Margaret Harrison
At forty-three, she had a fantastic body, slender legs, jaw-dropping tits, thick black hair, and a face with a perpetual haughty look. Margaret Harrison thought she was superior to men in general and men who worked with their hands in particular.
My name is Bob Gray. I own a general contracting business. She had called for an estimate. Her husband had purchased the house last year and wanted to renovate it and make it their permanent home. But the plans were put on hold when he died suddenly. Now, after a couple of months, she was ready to get started.
I did some checking up on her. Her husband was seventy-five, and they had been married fifteen years. She had sold her own business recently, a lingerie shop that had been like a hobby to her. By all accounts, she was very well off.
We settled on Monday at one o'clock for an initial meeting. I arrived on time. To say she looked fantastic was a gross understatement. The dress she wore was a light blue material, looking uncomfortably tight. She showed a decent amount of cleavage, and her nylon-covered legs were displayed as the dress ended well above her knees. But the sexiest part of her was her self-confidence. She was the type of woman who always was in control. She offered me a drink, but I declined as she finished her wine and poured another. I couldn't stop imagining how stuck up she would be, tied to her bed with my dick in her mouth, her spirit broken. Mentally I added these things to my list of projects.
We toured the house. And the amount of renovation she wanted done was extensive. I told her I would have the estimate in two weeks. She agreed and told me I could walk around the house and would be in the study if I wanted her. The massive house had a full basement with three floors above it.
This would be a huge undertaking. It would last at least a year if everything went right.
I knocked on the door to the study and walked in. She was sitting at her desk. As she turned to face me, her dress crept up, exposing her legs so that her stocking tops were revealed. I hadn't seen regular stockings on a woman since my ex-wife had surprised me on Valentine's Day years ago. I quickly averted my eyes as she slowly pulled her dress down without a hint of embarrassment.
"I hope you saw everything you needed to see. She said softly."
You could read that in two ways, and I took it to mean her legs. Interestingly, few women wear nylons these days, much less regular stockings. But she seemed pretty comfortable in them.
I offered my hand, saying it was a pleasure to meet her and would be calling soon. She gave me a sly smile, saying.
"I think you will work out fine; I look forward to working with you."
I was going crazy imagining all sorts of scenarios of us having sex in all the rooms. I had just turned thirty-five, never having been with an older woman.
The two weeks crawled by. I had to keep jerking off. Otherwise, I would end up having my dick write the estimate. I had to ensure I wasn't forgetting something important, like my profit. I finished the contract, reading and rereading it twenty times, and called her to schedule an appointment for Friday afternoon.
She had given me no signs of anything besides business except the flash of her stockings, which I was probably blowing out of proportion.
I was disappointed to see two cars in the driveway as I arrived at the house.
I knocked on the door, and she answered with an older man she introduced as her attorney. Thankfully, he was leaving.
"Well, what have you got for me." she smiled, showing perfect white teeth.
"But first, let me make you a drink."
The drink was strong, and if I were cynical, I would think maybe she was trying to get me drunk. Hoping I would screw up the contract. She seemed the type of woman who earned their way in business by any means.
I carefully nursed my drink as we started going over the plans. She didn't balk at any of my proposals. It took over two hours to finish. Finally, we were done.
She sat back, slowly crossing her legs. I can still hear the faint rustle of her stockings as she slowly adjusted the hem of her dress.
She had that superior rich bitch look. Raising one eyebrow, she said.
"Your bid is certainly the highest, but your attention to detail is the best. Besides, I like you. I think I've found my contractor."
She smiled warmly and laid her hand on my arm. Despite her drinking, her brown eyes sparkled.
"I miss my husband; I handled all the finances when he was alive, but he had final approval. Now, there's only me. I have to trust you, but can I?"
I snapped out of the trance she was creating. The room was warm, and her perfume filled the air.
"Of course, you can. I've been in business for ten years with a Triple-A rating; you can check with my previous customers."
"Oh, I did, and you do check out. You look so young to be a contractor. Can I ask your age?"
"Of course, I'm thirty-five."
I had done some checking on her; she had just turned forty-three.
She agreed on my price and put down the deposit, and we would start on Monday.
"I just have one question, Bob. I hope your men are trustworthy. I mean, I'd be alone in the house, and if they wanted to try something, I couldn't stop them. I've found that common workers have trouble controlling themselves regarding attractive women. I saw a movie recently where workers assaulted a woman in her house."
Well, I thought to myself, somebody's got some fantasies.
"I'll vouch for them. They are all professionals. And this isn't the movies."
"That's reassuring, so I'll see you Monday morning."
I couldn't wait to return to my home and jerk off. This woman's body was driving me crazy.
Monday came, and I drove to the house to meet with my foreman, Bill. He was ready to start. The only section that wouldn't be touched was her bedroom and adjoining study. She came to see us, letting us know she would be out for the day.
Her choice of clothes was interesting. She wore a snug-fitting grey suit with a crisp white blouse. But the showstopper was the off-black stockings and shiny black heels. She walked to the garage in total command, not a hair out of place. At the same time, our eyes focused on her short skirt and her tight ass as she took small steps across the driveway.
She pulled her BMW next to where we were standing, unmindful of the amount of leg she was showing.
"You have my cell number if you need me."
She called out, flashing that brilliant smile and not attempting to cover her stocking tops and garter clasps. These leg shows can't both be by accident. I watched her car disappear down the driveway, my dick as hard as a brick.
The demolition was well underway when I came back at noon. The day went quickly, with no sign of her. Unbeknownst to me, one of my guys had blocked the garage door with some lumber.
They all left at four, and I was checking on their work When I heard a horn blowing. I walked out and saw what had happened. She was definitely angry. She rolled down her window, eyes flashing.
