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Hello, Dear Readers, This is another story written under the name Ezra Zane for Ruthie's Club and published by it last year. It was edited by that wonderful lady, Ruthie. I do hope you enjoy it. E.Z.
Part One
I'm Andrew Jackson Williams V. My friends call me Jack. I'm a twenty-nine-years-old, six one, and two hundred pound health nut who exercises compulsively and doesn't smoke or drink except for wine and an occasional beer when it's really hot. Good looking some people say, some say handsome as hell.
I like working for myself and I like being outdoors. I started mowing lawns when I was thirteen. I had three crews when I was fourteen and five at sixteen. That grew into a multi-crew landscaping company and a nursery. About three years ago, my Granddad left me a small inheritance. I made Jorge Castillo manager of the landscaping company, Nat Bolton manager of the nursery, and gave both a healthy performance bonus. I used the inheritance to start a dirt-work construction company. It's growing nicely. Now I'm building a cash reserve for my next investment, whatever that may be.
I drove to a subdivision one day to bid my part of a job for a plumbing contractor. The homes were about forty years old, frame construction on a slab foundation. Their water line had broken in the back yard. I'd tear out the old and trench for the new. Arthur's company would lay the line and connect it.
I rang the front door bell and a woman answered. She was about five two, black hair down to her shoulders, round face, and big green eyes. Her eyes got bigger as she stared up at me.
I gave her my sexiest boyish grin and said, "Hi. I'm Jack Williams. I'm going to do the dirt work for Arthur's Plumbing. I'll be going into your back yard to evaluate the site."
"Hi," she said dreamily.
"You are Mrs. Saunders, aren't you?" I asked.
Blinking rapidly, she looked startled. "Yes, I'm Mary Saunders. Go ahead and do your thing," she said. She was still at the front door watching me as I walked around back. The front of the house was neat, but the backyard was a mess. It looked like no one had cleaned or mowed it in six months. As I walked her back yard, I had the feeling I was being watched. I looked up to see her peering out the back window at me. When I started to leave, she came out the back door.
"Mr. Williams?" she called. I turned and waited for her. "Are you leaving?" she asked.
"I just came out to make an evaluation."
"But when will we have water?"
"Two days. Tomorrow afternoon at the earliest."
"Two days? Oh, no. I can't stand it!"
"Sorry, Mrs. Saunders. Grab the hubby and the kids and go to a motel."
"I've been divorced for a year and I can't afford a motel," she said dejectedly. She looked like she was going to cry.
I have business principles. The first one is to hire good people, train them, and treat them well. The second is to do the best damn job possible and for a reasonable price. The third is to be polite no matter how nasty the customer is. The fourth is to get the cash before you fuck the lady of the house. Sometimes they think their bodies are payment.
She looked up at me with wet, but focused, eyes, which made me guess the crying was a ploy to get closer to me. I put my arms around her. She didn't put her arms around me, but she didn't pull away either. "It's all right," I whispered as I rubbed her back.
I noticed several things as I held her. She was small boned, slim, and her breasts felt good against my chest. Her hair was raven with two or three strands of gray, which meant she didn't color it. She smelled good, with only a touch of perfume. She fit perfectly in all my nooks and crannies, which not all women do. I knew I was holding on to some good stuff.
When I let go, she didn't move away. She leaned back to look up at me and said, "I didn't mean to impose on you, but it's been a long, hard week, and it's only Wednesday."
"No problem," I replied.
"I ruined your shirt. If you'll take it off, I'll wash it for you."
"It's a work shirt. It'll be drenched in sweat in no time."
"Well, thanks for comforting me, and please call me Mary."
"My pleasure, Mary. I'm Jack."
"I remember," she replied.
"Let's see what we can do."
I eased my cell phone out of my pocket and put my arm around her again. This time, she put her arms around my waist and her head on my chest. I called one of my crews to tell them to come dig. It'd cost me overtime but it was worth it. I called Arthur and told him I'd have it trenched and ready in four hours. He complained, but said he'd do it.
"What's going to happen?" she asked when I disconnected.
"You'll have water by midnight," I said.
"Thanks," she said, but that one word carried a lot of meaning.
I had another site to evaluate. "I'll be back in about an hour," I told her. "If my crew arrives before me, let them do their thing." She watched me get in my truck and drive away.
When I got back to her place, my crew was unloading the equipment. We'd been working about an hour when Mary came out of the house wearing shorts and a white tee shirt tucked military style to fit like a glove. It hugged the rounds of her breasts and her braless nipples dimpled the cotton. The shorts revealed a tight ass and shapely legs.
"How's it going, Jack?" she asked.
"We're doing fine out here, Mary."
She nodded. "If you want anything, knock on the back door. I'm going to put the kids to bed."
The way she said "anything" and swayed back to the house told me if the anything I wanted was her, all I had to do was ask.
Arthur arrived ahead of schedule. By eleven, she had running water, Arthur had his check, and the crews had departed. I intentionally dallied so I'd be the last one to leave. I was at my truck when she came out to talk to me again.
"How can I ever thank you," she said.
"You've thanked me," I said. I stripped off my sweat soaked shirt, got a clean one out of the pickup cab, and put it on as her eyes flitted over me, absorbing my muscles honed in the gym and workplace.
"Would you like a beer?" her mouth asked. "Would you like me?" her face asked.
"That'd be nice," I replied.
We sat in her living room and talked. She married a guy she met in college, Jim, had a son, Jimmy, aged two, was twenty-six, and managed a retail card and gift shop. Another woman, Becky, and her child, a nine-year-old named Veronica, lived with Mary for companionship as well as financial need. A third woman, whose name was Monica, and her four-year-old daughter, Tiffany, lived in an apartment a short distance away. The three women, best friends since childhood, were an extended family.
