My uncle is custodian of some high-rise units. He's a very efficient handyman, able to turn his hand to carpentry, plumbing, and electrical works. Only the minor stuff, of course; the sort of thing the average husband can stuff up around the house.
I, too, have competent skills in these areas, my father permitting me to help him around the house ever since I was old enough to carry his toolbox.
Those skills were the reason that I was tapped to fill in for him for a few weeks when he broke his leg. When I came to see him I was properly sympathetic, asking him how he managed to break his leg.
"Tripped over the bloody cat," he snarled. "Landed the wrong way and my leg was gone. Blasted animal."
"Where'd this happen? Maybe you can sue the owner."
"It happened in my own damn bedroom," he said through gritted teeth.
"Ah, I didn't know you owned a cat," I said. Actually, I always thought he hated them.
"I don't," he yelled. "I have no fucking idea where it came from, how it got in, or how it left, but it tripped me up, scratched me up as it clambered over my groaning body, and vanished."
"Unfortunate," I admitted, trying not to laugh.
"Not as unfortunate as that cat will be if I ever find it," he muttered.
I moved into his spare room. My uncle was mobile, but only just. He'd handle contacting any outside source we required to address any problems and do the general bookwork. I would fix any little problems that came up, letting him know if I considered a problem outside the scope of my abilities.
I wasn't overworked, although I was surprised at the number of minor problems that required a handyman that could arise. Sticking doors, broken door handles and locks, globes needing replacing that an old couple couldn't manage, an occasional washer needing replacing.
After a few days we got a call one morning that a woman's shower was broken and could we please fix it. When asked for a definition of what broken meant she said the bit that squirts water on you had come off.
It seemed to me that it would just be a case of screwing the rose back onto the shower. I took some plumbing tape to ensure that I had a decent seal and toddle off to look at the problem.
I knocked on the appropriate door, calling out that I was there about the shower. The door opened and a young lady was standing there looking at me.
"You're not the Custodian," she snapped.
"His nephew. He has a broken leg and I'm helping out."
"Oh, yeah. I heard about that. This way."
She turned and walked away and suddenly I was wondering what I'd got myself into. I hadn't really noticed what she was wearing when she answered the door because she was standing a little close and I was looking at her face while I talked to her. A very pretty face, with pouting red lips, bright blue eyes, and a shock of untidy blonde hair.
Now that she was walking away I could see more of her. A lot more. That thing she was wearing gave meaning to the word diaphanous. The material seemed to have a slight glow to it but it did nothing to impede the view of the interested observer, and I was very interested. Obviously recently out of bed (which explained the messed up hair) and equally obviously not wearing any underwear. (Unless it was a thong of the same material.)
I was like fu-uk me. Talk about a cliché right out of a porno. The pretty young thing meets the handsome plumber and lust takes control.
She stalked into the bathroom in front of me and snatched something off the bathroom cabinet.
"Here," she said, handing me the rose.
I took one look at the rose and knew it was cactus. Someone stuck a real cheap one up at some time. Probably a tenant pinching the proper one and putting this thing in its place. It hadn't come unscrewed. It had rusted off. A quick check of the arm showed that that was pretty rat-shit as well. Still, the socket at the wall was good.
"This is junk," I told her, and it was a real struggle to lift my eyes above her chest. That nightie was doing nothing to hide what she had and she had a lot. "I'll have to replace the complete shower. Fortunately my uncle has a couple in stock. I'll be back with a replacement in five minutes."
"Fine," she said, folding her arms in front of her, which meant her breasts were pressed up into even greater prominence. I couldn't help but look.
"What are you looking at," she snapped at me and I hastily looked elsewhere.
"Um, sorry, sorry, it's just the total situation has me confused. I'll be right back."
I bolted. Hopefully the silly twit would go and put on a house robe or something. She'd certainly flushed when she'd realised that I was eyeing her off.
I nipped down to my uncle's unit, grabbed the spare shower set, and was on my way back. Yes, she'd put a robe. Someone should find time to tell her that a second diaphanous item of clothing didn't provide much more coverage than the single item. It just made the glimpses all that more erotic.
"Be done if a jiffy, Miss," I told her, hurrying past and into the bathroom.
