"Hey! Hey mister!!"
I slowed to a trot and looked around. I couldn't see anyone calling me, but there was no one else on the sidewalk, and my curiosity was piqued. Not having lived in the neighborhood long, I knew almost no one, and this was a totally new route for my run, so I was curious as to who might be hailing me. I stopped and stretched my back, looking all around me.
I heard a giggle, and then once again, "Hey mister! Over here! Can you help me?"
I finally spotted the source of the voice. Squinting against the bright morning sun, I could see someone waving to me, almost hidden in the shade of an open garage. I walked closer to see a young woman tinkering with a push mower.
"Hey there," I called as I got closer. "What's up? Something the matter?"
She brushed auburn tresses away from her face and I saw she was a beautiful young woman, maybe 18 or 19. The strap of her skin tight yellow camisole had slipped down her shoulder, there were grass and dirt smudges on her long legs and tiny white shorts, and she looked every inch a gorgeous mess.
"Yeah," she said. "I can't get this stupid thing to start, and if I don't have the lawn mowed by lunch time, my old man is gonna beat the shit out of me."
I must have looked as taken aback as I felt, because she gave a little smirk and said, "Yeah, he's a mean one. You look handy, though. Can you help me??"
Maybe is was just me, but I thought her voice carried a note of coquettish, flirtatious teasing, daring me to disbelieve her.
"Surely your husband won't really beat you if you don't mow the lawn??" I asked.
She laughed, a short bark of a laugh that could have been bitter, but seemed to hold some humor, too.
"Not my husband," she said, "my Dad. And yes, he will. The bastard likes to use a belt on my bare ass. I think he gets off on it."
She smiled, and again I got the feeling she was daring me, somehow.
"Anyway," she continued, "will you help me get it running?"
I nodded and walked up the driveway.
I noticed the strong smell of gasoline as I got close to the mower, and I figured it was flooded. I tinkered with it, checking the air filter and generally looking it over. Mostly I thought it needed time for the gas to dissipate. The girl watched attentively, crouched down so close I could feel her heat. I know she caught me glancing at her, but I couldn't help myself. She bit her bottom lip and smiled, asking if I thought I could fix it.
I put the air filter back on and said, "I don't know. Let's give it a try."
I stood and pulled the starter rope, and after a few coughs and splutters, the engine finally caught and settled into a rhythmic purr. The girl jumped up and down gleefully, clapping her hands like a child and laughing.