Somehow part of another story became attached to Tools of the Trade when it was first published! I have no idea how that happened. It wasn't even written by me!! I resubmitted Tools of The Trade, and hope the problem does not re-occur. None of the text from ToTT has been altered.
This is a work of pure fiction. All characters are fictional and not meant to represent any persons living or dead. The story deals with 'Reluctance' and is not meant to imply sex taken by force against anyone's will.
A/N: Significant changes have been made to the first draft of this story. Huge thanks, editor L31_DECODED, for your invaluable help and support!
oooooo
Jenny Francis was a quiet young woman. She was a healthy, slender 19 year old but she didn't go to nightclubs wearing slutty clothes and she wasn't attached to her mobile phone 24/7. She had a part-time job at an animal shelter and tended to enjoy romance novels instead of the latest celebrity gossip. She didn't worry about the latest fads or trends and she was cautious around other women her age who talked loudly about sex and how many parties they'd reeled home drunk from. She wasn't exactly a prude, she just didn't like their screeching voices and the way they shoved their tits in everyone's faces, even in the corner shop at 8am while people were buying milk. At the same time, she often wondered how they could be so confident, so brash. So happy to display all the mounds of flesh that she normally kept hidden. Maybe confidence was just something you were born with.
Jenny Francis wasn't depressed or even cripplingly shy, she just liked to keep to herself. She still lived with her mother Rosalie in a small suburban house at the end of a quiet street, but she was looking forward to moving into a place of her own once she had begun working full-time.
She was also still a virgin. She came in for much teasing about it, but she tried not to let it bother her. She did think a lot about men and the things they did. She owned a stash of erotic fiction and she would regularly take out a raunchy novel and titillated herself with stories about men with huge cocks ravishing reluctant women in the woods. These stories always gave her a heady tingling sensation not only between her legs, but all over her body, and even, it seemed, in her mind. She wondered what it would be like to be ravished against her will by a handsome, assertive man who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. She imagined being tied to a tree and licked all over by a hunter or a woodsman or even a hirsute, half-crazed mountain man, their tongues probing and prodding her all over. These men, of course, would always be hunky and virile, manly and macho. Not like the weedy office-bound joggers she saw every morning, lifting their pale legs in the air while they leaned against their cars and talked non-stop into their phones with their agonized little voices.
Jenny was certainly attractive enough to entice men. She stood around 5'5" and weighed around 110lbs. There was nothing particularly outstanding about her oval face and straight brown hair, but her green eyes were clear and bright and unaffected by drugs or alcohol and her mouth was blessed with naturally pink, bow-shaped lips. Her skin was fresh and smooth and she wore just the barest amount of foundation makeup so as not to clog her pores. Her breasts were nicely rounded and tipped with pale nipples that she sometimes studied in the mirror, trying to decide whether the left one was slightly higher than the right. At night she would sometimes touch her nipples and imagine her lone woodsman nibbling on them until they stiffened and puckered into little rock-hard pebbles.
At the other end of the scale, Rosalie was not quiet in the least. Rosalie was into alternative medicine and was training to be a practitioner, and the last two weeks had been particularly noisy because she was having the basement converted into a work area. Rosalie knew exactly how she wanted her work area to look, but the workmen she called in were always laughing and shaking their heads over her ideas of soothing lava lamp displays and aroma diffusers as though she were an airhead stuck in the 90s instead of a woman who was making something of herself.
The workmen always arrived in teams. There was 'Dave and Frank' the electricians, 'Joe and Gary' the joiners, 'Phil and Mackie' the plasterers, plus the odd assortment of random apprentices who drifted in and out carrying toolkits and pretending to look busier than they were. They drank tea and took the piss and laughed and shouted and always left a mess behind that Rosalie and Jenny spent hours cleaning up afterwards, even though they always insisted they'd left the place 'exactly as they found it.'
Jenny worked Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and the occasional Saturday shift. On Tuesday afternoon, as the workmen clattered around in the basement, drilling and banging and talking at the tops of their voices, Rosalie poked her head around Jenny's bedroom door. "I'm going out," she said. "Crystal forgot she had a dental appointment and she needs someone to pick the kids up from school. You don't mind, do you? It's just Joe and Gary down in the basement today. They won't disturb you- well, apart from the banging." Rosalie and Jenny both pulled identical faces as a crash came from somewhere downstairs followed by an audible curse. "We'll be lucky if they don't bring the whole house down one of these days," she sighed.
"I don't mind," Jenny smiled. "I like Joe and Gary. If I get bored I'll go and make them some tea and watch them smash holes in the wall."
Rosalie laughed. "They'd better bloody not smash holes in my walls! Anyway, I don't know how long I'll be, so tell them to just finish up and leave when they're ready." Rosalie glanced at her wristwatch. "Honestly, that Crystal. She'd forget her bloody head if it wasn't screwed on."
Jenny listened to the sounds of her mother pounding down the stairs and shouting to the men that Jenny was around if they needed anything. She heard their cheery voices and then the slam of the front door. Unlike Jenny, Rosalie never did anything quietly. After a few more moments the car door banged and the engine purred and then Rosalie was gone, off to save her kooky friend's life once again.
Jenny turned a page of her latest romance novel, 'The Embrace of A Stranger', in which the heroine, Geneva, was being pursued by a man she barely knew. He was tall, broad and handsome, and Jenny wondered why Geneva was even running. Jenny's whole body tingled when she read passages that described the man and his lust for the beautiful woman who kept slipping off his radar. She immediately launched into one of her more erotic fantasies of being tied up and ravished by the man's hot, probing tongue.
"Fucking crappy piece of shit!" came a loud shout from downstairs, followed by the distinctive sound of Joe laughing like a drain. Jenny sighed and shook her head, her fantasy immediately dissolving. Gary Mills was always swearing at everything. His tools, his suppliers, his van, when he dunked his biscuits into his tea and they broke off. Everything was always a crappy piece of shit.
Jenny knew she wasn't going to get much reading done without her mother downstairs to keep an eye on the men. She closed her book and thumped her way downstairs, calling, "what have you done now, Gary?"
Joe came to the top of the basement staircase and winked at her as she descended to the hallway. "The numpty's only broken the handle off his brand new screwdriver that he bought just yesterday."
Jenny shook her head. "Is there anything he hasn't broken yet?"
"Yeah, his promise to keep being an impossible cunt," Joe said, then bit his lip. "Shit, sorry. I mean, fuck. I mean, sorry. Shouldn't keep swearing, should I."
Jenny blushed slightly. "It's all right," she smiled. "Anyway, I'm going to make some tea. Fancy a cup?"
"When have we ever said no to tea?" Joe grinned. "OI, GARY," he yelled down the basement stairs. "Want some tea, cunt?"
"Fuck off, twat," came the reply.
"That's a yes," said Joe. He followed Jenny into the kitchen. "So. Rosie's gone on a mission, has she?"
"Yep." Jenny filled the kettle and switched it on. "Another one of Crazy Crystal's last-minute crises. Mum goes running every time. It's a good thing Crystal usually returns the favour, eventually."
