My friend Jason and I are part of a community theater group. Neither of us could sing or act if his life depended on it. We're part of the stage crew. Being a small group, that means we design things and operate them. Jason is the one with the creative ideas for lighting and set design, but they're required to have a licensed electrician to oversee whatever they do. I'm that guy, and I get to write my time off as a contribution to a non-profit.
Jason had to go out of town for a few days. I was over at his place discussing ideas for our upcoming production of
Meet Me in St. Louis
. The streetcar scene alone called for a lot of lights and literal bells and whistles. We hooked up a couple things to see if they'd work. They didn't right away, but I said I'd try a couple variations while he was away. We were standing at the front door discussing other things before I left, when his daughter Tawny passed between us. She seemed to be in a hurry as she said, "Hi, Mal." She was wearing short shorts and a revealing top.
Jason was still talking while I watched her get in her car and start the engine. The car was backed in, so I got to see her shapely ass as she got in. "Nice!" I said. Either he didn't hear me or he thought I was talking about his idea. Thank God, either way.
Tawny got out again and came back in. "Forgot my phone," she said. When she was on her way back out, I had my hands down, and her butt grazed my hand. She also dropped her keys before she got in the second time, and I would have had a nice view of her tits when she bent over if I'd been closer.
I was ignoring Jason while I did the math. You have to be sixteen to be part of our group unless you're playing a character who's under twelve. She understudied the Salvation Army lady in
Guys and Dolls
. When was that? A shade under two years ago, so unless she got the part right after her sixteenth birthday, she was almost certainly eighteen by now. Whew! I listened to the rest of what Jason told me, said, "Uh-huh," and told him I'd see him the next week.
A couple nights later, my phone rang. The caller ID identified it as Jason's phone. It wasn't his cell, which is how he usually contacts me even when he's in town. The call was from his landline to mine. I picked it up. "Hello?"
"Is this Mal?" a female voice asked. It sounded familiar.
"Yes."
I realized who it was just before she identified herself. "It's Tawny." I must have been nervous, remembering what I'd been thinking about the last time I saw her, because I was silent for a few seconds. "Jason's daughter?"
"I remember," I assured her. It was an understatement.
"We just lost power in about a third of the house. It's not an outage, because everyone else in the neighborhood is okay. Dad told me you're an electrician. Would you come over and see what's wrong?"
"I'll be right over," I told her. Luckily, my ex has the kids during the week, so I didn't have to find anyone to watch them.
It was already after dark when I got there. I knocked on the front door, and Tawny yelled, "It's open!" from a distance. I let myself in, and the living room was pitch black. I could hear noises in the kitchen, getting closer. When Tawny got to me with a lantern-size flashlight, she was wearing a lace bra and cut-off shorts that seemed painted on.
"I think I'm overdressed," I joked.
"The air conditioning went out too," Tawny explained. "Doesn't do me any good to have you here if I'm passed out on the floor."
I managed not to make a joke about frat parties. I just told her, "I remember where your fuse box is basically, but I don't know the best way to get there. Why don't you lead me, and I'll follow the light?"
I was already looking forward to five minutes of watching that sexy ass walk in front of me, but she made it better when we got to the stairs. Since the lights were out down there too, she went down sideways. "Keep your hand on my hip so you'll know when we're at the bottom," she said.
"Okay," I said. I wasn't about to point out that she could simply have put the lantern down to light the way and then one back for it. I was prepared to apologize for my hand "slipping" down to her butt, but she didn't seem to mind.
When we got to the fuse box, I could feel my T-shirt getting damp. Tawny held the lantern up so I could see. I found the master switch and flipped it on and off. All the lights came back on, and we could her multiple devices beeping as they powered back on. "You're a lifesaver, Uncle Mal," she said. She looked at my shirt and added, "Looks like you're sweating too. Would you like a beer?"
Now I had a better look at her. Not only was her butt as nice as I'd remembered, but her bra was clinging to her, and I could make out the shape of her tits. They were like teardrops. "Sure," I said. Anything to distract myself from her body, and if that didn't work, to distract her from noticing that I was checking her out.
Since I'd come into the humidity suddenly, I just wanted to stand back and relax. Tawny went upstairs to get the beers. I was pretty sure she wasn't 21, but it wasn't my house, and she didn't look like she'd be driving before morning, so I didn't press the issue. "Cheers," she said.
I took a sip and got a little bold. "Your jeans remind me of a really old joke."
"Yeah?" She ran her can down my left upper arm. Her beer can, I mean.
"A guy sees a woman in a bar wearing tight jeans. He can't believe how tight they are. They look like they were painted on. He goes over and tells her so. 'If you don't mind my asking, how do you get into those jeans?' She tells him, 'You can start by buying me a drink.'"
Tawny laughed and put my hand at what you'd call the hem of her shorts if they weren't cut-offs. "You don't even have to do that," she told me.
I crushed my beer can, the contents spilled everywhere, my eyes bugged out like a Tex Avery cartoon, and an old-fashioned car horn sounded. Tawny didn't react to any of that, so I guess I must have imagined it. My actual reaction was just, "What do you mean?"
She put my other hand on the button of her jeans and told me, "And you make me think of the bumper sticker, 'Let an electrician undo your shorts.'" There was a brief, awkward silence. "I heard you say, 'Nice,' the other night. I didn't hear you say 'ass,' but I was facing away, so I know that's what you meant."
"I was talking about the piece we'd just build for the play," I told her.
"You're a lousy liar," Tawny replied.
"I'm still working on it," I admitted. "So you're not creeped out?"
"I would be if you were less attractive," she said. She stepped back, looked at my jeans and added, "And well-hung."
