me again. "Though maybe I should," she said softly, and smiled.
I heard my men getting back to work, and announced to Marlene that I had to go, also. I thanked her for the wonderful lunch, and she walked over to me as I got up. "It was my pleasure," she said, again fixing me with those clear blue eyes. "I hope you'll eat with us again tomorrow." I promised that I would, glancing across to Jennifer, who was studying the obvious bulge in my jeans with great interest.
