"Oh, you
are
handsome!" a woman's voice said from the sidewalk as I was stowing away tools in my truck.
I had just finished a job at another of the 'big money' houses a few blocks from Lindsey's place.
"So how old of a woman do you service?" she asked.
She was silver haired, walking a small dog, and looking at me with that 'I hope he likes me' look you usually see on a teenager. I'd guess she was around sixty, and very attractive.
"I have customers of all ages," I said with a little smirk. "Do you have something that needs working on?" I asked, playing her little game.
"My name's Connie. I'm Barb's neighbor," she said, extending a hand laden with rings.
"I'm Steve. Pleasure to meet you Connie. Always nice to meet a friend of a friend. Barb's a sweetheart," I said.
"She speaks very highly of you too Steve. You seem to have helped her, ah, over a hump, so to speak. She has a nice new gentleman friend, the first in many years. She's had quite a re-awakening, judging from the noises coming from her bedroom window," Connie said with a sly smile.
"Well good for her. I was wondering why she hadn't called me lately. Perhaps he's good with the tools?" I said, playing the role of the witty sophisticate.
"Yes," she said with a smile, "but I doubt he works to your high standards. I've heard you're very highly skilled. I'm wondering though — do you mind working on older places that need some . . . rejuvenation?"
"Mind? Heck no," I said, looking Connie over from head to toe. "I've got the afternoon free if you'd like me to take a look at it."
"Well! This is exciting! I'd like a complete renovation please!" she said with a delightful laugh.
"That may take some time," I said with a wink.
"I'm well past the hot flash age," she said as she fanned her face, "but . . .wow, that was a doozie!" After a moment she added, "I should have listened to Barb and called you weeks ago."
"Would you like a ride, or shall I meet you there?" I asked.
"No, I'll walk. I've got Inky," she said, referring to the little black dog. "I'll meet you there in ten minutes. I'm right next to Barb, with the green door."
"You know there's a classic x-rated movie called 'Behind The Green Door.' Pretty hot stuff," I said.
"Whoa! Another hot flash," she said quietly, tugging the front of her blouse out repeatedly to pump cooling air under it. "Behind The Green Door huh?" she said, looking me in the eye and laughing a little. She shook her head and said, "And I thought Barb was exaggerating your seductive charms..."
Connie walked off down the street with Inky. She was wearing an expensive looking waist length black leather jacket and a pair of well-tailored blue jeans that showed off a lower body that looked much younger than her years. Her haircut continued the youthful illusion — it was very short and highly styled. 'Give me the Jamie Lee Curtis,' I could imagine her saying as she walked into the salon. She even had a youthful wiggle in her walk as she made her way down the sidewalk — if it wasn't for the silver hair you'd never guess her age from behind.
I sat in my truck for a few minutes checking messages on my phone and contemplating Connie. If my guess of her age was correct she would be the oldest woman I had been with, assuming I was going to 'be with' her, of course. I was thirty, and this new line of work I was in had led me into the beds of some wonderful older women, something that I hadn't experienced before. My life was better for it, that was for sure. I started my truck and headed over to see what was behind Connie's green door.
———————
Connie's house was typical of the neighborhood—huge and expensive, with a stone facade, perfectly manicured landscaping, and a big circular driveway that led to a three car garage with climbing roses on the front of it. A classy place for sure.
"Welcome Steve," Connie said from the front steps as I walked up. "I hope you haven't had second thoughts and decided you'd rather work on something that isn't this old."
"Not at all," I said. "By the time I'd watched you walk down the street I knew I was very interested in the working with you."
"Okay then," she said, smiling and eyes twinkling, and she pumped on her blouse again to cool another flush of heat from her body.
"It's a beautiful home. Have you lived here long?" I asked as we walked inside.
"Yes, my husband and I were among the first in the neighborhood," she said. "We moved in thirty years ago. I'm afraid it's gotten a bit run-down though. My husband suffered from a long illness—I cared for him for almost ten years—and very little got done on the house in that time. He's been gone now for three years, and I think I finally have my head on straight again. Time to spruce up and take another stab at life."
"Good for you Connie," I said. "I can tell by those sparkling eyes of yours you won't have any trouble with that."
"Now I know why all the women fall for you," she said softly, shaking her head. "So, let me show you around and we'll see what projects we can find for you. I can probably keep you busy all winter."
After a tour of the big house we decided I'd start on the screened porch, before the weather got too much colder. A thorough paint job and a new ceiling fan would take care of things out there, and have it ready for spring when it rolled around. Connie helped me move the furniture into the house and I started right in on the scraping and sanding, prepping the space for a nice paint job.
"Tomorrow morning we can go to the home center and pick out some paint," I said when Connie came in to have a look at the progress.
"Oh, this is exciting. I never dreamed this would be happening when I woke up this morning," she said with a big smile. "Can you stay for a light supper Steve? I'd love to have some company."
"I'd love to Connie. I didn't bring any clean clothes with me though," I said.
"Oh, you won't be needing those," she said, and then she blushed bright red, looking shocked at what she had said. "I mean . . . we're . . . we're casual around here." She turned and left in a hurry, clearly embarrassed, and I smiled to myself, thinking how cute she was.
A little later, when I had finished for the day, I followed my nose into the kitchen. Connie, freshly showered and dressed in a form-fitting casual dress, was stirring a ridiculously great smelling pasta sauce, made with tomatoes, garlic, wine, olives, capers and anchovies.
"Wow! I don't know if I've ever smelled anything this wonderful," I said. I walked up behind her and barely brushed my lips against her neck, inhaling her perfume. "Intoxicating."
She dropped the spoon in the pan and turned to me. "Oh Steve, it's been so long since I've felt a man's touch. I may not survive this."
