My next door neighbor is one of those lucky individuals who seems able to repair anything. When my van wouldn't start I therefore gave him a call. I assumed since nothing happened when the key was turned that the problem was probably something simple such as a dead battery.
Steve was more than happy to assist me as he knew my resident dildo was away with the local Air National Guard Wing for summer training. What he couldn't know was that after almost a week alone I was hornier than a three horned billy goat! I had brought myself off twice just trying to wiggle into my pantyhose and my vibrator was still so hot from the previous nights activity it smelled of overheated wiring (among other things).
My plans for the day to shop then have dinner with a friend (female, unfortunately) at a rather formal restaurant had been interrupted by my contrary vehicle. When Steve drove up I was still dressed for my excursion to the city. My sleeveless A-line was very form fitting and I had accentuated its deep dark bluegreen color with turquoise color shoes and Indian jewelry. Made of a silky synthetic and cotton blend it was so soft I knew it would show even a goosebump. Underneath I wore only my flesh colored tights and a pushup demi-bra which covered only the bottom of my breasts. My nipples were deliciously naked.
Awaiting the arrival of my rescuer I had climbed up to the driver's seat of the van hoping one additional try might resuscitate it. Steve's appreciation of my legs as I exited that position did not go unnoticed. Probably not very lady like of me, but I managed to drag my skirt almost above my waist as I slid down to ground level.
He quickly determined a starter problem and promised to repair it for me. Since he was going to town for an errand of his own, he offered me a ride. Further discourse revealed we would both be finishing up at about the same time so we planned to meet for a ride home also.
Noticing his inspection of the motor had left his hands grease covered I persuaded him to wash up before we left. Though we live on a twenty-acre expanse in the country I still felt more cloistered once we were in the house and concealed from prying neighbors. Part of the mixed blessing of country living is that everyone usually knows what everyone else is about.
Our bathroom is sufficiently large that I felt no compulsion about joining Steve as he washed his hands. Standing behind him I leaned against the wall making small talk trying not to concentrate on how alone we were in my home. When he finished I handed him a towel and decided I wanted something to happen. I can be very wanton when I want something to happen.
Gently pushing him out the door into the hall I excused myself indicating I desperately needed to use the facilities. The door to my bathroom tends to swing inward of its own accord if not correctly latched so I made sure I didn't push it too firmly closed. Sure enough I had barely seated myself when it slowly swung open. Steve was still standing just outside drying his hands. He looked startled and I attempted to display surprise with my smile. Quickly taking in my bare legs and upraised skirt he stammered an apology. Quickly replacing my "surprised" smile with a demure beam of enticement I suggested, "It's alright, you don't need to be embarrassed. A person on the throne is not in a very sexy position, I'm afraid. Really I feel quite awkward!"
"Oh, no," he stammered. "You don't look awkward. You look ... ," at which point his description disintegrated into nothingness. The blush on his face said much more than he could have ever verbalized.
Too good an opening to pass on, so I asked, "Yes, just how do I look Steve?"
