Drill Bits

On my lunch break I stopped by the Home Depot to replace a broken auger. Typically I hit Grainger but a quick drop in and out to the chain store and I'd have time to grab fast food next door. I had been preoccupied with my work and never noticed the Christmas decorations and gift packs now pasted everywhere. Walking through the tool center, I saw a woman stepping up and back from the shelf. She was a mature woman, at least 50, yet she had a thin frame and average height and she looked very fit. Her sprightly spring and tip toeing on short heels gave her an extra inch to see. As she jumped, her calves and butt firmed up real nice in her short, sleeveless dress. The red, textured fabric, like velvet, was festive and perfect for the holidays. Now and then in the plumbing or appliance section I'm treated to a young woman filling a pair of tight jeans but almost always accompanied by a mate. This woman and her naïve prancing in the lane was a pleasant diversion. I thought she was older but yeah, I could tap that.

As I approached, she turned to me and smiled with a perfect set of white teeth suggesting a privileged upbringing. Her blonde hair curled gently in waves down to her shoulder, lighter than her brown eyebrows and dyed uniformly to remove any gray strands. Her friendly spirit brought a smile to my face and I nodded to her, a customary greeting for us guys.

As I walked past, she continued to move back and forth with a pop up to the shelf. It brought her body close to me and much closer than women typically engage a stranger. Her perfume smelled sweet and subtle but sophisticated. I delayed and turned to face her back as I passed and her shoulder almost touched my chest. I was curious to see if she'd bump my pelvis with her ass, although that wouldn't be good for her delicate dress to rub against my work clothes. She continued to scan the same spot on the shelf and she let her head rock side to side with a sigh as if she couldn't decide.

"Do you need help?" I asked her.

"Maybe," she said. "What do you think would be a good gift for a man?"

"That kind of depends," I answered, making idle conversation. I thought it odd she'd get advice from a random stranger who has no clue what project another guy is working. I asked her, "Does your man have a favorite skill like woodworking or landscaping, or a particular job he's on?"

"You ask a good question," she smiled. "I hadn't really thought of it that way, more like all men play with tools. What sort of work do you have?"

"Mostly commercial contracting although today I'm working on a private residence. I was repairing a roof and now I'm framing out a section of the basement and I need an auger."

"Sounds very technical," she laughed. "I'm not sure what an auger is."

"It's like a big drill bit I use to punch holes through the posts and block to run electric wire."

"Oh my," she sighed, overly dramatic with a hand over her chest. I thought she might be an amateur actress or maybe she wanted to draw attention to those nice tits. She had a thin, red neck band tied on the side with a bow, and it matched little bows on the neck line of her dress.

"You know, drill bits are not bad," I suggested to her.

"Drill bits?" she asked with a quizzical face.

"Yes, for your gift," I explained. "We're always wearing out drill bits and can use more. And they have different sets at good price points. You'll find gift sets on display in the main aisle but here the section of standard bits is on your left. See what I mean? There's a small set of bits for $24.97, and they've got a mega set at $99, and then they have sets at $54 and $69."

"Yes, I see what you mean," she answered. "I don't know how you decide, except the bigger ones have a lot of pieces and I guess the cost per piece is lower, right?"

While she talked about the sets I was wondering why she fluttered her eyelashes at me like a teenager. Was she playing with me?

"They make it look cheaper to sell you up," I told her. "They throw in extra junk like these odd sized small ones and these extenders and they give you a carrying case."

"OK," she said. "The extra stuff is junk?"

"Well, it's closer to junk," I explained. "It's not like a luxury car, where they have twenty parts on the foot pedal to make the acceleration smooth, compared to 4 parts in an economy car. Or if I put it in terms of your ladies' stuff, an elegant woman like yourself, you might have three shades of eyeliner and something to thicken up your lashes whereas the ordinary soccer mom is going with one smear of lipstick and whatever nature provided her. I'm looking at those beautiful eyes of yours and I'm trying to figure what you use because your skin is smooth and your eyelashes thick and lush and your eyes seem big and bright but I can't figure out what you did to create your look."

"Ohhh, you're quite the charmer," she whispered. "Would you be so kind as to reach that set up there, for $54? That seems like a larger package."

"I am at your service," I laughed and took a set off the hook for her. I said, "That's a good set because it has the titanium bits that last longer." As she took the set from me in her right hand she stroked down my bicep with her left. She smiled as though she waited for me to say more.

"I should have a gift wrap service for you," I continued.

She laughed, "I don't need the wrapping. I'm a low maintenance girl. Probably because I never really had a boyfriend."

"That's hard to believe," I chuckled. "An attractive woman like yourself must get hit on all the time."

"I wish it were so," she lamented. "You'd be surprised how difficult it is to rub elbows with normal people these days. Everyone wants to hide behind an internet profile."

"You're probably right," I agreed. Did I presume too much to think she complimented me for being normal?

"I have a few home repairs begging for a boyfriend's attention," she told me. "There's a leaky faucet in the bath, and one of the closet doors won't close properly. Do you fix those things or is the minor stuff beneath you? Do you charge for an estimate?"

As she asked me this, she leaned back against the shelf and struck a pose. Her body was turned sideways with one hand resting on the shelf and she bent her back leg at the knee while extending her toes. This had the effect to open her legs without being crass as her crotch was shielded by the turn of her hips, and also the curve of her calf down to her delicate ankle presented very nicely. Drawn to this subtle pose, my eyes wandered down her body and I saw her cleavage again above the little buttons of her dress, set off by the tiny Christmas bows and accentuated by a push on the side of her breasts from her arm. Then I was startled by the small, silver cross lying in the split between her tits. The cross confused me. Standing before this alluring and vulnerable woman with her tiny symbol of morality, I felt like the big dog salivating at a hunk of raw beef before it's thrown up over the edge of the counter. I was struck dumb for a moment.

She repeated, "Could you give me an estimate, or maybe a small charge to estimate? Maybe you can do an informal home review for $100, so I don't have to pay an inspector $500 just to tell me what I need to fix?"

"I'd like to help you," I stammered. "I won't charge you for an estimate. We can set up a time for me to stop by."

"Oh, I hoped you might stop by now," she smiled. She maintained her pose but pushed it farther. She pulsed her arm in and out, squeezing her tits together. Her foot dangled in its own dance, making her calf flex. Her entire body was artfully animated.

"I'm on my lunch hour," I explained to her. "Usually I don't come to the Home Depot but it's next to the fast food joint."

"You haven't had lunch yet?" she asked. "I live ten minutes from here and I could fix you something while you look around. I have cold cuts for a sandwich and leftover chicken and I could even throw a burger on the griddle. Holiday cookies are ready on a platter."

"You make it hard to say no," I answered.

"Well, it's settled then," she proclaimed. "You can follow me over. Did you pick out the auger you need?"

"It's right here, this high speed steel bit," I assured her and pulled the bit from the rack.

"Is that all?" she asked. "That's only $20. You can throw it in with my gift set and I'll buy it to cover your effort on the inspection. Let's go through the register together." She reached for the auger bit and I thought why not, if she wants to subsidize me.

I walked with her toward the register line and she became even more excited, strolling alongside me with a smile and hooking her hand on my elbow. It was childish yet I permitted it. I noticed again that her fine hair was delicately colored if she did dye it. The crease of her breasts was sexy and stretched down inside the low neckline of her dress to a white lace bra that was attractive without being racy. I believed she was genuinely beautiful and her actions were a natural expression without a manipulative intent.

"I love the holiday spirit and the music playing," she said. At the registers she veered toward the consumer line but I interrupted her and showed her how the pro registers were open.

"Oooh, I never did the pro thing," she gushed. "You're giving me privileged benefits already."

We checked through using her card and then I got my truck to follow her. When she got in a BMW convertible, I knew I had struck on a very class lady. But not so classy was the way she drove like a race driver, rolling through stop signs and right turns on red lights. Her house was within 10 minutes, as she said, nestled in a development of new houses just off the beltway. It was a larger two story colonial, probably more than 4000 square feet, with a brick front and tidy landscaping. Tiny white lights strung through all the bushes and trees sparkled despite the daylight and gave her home a magical quality. I saw this woman had money. I parked my pickup at the curb as she opened the garage door with her remote and parked inside.

She walked out to meet me at the threshold of the garage. "You could have pulled in," she told me. "Don't mind the nosy neighbor. He's always watching everyone." Before she spoke, I hadn't noticed the old man in his rocking chair on the porch next door.

We went through the garage door, which led through a laundry room to the kitchen where she dropped her drill bits on the counter. I was immediately impressed how a lady can decorate a home with the right colors and balance and fine looking utensils. Copper pans reflected the recessed lights across the stainless steel refrigerator and flowery oven mitts matched the cheery tiles above the stove with their design of vines and grapes. The refrigerator had a new touch screen display on the front. She had white lights in select places inside the house also, such as poinsettia plants on the tables and holly wrapped around a railing that separated a breakfast nook. A warm aroma of cinnamon filled the air.

She caught me staring at the décor and came right up to me and placed her hands on my chest. "You look like you haven't seen a modern kitchen before," she said.

I naturally placed my hands around her on the top of her butt in response. She did not object. I was grateful how easily she accepted the contact. The last time I had this much luck without trying, I must have been a teenager.

"I don't see anything this nice too often," I told her.

"What would you like to eat?" she asked me. She gave me another eye flutter.

"I think you know what I'd like," I encouraged her. I meant to taste her body but I controlled myself. "I'd like to get to know you better. Maybe you'd go on a date with me some time."

She swooned in my hands and let her eyes drift. She whispered, "You make me all weak-kneed like a school girl. I love the way you stand forward and straight. It's so strong and masculine."

I felt her small body like a little flower in my hands. I was afraid to squash her. She threw me off, being all receptive, and probably waiting for me to kiss her, yet I wondered if I would turn her off with bad breath and grubby hands. I told her, "I'm tempted to run my fingers through your beautiful hair but I'm worried my hands might be dirty."

Each time I spoke she gave me a smile. She pushed off gently from my chest. "If you want to wash your hands, there's soap here at the sink and a dish towel or paper towels, too. I'll pour you a glass of iced tea while you wash." She swung around and I let her go although my hands enjoyed rubbing across her hip bones and lower abdomen as she turned.

I followed her guidance to wash my hands with soap, then a rinse to my face and even a swish in my mouth for good measure. I used the paper towels so I could wipe my face and then up through my hair to make sure there was no dust from my morning work. Bizarre how I was more concerned about my hygiene than she was.

She poured me a glass of iced tea and set it on the counter along with the glass pitcher she had pulled from the refrigerator. She met me back at the sink and asked, "Feel better now?"

"Very much, thanks for that." I drank my iced tea and enjoyed the refreshment before setting the glass down. "Funny, I don't even know your name."

"Anna," she said proudly as if she were presenting herself at a school play.

"Anna, that's a nice name. Very fitting for how friendly and lively you are. My name's Tom."

"I like that," she answered. "Strong. A name I can trust."

I said, "You are very trusting to invite a stranger into your home."

"I trust that Jesus will look over me. And I got to know you quickly in the store and I could tell you help people."

Her mixed message added to my confusion yet I responded to the warmth and intimacy of her body. As she stood close to me, I took her hips in my hands and let my fingers slide back to the top of her butt where I could resume from where we stopped. She pursed her lips and lowered her chin, an acknowledgment that I touched her intimately, but she didn't immediately fall back to the same position herself. Instead, she laid her hands on the front of my shirt and started to undo the buttons. She said, "You don't seem dirty but if you're worried about tracking mud through my home then feel free to take off your shirt and shoes." She was undressing me already as she pulled the sides of my shirt open and left my chest bare to her fingers. I followed her lead and pulled the shirt off my shoulders and on to her kitchen floor and kicked my sneakers off.

She surprised me then, just as I was about to lean forward and kiss her, by walking past my arm and grabbing my hand behind her. As she walked, she said, "Let me show you the closet I'm talking about. I can't figure it out but you'll probably know in two seconds."

She led me through the main hallway to a grand spiral staircase. A crystal chandelier hung from the second story down the center line of the spiral stairs. The chandelier filled the hall with resplendent light when she flicked the switch and I continued to think I was out of my element. The beauty of the wood floor and the plush carpet on the runner of the stairs looked expensive and rather pristine.

I followed up always one step behind her. At an angle off the landing, a set of double doors opened into a master bedroom. A four poster king-sized bed sat in the middle under a cathedral ceiling that rose to a skylight, and this created a faint spotlight naturally on the bed without other lights on in the room. She continued to lead me to the far corner of the bedroom where a closet door opened to a walk-in closet. I saw next to this closet another door to a master bathroom that displayed a grand sized bath easily fitting two people and broad tiles on the floor, all off-white but bright from sun through the windows. It looked immaculately clean. I thought, "So this is how the rich folks live."

At the closet, Anna swung the door closed until it bumped the frame and was too tight at the top corner to shut easily. She said, "It wasn't pinching before but now it doesn't shut. I suppose I could force it, but I don't want to hurt my shoulder trying to shove it."

I put my finger up to the top of the door and the frame, to experience the jam by touch as well as by sight. It seemed the frame of the door was not completely square. I pushed the door hard, without my shoulder, and it did catch. I pulled it open to ensure it was not stuck. I could determine that the frame had shifted with the house, and it was not loose hinges or a warp to the door. I saw a lot of shoes in the closet. There were stacks of shoe boxes and loose pairs of shoes on top. Several of these were ornate red or black shoes with lace or other frilly designs. Anyone might describe these as "fuck me boots". And then I saw hanging among her dresses several lingerie pieces, maybe what they call a bodice as it was like a one piece bathing suit that tapered down to a thin thong strap in the middle and very lacy to make it see-through. This bodice was a deep blue lingerie piece pulled out and hanging as though it was the last one stuck in.

I turned to tell Anna about the door and saw that she had walked over and sat on her bed. Diffused sunlight filtered down through the top of her hair as if it were a halo. Her dress had two buttons at the top on the low neckline just for decoration and she had unfastened the top one now.

I walked over right in front of her, pondered whether I should wait or push my body before her, and then decided to sit down next to her. She had her hands on the bed behind her to prop herself up as she leaned back.

I told her, "There's a simple solution to shave the top corner of the door but it's a temporary fix. You've had a slight shift in the house, probably from settlement. Is it new construction?"

"New, yes," she said. "Five or six years ago." Her eyes went up and down from my face to my bare chest.

"That's about the right time," I explained to her. "When they built your house, they didn't backfill completely and over the five years you got some settlement. It happens with all these houses. I mean, I can look around the outside, to make sure your gutters are working and you don't have bad drainage making it worse. Otherwise you'll get a few settlement cracks to fill and paint but no big deal."

Anna took her far hand and placed it on my bare chest, and leaning toward me with rather dreamy eyes, she said, "I can't tell you how relieved that makes me feel to know that you can fix it easily. I was worried everything would start falling apart as warranties run out."

I took the side of her head in my hand and let my fingers flow through her hair behind her ear. I told her, "I'm glad you're happy." Then I kissed her. I leaned forward and pressed my lips directly against hers. I opened my mouth and pushed my tongue but she sat still without opening her lips. At first her eyes popped open as if she was surprised. After a couple seconds, she closed her eyes and looked more relaxed and enjoying it.

As much as she let me kiss her, she wasn't actively participating. I stopped and pulled back slightly. She tilted her head at me repeatedly to peck my lips, bird-like, to entice me to kiss her again.

I tried her again. I shifted my hand to the back of her head and forced her to kiss me harder. She parted her lips and let me poke into her mouth with my tongue. She started to match my sideways mash of her lips.

I used my near hand to brace her back as she fell on it, allowing me to lay her prone on the bed. I draped my hand from behind her head down the front of her chest, briefly over her tit, and the full length of her torso to the outside of her thigh. I felt her soft skin and I raised her dress with my hand to the panties on her hip. She had a small, pronounced point to her hip bone from being thin and I massaged it in my palm. The gentle sweep of her curves and surrender of her pliant muscles accepted my advent like a warm blanket. Rolling halfway on top, I used my knee to push her legs apart and rub my thigh against her mound. Her breath caught with the stimulation. I enjoyed her reflexive pant into my mouth.