CW: humiliation, SPH and exploitation.
This is a quick and nasty two-part series. More Mel, Duff and other follow-ups coming soon. Thanks for all the hot feedback!
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After I made VP my wife and I celebrated by closing on a summer house about an hour outside of the city. It was a beautiful old property on the water, with a boathouse and dock. Most amazing was that we had an entire half of a small lake to ourselves. The house was gorgeous but old, and knowing nothing about home repair one of the first things we did was find a contractor through the broker. He came on a Friday afternoon when I was finishing up some work on my laptop- the sound of his truck announced itself in the drive.
Mitch was in his early 50s, so about 15 years our senior. He had a receding hairline and a sun-kissed, rough face. He was brutish, with a heavy brow, a large nose, but there was something in his bearing that made him seem handsome, or just an extreme, palpable confidence that rendered him almost attractive.
Upon meeting he crushed my hand in his for a long, unnecessarily forceful shake. He smelled like sweat and cigars. He was a big man, my height but much wider. He moved forcefully but with sureness. I invited him inside and he pushed past me through the doorway, taking in the house.
"So let me show you around. Could I get you anything to-" He cut me off before I could complete my question.
"Get me a beer." He interrupted, his wide back to me, as he appraised the staircase. He stepped forward and ran his big, hairy hand up the smooth bannister like he was fondling a woman's leg.
I was a bit surprised by his demeanor but I quickly got him a pale ale from our fridge, and one for myself, and found him in the living room, examining the molding. He claimed his beer without thanks.
He was a gruff man's man type, more than a bit arrogant- he made it very clear that things would be done when he said they would be done. He'd grin with unveiled amusement as I admitted my ignorance of home repairs and general helplessness in the manly arts.
"When's the missus get in?" He asked as he held up one of the pictures we had unloaded onto the mantle.
"Kara? She gets in next Thursday. I get summer Fridays, and then I have the next week off and figured I'd get up this weekend and.." I trailed off as he picked up a photo of the two of us on our honeymoon in Thailand, me in swim trunks, she in a bikini. His thumb touched the glass of the frame.
"Mmmm, Kara." He said with uninhibited lust. I was taken aback and felt my face go red. How could he expect me to put up with this? He turned from the photo to my flustered face. He smiled and let out a long, spicy belch.
He then stomped into another room, taking a swig of his beer as he pushed past me, his shoulder rubbing against mine. I followed him into the kitchen where squatted down and flung open the cabinet doors one by one, swinging them quickly, almost looking like he wanted to rip them off their hinges. He was handsy, running his fingers over things, grabbing various elements and testing for weakness, gauging its condition. I knew he knew what he was doing but it made me uncomfortable, how at ease he was putting those big hands all over my new house.
"We'll get started tomorrow, then." He said matter-of-factly.
"Come again?" I thought I had misheard him. Wasn't the customer supposed to agree to the offer first?
"This place needs a lot of work, and I don't see any reason to delay. That a problem?" His question was pointed. He stood up from his squat, stepping towards me.
"I just... I was just looking to get a quote, not..." He cut me off forcefully.
"Like I said kid, if you want my help we do things when I say so. I'm a busy man and the best at what I do." He raised his eyebrows at me cockily, then finished his beer. Without a word he passed his empty bottle to me and I accepted it, setting it down on the counter.
I had been looking forward to having some time to myself, catching up on some work and other projects. But as he looked at me dead in the eyes, the faintest hint of a smirk on his face, I found I couldn't say no. Something deep in my belly made me fearful of displeasing him.
"Well I guess... that should work." I said, my face red. Neither of us commented on how pushy he was being, how strangely aggressive and smug, but the air was thick with it. Thick with his palpable disrespect and my craven accommodation. He stepped toward me, making me step back respectfully as he continued his tour through the house. Touching the walls and fixtures, inspecting by both sight and groping touch. Unprompted, he went through every room in the house, examining it all.
"It should be about $70k. I'll take that up front. Doesn't count materials which you also pay for. Might go over budget too. Don't worry, the contract'll set all that out." I think I gasped at hearing this. I knew enough to be sure that his estimate was way more than it should cost, and paying the entirety up front was completely unheard of. The guy was trying to rape me.
After he spoke, he grinned at me. Daring me with his unreasonable demands. Again the unspoken insult, like he knew he was humiliating me. Putting me over a barrel.
"I don't know Mitch, that seems a little steep." I realized we had ended the tour in the den, a smaller room I had set up for reading and gazing out on the lake. He now stood in the only doorway, trapping me in the little room.
"Oh, that's right, kid. I forgot how much you knew about renovating 100 year-old houses!" He laughed raucously, and slapped my shoulder. He kept his hand on my shoulder and vigorously rubbed it a few times, shaking my whole body. I got the same unspoken thrill I had always enjoyed when a boss or superior at work slapped my back or shoulder me like this, or when a coach had briskly slapped my backside. I just chuckled along, looking at the ground, at his big work boots. Mitch took this as tacit agreement.
"Good. One more thing. I always take a lien out on any property I work on. Nothing for you to worry about. Just a way of protecting myself." Now I definitely gasped. He released my shoulder and put his hands on his hips, his stance widening, completely filling the doorway. It was a power pose, just as he was asserting his authority over me.
A lien was crazy. Would it even be enforceable? It felt like I had been punched in the stomach. For some reason the outrageous demand was having a physiological effect on me, making my heartbeat fast and making me blush furiously. In my underwear I felt my cock twitch - was it just adrenaline, fight or flight? Or was this somehow was arousing me, being blatantly disrespected?
"A lien?" I asked, my throat dry. A lien meant he could take the house from under me if I failed to pay him on time. He might as well lock a heavy metal yoke around my neck. Tattoo his name on my buttock. I saw each of these scenarios in vivid detail. Why were these images in my head? I tried to banish the inappropriate thoughts and listen to what he was saying.
