The Thin Line Between Powertools...

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Hardware can be fun!
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The Thin Line Between Powertools and Lingerie

"So Miss, those are your cordless right there. Right next to that is your standard sort of drill and all of them got grounds to them. Extra power units for the cordless are back over that way, but be careful of what you buy cause not all units are going to fit all drills. But if you're lookin' for speed and power you want to go with your standard drill that will plug into any outlet, just so long as it has a ground to it. Those are all reversible and you get the highest rpm out of um' compared to the cordless. But you're gonna go with that you gonna need an extension cord if you don't already got one. Most of them are between aisles twenty-two and twenty-four, on the North end. There are some more over in aisle nineteen right next to the conduits..." the customer service specialist droned on at Stacey.

"Yeah!" Stacey said with an overly enthusiastic tone of sarcasm she was positive was missed by the middle aged man in the bright red smock. "What the hell is an rpm?" Stacey thought to herself. "Okay."

"Well if you need anything else Miss..." his breath attacked her with the stink of old cold cuts and Velveeta.

"For starters you can stop staring at my tits," seemed fitting to her at the time, but she settled for a simple: "No, I think I'll be fine," as she stared blankly at the endless array of power tools that seemed to tower over and around her. Without so much as a goodbye, the "sales representative" was already halfway out of the aisle.

Horsepower, torque deferential, circumference, cutting radius, rpms... "More like s'n'm if you ask me," she whispered to herself in a voice so soft she would have to have left lip gloss marks on the outer ear of anyone close enough to hear. "What the fuck was I thinking?" She felt that she must have had a fit of masochistic tendencies to put herself through anything like tool shopping. The store itself smelled like a mixture of saw dust and motor oil; the customers smelled worse. With the exception of the "oh so helpful" sales rep, the only attention she had received from any of the staff were glares at either her legs or her breasts.

"I knew this skirt was too short," she thought to herself as she stood in the isle tugging nervously on its pleats. She stood centered in the array of saws, sanders, drills, and some things that she could only describe as props taken from some of the slasher movies she had watched as a teenager. And if that wasn't bad enough, Kenny Rogers was starting to play on the over head speakers. Stacey began to doubt the success of her endeavor and began to wonder if something else might be more appropriate.

As the voice of Kenny Rogers belting out "Daytime Friends and Nighttime Lovers" filled her ears like shards of glass her eyes surveyed the seemingly endless array of flashy colored boxes displaying nothing but power tools. She began to aimlessly wander down the aisle, both mentally and physically. "Gee Tomas instead of a new pneumatic drill with full reverse speed wouldn't you rather like me to get a nice lacy teddy with matching stockings and give you a fashion show of sorts? I could do the things you like, and maybe even some of the things you really like..."

Yes, the more her eyes passed meaninglessly over the power tools the more she felt that that would be a far better and more likely idea. She took one long look at the tools as she began to step away. "Maybe next year,"" she whispered as she began to take a step and turn at the same time, walking straight into something and almost falling over in the process.

"Ah fuck!" she muttered louder than she normally would have as she stumbled over her own feet and dropped her purse. As she looked down quickly she realized it was not her foot she had tripped over. She was wearing low healed, size six black pumps, not the large black Nike high tops she had tripped over. Her purse fell to the floor; she felt herself begin the journey to join it as she lost all balance and began to fall. Another "Ah fuck!" ready to come on out.

As if her tool buying adventure was a tragic film suddenly put on "pause," she stopped in mid-fall.

Shocked and confused by her loss of equilibrium she looked up and felt everything come to a total and sudden halt. Her fall, her breathing, her body and her blinking: all the world itself as she looked at the man who held her gently yet securely by each arm, just below the shoulder. He had a young looking face, guarded all around by loose black hair that came down just past his shoulders. There were very few lines on his face as her eyes flashed over it, an almost feminine curvature to his nose and lips. His skin had a slight olive quality. Even in that instant she knew that she had never seen darker brown eyes in her life. They were vexing, almost eerie in their own dark quality. All of this ran through her body, like the shocking jab of a needle in the bare instant between when she first saw his face and the time it took him to help her regain her balance.

Stacey felt her feet stabilize again. "Thank you," she said. She felt a bit wobbly, but she did still stand on her own power. The man's hands left her arms. "Damn do you have to let go?" a little voice in her said playfully.

"Your welcome," he said in a shy sounding baritone. "But first I should say I'm sorry." "Good Christ even his voice is sexy..." She knelt to pick up her purse. "Oh God no I am sorry," she said as she bent at the waist to pick up the bag and then slightly at the knees when she felt the hem of her skirt begin to caress upward along the back of her thigh. "I knew this skirt was too short,"

But he again had beaten her to it. As she bent to the waist, so did he but only faster. He had already grabbed her purse and was moving back up to a standing position, bringing them literally a hair width from bumping heads in the process; Her blonde hair meshing against his dark hair as they passed. She felt a lock of his hair graze across her ear and felt her balance come into question again as this time the shock she felt originated between her legs, but this time was not altogether unpleasant to her.

He handed her the bag. "Thank you again," she muttered and fumbled with the latch on her purse. "Here I almost trample through you and you are still being polite." "You're rambling like an idiot. Stop it."

"Most people would have told me to just get the fuck out of their way by now..."

"That's the way to charm him you dumb shit. Show him how well you cuss." "Oh God I'm so sorry. Pardon my language; I'm sure it looks great me standing here saying "fuck" to a total stranger." With that she just stopped and looked at him, taking a deep breath and sighing. "Well I have made enough of an ass of myself for one day. Thanks again Sir; I will be on my way."

"'Exotica And A'more' here I come." She turned around and began to walk away. "Goodbye cool surprise for Tomas... Goodbye sexy stranger..."

"No wait," he said. "What are you having trouble with? You said something about 'next year' and then I ran into you."

"What?" she said. "Goddamned cheap purse..." she fumbled with the latch.

"I said "what about next year?"

"Oh, I was just talking to myself is all..." she said as she finished securing her purse and Kenny Rogers continued to sing about some great woman who always stood by him. "Wasn't he divorced because of some big sex scandal a few years back...?" The incoherent thought flowed through her head. "Yeah, he was... He was caught fucking the Price Is Right lady Fucked and then got divorced from... Oh who the hell was he married to anyway? Oh shit why won't this God damned purse stay latched!"

Just then, another little voice piped up in her even louder. "Do you realize that you are standing here thinking about Kenny Rogers and acting like a snide little bitch to the only guy in this whole place who has not treated you like an ornament an obstruction or both?" She stopped herself completely and looked back up at him for at least a moment. Long enough for her to start thinking sanely again and give him, her first, a fast, but a thorough look over.

"You my friend are..."

"beautiful"

He was fundamentally thin. Less bulky than her husband but far from skinny. He had long legs covered in loose fitting jeans hanging snug at the upper thigh in just the way to show that he probably had finely muscled legs. The pants were unique to those warn in this store in the aspects that they were both clean and fit snug at the waist. From there a loose shirt moved up his body in a wide chested "V" that ended in those "not broad but not quite not broad" shoulders that had helped initiate this meeting when she had bumped into him. An undone button at the top made a smaller "v" within the larger. Just enough showing to show that there was something worth showing if he so chose to show. "Very tasteful," she thought.

His upper chest muscles stood out well out under the silk-buttoned shirt, pinpoints of nipples were visible even the five-foot distance Stacey stood from him, or she could have just been imagining them in a fit of wishful thinking. Nothing but loose flowing blue silk covering his stomach as it was apparent he was not wearing an undershirt. Resting atop was the beautiful face, thick hair and his eyes she had so readily noticed. All combining to make two things obvious: he had an excellent body to match his face; and her sudden fit of bitchiness towards her day in general was quickly morphing into intense, thick, admiration for this fine example of a man before her now.

"I came here to get an anniversary gift for my husband," she said in a very calm tone of humility. "He's a handy enough guy so I wanted to surprise him with one of these... these... things over here. Problem is that the reason he would be so surprised is that I don't know anything about tools. Hey, the closest I come to working with power tools is my..."

"vibrator I will be wearing out as soon as I get back home and away from you thank you very much..."

"... juice maker! So that also means I have no fucking, oh sorry freaking clue what to buy either." She took a short step back and raised her shoulders, opening her arms slightly and looking honestly flustered. "So I really do apologize for my rudeness." A quick pause and she continued. "But hey..."

"...don't do it. don't do it... oh fuck it your on a roll Stace...See if you can hook just a tiny flirt..."

She took a short step back and raised out her palms to call mock -yet not mock- attention to herself. "Do I really look like the kind of person who comes to hang out in places like this?"

"...Come on come on take it... please take it give me some satisfaction of reason for coming to this god forsaken hell hole of a store..."

He smiled or more like smirked back at her. "No, you surely do not." He said. She detected a slight accent in his voice. Aside from being foreign, she couldn't attempt to place it any further.

"A flirt? Was that a flirt?" she pondered. "Let's test those waters a bit too..."

She let out a curved little smile for him as she said: "And do I really seem like the type of lady who says fuck in a tool store?"

His look towards her changed. His brow raised his lips came together and he took a deep breath in.

"Oh fuck that was a bit too much wasn't it. God damn it..."

"I think that is a matter yet to be determined Mame," he said. "It takes a certain type of lady to come into a tool store and say fuck." He ended with a loose, tension-breaking smile. A middle aged man in a John Deer cap and a tight white tee shirt crossed at the other end of the isle, giving a dirty look in their direction as he pushed his cart on his way. In the meantime, Stacey and the stranger smiled at each other, bringing forth the inevitable awkward silence. The silence brought thoughts to Stacey's attention.

"You do realize that you are flirting with a man even as you are shopping for an anniversary present for your husband? What sort of a person..."

He finally broke the silence. "Would you like some help? I sort of know my way around places like this."

"I bet you do," the words coursed through her head like an animal circling its cage on a hot day as it looked for either a way out, or something to quench its thirst be it water or the blood of some poor gazelle that might wander into its cage. She held the urge though and let out a slight laugh instead. "Oh thank you but no, I already almost knocked you over I really don't want to inconvenience you any more."

"That's right. Remember Tomas, your husband. The light of your life whom you are buying a gift for..." She could feel the pace of her breath quickening.

"Oh it is no problem," he said with a smile that almost made her faint right in the isle. "Where I come from it is rude to not help a woman in need." He began to turn back towards the power tools.

"Well in that case you can start by dropping me on my back right here and..." Her thought stopped as he turned. With his eyes away she peered fast downward. She got a side shot of his waistline, trim and undoubtedly firm, and either bulging slightly at the crotch or a hallucination of wishful thinking. He turned all the way around. His ass was beautifully formed but not overly tight in the jeans. "...Or I could always just tackle you? Christ Stacey calm down what the hell has gotten into you? You don't get laid for a couple of days and you are acting like some alley cat in heat who just wants this tall dark stranger to take you to someplace hot and stuffy and fuck you like a jackhammer. Fuck you like you know he can. You know it you just know that he could... Oh Christ Stacey you just need to get the hell out of here."

She stepped over beside him and noticed that her pelvic region was getting warmer already. She hoped he couldn't tell yet that she was sweating. "Well, I don't know..." she almost whimpered.

"Very well then," he said and gave her a polite nod of his head, shaking the locks of his hair a bit as he did. He looked at her with a slightly bored look. But not a look of boredom; it was more a look that seemed to say he did not want to be bored. A subtle plea for inconvenience in what was probably for him an otherwise drab day.

Stacey began to get ready to take a step away and stopped. "Oh what the fuck," she said to herself as she began to speak to him again. "Well, I really do not know what he likes, do you think you could help?"

"I hope so."

Then thank you very much... Oh I don't even know your name?"

"I am Simon," he said and extended a hand out to her.

"Well I'm Stacey," She let him take her hand. His was much larger, but it felt soft and smooth all around hers. As his hand enveloped hers, he seemed to envelop her completely. She looked up at his face again. There was no connection- his eyes; she just plain melted into his dark eyes like a deer into headlights. She felt his eyes scan over her face and she flushed from her fair complexion to an obvious deepening red. She looked harder into his eyes; they were so dark she could not even tell where the pupil was exactly. He could be looking at any of her features for all she could tell.

Even as he released her hand and turned his attention to the tools and machinery on the shelves, she felt an echo of that gaze remaining, flowing through her. A shadowy remnant of the way those eyes had roved over her face, scanning their way over her slightly tight sweater. The way it all made her nipples harden and scrape painfully through the sharp thin lace of her bra and the thin layer of peach wool. The way that only his look, the remnant or echo of that look- or her impression of his look tore though her blonde hair or scraped along her neck like a warm knife. Or perhaps tracing slowly up her legs from her ankles, to her knees, up more...more an inch, a hair at a time until his glare connected to the hem of her skirt. It was short, "Too damned short," she had thought even as she had walked out of her house that morning, the skirt coming about eight inches above her knees.

"Not short enough..." was her revised opinion as she looked at this beautiful stranger. Right now there was not a skirt in the world that was short enough. Not short enough to satisfy his glare; not as short as his eyes deserved. She could almost feel the very action of his look, the force of his presence as he turned his body, rustling the pleats of her skirt, rustling it and blowing upward in a warm draft.

Oh Stacey you need to walk away from here. Come on you can do this. Just walk away from the ungodly beautiful specimen of a man. But ah hell I can think about it for just a minute. I can think about what it would be like if he took me by the waist with those strong hands and pulled me towards him until our bodies met. Eyes bulging like saucers. His pelvis up and down slowly against my skirt. My thighs sweating even before it begins to roll down the insides of my legs. "My God..." I would say. I would look all around. The two of us alone in the isle but I can hear people in isles on either side. One voice trying to find a new socket set; one man buying a new air compressor I can hear them so clearly. I shut my eyes and gasp in breath as he holds me in those hands and scrapes our bodies together, my skirt already starting to climb. "Somebody is going to see us," I say. "Take me away. Take me somewhere..."

"No," I hear him say.

"So just what exactly are you looking for Stacey?" said Simon as he turned to the racks of tools.

"Oh God you do not want to know...Or maybe you do..." "I was thinking of something like a drill?" she said to him. "He does a lot of wood sort of...things around the house." "You sound like such a spaz..."

"Does he already have a drill?" Simon asked as he began to look over the tools, picking up a box and turning it over to read the back, glancing back at Stacey as he held the box in his hands.

"Yes," I say. I open my eyes just as he extends his long cool leg out and bends it slightly at the knee, pushing his thigh between my legs and pulling me, dragging me against his leg. I moan aloud.

"No, right here. I want you right here." His voice had taken on a smoky baritone quality. The muscles of his legs flexing and pulling against my panties in ways I did not think were possible. I feel hot, sweat pouring down my face and making my cloths cling to my body, my hair sticking to my face. I look over at him. His nice silk shirt is halfway unbuttoned and showing a sweat stain on his upper chest, tightening against his body. No chest hair, smooth and flawless as a marble statue. But alive, warm and firm as I reach out and put my hands inside of his shirt. Muscles feel hard. My fingers run over his nipples. I pull the shirt aside and look at them even as I see someone walk past the isle behind him. What I would give to taste him right now, to lap the sweat off of him like a loving pet.

"Oh God Yes," I say and collapse towards him.

"Yes," She said to him, blinking fast to keep the image of him ravishing her in the appliance section out of her head. "Yeah, he has a drill. I think it is one just like that." She pointed at the one he held in his hand and noticed her hand was shaking; then that her knees were wobbling under her. She breathed as slowly and deliberately as she could.

"You know what might be a good idea then?" Simon said his eyes perking up genuinely. "On the other side of the isle she noticed the man looking carefully through the various socket sets that were for the most part: identical. Her eyes and thoughts wandered back to Simon.

She felt her jaw slack like a hungry lunatic but she spoke. "What?" she breathed. She looked away from his eyes. "just don't look at those eyes and you will be fine. Look at the box, and his hands. Look at his hands..."

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