WARNING: Right-thinking readers should stop right here and find more acceptable sexy reading elsewhere.
*
During the long wait for his wife to die Freddie Short thought about life after Shelia's death. He'd miss having her beside him in bed, for sure, but what about during the day when she'd chatter on much about nothing and pester him to take her somewhere?
He'd REALLY miss that.
Freddie tried not to think about missing the sex. Being washed up aged fifty-nine was a little early but like death that was something to accept, not matter how hard it felt. No woman would be interested in him. Women of his age would be after guys half his age and if older women came on to him they'd be so wrinkled he wouldn't know which crack to attempt to slide into. Perhaps they would be something of a thrill if they wore dentures and took them out for him?
At afternoon tea after the funeral his wife's best friend Pamela, a really good sort, married to old Cedric, whispered if he wanted anything -- and wink-wink -- he should give her a call. She still did it if she managed to help Cedric get it up.
Thin Freddie was a little shocked and thanked Pamela warmly, noticing really for the first time her tits hung closer to her belly button than her breast bone. Yeah, so what? His dick had shrunk and that was even worse.
He never did call Pamela because, well, opportunities lay with younger women, surely.
Two weeks after the funeral Freddie was bored out of his tree. Acting positively he decided to return to work as a quick response interior plaster/painter and advertised in the local paper, stating his service was for small jobs only.
The wife of the German counsel called, speaking to him in broken English. In his younger days Freddie had been posted in Germany as a flight engineer/navigator in the air cargo division of a short-haul European airline. He replied reasonably fluently to the woman in her language. She was rather astonished. Mrs Scholz asked if he could come right away and Freddie agreed. He'd kept enough gear when he'd retired to perform odd jobs around his home and for his parents and siblings.
Mrs Scholz wasn't fat with a big mouth. She was pretty and petite, in her early forties.
"I'm so grateful you could come. Other tradesmen could not be here until next week. We have a dinner party on Saturday night. How can I reward you?
Freddie just smiled and looked at the tiny breasts, or more accurately where he thought they were, unaware Mrs Scholz had translated that interest.
It was a small job. There was a chunk of plaster missing from the dining room wall, head high but very noticeable.
"I threw a vase as my faithless husband when he let slip his mistress had not yet left him although he'd agreed with me to dump her. The stupid man ducked and I damaged the wall."
"Relax," Freddie replied in German. "I'll fix it. Fetch your hair drier and leave it with me. After I dry it I'll need to come back after leaving it for three hours to cure a little."
"No you stay here. We can fill in three hours very nicely. I'm a keen woman."
Keen about what? The implication became very clear with just a lowered eyelids glance of mystery with a hint of promise. Er, that was Freddie's conclusion.
They fucked for a couple of hours and then slept and were awaken two hours later by Mr Scholz coming into the bedroom and snorting. Mrs Scholz told him to fuck off and off he scampered and Freddie heard the car roar away. They fucked again in the shower and Mrs Scholz then went off to prepare dinner. Freddie repainted that whole wall, getting rather a good match and after dinner applied a second coat. Mrs Scholz paid him, adding a huge tip and kissing him goodbye, saying he fucked very well for an old man. She asked what had he done with the used condoms and he said, "I left them in your make-up drawer."
Mrs Scholz smiled and pinched his cheek, saying "Naughty boy."
Freddie was very pleased to be back working with its fringe benefits and was delighted to wake in the morning with a rock-hard stiffy. 'Cunt Plunderer' as he secretly had called it for longer than he cared to remember appeared pleased to be back in action.
Of course there were few women who engaged him for small jobs as warm as Mrs Scholz had been, although probably she only opened her legs for him to get back at her husband. The majority of other women were distant, or coldly distant or when he demanded coffee some were frigidly coldly distant.
He was compensated by a few outside the square.
* * *
Politician Mary-Anne Finch called Freddie for a major. The stand-alone air conditioning unit for the indoor pool had stopped operating during the winter and dampness had attacked the plaster on the wall against the laundry and kitchen. The outside wall was all glass and the end two walls were tiled. The ceiling was fine as it had been properly surface finished.
"Well?" said Mrs Finch.
"You have two choices. Get this entire wall tiled or I'll have to work on all the damaged sections and plaster them and then plaster the entire wall and then apply a protective clear finish. Obviously the required protective final coating wasn't done by the original plasters."
"How much?"
"Two and a half to three grand. There is much work to do. Tiling is unlikely to be the cheaper alternative but you are assured of a sound wall finish well beyond your lifetime."
"Do it; if I'd wanted that wall tiled I would have had that done originally. I go for style, Mr Short, not expediency. I'll give you a key for that door over there. Here you are; and here's the alarm code. I don't want you in my house, understand?"
"Yes."
"My daughter Mrs Blake who lecturers at Winstone University at odd hours may visit while you are here working. Will it be acceptable if she swims while you are working?"
"Yes, no problem."
"She is rather attractive."
"No problem. I won't touch her."
"Unless she asks."
Without thinking Freddie repeated, "Unless she asks."
"God, you men are all the same. Right, get on with it. I'll pay you $2500 and not a cent more."
"It may come in at that price or even under it but if it requires more work I'll take shortcuts to ensure I don't input more than $2500 of time, expertise and materials. Is that what you really want?"
"Oh very well, charge me what you like."
"I'll not cheat you Mrs Finch."
"No, I rather think you won't but what about my daughter?"
"I wasn't aware she was part of the deal?"
Mrs Finch smiled. "Goodbye Mr Short."
A bright feminine voice called out, "Hi Mr Short."
"Good afternoon miss."
"You may call me Amanda. Mom said according to you it would be okay if I use the pool."
"Certainly."
"I don't use a swimsuit."
"I won't look, at least I won't stare."
"Oh I won't mind. I have a lovely body."
There was a peel of lovely laughter as Freddie said he'd take her word for that.
Freddie worked industriously and wasn't aware she'd left the pool.
"Come over here Mr Short. I've made coffee for us."
"Are you dressed?"
"Yes, but inadequately according to my husband."
Freddie walked over and stopped, removing his boiler suit and sniffing the aroma of coffee.
Amanda watched him carefully.
He sat and sipped and said great coffee.
She blushed. "Thank you Mr Short."
"It's okay to call me Freddie." He brushed his gray hair back and looked at her with cheeky green eyes. He was just over six feet tall with a straight back and dimples remained when facial wrinkling seemed to disappear under smiles.
"Oh cute name and mom said you sound younger than what you look. She described you as a tough negotiator with a touch of debonair. Do you know what debonair means Freddie?"
"Up yours."
"Oooh that's not being debonair."
Freddie spoke to her in fluent French. "Madam, what is a sophisticated young lady doing teasing an old dried up prune like me?"
Startled, Amanda replied in French, "Mr, you are so fluent and this has surprised and interested me. You are a man of mystery."
Freddie reverted to English. "I worked in international aviation in Europe for eleven years as a flight engineer/navigator for a French-based airline on cargo flights and was based in Germany."
"Then why are you an interior plasterer/painter?"
