I was at the Home Depot and it was Wednesday. I was late again as there was a lot of traffic due to several traffic lights being out of order. There had been a big backup in both directions and I was even later than the last time. I wasn't too worried though. My gloryhole partner had waited last time, and even though we got interrupted by the janitor that last time, he still got his relief during his visit to my house later that same night.
I still tended to glance around nervously as I approached the men's restroom. It always felt like everyone I passed knew where I was going and what I was doing in there. On entering the room there were a couple of guys at the urinals, but all the stalls looked free. As I made my way to my usual spot, I noted that the stall next door was empty. Either my meeting was not happening today, or he was late as well.
I closed and latched my stall door, and turned to find a bad surprise. The hole was no longer there. It had been patched over and there was no more access for my Wednesday Home Depot encounters. If my partner was just late, it wouldn't matter now. I waited a couple minutes, flushed, washed my hands, and exited. I guess it was too good to last forever. He knew where I lived anyways, so I doubted that was the last I would ever see him. It just meant that our meetings would have to find a new permanent location.
Once I got home I noticed a package in front of my door. I parked in the garage and grabbed the box before going inside. I ditched my jeans in favor of some comfortable sweatpants and went back to inspect my package. One look at the address label and I audibly groaned. It wasn't even my package. It was the correct street but wrong house. Looking it up on Google I found that it was only a couple houses down from mine.
With the box under my arm I walked down the street to the house in question. After ringing the bell I waited, looking around the familiar neighborhood from this different perspective. The door opened and I turned back around. Even though I had lived in my house for several years, I didn't know any of my neighbors. I had a tendency to mind my own business, and I expected the same courtesy from those who lived around me.
"Hi, I'm Brad from down the street." I greeted. "Apparently your package got delivered to my house by mistake."
I handed him the box and he glanced at it, confirming that it was his.
"Thanks for bringing me this. I've actually been waiting on this for my project. Come on in and have a drink. I'm Dean."
I followed Dean into his home. He passed through the kitchen and opened the fridge.
"What would you like? I've got beer, wine, soda, water..."
"Sprite if you've got it. I don't drink alcohol. It never really held any magic for me." I replied.
Dean tossed me a Sprite as he moved towards a closed door. "Did you want to see what I'm working on? I turned my garage into a workshop so I have space for my hobby, which I turned into a business."
I had no place else to be, so I motioned him onward. Dean opened the door and went through, turning on a light switch as he went. His garage-turned-shop smelled heavily of wood. Glancing around it was obvious why. Different saws and tables were placed around the room, and woodworking tools adorned the walls. There were various projects in different stages of completion in several spots. Various pieces of lumber were stacked on shelves overhead where they were out of the way but accessible.
Dean walked directly to an odd piece that looked kind of like a sawhorse with padding. He cut open the box and removed some leather straps, tossing the box aside carelessly. Moving with purpose he grabbed a couple of tools and went to work. I just watched for a few minutes as Dean happily but silently worked. Once he was satisfied he pulled the piece to the middle of the open space. He waved his hands around the piece like a game show model showing off prizes.
"What is it?" I asked.
"What is it? It's a custom piece that I'm selling for $500. Here, I'll show you how it works. Climb up here." Dean instructed.
I followed his instructions and soon my chest was resting on the top padded section, while my knees were spread and on padded shelves. My forearms rested on two more padded shelves. I was kind of straddling this weird sawhorse contraption. Dean walked around in front of me and buckled my wrists down with the straps he had just attached from the box that I had brought him. Then he went around to the back and did the same with my ankles. I strained a little against the straps. It seemed pretty solid. I strained harder with the same results.
Dean watched for a minute as I struggled before coming up beside me. He leaned down close to my ear and whispered, "Welcome back."
Every hair on the back of my neck stood up as I heard that voice. Goosebumps ran down my arms as I tensed against the confining straps.
Dean came around in front of me again. Standing directly in front of me put my face level with his groin. I watched helplessly as he pulled the waistband of his own sweatpants out and down, freeing his rock hard weapon. His hand wrapped around his meat as he moved closer.
