Fixer-Upper

So why hadn't the boys snuck in the bathroom to surprise her?

Katherine toweled off her hair and started pulling on her clothes. She had brought her cutoffs she had made from some old pink sweatpants, the ones she had cut off a little too high so that she felt uncomfortable wearing them outside. She also had a pair of tiny pink panties with little angles on them and her favorite old tee-shirt; the tight, white London Underground shirt with the subway map printed on it.

As she pulled the shirt on she realized that she'd forgotten to bring a bra and the thin fabric of the old shirt clearly showed every pore of her damp skin and darker pink hue of her stubbornly erect nipples. As she prepared to step out of the bathroom she clutched the trash bag full of dirty clothes to her chest. Reconsidering, she let it fall to her side, exposing her body through the damp, thin material.

Her body tingling, she stepped out into the cooler air of the hallway and felt her nipples constrict further. She felt so exposed, as good as naked in the skimpy shorts and see through top. As she walked down the hall in what seemed like slow motion, she saw the boys bent over their books at the coffee table in the front room. In a quivering voice that didn't seem like her own she said, "Thanks for the shower."

The guys looked up and their jaws dropped open as their gaze gravitated to her chest. She stood, breathing shallowly as seconds ticked by. Eric turned his head ever so slightly to arch a questioning brow at Matt. Matt just kept looking at her. He said quietly, "Sure, um, anytime."

Suddenly the guys eyes dropped, embarrassed to be so obviously ogling their neighbor's tits. Katherine felt even more exposed now that they were self consciously not looking at her and she brought the trash bag back up to her chest involuntarily.

"Thanksagainbye," she said quickly and was gone.

Back in her attic apartment atop her gutted old house, Katherine felt physically exhausted after the day's work as well as sick with embarrassment at her behavior. Restless and agitated, she tried reading a book to calm her nerves, but she kept scanning the same paragraph over and over, not comprehending the words. She finally let herself think of her actions back at the boy's house. Perhaps she was blowing it out of proportion. Maybe she didn't seem as desperate as she thought. But when she suddenly remembered that she had left the Penthouse magazine spread out on the boy's bathroom counter, opened to the male-male-female pictorial, she felt a hollow pit form in her stomach. They'd know she had stood in their filthy bathroom, fantasizing about getting double fucked by two young studs. They'd surely figure out why her shower had taken so long and what she'd been hoping for when she walked out in a wet see-through tee-shirt.

Groaning in shame, she crawled into bed and curled up under the blankets; giving up on the rest of the day. It was only six in the evening.

She slept. While she slept she had The Dream. She'd had it many times before. It started showing up in her sleep as her marriage to Jack began to grow stale. It could start in any number of ways, but the point of The Dream was that it always ended the same.

This time it started with Katherine working on the house, tearing plaster and lathe off the walls with the hook end of a crow bar. For what seemed like hours she kept at it, reliving the day's drudgery in her sleep. Then she was still working on the house, but the house was a log cabin on a dusty plain. She was outside in the sun, hewing long pine logs with a heavy adze. She wore a thin, white cotton dress that fell to the tops of her cowboy boots, but swooped down the slopes of her breasts to just above her nipples in front. The work was hot and her sweat soaked into the dress, causing it to cling to her body.

Now The Dream fell into its usual groove as cowboys began to show up. They stood at a distance and watched her work. She wished they would help, but she wasn't going to beg for their assistance. She was struggling with one of the roughly hewn logs, trying to lift it up over her head and set it in place, but it was too much for her to do alone. The cowboys started laughing at her as she continued to struggle with the huge heavy log. The harder she grunted and strained, the more they pointed and laughed. She knew she was failing and she felt ashamed.

Then, as usual, the Indians showed up. Wild red men swooped out of the dusty plain causing the cowboys to break and run around her, screaming like idiots. Arrows started flying and cowboys started falling around her in piles, dead with arrows in their heads, necks, chests; everywhere. Katherine began laughing at them as they died with cowardly looks of terror etched into their ugly faces. Heedless of the danger, she got grim satisfaction watching the cruel cowboys die all around her in wild panic as she stood calmly and waited for her fate with serene grace.

Then the cowboys were all dead and the Indians charged at her. But she was not afraid. She was scooped up and she found herself on the back of a barebacked palomino, riding through the plains and desert, up into the red sandstone hills. She clung to the brave in front of her, grasping the firm muscles of his chest, feeling safe on the speeding horse as she pressed her body into his back.

Then they were in a quiet glade by a bubbling stream. Dogwoods shimmered and cattails rustled in the mountain breeze as she and the brave trotted into the grassy spot along the brook on the panting horse. A firm hand seized her and she was thrown down onto the grass. Her clothes were ripped from her body in a quick yank and she tumbled over onto her back, naked and panting in the dappled shade. Above her stood two Indian braves (usually it was a single brave, but this time The Dream had two) a tall thin one and a shorter heavily muscled one. They glowered down at her, simply watching her writhe in the warm grass in expectation of what was going to come next. She looked up and could see their erections raising up, pushing aside their buckskin loincloths. But they just stood there; looking down at her while she waited and waited for her fate to be delivered.

Then, as usual, Katherine woke up. She looked at the clock. It was eleven P.M.

Her sheets were wet with her sweat and her pussy was damp and hungry. She started to masturbate again, rubbing her fingers over her swollen clitoris, but that wasn't what she was aching for. She wanted so badly to be filled, penetrated, fucked. She dug out her vibrator, but it was small; harmless. She tested slipping it into herself but it did not bring her the kind of satisfaction she needed right now.

In her nightshirt she stepped out onto the balcony into the cool night, hoping the fresh air would calm her down. Three stories up with the trees all around; open to the sky but surrounded by a four foot wall; as big as a small room at eight foot by ten; the balcony was her private outdoor spot in the crowded neighborhood and Katherine's favorite part of the house. The moon was ducking in and out of clouds and the breeze was rustling the old trees that surrounded her. She looked off into the trees and over the rooftops, waiting for her mind and libido settle down.

She could hear activity at Eric and Matt's house. She heard music and laugher, men and women's voices. Her stomach turned when she thought how she was probably one of the livelier anecdotes of the evening's conversation.

As she looked down at the boy's house she thought she saw movement in their back yard. It was hard to tell if it was real or just an illusion caused by the shifting shadows of the moonlight through the trees. Peering down into the darkness her eyes slowly resolved shapes and patterns until finally she realized what she was looking at. On the edge of the picnic table leaned a person, a male, one of the boys perhaps, she couldn't be sure. His head was obscured by leaves, but she could see he wore a dark shirt and lighter pants. In front of that person was another figure, a woman, squatting down, face at pelvis level, her mass of dark hair bobbing back and forth rhythmically. Katherine wished she could see more while simultaneously wishing she could see less. Finally she could distinctly hear a masculine voice gasp a satisfied "ohhhh" and she watched as the couple returned to the house hand in hand.

In a few minutes she was dressed in a dark blue, knee length skirt and a green, sleeveless cotton top; carefully descending the through the dark house. She hated walking through the creepy and creaking old house at night so she stepped into the back yard with relief. She paused a few seconds to be certain there were no more late night blow jobs occurring in the yard next door before going around the house to her car out front.

She got into her Malibu and drove out of town on Route One. She drove north for half an hour, knowing where she was headed, feeling ashamed already but trying not to think about it.

The building was just off the highway. It was a windowless, cinderblock box, painted dark brown with the word "ADULT" written large across the front. Next door was a seedy looking bar. She had never been in a pornography store before and she felt nervous at the thought. The building itself looked so damned sleazy and intimidating. She decided she would stop off at the bar first.

The bar seemed to be called "BAR". She entered to the smell of stale beer, stale cigarette smoke and stale desperate lives. The clientele late on a Sunday night was sad and unappealing. She paused at the corner of the bar nearest the exit and waved the bartender over.

"Yeah?" he said. He was an ancient old geezer with a slobbery cigar tucked in the corner of his mouth.

"Two six packs of Heineken to go, and a shot of tequila."

"Lime?"

"Yes, please."

Her entrance had aroused the locals who craned their necks to see the fresh meat who had just walked in. She could feel their eyes on her as they worked at prying off her clothes from across the room with their bleary, beer and whisky addled brains.

The bartender shuffled back over and put the brown bag with two six packs on the bar next to the slice of lime and two shots of tequila. "Feller down there says this is for you," he said indicating the extra shot.

"Oh," was all she could say. She looked up without thinking and saw a skeezy looking guy, probably about twenty years her senior with a sad comb-over wave at her.

Katherine pushed two twenties at the bartender and said, "Keep the change." She quickly threw back both of the shots without the lime, gagging a bit on the warm, potent liquor. She saw the would-be lothario who had bought her the drink get up and start sauntering her way so she quickly grabbed the sack and hurried out the door. She could hear the Comb-over guy inside shout "Stuck up bitch" as the door closed behind her.

The beer safely stowed away in the trunk of her Malibu, Katherine gathered up her courage to enter "ADULT". Her brain screamed at her to abort her plan, but aching animal need impelled her forward. Her base instincts finally broke the bonds of inertia and she strode purposefully toward the glass door, which had been painted black from the inside.

She entered not knowing what she'd find. She was surprised to discover the front section of the store was stocked with regular magazines and a few dusty looking new and used paperbacks. There was a partition with swinging saloon-type doors leading into a back area. A black plastic sign declared the area "For Adults Only". A raised platform with the check-out counter and cash registers sat straddling either side of the divider, bridging bland literature and lurid filth.

Katherine stepped through the swinging doors into the "adults only" section. As she did, it occurred to her that there was nothing adult about driving to a different town at midnight on a Sunday night to shop for sex toys.

There were a dozen or so people, mostly male, browsing with singular intensity through the magazine and DVD racks. The few who looked up seemed surprised to see a professional looking woman enter before returning their attention to the racks of smut. As Katherine turned this way or that she felt their eyes looking up quickly to inspect her surreptitiously.

The merchandise she was looking for was easy to find. Wrapped in shiny, transparent, vacuum-formed hard plastic, the selection of dildos, vibrators and strap-ons hung like a monument to the ability of capitalism to anticipate and meet any and all the needs of world's sleaziest citizenry. Standing in front of the section were two mismatched women. One, a scrawny, leathery, white-haired woman with a buzz-cut, was decked out in jeans, flannel, a wallet chain and heavy leather biker boots. She was with a large pale woman with long, blue-black hair, a short skirt, fishnet stockings and a tank-top that showed off a faded, misshapen tattoo of a leather clad pin up girl. Her bloated skin and heavy makeup make her age difficult to guess. Katherine walked towards them reluctantly; knowing that backing out now would elicit more attention from her fellow perverts than forging ahead and getting it over with.

The skinny dyke nodded at Katherine while taking low to her big friend. The large girl turned to Katherine and smiled big with impossibly white teeth. "Hey there beautiful," she said, extra friendly. "Hi," Katherine said quietly, trying to focus her attention on the latex and acrylic monstrosities before her. "Wanna double your fun, sugar?" said Big Girl. Katherine shook her head no, perhaps a little too forcefully. Skinny Dyke glowered at her and stalked off as Big Girl tossed her hair and said, "Your loss," as she strutted away toward the register; brandishing a big double headed dildo like prison guard with a truncheon. Katherine turned back to the wall, aware of the eyes inspecting her as a result of her encounter with the lesbians. She looked at Big Girl laughing loudly at the checkout. She was amazed at her confidence. Why couldn't she muster that kind of panache? Katherine was surely better looking. She tried to focus on the wide variety of sex toys arranged on the wall, but her skin was crawling with discomfort. Her eyes spotted a clear acrylic phallus with a clear purple head and a pretty purple ridge spiraling down the shaft to the hard, clear, stylized scrotum. She grabbed it quickly and, obscuring her selection from the rest of the customers with her body, she walked quickly to the register. The man behind the counter was grossly obese, unshaven, and greasy; a cliché scumbag who smiled and looked at her luridly as he slid the bar code over the scanner. "Anything else you need?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "No. Thank you," replied Katherine deliberately. "Sixty six seventy eight," he told her. Katherine tried to hide her surprise at the cost. She hadn't checked the price when she'd picked it up, but she wasn't about to ask him to void out the purchase so she could go back and comparison shop the sex toys. She slid him her MasterCard. After she signed for her purchase and he handed it to her, saying, "Have a good night," she turned to the swinging doors to make her escape. That's when Paul walked in. Paul Davis worked with Katherine. Worse, Paul worked for Katherine, being directly under her in the chain of command. As their eyes met in mutual horror, he went pale while Katherine blushed lividly. Frozen in place facing each other, Katherine heard the man behind the register start to chuckle. "Let's talk Paul," she said and, with a hand on his shoulder, pushed him backward towards the front door. Paul was a nice, clean-cut guy; a staunch Christian, recently married, reliable employee. Katherine and Jack had been at his wedding a little over a year ago and she knew he and his wife were expecting a baby within the month. The shock of seeing him looking at her, then looking down at the black plastic bag in her hand, had kicked into gear the cold eyed corporate tactician within her. He had to be more freaked out, she figured, since he had more to loose. She led him out to her car, ready to lay the law down; dictate the deal. She told him to get in the car. "Look Paul, I know your situation..." He began to cry; not seeping tears, but full-on, hysterical blubbering. "Oh God, Please Jesus, Oh God..." he kept saying between sobs. Finally he choked out, "Please don't tell Laura I'm gay." "You're... You're gay?" she said with honest surprise. "I thought you said you knew," he sobbed. "I knew you were about to have a child and you were sneaking into a porno store on a Sunday night." "Oh GOD," he started blubbering again. "Look I was just saying that..." "I've been good since I married Laura. I haven't strayed in over a year. Now THIS!" "It's just a magazine or a movie or whatever, it's not so bad." She felt honestly sorry for him. He was inconsolable. "No. No. No. It much worse than that. I was... I was coming here for the..." his voice fell to a whisper, "for the glory hole." "Holy fucking shit," she said. "I didn't know there really was such a thing." "Booths five and eight. In the back," he said with obvious expertise. "Whoa." "I know, I know. Please don't tell Laura. I've learned my lesson. I'll never be back." He sagged onto her and started crying uncontrollably again, soaking her shoulder with his tears. "OK, OK. Just buck up kiddo. It'll be OK. I'm not going to tell anyone. Ever. I swear to God." He cried for about ten minutes before Katherine could get him out of her car and escort him to his new Dodge Caravan with the price sticker still on the window. She watched in shock as he drove off. Back at her car door she paused, standing with her keys in her hand. She looked back at the plain, ugly building. She thought about how she hadn't noticed any booths in the back. She told her self not to go back in. Stupid curiosity had already got her into an awkward situation with an employee tonight. What was she expecting to see anyway? She decided, definitely, not to go back in. But still, she stood beside her car, mind racing. As she once again pushed through the swinging doors into the adult section of the store, the clerk leered at her. "Welcome back," he said. "How much do the booths cost?" she asked quietly. "Quarter a minute," he answered, smiling at her. She felt every eye on her as she walked back through the doorway into the hallway in back. It smelled of bleach and stale jism and was rimmed with doors, some open, some closed. She saw booth eight was closed. There was a light on above it. Booth seven was closed and lit too. She followed the numbers backwards. Booth six, five and four all stood waiting. She stepped in five and shut the door. She sat on the hard bench next to an empty box of generic brand tissues. On either side of her she saw a hole about four inches in diameter, drips and streaks of yellowish slime ran from the holes to the ground where small puddles of the same had congealed. Her heart was beating so fast. What the hell was she doing here? She fished into her purse and found two quarters. She plunked them both into the machine. A TV behind what looked like filthy bulletproof glass came to life, showing a thin Asian girl getting screwed in the ass. The sound, low and muddy, broadcast her screams. Was that supposed to be sexy? "Hey," she heard a voice coming from her right and looked down to see a couple of fingers wiggling through the hole. "You, uh, open?" Katherine told herself she needed to get out of here. But instead she said, "Let's see it." There was movement behind the partition, and then a semi-hard cock and a veiny, wrinkled set of balls poked through. Katherine reached out and touched the cock, drew her fingers down the shaft and watched it respond instantly, growing outward towards her. She took it into her hand stroked it gently, felt it grow longer and harder as she handled it. "Come on, suck it," said the voice, muffled through the particleboard wall. Cradling the balls in her hand, leaning forward she brought her face to the unseen stranger's penis. It was fully erect now; perhaps five and a half inches long; not particularly wide. She put her lips on the head and gave it a kiss. "That's right, now suck it," he said. It tasted sour and musky. She put her lips to it again and let the head slip into her mouth. The man behind the partition groaned.