Dear readers... part of this story made a brief appearance here before being yanked down at my request because it was submitted by mistake (unfinished, not proofread and in the wrong category). Very few people saw it because they took it down promptly, but if you read a story with a similar title earlier this month, this is the same (albeit now longer and complete) so act accordingly.
*****
When twenty seven year old plumber Mac Crawford saw the message light blinking on his company phone that morning, he had a suspicion about who it was that had left a message, and the minute he heard the voice he chuckled and shook his head.
"Hello Mac," chirped the unmistakable voice of the middle-aged woman on the hill, his one-man firm's best customer over the last year or so. "When you get a chance could you come out here? The damn faucet's leaking again. Thanks. Peace."
The faucet. He had been out to replace that six months ago, and it had started leaking several times since then. Same with the toilet repair he had done. Nothing stayed fixed.
There was another message on the machine, and when he prompted it, the same voice came on.
"Hi Mac. Me again. I just left a repair request on the machine and forgot to tell you who I am. It's Peggy. Okay? Bye. Peace."
Mac knew who it was of course. When you get 40 or so messages over the space of a year you start to recognize the voice. Then again why would somebody keep calling the same plumber when the work never stayed fixed?
It wasn't his work that was screwy though, it was Peggy Pierce. It had taken Mac a while to figure it out and was feeling bad about what seemed like substandard work he had done until he realized that the woman was loosening connections and undoing his work.
One time he had mentioned that to Peggy and the fiery redhead had taken umbrage at the suggestion that she was crazy enough to do such a thing, especially since she paid him for every service call.
That she did, and after that she started to put some variety in the repairs that needed doing. The toilet one week, the sink drain the next and so on. Mac wasn't fooled and he suspected that Peggy knew full well she was onto her game. She didn't care. She just wanted him to visit her.
People of the small town of Thurman in the Adirondacks of New York State all knew Peggy Pierce. Some said she was crazy, others claimed she was eccentric but harmless. A burnt out hippie who live alone in a simple cabin on a hill off the main drag. A free spirit who didn't seem to care what people thought of her. If there was ever a Mr. Pierce to help her, he was long gone.
Mac grew to really like her even if she did drive him bonkers on occasion at first, and even though she was a little strange Mac began to understand why she kept calling him, and he he loved it when she did. She might not have been a spring chicken but looked certainly okay for 50 something or however old she was, and if she wanted companionship that badly she could go to the tavern in town and wouldn't likely go home alone.
Peggy didn't visit the Stony Creek Tavern though, or if she ever did frequent customer Mac Crawford never saw her there. Her social life seemed to be the plumber's visits and her entertainment was the music that played in the cabin non-stop it seemed. Vinyl, not CD's or cassettes, and if there was something she owned more recent than the seventies Mac hadn't heard it during any of his visits.
That was fine by Mac because having heard that music played by his parents as he grew up, he knew much of it already and much preferred it over hip-hop, faux country and other stuff popular today.
Mac also wasn't put off by some of Peggy's eccentricities. Despite what seemed to be her rather bohemian lifestyle she was always clean and her frizzy red hair was always washed, but she wore no perfumes or many other chemicals, although she often did reek of patchouli.
Peggy didn't appear to own a TV or a computer but seemed to be a voracious reader with books filling a multitude of shelves on the bookcases they shared with her LP's, and her washing machine was something out of the stone age, one of those ones with the wringer on them that Mac had fixed one time at the start of their relationship.
Mac didn't know what else Peggy did or didn't have in the way of modern conveniences, but there were two things that he was reasonably certain that Peggy Pierce did not possess.
One thing were brassieres. Peggy was fond of wearing vintage tank tops of bands people his age had likely never have heard off, and Peggy never wore anything underneath those skimpy tops in winter or summer.
It wasn't that Peggy Pierce was the kind of woman who didn't need a bra either, and the evidence of that was clear to see. Peggy was a rather slender woman but her breasts were quite large, their size accentuated by the somewhat petite body that carried them. The bell-shaped jugs hung low and swung free, and Peggy didn't mind if they got looked at either, Mac knew full well.
From that very first visit Mac had looked but he rationalized his gawking at a woman old enough to be his mother at the fact that Peggy's breasts were impossible not to look at. The tank-tops she wore were barely able to contain them and left little to the imagination, although from the minute Mac had finished his work on that first visit, his imagination was no longer needed.
The other thing not present, or least not used at Peggy's cabin were razors. The bushy red hair that filled the deep caverns under Peggy's skinny arms was long and grew thickly, and if her armpits had ever felt a razor it had to have been many moons ago.
That had put Mac off at first because this was something his generation had been conditioned against, but the more he saw it the more he got to like the look. It wasn't for everybody but it was perfect for Peggy and underlined her free spirited nature. Her legs were also unshaven but unlike her underarms the hair on her calves was faint and sparse.
Faint and sparse would not describe what was under Peggy's panties when she wore them, because her wild untrimmed bush was too widespread to be contained even when she did have a pair on with the dense pubic growth ranging high, low and wide.
How did the plumber know all this? That was simple. Peggy had showed it to him. All of herself without hesitation or shame, and after he got done with whatever bogus repair needed doing at the Pierce place this day he would probably see it Peggy again in all her natural glory. Since business wasn't all the great lately, that was fine with Mac but he knew that even if he had a lot of jobs lined up he would always find time for Peggy.
***
"Hi Peggy," Mac said as he lugged his tool box up the steps and into the simple cabin at the top of the hill. "Which one is it this time?"
"Hey Mac honey. The bathroom sink. Started dripping a couple of days ago," Peggy explained.
"The Fillmore East," Mac said as he looked at the logo on the tan shirt as well as the pendulous breasts that hung free underneath the baggy top.
