Sweat trickling down the small of his back was the familiar reminder that the heat had overcome his best abilities to work on the highly pitched ladder with any sense of comfort. Connor's gloved hands were slick with perspiration as his arm moved laconically and with overwhelming soreness to pull more fallen palm fronds from yet another useless gutter of faux-Spanish terracotta design. He loathed the way in which these older, wealthy Floridians held style above utility and expected guys like him to make up the difference.
As a struggling session musician just out of college, he'd been forced to take an extra job with his distant cousin's landscaping company where he worked alongside a number of immigrant guys with families trying to make ends meet. Connor had become quickly and disgustedly aware with the way in which the "well-to-do" retired set of Miami saw a guy who did his type of work as invisible. Despite his vitriol for the people he mowed and planted for, he'd discovered a lucrative side business in clearing gutters on his own for cash up front. Bypassing the need for a crew, he saved himself fees and pocketed a nice chunk of change on weekends by pulling soaking wet, moldy fronds and other tropical storm detritus from pathetically designed gutters.
The only drawback was the need to work up high in such heat. Connor moaned as he reached out to grab a particularly troublesome clump and suddenly felt the ladder shift sickeningly underneath him. He managed quickly to grab hold of a cornice on the second floor of the house and stepped gingerly onto a ledge. The ladder swayed momentarily and then fell into the bushes 15 feet below him.
"Fuck," he mumbled under his breath looking down before he turned his attention back to his predicament.
He turned carefully to find he faced a window. He crouched down to open it and found it stuck completely shut. Probably locked. The house was a "McMansion" and Connor had a nice view of expensive looking art and vases on the landing through the window. He thought momentarily to call for help but the guy who hired him had left for the airport an hour ago for a "gentleman's golfing weekend" and paid up front with the understanding Connor not go in the house even to use the bathroom. Connor regained his footing and turned to face the backyard again.
The pool glistened in the noon light and he knew that yelling would be barely heard in the front. He needed to keep moving and find a way down.
He shimmied to his right where he saw the indentation of another window ledge and slipped upon reaching it. He managed to catch himself and sit down squarely on the ledge near the window itself. He turned to try the window but was immediately stopped dead by what he saw inside:
The lovely bedroom was decorated quite tastefully in old rugs, fine modern art and was dominated by a king size brass bed. An enormous flat panel television against the far wall was placed in the viewing line of a modern divan covered with a throw blanket. While the room alone was a sight to behold, Connor was left agog by what was happening inside of it.
The TV was showing a scene from a porn film in which a woman was performing fellatio on the biggest dick Connor had ever scene. It was staggering to see porn on such a large screen but his eye was drawn inexorably away from the TV to the woman on the divan that seemed to be watching the TV very intently.
Her back was to him and from his vantage she appeared to be nude. He could see the muscles on her shoulder and back rippling slowly along with her unseen movements. As he watched her, it slowly dawned on him that she was moving her hands quickly. Her auburn hair seemed to bounce in some shared motion. He realized suddenly that she was masturbating and in a fit of eroticized curiosity his head moved forward where it met forcefully with the metal pane of the window and made a cracking sound.
Connor saw only the woman's head thrash around instantly and the burn of her blue eyes before he lost balance and fell plummeting backwards of the ledge.
He awoke on a couch in a bright room. Two French doors allowed light to stream through unobstructed and caused him to shield his eyes and then groan in pain. The throb in the back of his head couldn't abide the glare and he rolled away from it.
Upon rolling over Connor came face to face with a plastic bag filled with ice and a glass of water. He reached for the water and sipped it. In his hasty thirst he drank too deeply and felt the cold water spill down his chin, onto his neck and chest. His bare chest, he realized foggily as he gasped at the intake of water and suddenly cold trickle on his skin. Why was his shirt off? He wondered
"You're awake," he heard a light, feminine voice say softly and suddenly. "I was afraid you'd cracked your skull."
A shadow stepped in front of the French doors and Connor had to shield his eyes to make out its slender form as it stood out in relief to the glare behind it.
She was about five and a half feet tall and possessed the voluptuously athletic carriage of a woman who spent an inordinate amount of time on her physical upkeep. Her long legs were sinewy and tapered up to a white mini skirt with a very liberal hem length that showed off her luscious, powerful thighs. Her torso and arms were similarly well toned but her chest and stomach were covered by a blue baggy men's suit shirt with the cuffs rolled up to her upper arm. Despite the bagginess that hid her breasts, Connor could discern that she was amply endowed. She was clearly braless but her breasts were high and firm without aid. Her red hair was pulled back to show of her porcelain skin and the blazing blue eyes set into a face of delicate and beautiful features.
Connor immediately recognized the woman who had been masturbating in the bedroom before he'd fallen but was struck by one amazing fact; despite her amazing fitness, the woman had to be in her late fifties at the youngest. And she was stunningly sexy.
"Can you speak?" she asked with a cautious smile. "Habla ingles?"
"Yes," he replied warily. "I'm from New Jersey." He tried to smile but felt a bit of a twinge when his lips spread too wide.
She smiled widely at his crack for both of them. "I'm relieved to hear both," she said, her voice relaxing enough to back up her words. "You gave me a scare, falling that far and finding you in the bushes."
"My ladder fell," he stammered, remembering the circumstances. "I was trying to find a safe way into the house so I could get down. I meant no harm, I thought no one was home."
"If you don't try to go get worker's comp for doing this silly illegal work, I'll agree to believe you and I won't press charges. My husband wouldn't be so kind, you're a lucky young man." She smiled more openly and Connor felt himself blushing.
"I'm sorry to have scared you ma'am, that's never happened to me before and I panicked." He blushed.
"My name is Debra and I'm sorry that happened to you. Do you feel well enough to stand?"
Connor noticed she was keeping a safe distance from him and he realized how wary she must be of this stranger in her house. He decided to get up quickly and try to get out of there before she got less comfortable or saw the incongruous erection that she had caused in his jeans.
