I suspect every husband knows the sound – the sound his wife makes when he enters her. And right now, as I heard that sound, I looked across the pool table to where it was happening. Then I went back to work, trying to figure out how to get all these balls into pockets before he came. I'm sure that comment makes no sense, so I should probably go back to the beginning.
We have a cabin in a mountain retreat near our home. There is skiing in the winter time, and in the summer you can escape from the heat. When we got the cabin, it needed some work, new tile, new decks, a new bathroom, paint. We were very proud to say we did all the work ourselves – except the trees. There were a number of trees on the property that had to come down, either because they had died or they were growing up against the house. Sarah got a tree recommendation from someone, and so Josh came over.
That was how it all started. When he arrived, I think he could have sold her anything. Anything. He was strikingly attractive. We actually didn't look all that different, I guess; boyish, dark hair, and so on. But he worked outside, with his hands, all day long, and had the build to show for it. Even more than that, he had these striking, pale blue eyes with long dark lashes. On top of that, he was funny and kind and engaging. She was smitten. As you can imagine we chose him to do the work (yes, in part so she could watch him). We were in no particular hurry, so he asked if he could use us as fill-in work. As a result, they did the trees a little at a time, at the end of the day when they finished other jobs early, over a period of several weeks. And every time he came by, she rushed out to watch. And every time, it seemed like he sent his crew home and stayed with us, chatting on our stone wall. They always seemed to end up sitting side-by-side. She always seemed to laugh at his jokes, touch his arm, toss her hair. You know what I mean.
The last time he came by, we wrote him his last check, chatted for a while, and had a couple beers after the crew left. Finally he too climbed in his truck and drove away. She watched him leave, and sort of sighed, and we went back inside. Hardly had the screen door closed behind me than she was up against me. She wasn't usually the aggressor, and I knew immediately what had fueled it, but it's not like I was going to argue. Within moments our clothes were flying, her skirt and blouse over the back of the couch, her panties just inside the bedroom, and with my pants around my ankles I was lining up and sliding it home.
Suddenly, we heard the screen door opening, and as I glanced over my shoulder, I saw Josh standing right behind me. He looked surprised, to be sure, but also amused. As Sarah became aware of him and started to cry out in shock, he fished a camera out of his pocket and began snapping away. "Stop that!" she cried, as we frantically separated. She covered herself with her hands as best she could, grabbing her clothes and diving into the bedroom and slamming the door. He just kept right on snapping and chuckling as I pulled my pants up.
Sarah came out of the bedroom with her skirt and blouse put back together, but a sheepish look on her face. Her red hair was a little mussed up, but the short skirt and the simple blouse looked great on her small frame. Even in her haste she had tucked the blouse in, which seemed to emphasize her small waist. "Guess we should have closed the door, huh?" she said to more chuckling from him.
"No, no, that was great! Those pictures are going to warm my nights for months!" he replied. "Just let me know when you plan to leave the door open again."
Sarah was silent for a second, then wandered deeper into the house. It was clear she was trying to gather herself. I have to admit I was having trouble finding my voice, as the situation had turned me on just a little bit. And the idea he would get off on pictures of her was also getting to me. I knew she wouldn't like that idea a bit, but I thought for now I'd just leave it alone as Josh and I followed her. Finally she stopped in the back room, turning toward us. She leaned heavily on the pool table. "Look, okay, you had your fun. But I can't handle the idea of those pictures being out there somewhere. Now, I thought we'd become friends. Couldn't you just delete them?" She sucked in her lower lip and suddenly had a very girlish appearance. "Please?"
He stared at her for a long time. Shaking his head, he walked past me toward the table, and idly picked up a cue. He seemed just as lost in thought as she had been. Finally he looked at her. "Tell you what we'll do," he said, looking Sarah right in the eye. "I'd like to help you, but you have to make it worth my while. And seeing that... I have to tell you, it got to me. So I'm thinking I need at least an opportunity for gain from this. So the pool table here gives me an idea. I'll break. Then I'll give Ian a number. He sinks that ball, I'll give him another. He sinks them all, I leave, and I'll leave my camera here. So with some skill and a little luck, no harm no foul. But if he misses, I'll take something off you. Next miss, I'll take something off me. And as soon as I'm able, I plan to start slamming you myself. And I'll keep slamming you until he sinks all the balls. What do you say? Or, I can just leave now, and proceed with my original plan."
I started to react about halfway through this little speech, but Sarah held up her hand to quiet me. Once he stopped talking the room was silent. She stood there, her hand up toward me, the two of them looking straight into each others' eyes. I looked from one to the other, waiting for a reaction. Just when I could stand it no longer and started to speak, she stirred.
