My name is Jake Wilcox. I am a GC, general contractor. My specialty is custom built luxury homes, anything from 4000 to 20,000 square feet. It's a very lucrative business and the only tough part about it is the clients wives, but more about that later. I am 38 years old, 6'1" tall and weigh 190 and am still in pretty good shape. I was married for almost 4 years when I was 25 to a lovely girl but we just couldn't make it. I am usually up at 6am and on the job by 7 to set up the days work for my subcontractors who start their crew at 8am. By the time the day is over and I check what they have done, I don't get home until 6pm. It's a 12 hour day and I come home tired. She was a party animal, wanting to out drinking and dancing almost every night. I just couldn't hack it so she started going out by herself. You guessed it. It led to several affairs until I found out and that was the end. So now I live in a very comfortable trailer that I keep on the job site and have no wife to worry about.
About 6 months ago I got a call from an architect to bid on a 10,000 foot house. Now that's a 4 million dollar job with a very nice profit for me. I made my bid and it was accepted and a meeting was arranged with the clients, a Mr. & Mrs. Brian Worthington. We met at the architect's office and I explained how I worked and that they should go over the plans with me to prevent any misunderstandings as the job progressed. Mr. W could not have been less interested in whole thing. He kept answering his cell phone and barking orders to his subordinates, completely distracted from what I was trying to explain. She pooh pooed his inattention and told me that all he was interested in was making more money and that I would be working with her. This was interesting because she was a knockout. About 15 to 20 years younger than him, late twenties, and I assumed, a bimbo trophy wife. She came to the meeting wearing 4" heels that took her up to 5'6", a skirt that came to mid thigh, showing two beautiful legs and a blouse with enough buttons undone to show the creamy sides of her full breasts. Jet black hair, full red lips and eyes so dark they looked like bottomless pools of night. The skirt was tight enough to show that her ass matched the rest of her.
As we bent over the plans her tit would press against my arm or her hip and thigh make contact with mine. I wondered, was she coming on to me? But she was very explicit in what she wanted and the time constraints that were required. She understood every thing that I was explaining. This was no bimbo. She knew what she wanted and if it took sex to get it she was telling me she was willing. Working with the wives of clients is the toughest part of the job. Most don't know shit from Shinola and keep changing their minds about what they do want. This one was different, or so I thought.
Her name was Samantha,
"Call me Sam." She said.
When we broke ground, she was there. When we poured the foundation, she was there. She would show up at least 3 days a week wearing tight jeans that did wonders with that gorgeous ass and a tight sweater that did the same for her tits. When we started framing, she started making comments and criticisms and, as the weather got warmer, wearing T shirt just as tight. By the time we got to the second floor framing she was a full fledged construction supervisor and was telling the men how to do their jobs. I was getting fed up.
I told her that she was more than welcome on the job but any instructions to the men would have to come through me. This did not go very well. Her reply was,
"I am paying for this job and I will get what I want."
"Of course you will, but contact with the men will still be through me. You will not give them orders."
Her eyes were blazing and her face reflected her fury. Then suddenly her features softened, her hand went to my arm,
"Your right. I should have told you what I wanted. You would have gotten it done for me."
She turned the situation around and wanted me to be her messenger boy. Cute. From then on she came to me, told me what she wanted in a manner that suggested I was to do her bidding. Butter wouldn't have melted in her mouth.
That was the way things went along until one day she came to me and said,
"The arch way to the family room is too small."
"It is exactly what the plans call for."
"That may be, but I want it wider."
"We can't change it now. The partition along side of it bares the weight of half the second floor."
"I want it changed."
" It will cost a fortune. I will have to put in a steel header and delay the job almost a month."
"I want it changed and I am not going to pay a dime more and I expect the job to be done on time as specified."
"Your crazy if you think I will eat the cost and get the job done in time."
