Playing With Flour
It was our first job of the season, making our winter hibernating bodies strain under the challenge. At our first break the homeowners came over to check our progress. They were rather hot and sexy men, very 'friendly'. JT & I exchanged glances both of us were thinking the same thing, 'well are they just a little different or what?' The taller of two had been the one who actually hired our services, Mr. Simms. He was in the middle of introductions, when I caught out of the corner of my eye the line of sight of his partner! He was staring right at JT's package. I couldn't blame him, because looking at JT standing there, his wide firm stance, his legs looking tree trunk strong. It didn't hurt that he was still wearing his climbing harness, which perfectly framed and enhanced his bulge. Damn it! I missed the entire introduction and had no clue now why all eyes were on me. I looked at JT and he had that shit-eating grin on his face. His blue eyes were laughing at me because he. It feels good to have washed the grunge of the night off me. I find my luggage on the other bed. I have clean clothes to change into if I want, but all I want is a double of the single malt. I pour it and kick back on the bed. I sip and the soothing burn eases down my throat. When I'm ready, I look over at Barbie's bed and see that she is sipping her own drink, red wine. "Can we get started?" "Yes." We go over the entire evening. I learn that she was one of those who failed and that she recorded and studied all subsequent attempts. I confirm that she watched live during this attempt and has it recorded on the laptop. I refuse to look at the recording, but she watches and listens to the parts she indexed as important. She grills me on the interplay between me and Mrs. F. She wants my thoughts on whether Mr. F sensed her fear of defeat after meeting me. I think he did. I thank her for giving me the tools that threw Mrs. F's sense of superiority out the window. "Thanks. I studied her. I.
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