In my experience, the last job on a Friday – which is the last job of the week – is usually a pain in the ass. Something always goes wrong: we're missing a part, the people have water pipes from 1922, hell, the van even ran out of gas one week. So when Ray and I walked up a flagstone sidewalk through a picture-perfect little suburban lawn on this particular Friday at 4:10 I just knew something was gonna be fucked up.
Ray knocks on the door and calls out "Miller Plumbing!" After a couple seconds we hear the pounding of someone running barefooted and suddenly I started thinking maybe this job wasn't going to be such a disaster after all. The door was opened by this little blonde, couldn't have been more than 5'2", with blue eyes and these puffy, Angelina Jolie type of lips. She looked fresh out of high school. She had on one of those swimsuit cover-up things; it looked like an oversized shirt made out of gauze, and I could see right through it. She had a banging body, flat where it should be flat and curvy where it should be curvy. The only thing that kept her from being naked was that gauzy shirt and a light pink bikini. She gave us a deprecating glance and asked "Can I help you?" as if we were alive only to annoy her.
"Miller Plumbing," Ray repeated. "You have a four o'clock appointment to have a toilet serviced?"
The girl rolled her eyes. What a little snot. "Oh ya," she sighed, already turning and walking away. "Mom said you were coming. It's the guest bathroom, this way." We stepped over the threshold and followed her down a hallway. Her tight little ass sashayed back and forth in front of us. She wordlessly pointed to a door on the left and then walked to the kitchen, leaving Ray and I to work in the bathroom. The job looked simple enough, and all their fixtures and plumbing were practically brand new. Across the hall in the kitchen the girl was blabbing on the phone about somebody else's boyfriend and giggling incessantly. I eavesdropped as I unscrewed the bolts on the back of the toilet seat. She was laughing and said "Oh my God, I can't believe you sucked his dick!" My ears perked up. "I can't believe you sucked a dick at ALL," she continued. "It's disgusting...NO I will NOT!" the girl shrieked, then erupted in another peal of laughter. "You have NO idea who the first guy I would see is – there are these two nasty old guys here working on the toilet. If I didn't blow Ryan Draffen there's no WAY I would do it to these guys – GROSS!" and then more laughter.
I don't know if this dumb bitch didn't think we could hear her or just didn't care. Either way, I wanted to go smack the phone out of her hand. For one thing, I'm not old. Forty three ain't old. And I'm not nasty. I'm just a regular Joe Six Pack. I gave that stuck-up cunt 20 years before she has skin cancer and a couple of failed plastic surgeries under her belt. I was getting more furious by the second. "Are you hearing this shit?" I asked Ray. He grunted as he squeezed his body back between the bathtub and the toilet.
"Little bitch," he muttered, but without much conviction.
"I'd like to teach her a lesson," I griped. I handed Ray a clamp. "Let's do it," I suddenly blurted.
"Do what?" Ray asked, his attention focused mainly on the task at hand.
"Let's teach her a little lesson in respect," I elaborated. Ray stopped working on the toilet and looked up at me. "C'mon, mommy and daddy are gone...She needs to learn when to keep her fucking voice down."
"Are you serious?" Ray asked, and by the look on his face I could tell that he knew I was serious and was trying to figure out if he wanted to get serious, too.
"Just have a little fun with her...She'll like it," I urged. Ray gave me a long, silent stare, then said "Let me finish this fucking toilet first."
Twenty minutes later he was standing up and we were putting our tools away. I went to close the toolbox when Ray stopped me. He flipped the lid back open and grabbed a roll of duct tape. "In case she needs a little convincing," he whispered. I nodded. We walked out of the bathroom. "Hello?" Ray called out. There was no answer. "Hello?" he said, louder this time. There was still no answer. Then came a faint thump from the ceiling. "She must be upstairs...should we go find her?" Ray asked.
"Well she ain't coming to find us, obviously," I answered. We found the stairs and climbed up to the second floor. She was in the first room off to the right, putting some clothes away in a dresser drawer. Her room was obnoxiously girly – frilly pink shit everywhere, a four poster canopy bed covered with stuffed animals, all white furniture. This bitch needed to grow up. I nodded toward her, and Ray and I stepped into the room. I cleared my throat. The girl practically jumped out of her skin and whipped around.
"Do you guys MIND?" she snarled. "You scared the shit out of me!"
"Sorry about that," I said. "We're done with the bathroom. Anyone here we can talk to about payment?"
"You're gonna have to talk to my dad about that some other time, I don't have any money for you," the girl said. She started to turn back around and I seized my opportunity. I lunged at her, grabbing her arms and pinning them behind her back. Ray quickly ripped off a piece of duct tape and slapped it across her mouth just in time to stifle what probably would have been a piercing scream. The girl started flopping and flailing and kicking in my arms like a bronco, although she was so tiny that it was practically no effort at all to subdue her. Ray and I looked at each other for a second, like we were unsure of what to do now that we had her.
"What do we do with her?" Ray asked. I looked around the room.
"Help me take her over to the bed," I said. We dragged the girl over to the bed. I first had thought about getting her up on the mattress, but then I noticed the cross bar at the foot of the bed between the bedposts. "Tape her arms to that cross bar down there." Ray got the duct tape back out and we got her down on her knees, her feet under the bed and her back against the footboard, and then taped her wrists and elbows to the cross bar. We stood back and looked at her. She glared back at us before giving a muffled scream and throwing her body back and forth against her restraints. They held beautifully.
"I wanna see those titties, " Ray said. He squatted down beside the girl and ripped the flimsy cover-up off in one easy tear, then pulled the cups of the girl's bikini top down so that they bunched up under her breasts, pushing them up and together. She had great tits. I'm not really into girls with gigantic breasts. This girl had Cs at the most, with puffy little pink nipples. I went and knelt next to Ray and we both took one of her tits in our hand and started squeezing them. They were nice and firm. I fiddled with her nipple a little, got it nice and hard, pinched it and rolled it between my thumb and index finger. It had been a long time since I had a pair of tits this young in my hands and I was enjoying it. I licked the pad of my thumb and rubbed my spit over the tip of her titty, getting it slick and shiny. The girl was still grunting and struggling – futilely, I should add. Ray bent down and started sucking on the tit he had been fondling. I stood up and looked around the room a bit. On the wall over her bed the name "Brittany" hung in carved wooden lettering.
"I heard you don't like sucking cock, Brittany," I said, stepping nearer to her. Ray pulled his mouth of her nipples and looked up at me.
"How did you know her name?" he asked.