Hugs and kisses to my editors, Pete and Dave. I'm sure I've still misplaced a few commas. :)
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She first saw him working outside. She wasn't sure what he was doing, but it appeared he was checking some wires that connected to the back of the house. From a distance, she could see he wore a uniform of standard-issue work pants and a clean, collared shirt. His back was turned to her, giving her a nice view, and when he leaned down she scolded herself for letting her eyes travel downward. Brushing aside her wanton thoughts as the distractions to which she had only recently grown accustomed, she decided to ask him what he was doing, since it was her house he was kneeling behind.
She hesitated for a minute, contemplating what might happen if she confronted a stranger alone. It was her day off and she didn't exactly live near anyone. The closest neighbor was at least a mile away. She thought it would be OK. She was a woman of considerable size and strength. She decided she could hold her own if he turned out to be up to no good. Besides, she wore a .38 revolver neatly tucked into a leather holster she kept clipped to her waistband.
Jessica possessed qualities men found intimidating. However, most of her friends were men and she learned early in life how much she preferred working with them instead of women. She had worked in health care and didn't mind the occasional filthy mouth you'd hear when working around the younger doctors. She openly enjoyed making a few of her co-workers blush with her own version of trash talk. Jessica understood completely how her impetuous and brazen personality might seem to others, but there was no changing who she was, despite having tried and failed to be more ladylike.
She was easy to talk to and inherited her father's ability to listen. She was "comfortable" to confide in, took no shit from anyone and gave her honest opinion about everything. Though everyone was friendly with her, it still hurt deeply that no one showed any interest in taking advantage of what she could offer behind closed doors. She hated herself for being sensitive about this. It was a ridiculously feminine flaw and she envied how men could seemingly so easily separate emotion from sex. She might have been taken to task more frequently if she wasn't obsessed with the need to be wanted wholly for who she was, not just because she had a functional hole between her legs.
As a result, her sex life had ranged from mediocre to nonexistent. She had only been with a few men in her lifetime. It wasn't exactly for a lack of desire, but years of rejection had erected a sound proof box around any libido she may have had. Jess let that part of her scream itself to sleep behind the walls until it had finally given up and left her alone. It was only recently that she had noticed a stirring that threatened to reawaken a sleeping giant.
She turned her attention back to the young man obviously absorbed in whatever it was he was doing. Since he didn't seem to notice her, Jess leaned against her porch door and took the opportunity to admire him a little more. By all accounts he was very good looking. He looked to be only a few years younger, perhaps in his thirties, but she had never looked her age so he could have been older.
She was a physical match for him. Her plump cheeks were smooth and soft. Only a few fine lines around her clear, blue eyes might have betrayed her true age. She wore her dark blonde hair up in a knot most of the time, secured with a hair stick she had purchased as a souvenir one year while vacationing at the beach. The vendor had told her it was carved from teak wood and imported from Africa. She doubted very seriously the claimed origin, but she agreed it was teak. It was strong, very sharp and she had really liked the little zebra carved into the top. Since it held her hair nicely, she never regretted the purchase.
Jess continued to observe the man. As she approached she could hear him cursing under his breath. From where she stood she saw him quickly bring his hand up to his mouth and begin sucking. He had obviously cut himself and was trying to stop the flow of blood. She ignored how her breathing changed when he took his finger out of his mouth, looked at it and then slowly replaced it. She shook her head and walked over.
"Hello?" she sang out in her usual, cheery voice. "Would you like some help? Can I get you a bandage?" She hoped he didn't notice the flush spreading across her face.
The man turned around, a bit startled, and looked at her. "Hello. Yes, that's very kind of you. My clamp slipped while tightening this connection and I think I may need stitches. Damn it. I'll have to call the office and tell them what happened. They'll probably make me come in and call it a day. I hate contract work. I won't be able to make my next appointment."
"Well," she said, "it would really do no good to have you bleed to death in my back yard. Please, come in. I can probably take care of it for you. I work at the clinic in town. Let me clean it up and have a look."
He smiled and the smile traveled to his eyes. Oh yes, she definitely noticed his eyes. He had long eyelashes. Women have tried for centuries to get lashes like the ones that gracefully surrounded this man's eyes. They were a deep brown with just a bit of gold in them. The stubble on his face indicated he may have forgotten to shave the last few mornings, or perhaps he was trying to grow a beard. Either way, Jess found herself thinking of how nice and rough it would feel against her skin.
They went inside and Jess motioned for the gentleman to sit at the kitchen table. She ran over to the sink, grabbed a bowl and filled it with warm water. She reached over and found an unused bar of soap in the basket where she kept it. As she leaned over to open the cabinet to find a clean washcloth, her shirt draped down in the front. She reached her hand up and quickly but absentmindedly tucked the top into her bra strap to keep it secure.
The man cleared his throat. "My name is Geoff by the way. Thanks for helping me out. I'd prefer not to call the accident in, if possible. This is the first day in a week that my schedule is actually full of appointments, and with work being so hard to come by these days, well, you can probably imagine."
"Call me Jess. Yes, I can only imagine what contract work is like at the moment. What, may I ask is it that you do?" She hoped to find out what this man had been doing behind her house, and was trying not to just come right out and ask.
Geoff looked at her and blinked. Surely this woman was aware that her phone line was not working. He had gotten the call of the outage early in the morning and while he was sorry for the people without service, he was also very glad he would be busy today. It was boring just sitting around the house waiting for work. Times were tough, and for him anyway, if he wasn't working, he wasn't getting paid.
"Ma'am...," he started to say, but the woman shot him a glance as if to say 'don't you dare.'
He laughed and started again, this time deliberately pronouncing her name, "Jess. Are you aware your phone line is out?"
She walked over to the phone hanging on the wall, picked it up, and listened. She smiled.
"I am now," she said, and chuckled.
Jess rarely used the phone, so it didn't surprise her that she hadn't noticed the phone line was dead. The last time the phone went out it wasn't until her neighbor called her on her cell phone and told her to call the phone company to complain. The idea being that the more people who called to complain the faster the company would be to send someone out to fix the problem. She lived where people were few and far between, as they say. Anytime anything froze, cut off, or just stopped working it could be a while before technicians were sent out.
Jess sat down in front of Geoff. She rolled up his sleeve so it wouldn't get wet while she cleaned his cut. She saw the edge of what had to be a tribal tattoo peeking out from underneath. Damn, that was hot. She loved body art and had a few tattoos herself, something her family never let her live down. Everyone told her she would regret them one day. Twenty years later she still liked her colorful phoenix and little ladybug. She smiled inwardly, patting herself on the back for not regretting very much what she had done, and began to clean Geoff's hand.
She worked diligently, but gently, to clean the wound. This man had really cut himself badly and for a minute she wasn't sure if she would be able to stitch him up at the house. Without local anesthetic it was going to hurt. Jess was also not certain how well she would be able to concentrate on her work this close to Geoff. He smelled really good. For some reason he moved closer to her, and she involuntarily inhaled. His scent was a mixture of tobacco, sweat, and something not entirely foreign to her. She swallowed hard, and tried to concentrate.
Geoff sat as still as he could manage while the woman cleaned and sewed him back up. He had noticed ample breasts swinging gently when she had leaned down earlier. He thought to himself they would be very soft in his large, rough hands. He was disappointed when she had moved to quickly to cover herself. He hadn't minded the view at all. He liked a woman with a little meat. In fact, when she turned toward the sink to get the soap, he had to grab himself a bit to ease up the tension he was beginning to feel.
