Author’s Note: This story is a bit of a stretch assignment for me. I rarely venture into erotic fiction, but today’s characters and writing prompts led me in that direction. I’ve italicized the writing prompts so you can follow the glide path of the story. Please judge kindly – Thanks.
You would think that investing your life in a neighborhood or community for 27 years would get you somewhere, but with the recent string of drug arrests made, Vidalia’s home value plummeted. It was time to sell the house and move to a condo, but to even get a reasonable price, the house needed repairs.
Out of the fog, there emerged a balding man with a tool belt and a toolbox. He wasn’t much to look at, so he went largely unnoticed. He performed maintenance at the low income high rise, but with so many tenants returning to prison, he would walk the neighborhood to perform minor repairs on his free time. Vidalia invited him in to discuss the repairs the realtor said were needed on the house.
The smell of lemon cookies floated into the room when Handyman Ralph entered Vidalia’s home. She handed him a sheet of paper with the recommendations from the realtor. She said, “Excuse me” and walked back to the kitchen to check on the cookies. “Have a look around.”
Ralph walked to the bathroom first with his face buried in the sheet. He stood at the threshold and slowly looked around at the out of fashion wallpaper, the cracked tile, the tarnished faucets and the peeling laminate countertop. Next, he shuffled his way downstairs. He glanced at the old water heater and the ancient furnace. He looked at his feet and sighed over the asbestos tile, half hidden under faded carpet. He took another look at the realtor’s requirements and he shook his head.
Vidalia called from upstairs, “Would you like a cookie?”
Handyman Ralph ascended the stairs and sat at her small kitchen table as she poured a cup of hot orange tea and set a plate of warm lemon cookies in front of him.
There was no way to foresee what was coming next. It began innocently enough. Handyman Ralph sat at Vidalia’s table, sipping the hot tea and enjoying a morsel of lemon cookie when she touched his hand. It had been so long since she had a man in the house. She didn’t even realize the hunger until she stood over him, massaging his broad shoulders.
Ralph realized that it wasn’t just the tea heating up the room. He turned. Their eyes met. Then their lips met. Ralph turned his chair. Vidalia leaned in closer.
She touched his chest and moved down. Their lips met again and he closed his eyes. She glided onto his lap and touched the tools on this toolbelt one by one, playing with the Double D inscribed in the leather.
Ralph’s powerful, calloused hands gently grasped her sides, moving higher and higher towards her breasts. Her light sweater was soft to the touch. Together they shared the pubescent passion of feeling love with their clothes on. Her body had softened with age. His body was hardened by his daily toils, as chiseled as the tools around his belt and as unyielding as the tools in his toolbox. She could feel the knowledge inside him. She knew that he carried within him the tricks of the trade and that she only needed him to reach into his toolbox and have him begin his work. She cradled his head in her bosom.
They may have been sharing a dormant passion, but he felt the aged putty in his hands of this forgotten woman from the past. She was the spinster aunt who always arrived alone to family gatherings, which resonated with the lifestyle he had also fallen into. He opened his eyes and saw in her lightly creased face a reflection of himself and a prophesy of his near future. What was it that this balding man and this woman named after an onion were doing?
His hesitancy vanished as he leaned into her face for another kiss. His arms cradled her like a piece of sheet music on a music stand. As the conductor, he raised his baton and began counting off the measures to start the symphony. She felt it and, like the silent air of the concert hall, she was ready to be filled with the beautiful music.
They were interrupted by his phone. Ralph moaned. The phone rang a second time. “Thank God it’s Saturday,” he said sarcastically. Vidalia touched his cheek and whispered into his ear, “I work from home during the week.”
The phone rang a third time and Handyman Ralph reached into his pocket to answer the old Nokia phone. Vidalia stood up and straightened herself after their passionate make out. Ralph continued to receive instructions over the phone. The caller refused to let him hang up the phone to say goodbye to his host. With the dour face that he entered with, Handyman Ralph left, carrying his toolbox in one hand and his phone in the other. Vidalia stood in the doorway and watched him disappear again into the fog from whence he came.