All characters are over the age of eighteen.
Just a heads up. If this story seems familiar to you, it's because I had it taken down a while ago when I put it out there in the pay-to-read world. It did pretty well, but it's time to return it to Lit.
As always, please check the tags to make sure this is your kind of story.
The Colonel's Wife
Diane strode through the nearly empty parking lot, shaking her head sadly. 2008 had been a rough year when the market crashed. 2009 was worse. It was like the months after a hurricane when the damage could be gauged, and long-term effects, measured. Bronson's Custom Fixtures was a business she'd been involved with as a real estate agent for the two years she'd been in the area. She had developed a rapport with the owner and his team's work had greatly improved the appeal of many of the homes she had sold. It had been well worth putting the extra time and money into them. But the housing glut and the market crash had hit the Wichita community hard. Bronson's kept its staff working through 2008 because pre-ordered and paid-for work still had to be finished. But when the work dried up, the layoffs began.
Ordinarily, this lot would have been packed and the outdoor break area full of men eager to leer at her as she entered the building. Now it was nearly empty. Today had been the last round of layoffs and there was a man she was very interested in speaking with. For reasons that could change both their lives.
Diane approached the blue pickup. She could see a form hunched over the steering wheel through the open side window. Though she was wearing high heels that made a wonderful click-clack sound on the pavement, she was able to get right up to the door to startle the poor man.
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Henry had his head pressed against the steering wheel in deep thought. He'd had a while to plan for the layoff, but none of his prospects had panned out. Next week would see his last paycheck for the foreseeable future. The bed of the truck was full of his carpentry tools, which had taken him half his lifetime to accumulate, and now the prospect of pawning them was a very real possibility. He wondered how his mortgage company was going to take this news.
"Bad day, huh?" a female voice asked quietly at his window.
He started and cried out. "Whoa! Oh, hey... Diane." The pretty blonde woman gave him a sympathetic look. As great as she looked, it was all he could do to force a weak smile for her. "Yeah, a double tough day, for sure."
Diane had been a regular visitor to Bronson's over the last couple of years. He and the rest of the team always liked seeing her. Real estate agents always seem to dress very attractively, and Diane was no exception. Her skirt and blouse combinations were always very fetching, and the heels she wore were nearly scandalous. It took a special lady to rock a three-inch heel for everyday wear and she sure could. Stocking or nylons in the winter and bare legs in the summer. And what legs they were. Somewhere in her mid-forties, they had agreed she must be, but you couldn't tell from her figure. Some of the guys called her a cock-tease, but she wasn't, really. A bit of a flirt, certainly. When some of the bolder men would yell catcalls her way, she always just gave them a sexy smile and a wink, with perhaps a little extra wiggle in her walk.
"Got any work lined up?" she asked softly.
He shook his head sadly. "No. I had a couple of possibles that I was hoping would pan out, some short-term offers, but nothing came of them." Being in real estate, Diane had her finger on the pulse of the local building market and a new thought occurred to him. "Do you know anyone looking for help?"
She smiled brightly, and it made him feel better instantly. It's funny how a woman's smile can do that. Particularly one as stunning as Diane.
"Yes. Me," she said.
Henry's face screwed up into a quizzical expression. "You?"
She shrugged. "Well, me and my husband Jack bought a sweet little farm on the west side of town early last year and we've been renovating it."
Henry grinned. "Wait a second, Diane. Your husband is named Jack?"
She giggled. "Yep, just two American kids doing the best they can."
They both laughed. Afterward, she handed him her card. "Why don't you go home and relax? Then come out to my place tomorrow morning and meet Jack and see our place. We'll talk about the job." She pointed to the business card. "The address is on the back. There's enough work to get you through the rest of the year, at least. Sound good?"
A ray of hope entered Henry's heart. Seven months of work could mean the difference between survival and... he didn't want to contemplate past that. He smiled and took the card. "I'll be there! 9 a.m. work for you?"
She turned and took a step away from the truck before looking back over her shoulder. She smiled and replied. "Let's make it ten. A girl's got to get her beauty sleep." She watched Henry's eyes drift down to her ass.
"Ten a.m. sounds good." He looked back up at her face, realizing she'd seen where his wandering eyes had gone. But she was still smiling. "Damn, she is fine," he thought.
He watched her walk away in that leg-over-leg runway stride and realized he had an erection.
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Diane smiled as she slid into her sedan, smoothing her skirt down over her legs. That had gone very well. Henry was an artist with a saw and a wood chisel. The things he could do with wood in a home were very impressive and had been the reason he'd been among the last to be let go at Bronson's. Her home could really use a person with his talents. That he was a completely scrumptious man made the idea an easy decision for her. She shivered a bit, imagining his lean frame on a ladder, completely oblivious to her admiring gaze. Suits were great and all, but a man in well-fitting jeans, boots, and a tight t-shirt was the cat's meow for this lady. That or a handsome uniform. Henry wore his straight dark hair shoulder length but frequently pulled it into a ponytail to keep it out of his face while he worked. He was usually clean-shaven, which she had always appreciated. She thought he was just shy of six feet, with the lean muscularity a person with an active and physical lifestyle seems to achieve. But it was his ready smile that always drew her eye. It was disarming and very charming.
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The next morning, Henry whistled as he turned into the driveway of Diane and Jack's home. It was a vintage farmhouse that had once been common in the Wichita area. The classic two-story home with a wrap-around porch. It even had a covered carriage entrance on the side of the home, something not seen much after the 1930s. A separate three-car garage stood to the right of the home. It was a modern construction but had been decorated and painted to match the house rather nicely. The impressive acreage around the home was recently fenced in and two gray horses grazed calmly in front of the house. His tires crunched on the gravel driveway.
He parked his ten-year-old truck in front of the garage and got out. He smiled when he saw Diane exit a screen door under the carriage porch. The beautiful blonde had her hair pulled into a ponytail and was dressed for yoga, in a pair of pale green tights and a matching sports bra. She certainly wasn't dressed as though she expected him. She leaned against the column of the carriage porch as he approached.
He looked at her with a smile. She was
so