It was four-twenty five, and the roads were jammed with the usual rush hour congestion. I reached down and turned the vents of my AC grille toward my face, feeling the cool breeze across my flushed, sweaty forehead. It had been a very hard day; I had already done seven repair calls, and was feeling the overwhelming wave of fatigue that usually hit me at this hour of the day. I was looking forward to getting home and relaxing with a nice shower and a delicious meal. My mind wandered as I thought of being home; my castle, my domain. I loved it there; it was my reward for the hard work of my demanding job. Being an air conditioning technician in Southern Florida is difficult, but in all of the years that I had been doing it, I never wanted for something to because of lack of work. Everyone in the entire state had an air conditioner, and I was always very busy.
My mind wandered to my wife, to whom I had been married for five years. She would be home from her own demanding job by now, and would be cooking, anticipating me walking in the door. Her smiling face flashed in my mind, and I thought of her soft, warm body pressed against my, her hands caressing me gently. I paused in my thoughts, shaking my head. Lately, it seemed, all of my thoughts had, in one way or another, led to explicit sexual fantasies. I spent the entire workday fantasizing about various situations, usually involving any attractive woman that crossed my path! I had never even considered being unfaithful to my wife, but the fantasies always helped me to deal with the day’s drudgery.
I was now forty years old, this particular “birthday event” being a semi-traumatic incident in my life. When I was younger, forty seemed so old! Ancient! Every day, I would look at myself in the mirror, searching my face for signs of old age. I was about five foot six, around one hundred and fifty pounds. My hair closely cropped and I proudly sported a goatee beard that was increasingly appearing to change color before my very eyes.
“There it is! Another gray hair!” I would say, my wife shaking her head, laughing under her breath at my vanity.
I had begun a daily exercise regimen, involving running, sit-ups, and other routines, and had succeeded in losing a large amount of the weight that I had accumulated in my thirties. I was finally at the same weight that I had been in high school, and had never felt better physically in my life. However, no matter how hard I tried, the specter of my impending mortality refused to leave my mind.
The one thing that I did not expect was the increase in my sex drive. It seemed I was always horny! The smallest thing could set me off; a passing glance from an attractive woman, a sexy walk, a nice pair of legs, sometimes just a woman’s voice, or her eyes. My appreciation of the opposite sex had increased exponentially with my age.
Even now, as I sat in the crawling parade of rush hour traffic, I thought of my wife’s naked body, laying in wait on our queen sized bed, her legs spread invitingly…..
RRRRRRRRRRRIINNNGGGG…
Suddenly, the sound of my cell phones ringer nearly made me jump out of my skin! I angrily picked it up from its dash-mounted holder, pushed the “answer” button, and pressed the phone to my ear.
“Hello.”
“Nick?”
“Yeah.”
“This is Ron.”
“Yeah. I know. What up?”
“Got one more call for ya, Slick.”
I groaned audibly.
“Oh, come on! I've been killin’ myself today!”
“Yeah, Nick, I know, but you’re the best we’ve got, and this is a regular customer! Help me out here, Bud!”
I grew silent, a sure sign to my boss that I was consenting.
“Ah, what the hell. I could use the overtime. Where is it?”
“Ritzy place on the island. Some rich lady, a Mrs. Ashley. Pays cash and I hear she tips, too!”
I smiled. “Yeah, right, that’s what you always say, Ron.”
“21 Ocean Way. Use the service entrance.”
“Whatever. Thanks Ron.”
I then called my wife, letting her know that I would be working late again. I hated the disappointment in her voice at this news. She loved me so much, and worried about me constantly.
I set down the phone, let out a big sigh, and looked for the next exit off the Interstate.
I found the address painted on a sign in front of a pair of high, wooden gates. I turned my van into the driveway, and stopped next to a small security station. Rolling my window down as I pushed the button marked “CALL”.
Nothing.
I pushed it again, harder.
Still nothing.
Disgusted, I started to roll my window up.
“Yes?”
The loud voice blurting from the box startled me.
I lowered the window back down.
“Air conditioning.”
“Yes... Thank God, you’re here. Come in!”
The large wooden gates began to open slowly. I knew what to expect. This person would be an old, spoiled rich lady, expecting me to fix the problem quickly and with minimal interference in her sheltered life. I had done hundreds of these calls and I knew the routine. My appointed role was to kiss their ass, and hope for a tip.
I guided my service van down the winding, gravel driveway, the rocks grinding under my heavy tires. The vegetation on either side of the road made a kind of “tunnel” effect, the queen palms, bougainvillea, and sea grape brushing against the side of the vehicle softly as I slowly made my way toward the main house. The driveway forked ahead, a sign indicating a right hand turn for service, a left hand turn for guests. I smiled to myself, thinking that I would never be able to turn left here.
I made my way around a sharp curve, and there was the house. Huge and imposing, I was almost immediately impressed. I had seen and been in many houses of the wealthy here, and I loved the older houses, the ones built in the twenties and maintained in their original splendor. This was such a house. It was still clad in the old Florida stucco finish, freshly painted, with the barrel tile roof. It had the original slide up windows, obviously in good working condition, because they were open. I was amazed that something as beautiful as this lay completely hidden from view, here in the jungle. Nevertheless, I knew that it was a hiding place for the very wealthy that treasured their privacy greatly, and would go to great lengths to preserve it.
“If only they could fix their own air conditioners.”
I smiled at this thought.
