Ben Quinn pulled his work truck up to the old cottage near the end of Fish Hatchery Road, and after the burly plumber killed the engine he looked out to the weathered home he was called to service, guessing that the aging place was a lot like its owner. Glancing at his retired father's ledger, in which he had kept meticulous records over the years, he saw a little smiley face sticker next to the homeowner's name, one Eleanor Case, and the sticker was underlined.
That made Ben Quinn Jr. smile, this little code his old man had used in case Mom ever checked out the ledger. Mom had done so, of course, and while she might not have known the exact meanings of the codes she figured enough out, much like she had figured out the man himself she had been married to since she was a teen. Dad was a hard working, lovable yet insatiable man who was not proud of his inability to be all that faithful to the woman he loved, but he made little effort to restrain himself. The fact that he was the husband of a very understanding woman who loved him as well was what kept them together and allowed them to retire and retreat to Florida, where he may or may not have changed his ways.
Now the plumbing business belonged to his son, and as Ben Jr. looked at the underlined sticker he chuckled because in his case, the acorn hadn't fallen far from the tree. The woman with the leaky basement pipe, Mrs. Case, had earned the sticker because she was a customer that paid promptly, and as for the underlining? That meant that the lady was very, very appreciative of the work Ben Quinn Sr. performed and was not shy about showing her appreciation.
There were close to a dozen such women in the book, but many had moved or passed away. This was only the second customer with an underlined sticker Ben Jr. had serviced since taking over, but that first customer, Audrey Wilkins, had certainly proven Dad's ledger ratings accurate because after Jr. had replaced her hot water heater, she had given him a nice gratuity of a personal nature.
So as Ben carried his tool box up to the porch he saw the woman at the door who was smiling and holding the screen door open for him. Not bad, Ben mused as he exchanged greetings and stepped inside. Maybe close to 65, but that was fine by the 22 year old plumber because he preferred the more mature women anyway, finding them much more willing to please, and while the petite lady was not a ravishing beauty she had sort of a Mrs. Brady look about her that the genial worker liked.
"You know, I had heard that your Daddy had retired, so when I saw the pipe leaking I didn't know what I would do," the little lady explained as she led the plumber down the cellar steps. "But then I heard that his boy had taken over the business. Good thing too because we don't have many fellas in this area that do work like plumbing and electric anymore. Not that you can trust."
"Dad always said that there's just enough plumbing work around here to keep our heads barely above water," Ben replied as he looked around the basement that was not finished but somewhat neat, moving over to the pipe with a plastic bucket under the drip at the connection.
"It's still a one man operation?"
"Yes ma'am," Ben responded.
"Seems like a lot of work but I figure a big strong fellow like you can handle it," Mrs. Case opined while Ben reached up to check out the source of the problem, and as she sat on the basement steps she made an observation while looking at the husky man's biceps which were testing the strength of the fabric of the shirt sleeves. "My word, your Daddy was a muscular man but I think you might be even more so. Gracious!"
"I doubt that and even if I agreed I would never have had the nerve to tell him," Ben replied while looking over at the lady sitting on the steps, and when he did he stifled a smile when he saw how Mrs. Case had earned her smiley face sticker.
Eleanor Case was dressed much like any older housewife would be, the rather drab house dress not designed to flaunt whatever features she might have under the loose fitting garment, but it was the way Mrs. Case was sitting that had gotten the young man's attention. She was seated on the second step but had her feet planted on the step just below it.
Mrs. Case's house dress had slid upwards, the hem halfway up her thighs, and while that may not have been intentional, the way that she had her thighs opened up wide left no doubt as to her intentions. This gave Ben the chance to see most of her legs that he thought were not bad at all, but then he looked further up and noted that she wasn't wearing panties. Due to the rather dim lighting he couldn't tell whether what he was looking at way up the dress was a shadow or a lot of dark brown hair but in any event he didn't mind because he liked a hairy pussy.
Just like Pop, Ben Jr. mused to himself because the old man liked that too, and just like his father would have done he looked up Mrs. Case's dress without making much of an effort to hide where his gaze went. It would have been rude otherwise, he concluded because she not only wasn't hiding it but was making every attempt to present herself. This made the repair go slower but his time was his own and he didn't charge by the hour for calls like this.
"Would you like a cup of coffee or something Ben?" Mrs. Case asked, and after he declined with thanks she said, "I probably shouldn't be down here bothering you like this because I'm sure you have a busy day in front of you."
"No ma'am, you're the only customer scheduled this morning and unless my phone rings you'll be my one and only until I stop by the laundromat."
"Then I don't feel bad," the older woman said as she squirmed on the step and made the dress ride up a bit higher. "It gets lonely out here all by myself."
"Aren't you married Mrs. Case?"
"Legally yes, I suppose but Henry? He only stops by to get his mail and pay the bills," Mrs. Case explained. "He pretty much traded me in for a younger model."
"That's a shame."
"No loss as far as I'm concerned. The kids are grown and gone and besides, he couldn't really cut it as a husband in some areas if you know what I mean," Mrs. Case sighed. "Not his fault, he claimed. As he often reminded me, nobody wants a 62 year old woman."
"62?" Ben answered with an appropriate level of shock.
"Why, do I look older?" she quipped.
"No ma'am. I figure you for early or mid 50's tops."
"Sweet boy. One thing you can do though to make me feel less old is to stop calling me ma'am."
"Okay. Sorry Mrs. Case."
"That might be even worse," the elderly woman laughed. "How about Eleanor?"
"Okay Eleanor," Ben grinned in return and as he spoke he thought he could smell the disgruntled wife's pussy and determined that it wasn't a shadow down there but hair, a darker shade than the light brown on her head and what seemed to be a generous amount.
Eventually despite the distractions Ben finished the rather simple repair and after he put his tools back in the case he followed Mrs. Case up the stairs, all the way complaining that she wished he had taken his time, and as they got up to the kitchen he set down his receipt pad and looked at his hands.
"Mind if I wash my paws?" he kidded and after she pointed him down the hall he scrubbed up in the sink, noting a little drip in the faucet that he decided he would fix for her, and after he rinsed off he turned around for the towel, only to discover that he wasn't alone.
