It was the tenth day of our bathroom being renovated.
The bathroom contractor, Josh, was a pleasant guy; hard-working and skilled at his craft, he kept mostly to himself. I had no concerns about being left alone in the house with him while my husband was at work .. and, happily married to Bill for the past 15 years, it didn't tempt me at all to have another man in the house. Although Josh's handsome smile was very welcoming, he wasn't much to look at; close to age 40, his hairline was beginning to recede, and his thin build was nothing remarkable.
Three days earlier, having made plans to meet some of my girlfriends for an afternoon coffee date, I had dressed up a little bit and put on makeup for the first time in a couple weeks. I tend to dress modestly, but the sleeveless top I chose to wear that day was cut a bit lower than usual, and when I went to tell Josh that I was heading out for a bit, he did a bad job of hiding his glance at my cleavage. He caught himself quickly, though, and wished me a nice time as his eyes diverted to make contact with mine.
Surprisingly, my heart seemed to flutter at the thought of unexpectedly capturing his attention in that way. As I drove to meet my friends, I chuckled at my own foolishness. Olivia, what on earth is wrong with you!? Who cares if he looked at you or not! My rational mind quickly overruled my emotions, but at the same time, a deeply buried part of me was ... well ... intrigued? And, if forced to admit it, I was maybe a little bit ... giddy? Giddy by the idea that -- at 37 -- I could still draw a stranger's attention? Oh stop it, Olivia, you're being ridiculous. I argued with myself until I arrived at the coffeeshop and forgot all about it.
I forgot all about it ... until the next day. Bill left for work promptly at 8am as usual, and I had the house to myself for about 30 minutes before Josh's arrival. Rather than put on my typical comfortable and yet uninspiring clothes, I rummaged through the closet and found myself looking for something ... umm, sexier? The very thought was shocking to me. Why am I looking for something sexier to wear? What am I trying to do here?!? I'm happily married, we've been totally faithful to each other, I shouldn't even be thinking about flirting, or whatever it is I'm doing ...
And yet, seemingly with a mind of their own, my hands found a cute little black shirt with lace trim. Since it was tight-fitting and somewhat sheer, it required a coordinating bra. I located my one black bra in the drawer only to remember that it was a push-up bra. Was this going too far? I never answered that question.
As I slipped off my oversized night shirt, I caught a glimpse of my naked chest in the bedroom mirror, and held up my breasts with my hands for a moment. My 36B's weren't anything spectacular, in my opinion, but they were still fairly perky. Squeezing them into the cleavage-enhancing bra, I pulled on the tight little shirt, and settled on a pair of less enticing jeans as if to offset the outfit.
Like a young schoolgirl waiting for the bus to arrive, I paced anxiously in the kitchen until I heard the key wiggling in the front door (we had given the spare to Josh to borrow). Deliberately, and yet while trying my best to appear casual, I walked out into the living room to greet him. "Good morning!" Damn, that might have been a bit too cheerful.
"Good morning!" He responded in kind, but he was carrying in some tools and hadn't actually seen me.
I pursed my lips and stood there somewhat awkwardly until he put his stuff down and looked up. His eyes widened, subtly, as his gaze reached, and then lingered upon, my more-pronounced-than-usual chest.
His ensuing question might've been innocent, but it caught me totally off guard: "Going out again?"
I could feel my face starting to flush red as my mind raced to generate a plausible explanation as to why I was wearing this ... well ... much sexier outfit. "Ummm ... yeah, later," was the best I could come up with.
Wow, that was lame. I quickly tried to change the subject. "What are you working on today?"
The diversion seemed to work, as he proceeded to share his plan for that particular day, which centered around finishing the grouting of the shower walls. When he finished speaking and the timing seemed right, I excused myself, and went into the adjoining room to marvel at what an Idiot I had been. I hadn't planned on going out anywhere, certainly not in this outfit, but now I'd have to do so in order to avoid creating suspicion. I eventually decided to just go for a drive, though I lied and told Josh that I was meeting up again with some friends. Great, now I'm lying, what have I gotten myself into.
I found various things to do, purposefully staying out long enough that Josh would be gone before I got back, but returning early enough that I could change into a less revealing outfit before Bill got home.
Embarrassed by my flawed attempt to flirt with a stranger in my own home, the next morning I wore my usual brand of uninspiring clothes and tried to avoid seeing Josh as much as possible. I did have to go grocery shopping and run some other errands, though, so after I ate lunch alone, I told Josh I wouldn't be back until after he'd have left for the day. Ever the diligent worker, he seemed unfazed, and simply responded that he'd see me tomorrow then.
I was about 20 minutes away from the house when I realized I'd left my shopping list on the kitchen counter. I groaned aloud and shook my head. Am I distracted by him? I'm not usually a forgetful person. I had no choice but to turn around and head back home.
"Forgot something," I announced as I walked through the front door ... but then froze in place.
I don't know who was more startled, me or him, but Josh was standing only a few feet in front of me ... without his shirt on.
He wasn't overly muscular, yet his broad shoulders were well-defined, and his manly pecs were ... touchable? Tempting? I never finished categorizing them, because my eyes had kept wandering. Downward. Down to his paint-covered jeans which were ... uh, riding quite low on his hips, exposing a good bit of his happy trail ... and a whole lot of skin. Too much skin. Enough skin that it made it seem like he was ... umm, perhaps not wearing any underwear??
My mind was screaming at me to look away, but I couldn't stop staring. I was hopelessly transfixed by the thought of what was hiding just beyond the edge of what I could see.
As for him, he was frozen too, most assuredly not expecting me to have walked through the door, and certainly not expecting to have been found ... like that. Thankfully, he broke the silence first: "I'm sorry, I didn't think you were coming back."
Hearing his voice broke my visual fixation on his waistline, and I looked up at his face to find it a bit flushed and sincerely apologetic. I quickly reciprocated the apology: "No, I'm sorry, I wasn't planning to come back ... I forgot my shopping list."
Now we stood there in awkward silence, mere feet apart, still virtually frozen, having apologized to each other but now not sure what to do next.
Josh must've felt compelled to explain himself: "I wouldn't normally take my shirt off while on the job, but I was hot and sweaty, and I didn't think you were coming back."
You're not the only one getting hot and sweaty, I thought to myself. I didn't say that out loud, did I??
I quickly waved him off. "Oh no, it's fine, don't worry about it."
I should've stopped there. But I didn't stop there. Why didn't I stop there?? For some unbeknownst reason, what tumbled next out of my mouth next was an unretractable question. "Too hot for underwear too, huh?"
I wanted to die. I wanted to melt, to crawl into a hole, to run away ... I wanted to do anything except stand there in front of him and think about what I just said and where on earth that had come from and why on earth I had asked that overly forward question of a complete stranger ...
But on the other hand -- as far as I could tell -- the question didn't seem to faze Josh at all. In fact, his response was startlingly calm: "I prefer going without."
Fuck. I clasped my hand over my mouth before that dirty word could escape my brain and actually reach my lips. Now my face was beet red, I was pretty sure my body was shaking, and my eyes ... what were my eyes doing?!? They were back on his crotch!! Get away from there!!!
"I gotta get my shopping list," I stammered as I hastily walked past him and extricated myself from this ungodly situation.
After finding the list, I made a second attempt to leave the house. He was still standing in virtually the same spot. Now that some of the shock had worn off, I took more time to study the surprising definition of the muscles on his wiry frame, his tanned skin, his sexy chest ... look away, Olivia, look away!!
"Well, trying again!" I laughed awkwardly as I held up the shopping list in my hand. To his credit, this man who was wearing nothing but his work boots and a pair of jeans didn't try to do or say anything other than to kindly repeat his earlier comment that he'd see me tomorrow.
I got back in my car just like I had done 45 minutes earlier, but everything was different now. The whole world was different. My heart was racing, my thoughts were scrambled, and I was feeling ... desire? Arousal?? An unfamiliar carnal urge led me to slip my hand inside my sweatpants to cautiously touch the outside of my panties. Fuck. Just as I had feared, they were damp.
Hopelessly distracted, I merely went through the motions of shopping that afternoon, my mind cycling between a) the imprinted visual of Josh's bare torso and hips, b) some feeble attempts to figure out how I would handle seeing him the following day, and c) analyzing these erotic thoughts and feelings that I hadn't felt since ... high school?
Over the past 15 years of marriage, I usually waited for Bill to initiate sex, which on his schedule was about once/week. But that particular night? I needed him. I needed ... well, I needed to get laid. I needed to release some of that quickly-rising sexual energy.
So when my husband started getting ready for bed, I put that black lacy top back on and walked seductively into the room. This time, without the bra. I could see my hardening nipples poking through. Oh, and I had no panties on. Just the shirt. This was a startlingly bold version of me. I felt like an animal in heat.
"Oh honey, not tonight, I'm sorry." Bill barely glanced at me before letting his words hit me like a slap in the face. "It's already late and I have to get up really early tomorrow for a day trip."
I stopped cold in my tracks. An overwhelming wave of frustration, embarrassment, disappointment, and anger crashed over me. It had to have been impossible for him to not notice that, but all he said was, "Rain check?" And then, with nothing but a quick peck on my furrowed forehead, he walked past me and climbed into bed to retire for the night.
I retreated to the bathroom, annoyed and equally deflated. The scowl on my face didn't complement the sexiness of my top, so I pulled it off in a huff. Now standing there stark naked, my mind raced -- out of spite -- to alternative and dangerously unfamiliar thoughts. I bet Josh wouldn't walk away from all this. I certainly know he'd appreciate me going commando.
Spontaneously, I decided to treat myself to a bubble bath to attempt to escape from the bitter reality of my husband's disinterest.
